#mentioned a lot so I'll include him too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alphabetboyluvr · 8 months ago

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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed.

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung.

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips.

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #college!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #college au

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ja3yun · 1 day ago

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Devil's Corner || S.JY

racer!jaeyun x rival's sister!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), food play - lollipops, exhibitionism (kinda), terribly described racing scenes, mentions of past trauma, anything else lmk! wc: 18k synopsis: jaeyun goes by a lot of names - leader of the lucifers, your brother's biggest rival, the number one racer in the south&west, and your non-boyfriend. on his birthday, you go to the grit track to wish him luck, not knowing your relationship is going to change forever. a/n: hi! i am not officially back, i'm still taking a break but it would be so wrong of me to miss the loml's birthday (although i'm early) <33 this isn't exactly how i wanted this to turn out so i'm sorry if it's shit 😮‍💨 anyway, i'll be back soon hopefully bc it's almost my one year anniversary. comments/feedback/reblogs are all appreciated and i love you all so much! happy jake day when it comes <3

“You know I can’t be here, Ireh,” you say, casting a wary glance around. “If Yeonjun sees me, he’ll lose his mind.”

“Will you just relax for like half a minute, please?” Ireh sighs, her voice tinged with lighthearted frustration as she tugs you closer to the grit track, the sound of revving engines growing closer. “He’s probably busy preparing for the race. You know how seriously he takes this.”

You dig your heels into the ground, stopping both of you in your tracks. “Girl, please be serious. We’re practically on the track! He could spot me in a heartbeat.”

Avoiding your older brother isn’t really in your nature; you’ve always been inseparable. You and Yeonjun are like two cubes of ice that no matter how much you whack them, they stay glued together. He always protects you, teaches you the ropes on how to navigate life even though there is only 3 years between you, and you would probably class him as one of your best friends.

Yet, he never wants you to come to his races.

Yeonjun is one of, if not the best illegal drag racer in the city. He’s built respect around his and his crews name - Thursday’s Children - TC for short. Initially, he loved bringing you along to the races, but that quickly changed the moment you caught the attention of the one rival he despises.

Ireh turns to you, exasperation etched across her features as she crosses her arms. “So, do you want to see your boyfriend or not?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Ireh,” you retort, huffing the words out for what feels like the millionth time. But she isn’t wrong - you are here to see the boy, and though typically you wouldn’t risk coming to the tracks and getting caught by Yeonjun, there’s a reason for the risk tonight.

“Oh? So what do you call a guy you’re so hopelessly in love with that you’re willing to betray your brother and sneak behind his back?” she counters with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Because you wouldn’t do that for a casual hookup.”

That’s also the kicker of this whole thing; since that day when you bumped into Yeonjun’s rival and the ban was put in place so that you never have to come into contact with him…you’ve actually been seeing him almost every day for the past seven months. Your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend? That’s Sim Jaeyun - the leader of The Lucifers, and your brother's arch nemesis.

It makes you recoil every time you think about betraying your brother, especially when someone slaps you over the face with it so blatantly the way your best friend does. It’s worse because as much as you downplay the relationship, you can’t deny that there is something so real between you both. As soon as you met him, you were instantly drawn to him - like a moth to a very dangerous and reckless flame.

To be honest, you vowed to stay away from any and all racers. Each of them is arrogant and too prideful, your brother included, but the more you spoke with Jaeyun, got to know him and all his quirks, you realised quickly that he’s the exception.

Jaeyun is ripped straight from the pages of a romance book. At first glance, with his sharp smirk and the swagger that comes with being one of the city’s top drag racers, he gives off that classic fuckboy vibe - a bit reckless, untouchable, with that unbothered arrogance he uses to get under other crew’s skin. To a lot of people, he’s just the arrogant leader of The Lucifers, quick to brush off his competition like they’re nothing.

But that’s only half of who he is.

When it’s just the two of you, you get to see a side of Jaeyun that he guards closely - trusting you with something he doesn’t share with the world. He’s patient and tender, his words soft and careful, and it’s almost startling how different he can be. He’s not performing or putting up walls; he’s just there with you, completely and wholly, in a way that’s so real it takes your heart a minute to stop making more space for him. If you were to say this to anyone else that knew him, or of him, they would laugh in your face - and Jaeyun would deny it in a heartbeat.

It wouldn’t be fair to say he hides his ‘real’ self from others because being the racer everyone perceives is also part of him. The intensity he brings to the track is genuine - it’s a part of his soul, he’s clearly passionate about it, loving the thrill and heat that comes from burning some rubber and shouting a big fuck you to his opponent. But with you, Jaeyun allows himself to be something more. He only shows the loverboy side of him in your company, being with you gives him a moment to embrace a side of himself that he sometimes forgets about.

Of course, he’s still cocky and boastful - he’s allowed to be; he’s really fucking good - it’s the main reason why he and Yeonjun are rivals in the first place. While TC rules the North and East of the city, The Lucifers hold ownership of the South and West, but both of them want to be on top - the best in the city, not just their turfs.

In Yeonjun’s eyes, the only one who could be deemed better than him is Jaeyun, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. So he won’t swallow it, he’ll use it as motivation instead, to beat Jaeyun in ever way possible.

Shifting your focus back to Ireh and ridding your mind of the thoughts of the leaders, you shake your head and let out the fakest laugh you think you’ve ever heard spit from your mouth. “In love with him? I am not in love with him. We’re just, seeing one another, casual, y’know?”

Ireh holds that knowing stare on you as you stand there, your mind battling with itself like it usually does in moments like these, justification and excuses bubbling up. “Listen, you can keep him as your ‘not boyfriend’ all you want,” she adds with a smirk, “but you know that label isn’t hiding your feelings. It’s written all over your face - even now.”

You’re an open book, what your mouth doesn’t say, your face certainly will and you’re more than sure it’s telling the story of your heart that you refuse to admit. For both your sake and Jaeyun’s.

“Whatever, let’s just go find him.” Rolling your eyes, you take her arm and lead her further into the pit of people.

It’s heaving with racers, pit lizards, and those just looking to have a good time and smell the fumes. The floodlights guide you to the edge of the track while you thread your and Ireh's way through the crowd, moving closer to the edge, where you get a clear view of the grit track. Out of all the places Yeonjun and Jaeyun race, this track has a special place in your heart. There’s nothing too fancy about it, but it does have one element that outdoes all the rest; Devil’s Corner.

Devil’s Corner is infamous, a steep turn that has racers pushing their cars to the limit. They either conquer the bend or be conquered by it. It’s a sharp, merciless curve that rises slightly before plunging down at a nearly impossible angle, leading straight into a narrow stretch and to the finish line. So many have tried to beat it or show off on it - you’ve seen more than one car flip or crumpling like a smooshed tin can.

Luckily, both your brother and Jaeyun know exactly how to handle it, masters of their art being proven each time. You never have to worry about them too much when it comes to this track, they’re usually way ahead of whatever chump tries to race them, but a little flutter of anxiety will always be there.

You squint against the harsh glare of headlights, raising a hand to shield your eyes as you scan the crowd. Among the bustle, you spot Heeseung and Jongseong leaning casually against a car with the devil printed crudely onto it, looking entirely at ease in the chaotic scene. They’re two of Jaeyun’s closest friends and crewmates, so wherever they are, he’s usually not far behind.

Heeseung is the first to notice you, nudging Jongseong with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shoots you a welcoming look. The two of them are more than just members of The Lucifers - they’re practically family to Jaeyun, and in turn that makes them your number one hype men and the only others to know about your secret fling.

Squeezing her arm, you guide Ireh across the track and into red territory, smiling brightly and suddenly forgetting about the possibility of Yeonjun spotting you.

“Hi, boys!” you greet them warmly, letting go of your friend to hug them tightly. “How are you feeling?” Both of them have races tonight, though you could never tell with how nonchalant they both look. Going against TC always has higher stakes, but they don’t seem fussed.

Jongseong pats your head and smirks. “We’re chill, it’s only Gyu and Soobin, hardly competition.”

“We are shocked to see you though, doesn’t little Junnie usually keep you in a cage when it comes to TC Lucifer races?” Heeseung nips in.

“Well, I had to come and-”

“Support the number one racer on his birthday,” a fading Australian accent interrupts your sentence, his hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you back into him, your ass pressing against one of your favourite parts of him.

Jaeyun’s touch is intoxicating, a magnetic pull that has you leaning back into him without a second thought, any anxiety about Yeonjun’s lurking eyes now vanished. His hands drift up and down your waist, lingering over the curves he knows so well, savouring the feel of the skintight dress you’ve slipped into just for him. You can feel his gaze, possessive, admiring, and utterly absorbed into you as his fingers press against the sheer fabric at your sides, the warmth of his skin teasing yours through the thin material. He loves it when you dress up for him because he knows it’s only for him, not one of these other fuckers at the grit track gets to touch you the way he does, gets to see you the way he does.

Instinctively, he dips his head, his lips grazing your shoulder, trailing upwards in a slow, lazy path that sends a pulse straight to your core. His mouth follows the line of your neck, leaving a trail of heat that makes you feel like the two of you are alone in the world, past all of the noise and chaos around you. When he reaches your ear, he nibbles down and whispers, “Hi, Princess.” It’s a greeting as much as a claim, you’re his princess.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this is probably the most reckless thing you could do. Yeonjun could be here any second, his protective instincts would be kicking in if he caught even a speckle of Jaeyun’s hands on you. And yet, the thrill of it only makes you want to sink deeper into Jaeyun’s touch. He holds you firmly, his grip the only thing holding you up right now.

However, you need to let go, scared of the repercussions. It’s bad enough you’re even on this side of the track, let alone in the arms of The Lucifer’s leader. So you spin around, gathering your bones and standing upright, although they almost turn to jelly again as soon as you see him.

His hair is bouncy, parted down the middle with two strands falling effortlessly on his face, pointing straight to that perfect nose that you’ve had the pleasure of riding one or ten times. His lips are curled up in a small smile, so subtle only you can see before it turns into a full-blown smirk, his kissable lips so inviting as he bites into his bottom one. You love his mouth, everything about it; how it looks, the way it tastes, it’s magical skills when it’s in between your legs, all of it.

“Happy birthday,” you murmur, smiling so fondly at him that you know Ireh is going to have something to say about it later.

“Thanks. What did my girl get me?” he asks, leaning forward and ghosting his lips over yours, his bottom lip begging to be bitten and sucked on. Every time he calls you his girl, you swear you almost get down on your knees and begin to worship him.

Maybe you’re starting to see what Ireh and his friends mean about your non-existent label and what it should be.

You resist the urge to just devour him in a kiss as you speak. “I can’t show you it right now, not here,” you tease, poking your tongue out to wet your lips.

“Yeah? What if I ditch this race and we go somewhere that you can show me?” His voice is low and inviting, every word dripping with promise. Jaeyun leans down, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his eyes gleaming playfully. His hands roam up your back, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make you shudder, his nails grazing your skin ever so slightly - a subtle incentive to consider his tempting suggestion.

Before you can even nod, though, Jongseong clears his throat pointedly, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. “Actually, mate, you really can’t skip this one,” he says in a language you can’t understand, his tone heavy with meaning meant solely for Jaeyun.

Jaeyun’s grip loosens slightly as he pulls back, and you seize the moment to break from his hypnotic gaze, turning to face Jongseong with a raised eyebrow. “What’s so special about this race?” you ask, voice laced with curiosity. “What’s at stake this time, a car?”

High-stakes wagers are nothing new. Racers love to have some form of motivation and it’s not unusual for bets to involve money, cars, or something like territorial rights over parts of the city. And while you don’t know exactly what’s in play, the tension between Jongseong and Jaeyun suggests this isn’t just any race.

“Not a car,” Jaeyun begins removing his hands from your waist, and just in time too, because over the racer's shoulder, you see someone walking over with raw fury and intensity over their features.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun spits as he approaches, his aura red. The last time you saw him this angry was when you accidentally mistook his MSCHF boots as funky vases and put the tulips that Jaeyun had got you inside them. Of course, he didn’t know they were from his rival, but you did just ruin his £300 shoes.

Truthfully, they looked better as a vase.

Jaeyun’s hand still rests on your waist, firm and possessive, but you reluctantly take a step back, putting as much space as possible between you. You will yourself to look unfazed and relaxed, praying Yeonjun hadn’t seen Jaeyun practically dry-humping you just moments before.

Thinking on her feet, Ireh steps in, tossing a casual arm over Jongseong’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Actually, it’s my fault, Yeonjun,” she chirps, doing her best to sound apologetic yet unbothered. “I wanted to see Jongseong race, and I dragged Y/N along for moral support.” Her voice drops, filled with mock affection. “We’re dating.”

Everyone looks confused except Ireh, who is putting all those years bluffing to her parents about her whereabouts in the middle of the night to the ultimate test. They are easily fooled, but Yeonjun is not.

Glancing down at his ‘girlfriend’, Jongseong wears a look of uncertainty but also…happiness? You always suspected his crush on your best friend, this just confirms it. Like breathing, he slips into the role, slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her temple lovingly - he’s clearly taking this as an opportunity to be close to her.

Yeonjun’s lip curls as he looks Jongseong up and down with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Slim pickings around here, I guess. I didn’t think you’d settle for a shit stain on the sidewalk.”

Jongseong’s easygoing expression hardens as he holds Ireh close, offended and possessive. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls, his tone a warning.

Amidst the brewing tension, Jaeyun’s hand sneaks to find home on your ass, his grip firm and reassuring. He’s careful though, keeping his touch just out of Yeonjun’s line of sight, but you can tell he also doesn’t care, not really. He would fight your brother in an instant if it wasn’t for you asking him to keep it in check. No one ever tells Jaeyun what to do - not the authorities, not family, no one - but he’ll make the exception for you.

“Get off our side, Yeonjun,” Jaeyun finally interjects and pausing the bickering, his voice low and steady, clearly unbothered by the confrontation brewing. He removes his hand from you and he regrets it almost the moment it happens, wishing he could glue himself to you and always feel your warmth.

“Not until I get my sister back,” Yeonjun retorts, the words hang thickly in the air as the rest of The Lucifers gather around.

Even the mere suggestion of you being taken away stirs something in Jaeyun, a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. Now that he has you by his side, on his side both physically and literally, he doesn’t like you too far away.

But Jaeyun’s lips twitch into a mocking smile as he crosses his arms and hides his true feelings, eyes never leaving Yeonjun’s. “Take her back then,” he scoffs, tilting his head with an air of nonchalance that only stokes the fire. He turns to you, smirking and hiding that beautiful boy you know behind the arrogance of himself. “If that’s what she wants.”

The ball is in your court and you hate when people do this to you - making you choose - and this is the worst choice of all. Jaeyun is giving you the opening to stand up for yourself, something he’s been slowly but surely trying to help you do throughout the seven months of seeing him, but it’s so much harder than he realises.

Betraying Yeonjun feels like tearing a piece of your soul away. The thought of hurting him, of driving a wedge between you twists in your gut. It’s not easy to reconcile the love you have for your brother with the undeniable connection you share with Jaeyun.

As the silence stretches, you take a deep breath, your heart racing. You glance at Jaeyun with sorrowful eyes, knowing you’re disappointing him with what you’re about to do. You take a step forward and stand by Yeonjun, looking down shamefully. You don’t dare look at the hurt in Jaeyun’s eyes.

And it’s there, only for you to see. He had truly hoped that this would say a big ‘fuck you’ and rid yourself of the shackles of Yeonjun’s overbearing brotherly role and claim the independence he’s been encouraging you to reach for.

In all honesty, he has been respecting your wishes and he’s content with that, but he hates to see you battling with it so damagingly. Your anxiety gets the better of you sometimes, your brain whispering insults and what ifs while Jaeyun’s lips are on yours,l. It’s gotren so bad in fact that half of your secret meetups have consisted of you sitting in his lap while he strokes your back, whispering petal soft reassurances to calm you down from turmoil.

Not exactly a five star date.

In some way, he wonders if the weight of it all is pressing harder now because you’re both crossing into a deeper territory of emotions that you can’t step back from.

“Ireh, don’t you dare bring Y/N back here again,” he warns your best friend, stepping in front of you, his way of protecting you but really he’s just locking you in the cage that he built. You can feel the heat of anger surrounding him and you feel ashamed. Not only are you in trouble but now your best friend is getting the blame for it. All because you can’t tell Yeonjun the truth.

Jaeyun pokes his tongue in his cheek and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s enough to make Yeonjun tense once again, narrowing his eyes.

“You want to say something else?” your brother grits out, hoping that Jaeyun will bite his bait.

Yet, Jaeyun simply raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, a playful smile on his face. “Nah, mate. I’ll save all my talking for out on the track, yeah?” The tone of his words is light but there’s an underlying tension simmering as he stops himself from saying what he really thinks.

What he really wants to say is how fucking ridiculous it is to watch Yeonjun try to control not just your life but also those who have no obligation to bow to him. It’s clearly a trait of his - one he can’t get on board with.

However, the phrase ‘save all my talking for out on the track’ strikes you as oddly significant. You then suddenly remember Jongseong’s earlier cryptic warnings to Jaeyun about how he should stick around for the race and it all clicks into place.

Your eyes widen as you search Jaeyun’s expression for confirmation, but he remains locked onto Yeonjun’s fierce glare, the two of them engaged in a silent battle of wills.

Pulling at Yeonjun’s wrist, you draw his attention back to you, though his gaze never wavers from Jaeyun. “You’re racing each other tonight? Why?” you ask, concern creeping into your voice.

Of course, it’s not uncommon for leaders of rival crews to face off in races; it happens all the time. But the stakes feel particularly high tonight, and a knot of worry forms in your stomach. They haven’t battled it out since that night you met Jaeyun and that almost ended with Yeonjun crashing and Jaeyun turning upside down.

They have no limits when it comes to racing one another, and at the grit track, that can only mean bad things.

“Because Jaeyun here decided he wants this track to himself,” Yeonjun explains half-heartedly.

The grit track is TC territory, placed technically within the east side of the city, but its location on the very edge of the west makes it up for grabs - if they can win it. For years, The Lucifers have wanted this spot, the leaders well before Jaeyun took charge could never do it. TC leaders make sure this is the one track they’re masters at, no one is ever able to beat them on it.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens, and he steps closer, closing the space between them. “The track belongs to whoever can handle it, not whoever sticks their name on it and hopes everyone just plays nice.”

“I’ve been handling it, in case you couldn’t see that,” he chides back, not appreciating the jab. “Your old leader Mingi couldn’t handle it against me, that’s the reason you became leader, right?”

Yeonjun’s smirk is cold, knowing that mentioning the former leader will get the reaction he wants from Jaeyun - and it does. Jaeyun’s easy smirk falters for a split second, his eyes darkening with a flash of barely concealed rage. Mentioning Mingi was a low blow, they both know it.

Mingi is Jaeyun’s best friend and the night he tried to stake claim on TC turf, he ended up crashing the car, paralysing his body from the waist down. In truth, it’s the only reason Jaeyun is standing in the position he is right now, and he hates that fact.

He always admired Mingi as a leader.

Jaeyun’s voice drops, dangerously calm. “Say his name again,” he warns as the muscles in his jaw tighten. “But make sure you remember that if he hadn’t crashed because of your pathetic excuse of a trick, he would have this track, easy.”

Yeonjun’s smug grin only widens, feeding off the frustration simmering in his rival. “Is that right? Funny, because as far as I remember, it wasn’t foul play, he just couldn’t handle Devil’s Corner, and we all know what happened after that. Or maybe you’d like a reminder?”

The tension is suffocating, an invisible line drawn in the dirt between them, and everyone around senses that one wrong word could send it spiralling out of control. Jaeyun takes a step closer, closing the gap so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “You better watch your fucking mouth, you know what you did.”

You don’t know much about that night, neither of the men in your life wishing to utter a word about it, but all you’ve gathered from the rumours is that there are two sides to believe; one in which Mingi was simply reckless on the corner, a freak accident due to his negligence, the other? Yeonjun and his crew planted a spike trail on the road that caused him to flip over and roll down the hill.

The rumours were never settled because the car took such a tumble that it eventually got engulfed in flames, the tyres melting and any evidence gone. It’s one of the biggest mysteries amongst the crews and only TC will truly know the truth, not that they would ever admit it.

Do you think your brother could do such a thing? Not in a million years, but you also know his competitive streak can cloud his judgment. Either way, you’re nervous about his and Jaeyun’s safety tonight.

Yeonjun’s expression hardens, dropping all pretences of mockery. “Prove it. I did fuck all, your pathetic excuse for a leader was just a shit driver that couldn’t handle the heat.”

The words are enough to push Jaeyun to the edge. His fists clench at his sides, but before he can lurch forward and connect his knuckles with your brother’s face, Heeseung pulls him back with a firm grip on his shoulder, speaking low and steady. “It’s not worth it, Jae. He wants you to lose it.”

“And I fucking will, the prick deserves it,” you hear him argue with his friend. It’s moments like these you wish you could just walk over to him and settle his nerves. Not in the Joey King in Kissing Booth way with the cliche ‘look at me, look at me’ vibes, but let him know that you’re there for him, that this urge to win and prove something might end up even more disastrous than Mingi’s fate.

While Heeseung and Jongseong tend to Jaeyun’s flaring temper, Yeonjun shifts his focus to you, his rebellious sister. “Seriously, Y/N, I told you to stay the fuck away from these races,” he has venom in his voice but that’s still lingering from the spout with Jaeyun. Towards you, there is affection and concern, his usual feelings towards you.

“I just…Ireh wanted me to come,” you lie, using the dark night and shadows from the floodlights to mask your growing nose.

“Okay, fine. You still should have said no,” he rebuts, suddenly giving you a quick glance over, “And why are you dressed like that? You never dress like a track hopper.”

It’s a little insulting, considering what you wear is none of his business, and that you actually do feel good in it.

You square your shoulders, meeting Yeonjun’s scrutinising gaze. “I wanted to dress up for once, alright? Is that such a crime?” you snap, your voice sharper than you initially intended. But something about his tone, so quick to judge, grates on you.

Yeonjun’s eyes soften just a fraction, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N,” he begins, his tone shifting to something gentler. “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I just don’t want you getting dragged into this, especially tonight.” His eyes flick to the track, the pits where engines roar to life, and the crowd of people buzzing with dangerous energy as they wait for the next race. “You’re above all of this.”

A small pang of guilt tugs at you, but you hold your ground. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Yeonjun. Let me just stay to support you,” you lie again, stomach twisting as the truth sits, heavy and hidden.

Yeonjun narrows his eyes, not fully convinced but willing to let it go - for now. “Alright, but stay out of the pit. And if anything happens, you leave, got it?”

“Got it. I’ll keep my distance.”

Satisfied, he gives a brief nod, but as he turns back towards his car, guiding you over to the right side of the track, where you belong. You look back as you watch Jaeyun eye you up, saddened at your sudden removal, but expecting it nonetheless.

You guess you’ll just need to see him once this is all over, and both of them finish this race safely.

You hope.

_____

The sound of engines revving fills the night air as you stand on the edge of the track, patiently awaiting Jaeyun and Yeonjun’s arrival. Your nerves are unsettled and your mind is very much being represented like that one scene in Spongebob where he forgets his name and the little sponges in his brain scramble for the answer.

It’s been a long time since you felt this tense, you thought coming here and hiding would be the thrill of your night, turns out that was the most mundane - and unsuccessful part.

The crowd is bigger now, all revved up - no pun intended - for the race. The stakes are high, like really high and you can’t imagine what the outcome could possibly be.

A thrill courses through the crowd, the anticipation tangible as Jaeyun’s car pulls up on the east side of the track - your side. While most of the TCs around you murmur, assuming he’s just trying to throw Yeonjun off, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Jaeyun’s tactic isn’t about intimidation; he just wants a final glance at you before the race begins, to see you in that dress that Yeonjun hates oh so much, and use it as motivation. He doesn’t want to show off per say, but if you’re impressed, it’s a bonus.

The intensity in his eyes across the crowd is unmistakable, and when he whistles, a slight, beckoning tilt of his head makes it clear he’s calling you over.

You look around to see if anyone noticed, and once you’re convinced they haven’t, you check your brother. Sure enough, he’s deep in conversation with his crew, oblivious as he checks his car’s setup.

Is it stupid to go over and risk getting caught? Of course. But Jaeyun has a persuasive smile and dreamy eyes to match. So the next thing you know, you take a deep breath, slipping through the sea of people, and make your way towards Jaeyun’s car. His smirk widens as you reach him, his hand already extended to brush your arm.

But you swat it away, half playfully, half serious. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t a guy get a good luck kiss from his girl?”

“Jaeyun, are you fucking crazy? Look who’s right next to you!” you hiss, gesturing towards Yeonjun, who’s still unaware, thankfully. You really appreciate his attention to detail in these moments.

“Princess, you’ve been sneaking around and bouncing on my cock for seven months now. If he hasn’t caught on by now, I doubt he’s going to. He probably doesn’t even care.” He says it so easily, like all of this has just been in your mind and not a real threat.

“Yeah? Tell that to the way he glared you down not two hours ago. Or did you miss the part where he wanted to tear you to pieces for even breathing next to me?”

Jaeyun barely flinches at the mention, a hint of a pout replacing his smirk. “Come on, it’s my birthday. Don’t you think I deserve at least one little kiss?”

“Didn’t you already use the birthday excuse to get me here?” you counter, eyeing him with a playful twinkle.

“That’s for attendance,” he teases, leaning closer to you, practically hanging out the window just for a taste of you. “Kisses are part of the package.”

Unable to resist the temptation in his eyes, you check over your shoulder one last time before leaning in, brushing your lips against his in what should be a quick peck for luck, but he turns into so much more.

Jaeyun’s hand slides up to cradle your cheek, his touch warm and possessive. His thumb brushes softly over your skin as he deepens the kiss, ignoring the chaos, this stolen moment is the only thing that matters. His fingertips, rough from years of racing, contrast with the gentle way he holds you, drawing you further into him.

His tongue sweeps over your lips and you can’t help but groan and grant him access to your mouth, praying to the gods to get a taste of him. You’re greedy for him, ravenous almost, and he mirrors your need. If he wasn’t in front of at least one hundred people, including your brother, he would be dragging your pretty ass into this car and watching your tits clap in his face.

But then, like a bucket of cold water, reality hits as Jungwon steps between the two cars, flag poised for the start. You pull away reluctantly and savour the last few pecks Jaeyun plants on your puffy, lipgloss-smudged lips.

Yeonjun snaps to attention suddenly aware of your appearnce and his voice cuts sharply through the revving engines. “Y/N! What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, his tone edged with disbelief and frustration. “I told you to stay off the pit!”

You jump, instinctively retreating from Jaeyun’s side as you stammer out a response, just thankful that he didn’t seem to notice how seconds prior you were getting your tonsils tangled with Jaeyun. “I was just…I was wishing you good luck!” You walk quickly, rounding Jaeyun’s car, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of the kiss. But Yeonjun’s face is a mask of exasperation as you approach his window.

“Y/N, get back!” he orders, eyes widening as he glances at Jungwon, who’s counting down without a care in the world.

Only then do you realise you’re directly between the two cars, and neither Jaeyun nor Yeonjun seems willing to delay the race.

“Three!” Jungwon’s deep voice booms, the crowd roaring as the tension builds.

Your feet feel glued to the ground, panic swelling in your chest. You know that chances of you getting hurt are slim, but you’ve never been this close to the race, so close that you can feel the heat from their motors swirling your leg like those snakes on Lucy Grey.

“Two!”

Jungwon raises the flag, ready to unleash it. The cars tremble with power, the engines growling, but your brain’s too scrambled to make a move. Jaeyun sees your tense frame and panics for you, scared of even a scratch on you.

“One!”

Suddenly, you feel a jolt - a car door bumps against the back of your legs, and before you know it, strong hands grab your waist, pulling you backwards in a quick, fluid motion. You land on something soft, but before you even realise what’s happened, Jaeyun’s arm reaches across to steady you in the passenger seat of his car.

“Go!”

With a salute to Yeonjun that’s equal parts taunt and triumph, Jaeyun hits the gas, and the world blurs as he speeds off, leaving your brother gaping in stunned disbelief behind you.

The wind whips through the open passenger door as you scramble to sit upright, barely processing what just happened. You feel like you’re suddenly on a rollercoaster, the car's oomph causing you to stick to the seat like the Sticky Wall.

“Can you shut that, Princess? You’re letting a draft in,” he smirks, too pleased with himself.

But all you can do is stare back, aghast. “What the fuck, Jae?! This is not funny.”

“It’s not, you could have got fucking hurt,” he tries to play it off as a joke but you hear the seriousness in his tone. When you look at him, you also see the slight fear in his eyes.

Jaeyun knows it was stupid to drag you into his car, but he panicked, what else could he do? All the possibilities swam across his mind like a reckless current. You could have gotten scratched up by the grit, swooped under the tyres with the sheer power of the acceleration…or worse.

Not all of these scenarios make sense, but the fear of losing you makes him think even the impossible. So if he can save you even from probabilities, then he will.

You reach over and such the door, the wind making it difficult as he rounds a corner. Once it clicks into place, you relax a little, breathing out. It happened in such a blur that you can’t even figure out where on the track you are. All you know is that Jaeyun is first, and you’re stuck in this race whether you like it or not.

Without taking his eyes off the road or his foot off the accelerator, he reaches over you and grabs the seatbelt, fiddling with it awkwardly to secure you in. You hate to say that you’re looking at the veins on his hands as he unravels it, but you are. You could be helping him and saving him the struggle but it’s just too fucking delicious to look at.

That distraction is the only thing stopping your heart from leaping out of your throat.

“Did you really think dragging me into your car, going a million miles per hour and having to survive the grit track safer than me standing on the starting line?” you question him, disbelief and mockery in your tone.

Jaeyun furrows his brows and lets your words sink in. “Well…when you put it that way, it’s dumb,” he agrees, mentally cursing himself. “But if you think about it, now your brother won’t pull any of his tricks. Not with his precious sister in the car.”

Now that embarrassment for his rash decision is turning into pride. Maybe subconsciously he pulled you into his car as a safety measure, after all, can’t be too careful around a bunch of TCs; not when there is so much at stake.

“Really? I’m a reassurance? What if he’s already planned something and you’ve just brought me to my demise?” It hurts you that Jaeyun truly believes your brother is capable of dirty tricks, but then again, you don’t have one hundred percent faith that he wouldn’t pull something.

Jaeyun looks into his rearview mirror and sees Yeonjun hot on his tail, probably filled with enough fury to power his car without an engine. It makes Jaeyun nervous, both your words and Yeonjun’s gaining speed, but he masks it under a laugh.

“At least we would die together. What’s that song? To die by your side-”

“Is such a heavenly way to die, yeah, yeah, it’s one of my favourite songs,” you admit, heart blushing that he even remembered it considering his playlists contain an abundance of Justin Bieber and other generic pop acts - he’s not really one to appreciate the Smiths. “But I would rather listen to the lyrics than live it out, Jaeyun.”

“I don’t see a double-decker bus,” he looks at you for a split second but it’s long enough that you see the teasing glint in his eye that masks his genuine concern, and weirdly, it puts you at ease. He would never let anything happen to you, you know that deep down.

You let out a genuine laugh and whack his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, Jaeyun.”

“Princess,” he intertwines his fingers with you, a chuckle escaping his lips, “I promise, okay? You will get out of this car in one piece.” Jaeyun kisses your knuckles and it’s both stomach fluttering and impressive how he can handle a car going 80mph and still have time to dote on you.

The romance doesn’t last too long though, because he has to lock in and focus. Behind him, Yeonjun’s car looms closer, headlights glowing like the eyes of a predator. He’s tailing Jaeyun so closely that any error, even a slight miscalculation, could end it all in a brutal collision. Jaeyun glances at his rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Yeonjun’s face, fierce and determined.

He figured your brother wouldn’t be in the best of moods with his act.

“You think that little gap’s gonna stop him?” you mutter, gripping the seat as Jaeyun expertly rounds another bend, tyres squealing against the track’s rough surface.

“Not a chance,” Jaeyun replies with a grin. “But it’ll take him a few seconds longer. Enough for me to play with.”

He shifts gears, feeling the engine’s deep growl as he powers down a straight stretch, his speedometer needle pushing higher. Yeonjun matches his pace, but Jaeyun, ever the strategist, swerves slightly, throwing up a cloud of grit in his rival’s direction. The dust storm is thick enough to obscure Yeonjun’s vision momentarily, forcing him to fall back by a hair’s breadth.

Jaeyun accelerates, barely missing a pile of tyres on his right. Just as he slips past, Yeonjun veers to the inside lane, attempting to pass on Jaeyun’s left. The corner’s coming up fast - a sharp, unforgiving turn with no forgiveness if they misjudge. Jaeyun catches on immediately, not giving Yeonjun the satisfaction. With a calculated flick of the wheel, he forces Yeonjun to either fall back or risk veering straight into the barrier.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t about to let him off easy. He falls back just enough to avoid a crash but quickly cuts to Jaeyun’s other side, inches away, daring him to swerve first. Their cars glide nearly side-by-side, matching each other’s pace in a tense, furious dance.

It’s so scary, being in the passenger seat of a car that’s almost buckling under the pressure of how fast it’s going. Of course, you knew this was not going to be like overtaking someone on the M8, but you sure as fuck didn’t expect this. The world is flying by you so fast that you can’t begin to comprehend how either of them even drives like this.

Your brother’s car pulls up beside you both and making eye contact with him is the worst thing in the world you could do.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” you lip read, unable to actually hear him over the roar of the engines. He blames you so easily - even if it is 60% of your fault because you answered Jaeyun’s beckon - but it still makes you a little mad.

Did you want to be dragged into this? Absolutely not. All you wanted was to kiss your pretty non-boyfriend good luck on his birthday, you didn’t need all these dramatics with it; you get enough fireworks in your belly from his pretty mouth alone.

The sound of the engine thunders louder, Jaeyun accelerating and pushing his car beyond its threshold as he glides through the race. It’s all pretty intense - and oddly fun - but it’s not about to be in roughly one minute.

“Devil’s Corner’s up,” you murmur as if Jaeyun even needs the reminder. But he only nods, that familiar smirk dancing on his lips, a spark of something almost wicked in his eyes.

“I know,” he says with a determined grin, shifting gears smoothly as he sets up for the turn. “This is where your brother won’t risk it. He’s too careful with the track; it’s got him wrapped around its finger.”

“Everyone is careful around this part of the track…” you half express as a statement while also hinting that it could be a question, inquiring what Jaeyun could possibly do next.

Your trail-off sentence steals his attention and he sees the query in your eyes. He inhales deeply before addressing the elephant in the car you’ve somehow given birth to.

“Princess, do you trust me?”

“Of course, it’s the track I don’t,” you confess.

“Me either, but I gotta pull all the punches here; for the track, for the Lucifiers…for Mingi.” His voice cracks a little as he thinks of his friend, and the damage it caused him.

Jaeyun's gaze hardens, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whiten, as though he’s holding not just the car but every ounce of the Lucifier’s pride and promise he’s made as their leader. His mind is as sharply focused on Mingi as it is on the wheel, almost as if his friend’s presence is woven into every inch of the track ahead. There’s a weight he feels, a determination to make his best friend proud, to take the track that cost Mingi so much.

"Trusting me means sticking it out," he adds, almost like a dare. “You ready?”

You swallow, nerves bubbling as you nod, barely managing a steady breath. “Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay?” But even as you say it, you know Jaeyun’s already got a strategy, one as risky as it is relentless. He could fucking kill you right now and yet, you’re ready to put your life in his hands, because you know he’s never going to snap it.

Kind of like your heart.

Ahead, Devil’s Corner yawns open like a waiting trap, and Yeonjun knows it. You can feel the weight of your brother’s stare from the other car, his eyes sharp with worry and rivalry. He’s fought this corner countless times and knows that going at it full throttle will never end well. You catch the fleeting look on Yeonjun’s face - a mixture of fear, anger, and an unspoken warning. He’s petrified for you, not knowing how far Jaeyun will go to secure the win.

Yet, you couldn’t be calmer.

“Hold on, yeah?” Jaeyun instructs and you immediately obey, watching as the dial hits it’s peak, his car flying even further in front of Yeonjun’s.

“You need to slow down, Jae…” you warn.

“How about you put that trust into action yeah?” he snaps back, though his anger isn’t directed at you, he’s just nervously tense. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? So you don’t hold it against him. If anything, it just makes you want to take his hand in yours and offer him some semblance of comfort.

But that would be silly right now considering there’s a death corner with you and his name on it.

As Jaeyun steers into Devil’s Corner, the entire car seems to tighten, every movement rippling through you as though you were an ant, squashed under the tyre. The pressure outside is immense, like a wall of wind trying to shove the car off the road. Inside, it’s nearly as suffocating, the tension compressing everything around you, even your heartbeat syncs with each vibration of the engine.

The curve is sharp - even sharper than you’d realised watching from the stands - and you feel the pull of gravity as Jaeyun doesn’t so much follow the turn as he cuts through it, daring the edge. Gravel spits and clinks against the sides of his precious baby.

Yeonjun is somewhere far back, but you can’t even think about him or his safety. The only thing consuming your mind is Jaeyun’s grip on the wheel and the creeping dread and exhilaration fighting for space in your lungs.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you convince yourself that it’s less scary to face it if you can’t actually see it - using the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ childlike tactic to feel brave. And in the midst of it all, as the car feels like it’s on the edge of its control, you hear Jaeyun’s voice over the noise - a steadying presence cutting through as he senses your apprehension.

“Nearly there, Princess,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched and his heart holding still within his chest. Although he’s fighting the battle of fear and hope inside of him, his voice anchors you just enough to brace yourself.

The car rockets through the tightest part of the bend, wheels practically skating on the track's very edge - the same edge that caused Mingi his loss of legs. You grip onto whatever you can as Jaeyun’s knuckles whiten, his hands firm and controlled on the wheel. The tension in the car mounts like a coiled spring ready to snap, the corner pulling both of you, testing how far it can go before either you or the car breaks under pressure.

At last, you feel the tail end of the car swerve slightly as Jaeyun gives just enough leeway to keep control, and you can sense him gaining ground, just barely escaping the grasp of the turn. Devil’s Corner spits you both out onto the straight stretch and for a heartbeat, there’s only the muted sound of your breathing, mixing with Jaeyun’s, heavy and relieved.

Finally, you open your eyes to see the road unwinding ahead, straighter, safer, and almost welcoming after the chaos of the corner. Your pulse is still racing, but the danger feels like it’s finally behind you - or so you hope. Jaeyun throws you a quick, side-glance, his usual cocky smirk returned but softer, almost a silent acknowledgement of the risk he just took with you by his side.

He doesn’t need to say anything, but as he shifts gears, pressing down harder on the accelerator to widen the gap between him and Yeonjun, his smirk says it all: That was for Mingi, and for you.

Once he sees the finish line in sight, he breathes out and slaps the wheel harshly. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, victory secured and only a long stretch away.

“Holy fuck…” you breathe out, chest heaving and eyes glued to the road in front of you.

“And you doubted me,” he feigns an upset pout and tilts his head in your direction.

“Well, you still have Yeonjun to deal with.” The reminder of your brother fast approaching doesn’t rock him, instead, he laughs.

Shaking his head as if Yeonjun’s trailing position is as much of an inconvenience as a bird shitting on his windshield, Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh and squeezes. “He’s still there because I let him be there. Can’t humiliate the guy completely y’know? He’ll be my family in the future.”

Your mouth opens as you process his words, unsure if he even realises what he just said. It’s a pass-away promise of commitment, and considering you aren’t even officially dating, you would say it’s thrown you off of Everest and has your mind tumbling down after your body.

It’s probably best to bring it up later though, you don’t want to throw him off, especially considering he’s still going 50mph.

He smirks and revs the engine once more, pushing the car just shy of its limits. “Why so worried? I’ve got a perfect record of keeping you safe, don’t I?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

“Oh, you mean the ‘perfect’ record that almost just got me toppling over into the ditches of Devil’s Corner?” You roll your eyes, but a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he grins, then he pulls his attention fully to the finish line up ahead. It’s close enough now that the crowd is visible, and he salutes them with a quick flick of his hand.

God, he’s so hot when he’s like this. How lazily arrogant his entire racing persona is. You adore his softer side, of course you do, but this side of him gets your own motor running.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t ready to concede. He surges forward, lining up beside you both in a final, determined push, his car engine roaring with a fury that sends chills down your spine. You see him shoot a glare, not just at Jaeyun, but at you as well. But Jaeyun merely returns the look, cool and unbothered, and then, with one final roar of his engine, he edges past the line first, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips.

Jaeyun’s car barrels across the finish line with a triumphant howl from the crowd, cheers blending with the echo of his engine as he cuts through the air, a living victory. The thrill radiates off him; he punches the air, letting out a victorious whoop as his foot remains steady on the accelerator. He finally glances over at you, his face alive with pure elation, his cocky grin fully in place. But instead of slowing down, he maintains his speed, the wind whipping through the car as you look back at the receding crowd.

"Wait - where are we going?" you ask confused, looking back as you pass by everyone and leaving them in the wake of victory.

Jaeyun flicks his gaze over, eyes dark with both mischief and longing. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Y/N, but you still owe me my birthday present,” he says hick and low, each word like a steady drumbeat against your pulse.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your own voice steady. “Don’t you want to celebrate with everyone? You just won the Lucifers the grit track and Devil’s Corner.”

He lets out a laugh, deep and incredulous. “Celebrate with everyone else? Princess, I’d be out of my mind to spend one more second without seeing what you have for me. I would be fucking insane, actually.” He eyes you hungrily, already imagining all the possibilities under your dress or up your sleeve. His tongue brushes his bottom lip in a glazing swoop, a promise lingering in his gaze that leaves your cheeks feeling warmer than they should.

He shifts gears, and you glance back to see the track and the crowd becoming distant figures in the rearview mirror, your brother among them. “Besides,” Jaeyun adds, leaning closer as he cuts through the night, “Do you really wanna see Yeonjun right now?”

“...No.”

“Good, then trust me.”

_____

The car halts, tyres crunching over gravel as you take in the scene before you. Below the dark sky, the city sprawls out like a tacky but beautiful Christmas night with glittering lights, each window and streetlamp reminiscent of a fairy light. Below, the river carves an almost silver line through it all, shimmering under the moonlight. It’s too beautiful for you to describe and give it the credit it deserves.

Jaeyun doesn’t speak at first. His hand finds yours, fingers slipping through as he releases a slow, steady breath. He wasn’t aware how badly his muscles were suffocating his bones until now. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, an absent yet soothing gesture, and he finally lets himself relax, the hard lines of his jaw softening as he looks at you. The moonlight catches his features, highlighting the relief etched on his face - a look so different from the racer who stared down Devil’s Corner only 20 minutes ago.

For a moment, you both just sit there, silently letting the thrill of the night settle. You turn to him, sensing his guard finally lowered, his eyes holding something warmer, deeper than his usual confident smirk.

“It’s so pretty here,” you murmur softly, nodding towards the city.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, bringing your lips to his hand and kissing your knuckles softly, the tingle from the spark shooting all over your body. “I’d say the view is pretty fucking perfect.”

A blush creeps on your face, his eyes glued onto you as he mumbles the words into your skin, each syllable fluttering to your heart. Of course, he means you. He has seen this exact city view a million times, often coming up here after races to cool off and regather himself.

It’s the first place he drove to once he heard about Mingi.

It’s the first place he drove to once he met you.

It’s the first time he’s shown someone this spot.

Letting go of your hand, he quickly offers you a small smile before undoing his seatbelt. “C’mon, let's get a closer look.”

With that, you follow him and you both settle against the hood of the car, your shoulders brushing as you take in the sprawling lights below, wrapped in the quiet of the moment. The city glows, pulsing like a heartbeat, life so obvious yet subtle. You tilt your head toward him and nudge him softly.

“So,” you say, half-smiling, “how does it feel?”

“What?”

“Winning the grit track.”

He shrugs, and his gaze becomes distant, falling somewhere into the night. The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable, the city’s buzz helping to fill the contemplative silence between words.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, surprising you into a pause.

“What do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard. After all, this entire night was about winning the territory, claiming a stake over it and expanding the Lucifers’ ground. It sounds like a shitty action movie on Tubi now that you think about it, but that really is what the crews strive for. So for Jaeyun to say he doesn’t care, when he did what his past leaders couldn’t, throws you for a new one.

“The track…he can keep it,” Jaeyun says with a dismissive wave, almost as if he’s letting go of a heavy burden. “It was never about winning a stupid bit of dirt road.” He pauses, biting his lip as he searches for the right words. “I wanted to prove that TC had something to do in Mingi’s accident.”

The words leave his mouth in a rush, and you feel the weight of his pain and loyalty colliding in that confession. Jaeyun’s gaze stays trained on the city, brow furrowed, his jaw set, the ease on his bones only lasting the skip of a jump rope.

He truly believes that Yeonjun was involved - that he orchestrated some plan to knock Mingi out. You’ve seen Jaeyun’s loyalty; you know Mingi is more than a friend to him, practically family, and Jaeyun’s heart has no room to consider the idea that Mingi could’ve just…lost control.

You scoot closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, sensing how vulnerable this confession has left him. “Look, Jaeyun,” you start, hesitating. “I don’t believe my brother would do something like that. But just because you made it through Devil’s Corner safely this time doesn’t rule out anything, yeah? There’s still a chance he had nothing to do with it…but maybe he did.”

He looks at you, contemplation written in the lines around his eyes, but doubt remains.

“I just can’t accept that it was some accident, you know?” he finally says, his voice tight with frustration. “Mingi was solid. The guy could practically drive in his sleep, and suddenly he spins out there?” His shoulders tense as he talks, each word laced with an anger born of grief and unresolved questions. He wants answers, and you sense how deeply he’s embedded in this conviction.

“Okay, so what if…” You hesitate, not truly believing the words coming out of your mouth right now, but knowing Jaeyun needs something to hold onto his faith in Mingi. “What if Yeonjun did have something to do with Mingi’s accident? He could have been planning it tonight but called it off because I was in the car with you?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jaeyun lets out a harsh laugh, but it’s not at you. “Then I could have got you fucking hurt, and what kind of man does that make me?”

It’s as if any reasoning or justification for his actions has suddenly all surged to his mouth and left a bitter taste, one that he finds hard to coat over with some mints. In his mind, he convinced himself for the moment that he was saving you, but in actuality, maybe he was just protecting himself.

He could have lost you.

That though makes him stand up and walk closer to the cliff edge, not enough to cause you alarm, but enough that indicates he’s in the need of feeling free from his mind.

And that’s something you can definitely help with.

Pushing yourself off the car, you reach out to him, lacing your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly from behind. Instantly, he cups your linked hands in his and melts into you, closing his eyes in relief as you kiss his back ever so gently.

“We can’t know what happened that night, Jaeyun, no one ever will. But it’s also not your battle.”

“But I-”

“No. End of story.” You twist him around to face you, your hands dipping your hands into his back pockets. “Mingi and Yeonjun raced that night, the outcome was what it was, and we have to move on. The longer we sit in the past, in this mindset of what if and what could have been, you prolong everyone’s pain, especially yours. And I won’t sit back and watch you do it.”

It’s tough, and you wish you could have laid it all out a little more prettily, but a dagger of truth won’t sink into skin if it’s covered in padding and fluff.

Jaeyun’s eyes portray a man trying to will himself to argue with you, that fight for his friend still very much alive. Yet, he knows you’re right. He isn’t helping himself by wallowing in the past, he’s only hurting himself and creating a deeper hole in his chest, one that is consuming him alive.

But no one has told him to get the fuck over it. Not until now.

“I know for a fact that Mingi does not want you dwelling on it, especially not tonight. You won the grit track, I’d say he’ll be over the moon with that, wouldn’t you?”

The last nudge is enough to make Jaeyun nod, a small smile creeping on his face. “Yeah. I saw him before the race and all he asked was ‘don’t fucking die and get us that track’.”

“See? You achieved both of those requests, I would say that’s worth celebrating,” you grin widely up at him, relieved to see his jaw loosen and shoulders unravel themselves. “It’s also your birthday…which is another reason to celebrate.”

Jaeyun checks his watch and sucks in a breath, his playful demeanour slowly coming back to the surface, much to your delight. “It’s actually past my birthday now.”

Widening your eyes, you drag his wrist to your face, reading the clock's arms as they disappointingly read 12:04am. The sadness is plastered all over your face, your eyes looking glassy due to both regret and the cold wind nipping them.

Jaeyun immediately notices your solemn expression and pouts, holding back a laugh. “Princess, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I didn’t even get to give you your presents.” You are never one for being late with gifts, in fact, you take birthdays so seriously that gifts are often in your friend’s hands early in the morning. Every birthday is precious to you, well, maybe not your own, but you love to make others feel appreciated and seen on the one day that is reserved for them.

The racer looks at his watch again and reaches for the dial, twisting it back as the small arrow rounds anti-clockwise to the 11. Happily, he flashes the watch’s face in front of yours. “Look, now it’s 11:05pm. You have 55 minutes left.”

A laugh bursts out of you, the heartache over the small inconvenience now lifted by his antics. He always knows what to do, what to say, how to lift you up so easily, it’s his superpower.

“Okay, which one do you want first?” you step back and place your hand on your hips, exhaling the drama from tonight out of your system. No more racing, no more brother, no more bad thoughts. Just you and Jaeyun celebrating the final hour of his birthday.

“There’s more than one?” he asks in a smug tone.

“There are three in total. One is your main present and two are tiny little things,” you explain.

Nodding, Jaeyun feigns ponder as he taps his chin. “Well, I think I should save my main for last, so let’s start with the ‘tiny little things’” he repeats back to you, knowing that they won’t in fact be tiny, their significance probably vastly bigger than any other gift he has ever received throughout his previous 21 birthdays.

Holding up a finger, you tell him to wait before you open the right backseat door of his car and retrieve two carefully wrapped gifts. You put in far too much effort in folding each corner perfectly and twirling every bow to sit neatly, but looking at your work now, you can safely say it was all worth it.

Confusion crosses Jaeyun’s pretty face as he points to his car. “When did you sneak into my car and put them in there?” he asks with piqued confusion. He would notice bright yellow wrapping paper with orange ribbons in a minute, the colours bouncing so brightly off his black interior.

“I didn’t,” you shrug as you confess, holding out the two gifts. “I shoved them both under my seat when you paid for the gas yesterday.”

“Your seat, huh?” he repeats with a lace of amusement, taking the top box from your grasp.

“Well, do you drive other women about?”

“Don’t ask fucking ridiculous questions. You’re the only girl.”

You curse your stomach for flipping out like it’s on an Alton Towers ride, the statement probably meaning nothing significant from his lips. He always says pass away comments like that, and each one you desperately try not to read into too much, your heart having a hard time already with calling this relationship between you both casual, never mind your brain popping up with conspiratorial thoughts that he could see you as something more than his non-girlfriend.

Gently, his hands peel the wrapping paper off, and reveal the first gift.

“Lollipops?” he laughs out, though joy shines from his features.

“Well I saw you were running low, and it is my fault you need to stock up on them, so…” you explain sheepishly, your foot carving out nonsense lines in the gravel.

Since you started hooking up, Jaeyun quit smoking. You hate the taste of the cigarette on his tongue and the smell of it in his car, and he caught onto that instantly. The way you would spray your perfume ‘randomly’ after he flicked the butt out his window, or how you offered him a chewing gum coincidently a few minutes before you climbed into his lap and licked into his mouth.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

So he stopped. Cold turkey without a second thought. He still had the itch though, muscle memory constantly bringing something to his lips for a drag. That’s when you gave him a strawberry Chupa Chups and he never looked back. His dentist hates you for it, but his doctor couldn’t be more delighted.

Taking a cola lollipop from the assorted selection, he unwraps it and places it into his mouth, humming as the beautiful taste hits his tastebuds. His tongue swirls the ball of goodness and he instantly smiles at your reaction, deciding to play on it.

You curse him, his smirk widening as he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth just wide enough for you to watch the cola lolly get coated in his saliva, his tongue enveloping it the exact same way he does with your clit when he’s buried face first between your thighs.

Squeezing your legs together in order to stop the flow of arousal from dripping down your leg, you thrust the other present into his chest, retrieving the box of lollipops from him in the process. The further these things are from his mouth right now, the better.

“Okay, now this one,” you urge, clearing your throat and hating the way he pushes the sweet to the side of his mouth, the stick pocking out the corner of his mouth like a toothpick. Somehow, it only made him hotter, like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You.

God, now you’re even more horny.

Jaeyun nods and flips the gift over, inspecting what it could possibly be. But he’s never been good at guessing, so he quickly tears the paper off, a little more forcefully than the lollipops. A black box adds another layer of suspense and curiosity. “Did you get me a diamond necklace?” he jokes, but once he peels open the lid, nothing is funny anymore.

His eyes flicker between you and the gift. “Y/N…”

“It’s not much, I know. But I thought it was fun,” you explain, scared that it’s not enough.

Picking it from the box, Jaeyun inspects it carefully. To most, it’s just a keyring, but to him, it’s the most thoughtful gift he has ever been given. The mini replica of his precious car, clearly hand-decorated by you stands out - the red decals and perfectly selected interior act as a mirror to the real thing; even the license plate has his famous J4K3YUN etched into it. The black Honda Civic replica sits so tiny yet powerful in his hands.

It was the first car he could afford. Everyone laughed at him - even Mingi - when he turned up to his first race. It’s a shitty little car with not much horsepower, but considering he was only seventeen when he started racing, he could hardly afford to put his student loan into a BMW or Aston Martin. Instead, he modified it, just enough to put his name out there.

His baby has never let him down since. All those times everyone has pestered him to trade her in have never crossed his mind. Even you know how much she means to him. Why else would you have given him an oversized keyring of it?

You know him, and that squeezes Jaeyun’s throat, stopping him from expressing thanks.

“If you pop open the boot, it has something inside,” you point out, excited. He’s made modifications to the real thing, but you got crafty with the mini-me.

“Can anything even fit in this?” he laughs but nonetheless, opens the boot - and it is not what he was expecting.

The interior has been prettily painted pastel pink, with glitter and gems perfectly placed inside, crowding the minuscule space. The first initials of your names are enveloped in a shakily drawn heart. It’s pretty and so very, very you.

Jaeyun’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight and you interpret it as pure adoration, injecting some pride into your chest. He likes it - thank fuck.

“I thought it was fun, since y’know, on the outside you’re all tough and metal but inside you’re just a sparkly pink princess.” You place the lollipop box on the hood and step closer, inspecting your work once more - as if you haven’t been scrutinizing every detail of it over the past month.

Throwing his head back in a laugh, he blinks away the joy in his tear ducts and nods, sighing out in defeat. “I’m not so sure ‘princess’ is the word I’d use-” he starts, only for you to interrupt.

“Oh, you are,” you insist, taking the lollipop from his mouth and placing it in your own, “You’re the prettiest princess to ever exist, actually.”

“I think that title is reserved for you, baby,” he grins fondly, eyes raking over every feature of your face as you savour the taste of the cola sweet. “Thank you…so much, Y/N, no one has ever gotten me something so thoughtful. I really love-...it. A lot.” His throat tightens, words tangling up in his chest, but thankfully, you don’t seem to notice

Nodding, you give him a soft kiss, careful not to poke him with the lollipop stick, before taking the gift back, carefully placing it and the lollipops in the car for safekeeping. “Now, do you want your big present?” You wiggle your brows and shut the car door, almost skipping back to your spot in front of him.

Jaeyun was so caught up with everything tonight that he forgot that this was the reason he whisked you away as soon as the race ended, at least, it was the shallow reason. The deeper reason is something he won’t speak out into the night air.

Placing his hands on your hips, glides his hands up and down your sides, the warmth from his palms blissfully welcome. You love this dress, the way you feel in it, how it makes you look, but it isn’t exactly good for fighting the nipping cold away, especially considering the wind is much thinner up on the cliff.

“My big present…” he repeats, bringing his face down to yours, his hot breath creating a rose tint along your cheeks. “I think I want that more than anything right now.” His confession is raw and more than surface-level lust. He has so many emotions running through his body right now, and he knows that your present is going to be exactly what he needs.

“You need to unwrap it then.” The smirk on your face is contagious and your voice is low. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what your gift is, but he’s in for a treat nonetheless.

Jaeyun does pause for a moment, his hands fiddling with your zipper at the back but hesitant. “I think my gift might freeze to death if I unwrap it here, don’t you think?”

You hadn’t…thought about that actually. To be honest, when it comes to Jaeyun’s cock, that’s probably the only thing you think about. Rain or shine, snow or fog; if his dick is close to being inside of you, you’ll face any weather.

His fingers pinch the zipper and tug it down slowly, the winter air biting up your spine, but the shivers that are rippling through your body aren’t from freezing; the opposite in fact. The ghost of his fingertip creates a heated surge through your body, your skin igniting with pure desire.

Pushing the dress off your shoulders, your tits are laid bare in front of him, nipples hard and much more delicous than any lollipop Jaeyun could ever suck. They’re perfect, so perfect that he has a hard time putting his love for them into words.

“No bra?” he asks cheekily, that cocky boy everyone loves swimming to the surface of the night.

Shaking your head, you close your eyes as he cups them delicately. “Dress didn’t look right with it.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jaeyun’s thumbs flick over your hardened buds as he backs you up to the hood, you ass perched against the edge, a welcomed seat considering your legs could turn to jelly at any moment.

Truth be told, it was the main reason you didn’t wear a bra, with the tightness of the dress, it didn’t allow much more room for any extra padding. But you can’t lie and say that you also didn;t adorn one because it would save time.

“I’ll take your silence as confirmation, will I?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of your throat before travelling down, sending waves of warmth through you with each kiss.

You feel the cool press of the hood beneath you as he lifts you up to perch you, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples now you’re at the perfect height, his tongue tracing lazy, agonising circles that make your breath catch. He shifts to the other, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as he bites gently, eyes smouldering with a dark intensity that only makes you want him more.

With each flick of his tongue, your mind fogs over, the chill of the night air long forgotten. His mouth leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as he works his way down, fingers slipping under the fabric gathered at your hips, thumbs tracing soothing lines along your waist.

“Are these new?” he hikes your dress up so only your waist is covered and your new panties are on full display for him. It’s incredible how he noticed initially through touch alone, his mind cataloguing each thong, brief, and lacey panty you own.

“Yeah, got them a few days ago.” You don’t need to tell him that you bought them specifically for his birthday, he will know just by the Ivory colour alone.

A playful smirk curves on his lips as he takes in the sight of your new lingerie, his fingers grazing over the delicate lace with a possessive tenderness. “I thought so,” he murmurs, voice low and almost reverent as his thumb hooks under the fabric, dragging it down with aching slowness, leaving your cunt exposed, yet you feel anything but vulnerable.

There is a thrill of anticipation that crackles between you as his hands linger, his thumb tracing a line along your thigh. You’re so consumed with how close he is to your heat that you almost miss his other hand coming up to remove the cola lolly from your mouth.

“Open up,” he instructs, which you blindly follow, releasing the delicious treat from your mouth. “Good girl. Now, spread open for me.”

“Jaeyu-”

“It’s my birthday, Princess. I still have,” he checks his rewound watch, “36 minutes left, so until then, you gotta do what I say, yeah?”

That sounds perfect to you if you weren’t aware of how much of a tease he is. He’s going to torture you on the hood of his car, you know it, but you relent anyway, giving him a sharp nod and breathing out slowly.

Your legs spread wide, your feet finding stability on his bumper. The compromising position could mean anything, your mind flashing with all the possibilities of what he could do to you.

And by fuck, does he have a sweet, sweet plan.

A glint of mischief flickers in his gaze as he tilts the lollipop, the cola sweet glistening in the moonlight as he brings it down to hover just above your entrance. The sticky sweetness clings to the night air, and you feel your body tense with anticipation, each nerve heightened by the thrill of surrendering control.

He runs the candy along your inner thigh first, slow and deliberate, leaving a faint, sugary trail that he follows with his mouth. The coolness of the lollipop contrasts sharply with the warmth of his breath, sending shivers skittering up your spine as his lips and tongue trace after, claiming every inch of sweetness he’s left on your skin.

Finally, he presses the lollipop between your folds, teasingly dragging it up and down without quite giving you what you need, his eyes fixed on your reactions, devouring every tremor, every bite of your lip and jerk of your hips as the lollipop circles your clit. The sensation is maddening, the blend of sticky from the sweet and your own juices only heightens the ache building within you, and he seems to revel in the slow, torturous rhythm he’s set. He wants to take his time.

The lolly ghosts your entrance before he presses it ever so slightly inside, your breath hitching at the unexpected sensation. His mouth follows close behind, claiming you with a slow, deliberate kiss that has your toes curling against the bumper, his tongue tracing the sweetness lingering on your skin.

A wave of heat radiates through you as Jaeyun continues his maddeningly slow pace, the lollipop pressed just at your entrance, teasing and coaxing you in a way that has your pulse racing, much like how it was when you were near death on Devil’s Corner.

He dips the lollipop in a little further, the rounded edge pressing in just enough to make you gasp and claw at his car bonnet, and then he draws it back out, running it up and over your clit with agonising patience. The pressure of the sweet gliding over your most sensitive spot has you squirming, but his hands are firm on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, a wicked smile curving on his lips as he swirls the lollipop slowly, tracing lazy circles that leave you breathless. The candy, now coated in your own slick, sends shockwaves through you, and you feel yourself clenching, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more. Jaeyun seems to notice, and he chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling against your inner thigh.

With one last, lingering drag of the candy over your clit, he brings it to his mouth, sucking in the mix of flavours. Your sweetness mixing on his tastebuds with the cola makes his eyes roll and contemplate opening up a business just for him that sells pussy flavoured lollies. Specifically, your pussy, of course.

“You’re fucking delicious, Princess,” he moans out, sucking the pop with fervour. You’re so jealous and you curse ever buying him them. But not really, the scene of his tongue lapping it up eagerly, mixed with the saliva that's glistening on his lips only adds a series of precious memories that you can happily store in your wank bank.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it just rough enough for him to growl. “Please, I’m trying to cum for you before your birthday ends.”

“Yeah?” he huffs out a laugh and tosses the almost obsolete lolly away, the stick hidden by the gravel that swallows it. “I can make that happen.”

“Good-”

“If you beg.”

You freeze, resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. If there is one thing you hate most in the world, it’s begging for a man. You can submit to Jaeyun, sure, that’s easy enough. But there’s something so humiliating about having to plead for your own pleasure. He never makes you beg, usually too fucking impatient himself to play that game, so this is not exactly in your forte.

“I’m not begging. No way.” You cross your arms and shake your head adamantly.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens as he sees your defiance, his gaze darkening with something that borders on both amusement and challenge. “Really now?” he murmurs as his thumb traces slow circles on your inner thigh, inching achingly close but not quite where you want him. “You’re gonna stand by that?”

His eyes roam over you, taking in the way your body reacts despite your stubbornness, and you can feel the tension building in the air as he leans in, his lips hovering just above your core, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. The anticipation sends shivers racing over your skin, but you keep your arms crossed, refusing to relent.

“I know you hate it. You’re so powerful, baby. I adore that about you,” he continues in a low murmur, voice laced with a teasing edge, “But just once, for me?” He pouts, bottom lip overtaking his entire face and somehow making him look even more irresistible.

That fucking pout.

With a small laugh, he shifts down, pressing soft and tongue-focused kisses along your thighs, each one closer than the last. His breath is warm, and you can feel the control slipping from you with every careful movement.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice barely more than a whisper, “Please, eat me out.”

“Come on, Princess. If you’re going to beg, I want to hear you properly.”

“Jaeyun,” you whine, already flushing up with embarrassment.

“How about,” his mouth places one feather-light kiss on your clit, a gasp of pleasure drawing from your lips, “I beg you to beg me? Then we’re both on the same boat.”

Now, while you don’t like to beg, you love to hear Jaeyun beg. There have been countless times when you’re on your knees, much like he is now, and your mouth is a hairline away from his tip, and he’s thrashing under you, moaning out pleas and needs in a higher pitch, wanting nothing more than you to consume his painfully hard cock in his mouth.

Jaeyun doesn’t have humility when he is with you, he’ll scratch and claw at the bedsheets, whine out your name in desperation, and have you take full control if you want to. You wish you could be more like that, because fuck does it look beautiful, and you know he will love it if you’re a crying, pleading mess under him.

It would be the perfect birthday gift, actually.

So with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and clear your throat. “Okay. But only if you go first.”

Jaeyun smirks and rubs some heat back into your legs. With soft, kitten-like licks, he plays between your folds, giving you an inch of what's to come. “Princess, please beg for me. I’ve been such a good birthday boy, have I not? I need to hear you want me, the same way I need you. This pretty pussy deserves to be devoured, and I can only do that if you beg for it. Please, baby. Pretty please with a lollipop on top.”

God, he is so fucking good at it. Somehow he still sounds so strong and assured even when you can hear the cracks in his voice and the tremble on his lips. His hips buck the air, mimicking what he wants to do with you, his cock leading him, thinking with his second head.

Whimpering, you look down to see him adorning that pretty pout once again, and you crumble.

“I nod. Jaeyun…please make my cum on your tongue, let me give you the best birthday gift. I want you to lap me up and never stop, make you remember this birthday for the rest of your life. Please, baby.”

You don’t cringe, instead letting your desperation take charge, which gladly works. Jaeyun groans loudly at your filthy words as they echo over the cliff, giving the city indication of what’s taking place. His cock is so painfully hard against his jeans that he wonders if it has the ability to tear through the material like Hulk when he transforms. It certainly feels like it could.

“Good girl,” he praises, before giving you what you crave.

Connecting his mouth to your core, his skilled tongue has you keening, head falling back against the car hood as he licks a broad, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. His lips close around you, his tongue flicking and swirling as he loses himself in the taste of you, his hands spreading your thighs even wider to hold you firmly in place.

He slurps and devours you, humming into your hole in pure lust. Jaeyun loves nothing more than being buried in pussy, he could spend the rest of his life between thighs, your thighs. The added tints of cola still lingering on your skin only heighten his arousal, the sweet tang mixture enough for him to dig his nails into your thighs and bury further in.

Arching your back, your thighs fight his grip as they try and clamp around his head, the way his tongue dips into your hole, rimming it with teasing strokes before shooting back in makes your head dizzy, the November air suddenly feeling like a July breeze - welcomed and just right.

“Fuck,” you hiss out as he bites at your folds, dragging the sensitive flesh between his teeth, another way of tormenting you yet giving you everything you could want. His bottom teeth drag up to your clit with his puffy bottom lip trailing behind it like a soothing balm.

You’re starting to wonder whether it’s his birthday or yours.

With precision, Jaeyun latches onto your clit and suddenly, you’re seeing more stars in the sky, body lurching forward as you trap him there. The tension coils tightly in your stomach, and he takes his time, alternating between sucking and licking, bringing you right to the edge and pulling back just before you can tip over, savouring every second of your mounting need.

“Jaeyun, please…” you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, and he hums against you, sending a shudder through your entire body.

“See? You can beg so easily,” he mocks playfully, smirking as your thighs act as earmuffs. Despite the barricade, he can still hear every plea and mewl that falls from your lips, indicating that you’re close.

So, he picks up the pace, his hands gripping under your ass to push you further into his face. His round nose nuzzles your nub as his tongue swirls around inside your cunt, the tip of his tongue committing every bump and nook to memory - not like he hasn’t already. He knows everything about you, that’s what happens when you spend seven months doting on and worshipping the same person.

Grabbing tightly onto his hair, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to pull apart, the threads of rope straining as your climax tugs. “I’m cumming…fuck, Jaeyun,” you warn, but it’s not breaking news to the man causing the euphoria. He’s licking, sucking, and biting with ferocity because he knows you’re falling apart

He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your body, his tongue flicking over you with such skill it has you trembling. “Come on, Princess. Let go for me,” he whispers, his words like a command, and your body is happy to obey.

And then, it hits you - the release crashing through you, sending shudders of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You can’t stop it, your back arching as you clutch at his hair, your thighs trembling as the wave washes over you, and Jaeyun doesn’t stop. He keeps going, worshipping you like he’s addicted to your taste, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

Your chest heaves and your body goes limp as he cleans your pussy, making sure he takes every drop of his birthday gift. You taste heavenly, your cum swirling in his mouth as he slurps and sucks, the shocks jolting up your spine each time he nudges over your clit.

Once your legs release his head, he glances up at you through his thick lashes, mouth covered in your essence. “Thank you, baby,” he praises, his chest filled with a cocktail of emotions, the first as foremost one being adoration. “With 10 minutes to spare too,” he laughs, glancing at his watch.

Jaeyun stands up, kissing you with passion. He transfers your juices onto your mouth and you groan at the taste. All those days of downing pineapple and cranberry juice always pay off. His tongue licks yours, taking over your entire mouth as he claims you. His lips are sweet but his touch is anything but, you know he’s desperate, if his actions weren’t enough, the painful bulge that’s bucking into your sensitive folds is enough to tell you.

Swiftly, your hands move to his buckle, undoing it amongst the breathtaking kisses. It doesn’t take you more than a minute to undo his jeans and push them just low enough that his ass is on full display and his hard shaft can spring free. His cock is so pretty, like a work of art; six inches of pure joy. You’ve lost count of how many times this cock has made you come undone, the curve of it hitting perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for you. In some ways, you think it is.

Spreading your legs once again, you wrap your hand around his cock, the heat from it a stark contrast to your still cold hands. The sensation elicits a hiss from the birthday boy, his lips pulling from yours as he looks down. Your hand just fits around his length, and that makes his tip twitch. He’s proud of his size, but somehow he loves it even more when in the clasp of your fingers.

You press it against your wet core and he loses any sense of control he had left.

With a primal growl, he grabs your hips and lines up at your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. Between your outfit, the rush of the race, your cries of pleasure from his tongue work, and the overwhelming tightness in his heart, he needs to be inside you. Now.

Jaeyun slides in fully with one thrust, both of you creating a beautiful harmony of moans that echo like a choir in the night. His cock fills you up to the brim, his balls sitting comfortably against your ass. You feel like fucking heaven, in fact, if he was to die right now, he would do so happily. Those pearl gates could only mirror the happiness and alleviation that he feels as he buried himself to the hilt inside your warm hole.

His forehead rests on your shoulder, his lips peppering a succession of kisses just above your collarbone as he begins to move his hips, eyes rolling to the back of his head with each bump of your walls hugging him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Princess,” he mumbles, officially lost in the act of pleasure. He’s not thinking about anything else, just how your wet heat feels enveloping him.

You can’t say your thoughts aren’t also only consumed by the tip of his cock poking your cervix so deliciously, his balls slapping against you almost mimicking a spank each time. His thrusts pick up pace and you both lose yourselves in one another, chanting praises and curses to convey your feelings.

Jaeyun’s hands roam over your body as his cock pounds into you, switching from holding your hips in place to kneading your breasts, each one serving their own purpose. He wants you still so he can keep hitting that perfect spot over and over again, the squishy spec in your cunt his main target, but your tits bouncing in the moonlight keep distracting him, his cock losing power as his brain gets clouded in the movements.

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” he confesses, kissing the valley between your breasts. “So, so beautiful.”

Your heart hammers harder, the pulse resounding in your ear as you smile gratefully. “So are you, Jaeyun.” And you mean it. He’s the most beautiful person inside and out, you’re never going to meet anyone like him again, and that’s what terrifies you.

Jaeyun locks his eyes on yours, his hips finding a new determined rhythm. He presses his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose with yours in a kiss. How is it possible to feel so adored and cherished by a man you have no label with? That’s the question running through your mind as you stare into his soul, begging for him to answer.

And in some way, he does. His pupils shine with nothing but your reflection, showing just how deeply you're ingrained in him. Though neither of you may voice exactly what this is, you both know it.

As you lose yourselves in each other, that familiar coil tightens low in your belly, heat pooling with a desperate need for release. You dig your nails into Jaeyun's shoulders and bury your face in his neck, signalling you're close.

Gripping your waist, he matches your rhythm, pushing you both to the edge—metaphorically this time, thankfully. He's already brought you close enough to danger tonight; there’s no need to test fate again.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me," he urges, jaw clenched as he holds back his own release. He’s never been one to finish before his girl.

With his coaxing and the delicious sensation of him deep inside, you reach your climax once more, this time more intense than you expected. You bite down on his neck to muffle your moans, and like a domino, he spills into you.

His white ropes soothe your cunt, painting your walls with his adoration of you. The best decision you ever made was getting an IUD. You know it’s not full protection, but for the feeling of his seed filling you up like a cream piping bag, you’re willing to take the risk.

Jaeyun holds you close, his breath mingling with yours as both of you come down from the high, eyes blazing secret confessions into one another. The steady thud of his heart under your palm feels grounding, almost comforting in the quiet aftermath. You shift slightly, feeling his warmth begin to fade in the cool night air, yet he doesn’t let you go just yet, keeping you wrapped up in him.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper softly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, a faint smile tugging at your mouth.

Mirroring your expression, he melts into your pepper kisses as you trail down his neck, paying extra attention to the skin you marked up with your canines. His large hands glide up your back and hold you close to him. “Thank you.” It’s simple, but he’s biting his tongue, the moment too perfect to destroy with his post-nut brain.

You sense his apprehension and lean back, gazing into his eyes and studying the specs of his brain that you can make out. “You okay? You’re usually cracking out a joke by now,” you ask playfully, but there’s an undercurrent of concern in your tone.

Jaeyun bites his lips together, preparing himself to possibly make the biggest mistake of his life. He pulls out of you, jerking his cock clean enough that he can get away with it, before tucking it back into his trousers.

Oh no.

Your mind does everything to convince you that this isn’t going to end the way you think it will. The efforts to soothe your racing mind falter just at the finish line. This is it. He’s going to hit you with the ‘this has been fun but it’s not what I want anymore’ or ‘hey, so this was great but you’re not what i’m looking for’. Whatever concoction of those sentences he wants to spin, you know it’s going to hurt. You’re in too deep.

And you would much rather be humiliated with your clothes on. So you jump off the hood of the car, your slick glistening in the night lights like a snail trail. Suddenly, the acts you just took part in have turned from euphoric to sickly.

“Listen-”

“I meant it,” he interrupts, not even letting you end this before he can. “I really mean it when I say you’re the only girl for me.”

You’re waiting on the but, yet it never comes. Instead, he’s biting his lip nervously, looking at you but not into your eyes, his focus on your forehead like a sniper in the woods. And you feel like you’ve been shot, just not in the hurtful way you were expecting, it’s almost like you’re on the receiving end of a blank and the shock is ringing in your ears more than anything.

You stand dumbfounded, zipping up your dress at the back. “Huh?” It’s stupid and not what you want to ask, but your flabber has been gasted.

Jaeyun groans and rubs over his face. “I don’t want anyone else. And I know you’re annoyingly loyal to Yeonjun, but I can’t pretend that this isn’t more than what it is.” He steps forward and cups your flushed face, the cold now settling upon it once again. “I. Love. You. I have for fucking months, and…I don’t know, I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

I. Love. You.

It’s such a simple and common phrase, yet hearing it in his accent, from his mouth, directed at you, you find it foreign.

Jaeyun hates the silence that follows, the horns from the cars down below act like a mocking laugh to the moment. He knows its risky, confessing his feelings so bluntly, but if he had to keep them in any longer then he might have buried them forever and harboured an even deeper resentment towards himself and your brother.

“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, I get that. But can we call a spade a spade and admit that we love each other?” He insists, now finding his confidence. Go big or go home, he supposes. He’s convinced you love him too, you look at him the way he does you, and even if it’s only a tiny speckle of love that you hold for him, he needs you to admit it. For his sanity, and yours.

You can’t process a single thought beyond his words, their weight pressing down on you, making it impossible to breathe for a second. The world falls quiet around you, the buzzing city and distant hum of traffic fading as your mind hones in on his face, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lip as he waits.

“Jaeyun,” you manage, though it barely comes out above a whisper, “This isn’t…this isn’t exactly what we agreed on.” Stupid. Why the fuck are you saying that NOW.

“I know, but I also know you feel it too.” His thumb moves tenderly across your cheek, brushing over the spot where a tear might fall if you let it. “And if there’s even the slightest chance that you feel what I feel, I just need to know.” He pauses, his voice softening as he meets your gaze fully. “Because you’re it for me. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to be with you completely. You deserve to be loved, and although I might not deserve to be the one to give you that, I want to try.”

You want to look away, to retreat and give yourself a chance to think, but his eyes are pleading with you to stay present, to face this. And the truth is, in some corner of your heart that you've tried to ignore, you know what he's saying is true.

But Yeonjun…If he finds out, he’ll never forgive you. It’s one thing to be in a fun fling with his rival, it’s another to be completely and utterly head over heels for the boy.

The silence is thick, but there’s an odd comfort in it. You reach up, covering his hand with yours, grounding yourself in his warmth. “I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, voice trembling. “And I…I don’t know how we’d make it work without hurting Yeonjun.”

Jaeyun’s grip tightens, his confidence anchoring you. “I’ll make it work. I’ll do everything to make sure he accepts it. I’ll step down as the Lucifer’s leader, I’ll get on my knees and beg, baby I will do whatever it takes to get him on our side. I don’t want to come between you both, I know how precious he is to you, and you to him,” he pauses, breathing out and collecting his thoughts before he goes on a desperate faffing rant, his point losing focus. “I love you, and that means loving every part of you.”

“In the car…” you begin, voice unsure, “You said something about how Yeonjun would become your family, you meant-”

“Yeah, listen. Don’t freak out about that. I was jumping the gun with that one…but I mean, is it so unplausible? For us to be together? To imagine a future with you?”

“There’s a big difference between jumping into dating and leaping into marriage, Jaeyun.”

“Okay? So we’ll hold back on the leaping for now,” he laughs, pressing his forehead to yours, “but tell me you’ll jump.”

His breath mingles with yours, warm and steadying, grounding you in a way that makes your hesitation falter. "Jaeyun," you begin, your voice so soft it barely carries the weight of what you’re feeling. "It’s terrifying to even think about, you know that, right? Yeonjun is…he's been there my whole life, my protector, my brother…you’re asking me to risk that.”

"I know." He cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, tender circles along your cheek, calming and reassuring. "And I wouldn't ask you if I didn’t believe with every part of me that we’re worth it. But I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready; whether that’s now, or tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. I’m in this, Y/N. All the way. I just need you to say yes."

Your lips part, the words catching in your throat, suspended between the comfort of safety and the thrill of the unknown. Slowly, you reach out and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Alright," you say, a tremor of nerves mingling with the glint of determination in your eyes. "I’ll jump…but you’d better catch me, Jaeyun."

A grin breaks across his face, and for a moment, everything else fades away; the rivalry, the fear, even Yeonjun. It’s just you and him, exactly how it should have been from the beginning.

"Always," he whispers, voice filled with quiet conviction. Then he closes the distance between you, sealing your promise with a kiss that’s soft, lingering, and brimming with all the words neither of you dared to speak out loud.

But maybe it’s time you do

“I love you too, Jaeyun,” you confess, eyes boring into his heart.

His eyes widen for a split second, and you see the disbelief flicker across his face, not quite sure he heard you right. But then his gaze softens, and a smile breaks across his face, one so genuine and unguarded that it sends warmth flooding through you. His hand tightens around yours, squeezing his happiness into your veins and bones.

"You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles with a tenderness that leaves your heart aching. “I fucking love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chants, kissing all over your face, causing you to scrunch up and laugh, attempting to push him away but failing - not that you’re going to complain about that.

There’s a sense of relief, a lightness you haven’t felt in so long, as if all the weight of secrecy and uncertainty has lifted. For once, you’re not worrying about the consequences, about what could go wrong or who might get hurt. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the truth laid bare between you.

“Yes, okay, we love each other! Enough!” you giggle between his million and one kisses.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin with reverence. “I’m never letting you go now, you realise that, don’t you?”

You nod, a smile creeping across your face, and pull him in for another kiss, this one filled with the promise of everything that lies ahead. “Oh I know. Just wait till I tell your crew,” you laugh, pushing him away. “‘Oh, Y/N, I love you sooooo much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me-'”

Your imitation is cut short, his hand flying over your mouth as he suppresses a laugh, trying to portray fear that isn’t truly there. “C’mon! You can’t ruin my reputation like that,” he whines, giving you that signature pout.

“Oh but I will-” Without warning, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he carried you to the backseat. “Jaeyun! Put me down!”

“I’m going to fuck every word and thought out of that pretty brain of yours so you never utter my soft side to a soul,” he playfully jabs, opening the backseat and tossing you inside.

“Well…I have a lot of thoughts…and words,” you reply, biting your lip as you settle across the seats, legs already accommodating for him.

“Then it’s gonna be a long night. I suppose I’ll need to turn my clock back some more, don’t you think?”

____

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#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #aj writes #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enha x reader

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uncookedfeeler · 2 months ago

Text

Citrus II🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 7k, smut, incest, daddy kink,

Part 1

Five past eight in the morning, you arrive in front of your company, after having crossed a few blocks in the capital, at the automatic barrier, you wave to the guards to say hello and make your way to the underground car park, of course you have reserved your own space, not far from the lift, the privilege of having an important place in the company, you say to yourself; once the car has stopped, your bag in hand, you walk at a brisk pace to the lift and press the button for your floor.

Your impatience and shame are growing, you're late, which is far from your usual routine, especially when your president is probably waiting for you in your office. The reason for your lateness is even more shameful, but you're determined to put these thoughts aside during the working day.

Once you are on your floor, you pass through a second glass door, which you open with your badge. In the corner is the office of your secretary, who stands up to greet you and to warn you that the CEO is already in your office, just as you had expected.

"Hello Mrs Kang, and thank you, how long has he been here?"

"Not long, he arrived 5 minutes ago, he seems to be smiling, I think you'll be fine," she replies with a nervous smile, "would you like me to make some coffees and bring them to you?"

"No need, I'll do it myself, otherwise nothing else for the rest of the day? "

"There's a lot of paperwork to do today after the president leaves, your meetings don't start until this afternoon". You give her a thumbs up before putting your hands on the latch of your door.

Your office was a modern space filled with clean lines and muted tones. A large executive desk dominated the room; behind it, tall windows filtered soft daylight through half-drawn blinds, while recessed lights softly illuminated the dark wood cabinets lining the back wall. In the corner, a pair of white armchairs and a sofa were accented by a single red cushion.

Across from you is your chairman, a middle-aged man with short grey hair and a warm smile. His face has visible wrinkles, particularly around the eyes, suggesting a friendly mood. He is wearing a formal dark suit and tie.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Ahn,” you say, bowing 90° to him.

"Ha ha, hello director, there's no need to be so formal, just get up and sit down,”he says, pointing with both hands to the seat in front of him.

“Thank you, would you like a coffee while I'm up?”

“A short one then, my wife says I drink too much.”

You walk over to your desk and behind your chair is a piece of furniture that runs the full height of the wall, on top of which are various decorations, including your personal coffee machine.

“They all say that, but a good machine needs its fuel to work properly, doesn't it?”

“Absolutely.”

A few minutes pass as you place your respective coffees on the table between you, warning him that they are still very hot.

“I heard about the new contracts with JYP, good work Director Shin, I imagine it must have taken a lot of negotiation, they're notoriously difficult to do business with.”

“You could say that, it's not the first time they've worked with a cosmetics company like us, and it seems that their previous partnerships haven't been very successful, but with the work of the whole team, I think we've convinced them to count on us.”

“We still don't know the names of the models who will be wearing our products? if they match our latest collections well, I think it would be a great boost to our sales.”

“No information on that, the TWICE girls would be perfect, they embody the mid-twenties woman and seem to have finally lost their all-cute and pink ribbon image.”

As you finish your sentence, you see the chairman smiling after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Really good coffee, and why not ITZY, I'm sure they could certainly manage it too", the President smiles obviously as he mentions the group to which your daughter belongs.

"Yes, I'm sure", you reply with a touch of humour, the President knows very well who your daughter is and the joke shows how close you are to him.

"By the way, how is your daughter, she's appearing all over the country, she really seems to be riding on her popularity, you must be very proud of her".

"Sure, I try to keep up with her, although it's not as easy as it sounds, I imagine she'd be surprised to model for our company, I doubt she knows where I work or my position," you say with regret in your voice.

"Raising a daughter is not easy, I'll give you that, my older daughter... "Before he can finish, your phone rings to tell you that you've received a message with an attachment.

"When we were talking about the wolf, she sent me a message, sorry, go on, sir," you say, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Take your time, it's important to maintain a relationship with your children, especially when they've left home," he replies, leaning back on the sofa to take a step back.

After unlocking your phone, you click on the notification to open Yuna's message, which contains a link to a video and the message "how to grow my lemons", the link takes you to the streaming site Yuna uses and a replay starts :

"I've talked about this before, but the other day I took two lemons home to my parents that I've been growing for a long time, I'm not very good at it, so I asked my dad for help, he worked hard on them yesterday, you should have seen him, he played with them first and then he watered them generously, I think he's learning as much as I am, so I looked up on the internet how to grow them properly:

- First you need to stir the soil well with your fingers or a tool, then you need to push the seeds in deeply until they reach the end, then you need to water the soil regularly with love to increase the chances of getting a big lemon.

My two lemons have already grown well, so I'm wondering if I shouldn't put in a new seed to make a third, much bigger than the others," she said as she finished her explanation, stroking her stomach several times each time the word seed was mentioned.

Your promise to keep your impure thoughts out of your workplace, but Yuna's provocation, so innocent at first, is dangerously immoral and exciting in the right context.

"Your daughter seems to have found a passion for gardening, which is rare for young people who have only known the capital and its huge buildings," the President replies in an amused tone.

"However, I wonder if young women have an attraction for fruity things, it brings a sweet and innocent side while retaining the exotic taste of a sweet and strong flavour, should we explore this avenue for our products?" he asked, he's the President after all, so business comes first for him.

"It's hard to say, I know she had a shoot with different fruits as a concept, she doesn't quite fit the image of a young teenager, but an entry-level range for young girls with products that are easy to apply and discreet or even fragrant could be a target".

Another message appears on your screen with only the text ‘Now you know how to do it 💦🍋’.

The shock is quite brutal, you would never have imagined that your daughter would be so direct with you on this subject, after all you only really resumed your father-daughter relationship yesterday, the difference in personality between the nice, almost innocent girl you had yesterday and this morning and now, where she doesn't hesitate to tease you in public or by text message, a part of you hopes that she is just doing it for fun and not to satisfy you for fear of being abandoned again.

At no point do you want to force her down a path that won't make her happy, you've already thrown away your morals for her, now her happiness is your only concern, her wishes are your orders and pleasing your princess remains your goal in life.

You thank her for the guide and send her a sticker of a cat blowing kisses, followed by an 'I love you'. You put your phone back in your pocket to resume your conversation with your CEO as the clock ticks.

"I think we're done, I've really enjoyed this chat, I knew I could count on you to come up with new ideas, would you like to join the monthly review of their project, let's bring them the seed of your future fruity project," as the President stands up and walks towards the door.

"Sure, I'm following you"

The meeting has seemed endless, the chair and the others have taken it in turns to stimulate the discussion with their ideas, and what was supposed to be a simple project review has turned into a kick-off meeting for your project. It's past lunchtime and you've just returned to your office, completely drained of energy and with an appetite that's starting to grow. However, your position in the company means that with a simple phone call you can have a member of the kitchen staff come to your floor with your food.

"Knock, knock"

"You can come in"

"Morning, Director Shin, here's your lunch," says an athletic-looking young man as he places it on your desk.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, I've had a busy morning and my legs need a rest," you say in a moment of weakness.

"No, no, no problem, sir, I'll come back for the tray later, enjoy your meal". The young man leaves your office in a hurry.

As you pounced on your meal like a hungry hyena, this break being one of the rare moments when you let your invasive curiosity take over, you grabbed the mouse of your computer to open the search browser and typed in the name of your company as well as your first name, you had this strong feeling that you knew what was being said about you or your company, public opinion is important and you were also worried about letting your bad reputation tarnish that of your daughter in case of problems at work.

And although you didn't show her much, it was also your ritual to follow your daughter's career. All these years you have been following her journey as an adult in the industry, and it fills you with pride that today your daughter's name still appears at the top of the search rankings.

Her latest Instagram post seems to have set the internet on fire, as you click on the top trending link to see a series of photos of her in the bathroom of your house, her hair flaming red, her make-up perfectly applied to her face and her brown eyes piercing through the mirror. She's wearing a lovely black and white tank top and I'm sure you'll agree that she looks absolutely fucking gorgeous in these photos, the comments are flooding in with praise for her look, despite the occasional haters, but nothing new.

You quickly take out your phone to leave a message for your princess:

"I've just seen your photos, you're as beautiful as ever," while attaching a photo of the article you took with your phone. Once you've sent the message, you go back to your meal and your thoughts take over, you realise that this kind of little intention would have started from the beginning of her career, the simple fact of exchanging with your child and the feeling that comes from it soothes your heart and too bad if you become a clingy dad, you're going to tell her every day.

You're suddenly brought back to reality when your phone displays a notification saying that she's replied to you with a simple :

"Hihi thank you 😛, look at my little present", while a second message appears with a still blurred image, followed by a third in the conversation, Yuna had sent it as sensitive content, so you have to click on it to view it, and you're far from imagining what's revealed before your eyes: the last message served as a description with the words:

"it was just after the shower when i was getting ready to go to the company, my little lemons have turned into cherries, all i need now is your big seed 🍒" the photo is taken from a higher angle where your daughter lifts her top to reveal her small breasts and the many hickey marks still present on her body, Her left breast and nipple are well marked by your mouth, not forgetting that she's not wearing anything, and you can see her little bush underneath, with a comment at the bottom: "To 🍼 my 🧔🏻, He must 🍼 my 😻 first".

At that moment, your cock springs to attention in a flash, it shoots up through your trousers and slams against your belly, any man knows that pain and it's far from pleasant, you loosen your belt to give your raging member a little slack, this little minx knew what to do to excite someone and the hours were going to be long from now on.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, you don't dare take out your phone for fear of getting into an embarrassing situation, you still feel some vibrations in the afternoon, but like a good professional you don't even look, the hours go by until the beginning of the evening, you leave your office and go to the underground car park, you make the effort to look at your phone and all you get are trivial messages, You're a little disappointed because you were secretly hoping for more messages from Yuna, halfway there you find yourself stuck in traffic on the road and you decide to call Yuna to find out how her day went, she answers almost immediately but doesn't answer your question, but you can hear the girls chatting as if she had picked up the phone and put it on a table.

You wonder what kind of phone she uses to get such good quality, the girls' voices are easily recognisable and the sound is as if you were in the room with them.

Yeji: "Ugh, yesterday's shoot was so chaotic! I swear we almost lost our minds trying to get the perfect angle".

Lia: "I know, right? I thought we were going to end up on a blooper reels. Remember when we all turned the wrong way during that one scene?

Ryujin: "Yeah, and Yuna was the only one who actually turned the right way! I guess she has an 'inner compass' or something..."

Yuna: "Hey! I just knew what to do! Plus you stole my concept, remember!"

Yeji: "I mean, you didn't mind talking about it online, you even mentioned your dad again, you're such a daddy girl after all"

Yuna: "Not you too! Can we please not talk about my 'daddy issues' again?"

Chaeryeong: "We can't help it! It's just so weird how you don't even look at all the sexy boys around us, I wonder what you do with all those pictures of him you snatch from the internet".

Lia: “'Even though we know what she's doing, she's acting cold towards him, but in the end it makes you hot, doesn't it? you should at least try dating someone, we've all done it so far and it's like, we're not asking you to sleep with them, just get some dating experience”

Chaeryeong: “Easy Lia-unnie, you're the one taking selfies with your exes' dicks in your mouth aren't you? they never fucked you anyway so keep your advice to yourself”

Chaeryeong:“Yuna, listen, we're not forcing you to do anything, but try to use your youth to meet people, it's weird to see you alone at home all the time.”

Yuna: “Unnie, that's not the problem, I'm just afraid of being rejected and I don't know how to tell him how I feel about him, we haven't been very close since mum left”.

Ryujin: “He's your dad Yuna, of course you love him in your own way, let's just say, just tell him and you'll be free of this burden, then we can go and pick up some hot guys backstage”.

Yeji: “I don't think she likes you getting fucked in the toilets when the newbies show up, same goes for you Chaeryoung, no one's putting any pressure on Yuna, right?”

Lia: “Easy for you to say when you're being fucked by your childhood sweetheart, we're not so lucky to have someone who loves us for something other than our bodies”.

Yuna: "It hurts, doesn't it? Aren't you afraid of getting pregnant?"

Ryujin: "'Are you kidding? Wait, you've never...? not even with the toys you hide in the box under your bed?"

Yuna: ”'OF COURSE NOT".

Yeji: "Stop laughing you bitches, Yuna this ain't that serious, yes it can hurt, you have to be prepared downstairs and remember we take all the pills the company gives us and don't forget we always use condoms, DON'T GIRLS?"

Ryujin: "Don't give us shit about it, they shove it up my arse anyway, you think I'm going to let those sons of bitches touch my pussy? a good load on the face, that's what it's all about'."

Lia: "Same thing, they can fill my arse but my pussy is off limits, I love to smash their cocks and make them scream in pain when they try to pull out'."

Chaeryeong: "Fucking listen to these bitches, apart from sucking cocks when I want to, I only fuck other girls, no risk on my side."

Yeji: "See, we're all careful, protect yourself well and don't forget your pills, they help with your periods too'."

Yuna: “I'm out of pills and I don't have a condom, but it's not like I need one, is it?!!, I'm going home tonight, don't wait for me”.

Ryujin: “Don't take it like that baby, I can give you some if you want”.

Yeji: “Yuna, come back!!! “.

You hear the loud thud of a door slamming and limbs flailing as Yuna leaves.

Yeji: “ 'Well done girls, that was clearly a good time to bring her down and make fun of her and her problems”

Lia: "Sorry unnie, we didn't think she'd take it like that, I'll go and get her'.”

Ryujin: “Stay here, you're making it worse.”

Lia: “Bloody hell, how can someone like that be so ignorant of her own sexuality, do you think she likes girls instead?”

Chaeryeong: “She's got a crush on her dad, are you stupid or what, we don't say anything to avoid the subject, she's just wanted to fuck her dad for a long time, she's got photos of him on her phone, on her wallpaper, a photo of him under her pillow, the poor thing is in desperate need of fatherly love”

Yeji: “ I don't know what happened last night, but since then she's been really nervous about it, let's leave her alone, otherwise she'll go crazy and we don't know what she'll do”.

Yeji: "We'll see about that later, it's almost time. Get ready and I'll go to her, you three go with the managers. We'll go back to the company, Chaery, get her bag and phone. She left it on the table."

Calm returned to the room and before you lost the connection to your daughter's phone, you heard

"Looks like you've got work to do Daddy Shin, sorry for the trouble" and she hangs up.

This is a lot to take in, and apart from the sexual debates between the 4 girls, which did not leave you without a reaction, the hardest thing is still Yuna's problems, which confirm your fears about her feelings, your daughter is not the provocative woman she pretends to be in the message, she is a young woman who still has a lot to learn about her own love and carnal feelings, knowing that your little girl is 'pure and innocent' would make any father smile, but on the other hand, what is the harm in learning about her sexuality? The trauma that has held her back, and for which you are probably responsible, is preventing her from moving forward in her life as a woman.

You'd been thinking all day about how to punish your daughter for her insolence, but the person you'd been talking to didn't exist. With Yuna's true feelings in mind, the next logical step seemed to be to wait for her at home and assume your role as father, as a princess deserves.

When you get home, you look at the clock and realise that she won't be home for another hour or two. That gives you plenty of time to tidy up, do your laundry and take a shower. You've picked up some bad habits living alone, but now that you're sharing your home with someone else, it's time to get the ball rolling again and restore the beauty of your property.

Time flies and you've barely had time to get out of the shower and into your new clothes when you hear the door latch click. You quickly step in front of it to see a redhead running towards you, dropping her bag in the doorway and giving you a big hug.

"Welcome home, darling," you say, stroking her head as you feel her face sink into your chest and a wet feeling hit your chest.

"I'm sorry daddy, I..."

"SHhh, it's all right, I'm here."

The situation is very different from yesterday, Yuna's shell seems to have burst the moment she saw you, you feel the warmth of her body against yours as her arms wrap around you, you say nothing, leaving one of your hands on her head and the other on her back.

"Dad, I... the message... it's not .... I wan...."

"Just breathe, I'm not angry, you know,"

"I just wanted to make you happy, I wanted to show you I'm a big girl, I'm so embarrassed now"

"You don't have to make me happy, it's my job to make YOU happy, and don't bother trying to act big, you're my little princess, that's all".

Just as she seems to have calmed down, you take her face in your hands to wipe away the last of her tears before placing a loving kiss on her forehead, "I love you," you say in a low voice as if to lull her to sleep, "I will never let you down, my only daughter.

Yuna is lulled by your words and you feel the weight of her body fall on your arms, "just rest on the sofa, I'll bring you a snack, you must be tired from your day's work", she accepts without flinching as you prepare something to eat while you wait for dinner, your daughter sits on the sofa, her head resting on a pillow, looking at you, when your eyes meet you exchange a smile without saying a word.

The evening passes smoothly, while your daughter rests and eats, you finally talk about your respective days, leaving your erotic exchanges out of the conversation, she finally gets to know your job, while you finally know what happens off camera, the night is felt and you suggest she take a shower while you prepare dinner, again she accepts without concern.

"Would you like to join me?" she asks shyly.

"Yuna, your legs are shaking, you don't have to push anything, I'm not going anywhere," you reply to her completely unexpected request.

She doesn't even answer and locks herself in the bathroom, slamming the door. You really can't understand what's going on in her head, but there's no time to lose, so you start preparing dinner.

Like last night, the meal is spent in church-like silence, each of us with our own thoughts. Yuna is completely withdrawn and doesn't even look at you, which is quite an awkward situation for you as she seems so close and then suddenly so far away.

You try to break this silence in the desert and ask her if she wants to watch a film, she takes a while to answer and then accepts, saying that she has to change first so that you can start getting everything ready while you wait for her, it's a good start and the film could give you a new topic of conversation to revive the dialogue between the two of you.

While she's still in her room, you call out to her to ask what film she's interested in.

"Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken Please, Giselle-unnie told me it's good".

You hear through the house, you recognise your daughter, who has always loved cartoons, once you've found them on Netflix, you adjust the brightness of the lights for a subdued effect, you've prepared a blanket and something to eat.

The minutes tick by and you wonder what Yuna is doing, you don't see much, it takes so long to get into pyjamas, but you tell yourself she's probably on her phone at the same time, which often doesn't help.

You hear her footsteps behind you and when she appears behind you, you see her wearing a simple pink t-shirt, you can easily guess that she's not wearing anything underneath as it hugs her breasts.

Suddenly she's straddling you, saying, "Forget the film, I want you, Daddy," as she pushes her body into yours and lies on top of you in a lotus position.

"Yuna, please, I," you don't finish your sentence as she slaps your face.

"STOPPP REJECTING MEEEEEEEEEE' she screams at the top of her lungs as she bursts into tears over you, 'WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, I....I....I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME' WH... WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME LIKE THIS?

Your daughter lashes out at you in shock at what's happening in front of you, you grab her arms and she becomes helpless under the difference in strength between the two of you.

"Yun..."

"I just want you..." she says, her face completely ravaged by tears, the face of someone who is deeply hurt and can't take it anymore.

Something breaks inside you, all this time you've assumed she would throw herself at you, just to be like the others, just to receive the love you would have given her anyway, you've hurt her again and again until you made the same mistake you made with your wife.

Your daughter loves you more than anything and you are too blind to see that she doesn't know how else to show it, but this time you will make it right and give yourself to her.

Without further ado, you threw your lips over hers, releasing her wrists from your grip and sliding your hands from her lower abdomen to her breasts hidden under her t-shirt.

"No bra, you little rascal?"

Instinctively she puts her hands on your shoulders and fights your tongue with hers, you attack her nipples with your hand and they are already hard, the attack on her breasts causes Yuna to moan which is absorbed by your kiss, you go down her neck to place your marks while she can finally listen to her pleasure.

"Daddy, your cock, give it to me" she says as she plunges her hand into your shorts and meets your cock through the underpants, you lift her up with the strength of your legs and come to remove your underwear in one go, your cock is now naked between your daughter's thighs and she puts her hands on it.

"Put some saliva before baby," she listens to you religiously, but instead comes and gets the saliva overflowing from her pussy and applies it to your cock.

"Let me use my juices before you use yours," she says as she works your cock up and down, your shaft growing under Yuna's movements and the pleasure is truly enjoyable.

One of your hands digs into her soaking wet panties and you massage her slit with your fingers, your moaning cries joining in as you pleasure each other.

Quickly she gets up from the sofa to kneel in front of you and she begins to lick your cock with delicacy, her tongue starts at the glans and she places kisses on it, then her tongue and lips come together so that she tries to suck your sperm, her lips then go gently down the length of your cock and your cock goes slowly down her throat.

"Yuna, that's good, you're doing great," you say as you put both hands on her head to guide her, you watch as your cock disappears into her mouth as the sensations of her work send shivers down your back, from time to time she pulls out to spit on your shaft before sliding back in,

Yuna learns as she goes and her technique is perfected with each dive, after a while your breaking point comes and you refuse to finish here so you help her pull out and try to save your orgasm for later, her mouth overflowing with saliva and she looks at you with appetite.

"Sorry baby but it's my time to eat you now" you tell her as you take her in your arms and go into your bedroom where you lay her on her back on the edge of the bed, without further ado she attacks her pussy with your mouth and she presses her thighs against your head, Your tongue immediately attacks her slit, which rushes to secrete its juices, which you suck up as you go, her clit is quickly attacked by one of your hands, which takes great care to titillate the little bean, with delicacy you move up and down her slit, from time to time penetrating her entrance with your tongue to prepare the work,

The poor red girl cries out with pleasure as she experiences being devoured by her lover for the first time, she clings to your hair which she pulls when the pleasure is too great, on your side you shift into second gear and penetrate your daughter's pussy with two fingers, you feel like you're piercing a flan because the inside is so soft.

“Daddy don't stop, it's coming” your daughter cries out as she feels your third finger deep inside her, your mouth has turned into a wet wiping system as her pussy floods your mouth, you keep up the rhythm until you feel your daughter leave and in a flash her body goes rigid and her pelvis convulses under the power of the orgasm.

You lift your head and climb onto the bed to kiss your princess with a little “I love you” in her ears,

"Daddy, I want you,” she says, stretching out her arms to ask you to come inside her, “it's time to put that seed inside me,” as she spreads her pussy in front of you.

Worried, you reach over to your bedside table for a condom, but Yuna stops you.

“It's ok daddy, I'm on the pill and it's a safe day, you can pour everything into my secret garden", Yuna's naughty language excites you immensely and your cock hurts so you give in and come to lie on her entrance and gently tap your cock to soak it in her juices,

You sink gently and anxiously into your own daughter, resting your elbows on the mattress so that you can kiss her as you move inside her, every inch of her is painful and she lets you feel it as she scratches your back with her fingernails, you kiss her tenderly as your hips move up to touch her pussy,

Your cock feels the tightness of her vagina as well as the warmth and moisture from your excellent preparation work, the passage through her pussy is made without too much effort and you slide deep inside her like butter, on the other side Yuna seems to take your big cock like a champion and despite the pain she has already wrapped her legs around your waist.

You feel her warm, rapid breathing on your face as you look into her eyes, just inches apart.

"Daddy, I can feel you inside me, my little pussy just ate your big dick."

"Are you alright baby, I won't move until you're ready".

"I want to sit like on the sofa".

You obeyed her orders and gently lifted her up without pulling back to let her sit on you, you put yourself on her buttocks and she was now resting all her weight on you, the change of position made your cock dig even deeper inside her and she felt it well.

"Don't move, I want to stay connected to you like this," as she strokes her stomach trying to feel your cock, "keep eating my tits, please.

Just as your cock seems to have bottomed out, you turn your attention to her pair of little red lemons, You really loved her tits, they are not as big as some but in your eyes they are perfect, the texture of them, the feel of them in your hands and the way Yuna reacts every time you nibble on her nipples.

You decide to kiss your daughter and whisper "Shall we?" to which she only nods, you begin to rock your hips as your cock slowly emerges from her pussy and then slowly returns, never fully exiting, you carve your daughter's walls with your cock and Yuna moans with pleasure at the work of your rod.

“♥Hmm....♥Ah....♥Hmm, ah....♥ Daddy, your cock is turning me inside out, every time you push in it feels weird down there, it's a bit painful but also extremely pleasurable, I can feel your big cock pushing my sides apart and knocking on my garden gate, keep it up, I want to feel your cock ravaging me".

You pick up the pace at your partner's request, your cock seems to have done its job well as you are able to withdraw completely before impaling her again with no problem, under the force of your hips Yuna lays her head on your neck and sucks you like a baby, you let go of her breasts to lock your hold on her by circling her waist with your arms, once firmly in place you pound her with all your strength.

“♥Ah....”

“♥Ah.... DADDY”

“♥Ah....

♥Ah.... DA”

For long minutes, you hold her close as your cock slams violently into her pussy. The pleasure comes from the fact that Yuna has her head back, unable to form a sentence. Pleasure has taken over her body. You feel your orgasm building slowly. While your daughter is already on the verge of hers, you feel her legs squeeze you hard as she explodes on your cock and her fluids flow down it. Yet you don't stop your thrusts.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Stop it"' At her command you stop and discover your daughter's face completely undressed, her hair sticking to her sweaty face and you push aside the lips that hide her eyes to kiss her.

"Let me do it now" she asks as she moves her hips on her own to embrace your sensitive cock, her movements are fast, her pussy devouring you at its own pace and you put your hands on both her buttocks to support her, you give little slaps to her delicate skin and as she fucks herself on her father's cock you feel your orgasm coming and you warn her.

"Yuna, I'm coming"

She gives you the coup de grace when she puts all her weight on her descent and your stiff cock pierces all her pussy until your balls kiss her pussy, inside your cock floods her and for the first time in her life Yuna is at the door of motherhood, her pussy sucks your sperm with efficiency and you withdraw from her.

Yuna is still sitting on your lap, your breaths heavy, your bodies full of sweat and juice, and neither of you can stand the silence as Yuna's cum begins to flow.

"Ah baby, that was amazing. You were amazing!"

"Thanks daddy, do you want some more?"

"I'm sorry darling, I'm not young anymore, my penis is withered."

You can see the disappointment in Yuna's eyes. In your youth, a second round might have been possible, but now your libido is limited to your arousal, and after emptying yourself into her, you no longer feel anything on that level.

"Daddy... Are you going to leave me like this?" says Yuna as she gets down on all fours, points her bottom at you and spreads her pussy with your cum dripping from it.

The sight of your daughter in this position would have turned any man on. You feel like it, but your desire is gone for the moment. You see your daughter wiggling her bottom, begging you to fuck her, and you're powerless to stop her.

"Dad, I'm sorry... I lied, I haven't taken the pill yet, I want a second shot or I won't take it. The longer you wait the more your seeds will fertilise my garden, look how hungry my pussy is, come and make sure you flood my pussy next to save my career."

You're at a loss for words, whether to believe her or not, but one thing's for sure, she knows how to work you because your cock has come back to life and you're going to take malicious pleasure in making her regret having put that doubt in your head.

You grab her hips and penetrate her little pussy, slamming your balls against her arse,

The gentleness of before has been transformed into a wild fuck where only pleasure is king. Your hands are firmly planted on her hips as you pound her with your pelvis, creating waves on her buttocks that will soon feel the onslaught of your hands.

"Daddy, your cock is stirring my insides, your sperm is mixing in my pussy, push hard".

Your daughter is now nothing more than a vulgar hole in your assaults, the seed of doubt she has planted in your mind has completely removed your sanity. If she is indeed unprotected, your first sperm must have done its work in spite of you. When in doubt, you prefer to flood her a second time and make sure she takes her medicine.

Go ahead daddy, make me your property, claim my pussy as your own personal garden, I'll take care of all your fruit,' Yuna's provocations rage in your mind. So you explode into your offspring's pussy again, you stand for a few seconds spasming against your daughter's ass as she collapses onto the bed, then you do the same, completely exhausted.

'Was that true about the pill, baby?

'Yes...' she says shyly. Now that all her libido has left her body, she presses you against her breasts and whispers in your ear: "It's too early to taste my juice, you'll have to give me some more water.

Your daughter is soon off to dreamland, still naked, and the bed is soaked with the fluids of your lovemaking. You make sure you look as tired as possible before you too collapse.

You wake up to a pleasant smell, but also to a body in pain. The bedroom gym session hasn't done your body any good, but your mind is at peace. As you leave your room, you see Yuna in an apron preparing breakfast. Beside her is a pack of contraceptive pills, two of which are already empty. When she sees you, she says:

"Good morning, Dad, you're going to need your strength, remember, you have to stir the soil first before you put your seed in. We're going to have to spend some time on this before you can make my pussy fertile for you."

Later, as you're driving to work, you see an important email from your CEO and a message from Yuna; you'd like to think that the email is more important, but that would be lying to yourself,

The text message is just a selfie of your daughter still in bed next to you with the message 'I've got a body full of marks, the girls are going to realise what we've done, not to mention I've still got your sperm in me 🤭"

Classic Yuna, but you'll have to get used to it. You've made a pact with a demon, but who cares, you're no angel anyway.

As for the email, just looking at the title 'Meeting with JYP & ITZY', it looks like you're finally going to meet one or more members of your daughter's group.

______________________________________________________________

#kpop smut #yuna smut #itzy smut #itzy x reader #yuna x reader

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3rachasdomesticbanana · 7 months ago

Text

Among Strangers | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)

an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.

Part II

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”

When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.

“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.

Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.

"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.

The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.

“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.

The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.

“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.

You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.

“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.

“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.

You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.

“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.

The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.

“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.

“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.

With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.

“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.

“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.

He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.

As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.

“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.

“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.

Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”

You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.

The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.

“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.

“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.

“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.

“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.

══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════

The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.

“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.

You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”

As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.

“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.

“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.

“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.

That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.

“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.

Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.

“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.

Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.

“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.

“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.

His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.

“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.

“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”

Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”

He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”

You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.

“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.

He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.

“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.

“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”

Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.

When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.

You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.

“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.

Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.

“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.

“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.

Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.

“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.

You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.

The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.

“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.

You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.

“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.

“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”

You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.

“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.

His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.

“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.

Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.

Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.

The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.

Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.

Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.

“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.

You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.

“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.

“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”

“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.

Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.

He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.

You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.

He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.

“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”

You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.

“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.

You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”

“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”

You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”

A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.

“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.

As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.

"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”

"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.

Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?

After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.

“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.

“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.

“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”

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literally-loco · 7 days ago

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My Boys' Girl (18+)

Pairings: John Price / Simon "Ghost" Riley / Fem!Reader / Johnny "Soap" MacTavish Content Warnings: Voyeurism, mentioned exhibitionism, she/her pronouns used for reader Word Count: 1.1k A/N: Shorter fic this time-I've got a longer one in the works tho! Also-If anyone has any fic suggestions PLEASE tell me and i'll try my best xoxo

———————————————————————— “She wanted to show off for you, Cap.”

————————————————————————

John Price knew what his boys got up to in their spare time. He didn’t have to be told-he saw how they looked at each other, how they’d cuddled up to each other in the back of the van when they thought no one was looking, how they’d instantly look at each other at the mention of an “early finish.” He knew what they got up to. Not that he cared-he loved his lads like they were family. He’d shot enough evil glares at anyone who dared to criticize or gossip about the two. But what he didn’t know was how they’d managed to pick up you. The pretty little thing he’d seen clutching Johnny’s arm when they went to the pub, with the most beautiful eyes. He was happy for his lads-how they’d found home in each other, but God his eyes were drawn to you. Your perfect curves, your breasts (even if it made him feel like a dick), and your eyes. He could envision them looking up at him through those beautiful lashes, lips wrapped around his cock.

He felt terrible about it. The lads obviously liked you a lot, and you’d been nothing but nice to him. And here he was-fantasizing about you. He’d often find himself getting off to you, wearing whatever tight little dress he’d seen you in. Cock in hand, imagining it was your mouth he was fucking. Nearly every night he’d flick through the selfies he’d gotten from MacTavish, nearly every photo including you.

And then another notification came through-a photo, as usual. But it wasn’t the usual jokey selfie-which usually included you draped over the lads in some sort of way. This was different. This photo was…new. Evidently Ghost’s hands-based on the glove-tilting your face up by the chin, with your big, beautiful eyes staring into the camera. Eyes lidded every so slightly, with a blissed out look on your face. God you looked perfect.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at that picture, his cock already stiffening in his trousers, until the next one came through. He exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the arm of the chair a lot tighter than he had previously. It was like he could feel all the blood in his body rushing down, as he caught sight of you in the photo. Ass up in the air, face down in the pillow. Ghost’s hands were clearly holding your hands behind your back, and your pussy was barely covered by the lacy piece of string you called a thong.

“She wanted to show off for you Cap.” The text read, and Price sucked in a breath. His hand swiftly reached down to palm his now painfully hard cock through his trousers. He could just imagine slipping his fingers inside you-finding that sweet spot deep inside you that would make your toes curl.

His fingers were pressing the call button before he knew what he was doing.

“Evening Captain. To what do we owe the honor?” Johnny’s voice rang out, sounding slightly too amused with himself.

“Photos, MacTavish. What was up with that?” Price asked, his voice catching in his throat slightly at Johnny’s ever so evil chuckle.

Price swears he can hear the plot in Johnny’s head as he spoke, the soft rustling of the duvet giving away where exactly he was. “Why don’t I put her on the phone for you?”

————————————————————————

You could barely think-but somehow managed to pull yourself together enough to take the phone off of Johnny. “He-Hey John!” You squeaked out, instantly covering your mouth to conceal the moan that dared to try to escape your lips. Ghost’s hands gripped your hips, fucking into you at such speed you wondered how his knees didn’t give out, with his cock hitting that sweet spongy part deep inside you.

“Heard you wanted to show off for me, love?” His voice rumbled through the phone, dark and smooth like a good whiskey. That teasing tone, the soft chuckle in his words, it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Go on then. Talk to me.”

At that, Ghost picked up the pace, hands gripping the flesh of your hip so tight you were sure it would leave bruises. “Is he making you feel good, love? Making your legs shake?” You inhaled a strangled gasp, biting your lower lip slightly.

“Asked you a question.” Ye-ah-” You whined, bucking your hips back against Ghost. Something about having Price on the phone, with Ghost fucking you like his life depended on it, and Johnny watching from the corner-it felt so dirty. But so good. “Need-need to cum-”

“I know you do, love. Gonna cum for me?” Ghost’s hands found your clit, earning a string of moans out of you. “Yeah she is-can feel her squeezing around me. So fucking tight-and wet-” Ghost’s thrusts grew staggered, his hips slamming into yours. You didn’t care to be quiet anymore, there was no point.

————————————————————————

John already knew what was going on. He’d known before he’d called. He knew when he called that you’d be on your back-but he hadn’t expected to be listening. It felt dirty. But God the way your sweet little moans had him gripping his aching cock, and his head tossed back over the chair. Bucking his hips up into his hand, imagining he was fucking your soft little cunt. “Gonna cum for me?” He’d asked-and the gasps and moans he got in return had him gasping for breath.

“I know you need it, love.” He murmured into the phone, trying his hardest not to cum before you. “Be a good girl and cum for me.” He needed to hear you cum. To hear those gorgeous gasps as you came on his Lieutenant’s cock, imagining he was the one balls deep inside you. “Come on, love, cum for me.”

And the shuddering moans he received was enough for him to spill over his hand. Panting heavily-he was barely aware enough to hear Ghost’s cursing gasps as he followed.

“Enjoyed the show then, Captain?” Johnny’s voice was back, sounding equally out of breath as the rest of them. “Should’ve seen it in person-she played such a good girl when you got on the phone.” His words sent another shudder down his back.

“You knew then?”

“Had a hunch. Couldn’t keep your eyes off of her.” Price groaned as his hand-the clean one-came up to cover his face. He’d been that obvious. The whole time.

“Don’t worry lad-she’s already eager to see you again. I’m always down for a good show-and Simon’s pretty interested in seeing how she’d take both of you.” Well shit. The next pub meet was going to go very well for him.

#cod smut #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #ghost cod #captain price #x reader #writing #fanfic #loco writes

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bigification · 2 months ago

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Handlebars

Day 1:

My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.

"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."

He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.

"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.

"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.

He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.

Day 7:

It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.

The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.

"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."

"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."

It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.

Day 15:

I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.

I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.

Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.

Day 30:

Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.

Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.

"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."

He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.

Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.

Day 60:

This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.

"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."

Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.

"Here bro, take this."

Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.

"Just for you Handlebars."

I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.

"You got this all for me bro?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."

Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.

Day 100:

I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.

Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.

"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.

"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.

"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.

"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.

"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.

The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.

Day 120:

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.

For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.

At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.

Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.

I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.

Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.

He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.

I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.

"You're mine."

I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.

"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."

I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.

I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.

"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.

Day 150:

I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.

We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.

Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.

#male tf #masculine #reality change #hairy #male transformation #muscle tf #age progression #moustache

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ghostgirl101 · 11 months ago

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Oliver Quick Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Watched this recently and got too many ideas because it's what I do 😀 if you've got any requests for the Saltburn crew then drop them in my inbox and I'll get round to them. Have fun reading- just know that there are obviously spoilers for the Saltburn movie here, so if you haven't watched it, zip to the cinema and come back 😎 or don't.

☓• It's hard to know where to start with Oliver... all I can say is that once you're in his sights, you're never getting out of them. Big never. Even if he has to wait years to get what he wants, he'll wait, and he will get it. And of course, the it we're talking about here is lucky you. So lucky you 🙃

☓• Say goodbye to your close friends and possibly your family if they're taking up too much of your time or happen to see through his harmless, quiet, normal act to something a lot darker and obsessive tainting his pure blue eyes every time they latch onto you. No one's managed to get in his way yet, and it stays that way.

☓• The first unknowing encounter with Oliver must have been somewhere around Oxford Uni, where you all go to and study. Maybe in the library, outside talking to friends - doing practically anything and making it look amazing and beautiful and something to be wanted above anything. He watches you a lot, a lot a lot, before you bump into each other, because the meeting has to be perfectly natural and it's his only chance to start things off on the right foot.

☓• Coincidences happen a lot and no one can be called out on them, because nothing seems to be wrong yet. You'll end up spending the majority of your time with him, maybe even without realising, whilst he finds out ways to know more about you and get closer to you. Oliver's not so good when it comes to talking about himself, telling you with one of his awkward but earnest half-smiles that he's not half as interesting, and so the conversation ends up steering back to you. From family life to friends, growing up, hobbies, favourite colour, tell him anything and everything. Because he won't forget a single thing.

☓• He's easy with where you want to go to hang out too, so long as he's there. You could just be talking with your friends in the nearby pub or at a party where the invite was extended to him as he's with you, or studying together at the library. Ignore the weird looks from Michael.

☓• But what Oliver prefers above all that is just being together and alone, maybe in your dorm room, or just out somewhere at a park or at the bridge, sitting and talking, opening yourself up more and more to him. This boy is an incredible listener. If your voice trails off when you become self-conscious of how much you're rambling, all you'll get in response is Oliver blinking out of his trance and giving you a calm smile and a shrug. "No, it's fine, I don't mind. Carry on."

☓• Number one supporter, naturally. Oliver tries to be the best friend and more, so hard, with you. He'll be anything you want and need him to be without you even having to mention it. Whatever club or team you're on, he'll give you a little wave and small grin from the sidelines... take a few pictures when you're not looking. For safekeeping.

☓• It can get more than a little frustrating for him when you're distracted by your other 'friends' at Oxford, even if it's something as small as looking over essay answers and revision notes with Farleigh. There's always a back-and-forth thing happening between those two, and so when Farleigh starts becoming friendly with you and outrightly mocking with Oliver, to you, all that will happen is Oliver giving him an unblinking, blank look that looks a touch too cold and repressive, before he ignores him. And that's all you'll ever know about it.

☓• If you happen to stick up for Oliver when someone brings up how different and odd he is, a bit awkward to talk to and a cheapskate or whatever, he'll never get over it. You stuck up for him. That just proves that he was right about you, from the second his dark gaze latched onto your unknowing self just a few weeks ago. He was right. You're... perfect.

☓• There's so much good about Oliver, that if you ever hear anything different, it's hard to actually believe it. It's just Farleigh causing trouble, or gossip that has gotten out of hand again, not actual hints of something deeper bubbling beneath the surface. Oliver would never watch you outside your dorm room at night, what are they on about? And when Oliver hears of them too, or gets the worries out of you when he instantly notices that something's up, he'll act as effortlessly, convincingly confused as you are. If there's the slightest bit of proof in the accusation, he'll cover it up with a flawless explanation that swerves away from him and onto someone else within a second, while still seeming without grudges towards anyone. "You shouldn't listen to them, they're just trying to get in your head. Or maybe they want you for themself or something. I mean, I can understand that. Completely."

☓• You will eventually notice just how clingy Oliver can get when he seems to be everywhere around you, and you might be looking for a moment to yourself. If you gently bring it up, he'll reluctantly go on the promise that you'll text him back, which gives him time to change tactics. He will go as far as saying someone in his family died, or as small as admitting that the isolation from everyone who is so different to him in this place makes him feel a bit broken up. Maybe he should leave? And you, being you, encourage him to stay on and hang out with you and your friends, and boom, his back in.

☓• It's so easy for Oliver to subtly manipulate his surroundings and its people. Everyone, except for you. With you, the manipulation comes in seemingly natural events, nothing too forward. Because what he likes the most is you coming to him with whatever, problems, thoughts, feelings. Then he's done his job, and everything else that will build up a beautiful, beautiful relationship, will slip into place for him.

☓• Again, everything has to be perfect, and it will be. Maybe your first kiss with him is on your birthday, or out somewhere nice as a treat with some other rich friends. Or it's just you two having a movie marathon or pulling an all-nighter. Every time, he'll inch closer with little sweet, honest lines spoken in a calm, low tone, his eyes locked with yours and scarcely blinking. "Do you know how loveable you are?" "I think that your smile is something to live for." "I never want to be without you."

☓• Oliver will edge closer and closer, holding hands, brushing your hair back from your face when you're reading with a tender touch, meeting your eye and not letting go until you smile in bashful amusement and look away. He'll meet you outside all your classes and bring you your favourite drinks and study notes that he got from his work, so that you never fail an exam. Oliver's a lifesaver, one of your closest friends, someone who's always there for you to be whatever you need whenever you need. A great comforter, supporter, study buddy, moral support, you name it. He created and adapted himself to be boyfriend material especially for you, and so it happens, and he's won, like he knew he did the second he saw you. Now he can be as clingy and overly affectionate and outwardly obsessive as he wants, all day, all night, tirelessly. And don't think he won't.

☓• Straight-up, he's a starer. And I mean starer when you think you're alone in your room, starer when you were with a fling or someone you might have been interested in before... before Oliver worked his magic behind the scenes. Now it's a lot easier to, when you're in a relationship, because he can pass off his staring as something romantic, which it kind of is, without the dangerous obsessiveness lacing it. You'll look up from your phone or wake up in the night to see Oliver's eyes on you in wonder and something else you can't quite place, before you smile and ask him what it is. It's always the same answer with the same soft, adoring smirk that manages to make your cheeks flush with colour and smile back. It's not 'nothing.' It's always, just, "You."

☓• Once he's got things how he wanted them, if anything tries to ruin it, they will have literal hell to pay. He did not come this far for nothing. It's an agonising process of waiting and being patient so he wouldn't scare you off, getting gradually and naturally closer to this point. So whether it's Farleigh telling his tales or playing off his tricks, or someone else pointing out the unobvious obvious, good luck to them, because one of his special coincidences will fall right onto their heads.

☓• And if, by a twisted turn of events, you walk into one of Oliver's schemes, and see flecks of his true, darker self and violent, delusional side unearthed from his usually calm and easy way, he'll beg you with racking tears and heaving breaths and literal vomit to stay. He'll do anything, just as he has been doing anything, for you. What he's saying and doing is suddenly terrifying, and whether or not you want to accept him as freely is your choice, but if not, Oliver won't go away. He'll wait some more if you manage to escape his grasp this time. See you in a few years as an adult, maybe. When you're vulnerable in different ways and water's gone under the bridge. He'll slip right back into your life like he was always meant to be there, with his earnest, devoting praise and comfort and support, and that's Oliver Quick's life come back together yet again, with you lost at its centre. Trapped.

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vrystalius · 2 months ago

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Hi, again :"D I know I bother you a lot but could I send one more ask... You recently did "Hashira reacting to your affection" and I absolutely loved it and was curious, could you do a "Muzan/UpperMoons reacting to your affection"? Okay, I'll stop bugging you now. (One more thing, please continue writing. I love your posts and look forward to every single one :D)

Upper moons + Muzan’s reaction to your affections

How will your demon s/o reaction to your affections?

Pairing: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x fem!reader

Typs of affection include: Kisses, hugs and cuddles, affectionate nibbling/biting, compliments

(Mentioning of Douma wanting to crawl into your body for warmth)

Muzan Kibutsuji

Kisses: 8/10

Muzan doesn’t like initiating the kiss. He fears it may make him look desperate and needy for your affection. He certainly does not need your kisses! He’s the demon king after all. But your lips are just addicting to him. The taste, the warmth, the moisture, the smell even. Muzan just can’t help but be pouty and pissy when you don’t kiss him for an extensive amount of time, but will refuse to come to you first.

Kisses onto his lips are his most preferred ones since they take time and are the most romantic. When you lean in, Muzan would pull you closer with a small, sly smirk, while holding you by your chin. He would hum approvingly before letting you pull away.

Cheek kisses are the most convenient to him, but he doesn’t always react to your kiss. He might be busy with his research or experimenting, meaning Muzan isn’t really available for a regular kiss. That’s the only time he’ll accept a cheek kiss instead of a regular kiss.

Muzan dislikes forehead kisses, both giving and receiving. In his mind, those are reserved for children and elders.

Sneaking up on this man is impossible, meaning you cannot surprise him with neck kisses. He does not like receiving them. Muzan will allow you a single kiss on his neck before he’ll scowl and glare at you, intimidating you into stopping your antics this instant. But on the other end, he absolutely loves burying his face in your neck and grazing his teeth against your skin, placing a kiss here and there. He loves to gently bite down onto your skin, just until it draws blood, and then lick it away. Again, you’re an uttermost delicacy.

“Stop hiding, I know you’re there. Simply come up to me and give me a proper kiss. No need for those theatrics.”

Hugs and cuddles: 7/10

Muzan is giving up his precious time, the time he could be spending somewhere more important like planning Ubuyashiki’s downfall, or holding an Upper Moon meeting, to hold you in bed while you sleep. Feeling your body rest against his makes him feel peaceful, as if his busy mind(s) can finally relax and slip into a meditative state. The closest he can get to sleep.

He’d run his fingers through your hair and wonder to himself: how did he manage to grow so soft for you? He feels utterly smitten and pathetic.

Muzan is not very fond of hugs though. He feels a little awkward for some reason. He associates hugs with his other human wives, the ones he does not care for and the ones he uses for his own benefit. They are nowhere near you. Hugs are a tool to come closer to those women, so Muzan doesn’t want to look at you as a tool for his own needs. You are his lover, his partner.

When you initiate the hug, he doesn’t mind as much. Muzan would pat your back and then quickly let go again. Although, he likes hugging you in bed, holding you for hours on end.

“The Upper Moons will wait. I wish to hold you for longer, you still seem tired.”

Affectionate nibbling/biting: 5/10

Muzan will tolerate your biting and nibbling at best, but will command you to stop at worst. You could break your delicate teeth by his thick skin if you’re not careful. He’ll sometimes to bury his face into your neck and nibble against your skin, as if teasing himself with your alluring taste. If Muzan bites down too hard, he could make you bleed or even kill you. Yet, the thought of tasting your blood on his tongue is very entertaining to him. But he will restrain himself. Muzan does not want to harm you in any way, after all.

“I will leave my mark on your collarbone. Do not cover it up.”

Compliments: 7/10

Words are meaningless to him, yet Muzan values your opinion and thoughts the most. He prides himself by your praises and compliments. Muzan smirks when you compliment his appearance or fashion sense. Those are some things he values the most about himself and he is glad that you acknowledged it. He might thank you with a silent nod or a smirk.

He also likes watching your reactions to his praises, how your face flushes a little and your lips tilt upwards slightly. Muzan knows how to tell a person all the things they want to hear in order to manipulate them, but he just compliments you in order to fluster you and maybe earn a kiss from you.

“Thank you, my sunlight. Your beauty never fails to enchant me. It’s almost dangerous, don’t you think?”

Kokushibo

Kisses: 7/10

Everytime Kokushibo kisses you, he stops and just states at you for a moment to take in the feeling that is rising in his stomach. Kissing you strangely feels nostalgic of something he cannot quite put his finger on. Due to him wanting to become the strongest swordsman, he denies himself affection subconsciously, so he rarely initiates kissing. That doesn’t mean that Kokushibo doesn’t want affection or doesn’t like it, he just believes he doesn’t deserve it. Therefore, you have to show him that he does deserve your kisses.

Regular kisses feel very intimate to him and are by far Kokushibo’s favourite. He likes it when you take him by the chin and press your lips against his. His face would instantly relax and all six of his eyes would close for just a moment, savouring your taste and warmth.

Cheek kisses are a little more complicated given that he doesn’t really have any cheeks. So either you’d have to place a kiss on the eyelid of his closed lower eyes, or kiss him on his jaw. Kissing him on his eye will earn you a weird look from his lower two eyes. Kissing his jaw will make Kokushibo smirk ever so slightly.

Forehead kisses are just as complicated as cheek kisses, since his forehead is occupied by his upper eyes. Kissing his eyelids again will resolve in Kokushibo staring at you in confusion and offer you a regular kiss instead.

He will not react when you kiss his neck. The only reaction you will get is the tensing of his neck muscles and a quiet glare. In the meantime, Kokushibo prides himself in making you squirm and gasp, meaning he will learn everything about your body just to tease specific reactions out, and that includes the sensitivity of your neck. He’d silently bury his face into your neck after a particularly long training session or a stressful meeting, and just savour the taste of your skin.

“Affection is a distraction, but I will tolerate it. I do not seem to mind yours.”

Hugs and cuddles: 9/10

If Kokushibo is giving up his time to cuddle with you, this demon is utterly smitten for you. He will hold you close near his body, his hand running up and down your delicate body and smooth skin. His lower and upper eyes are closed, demonstrating how much he truly trusts you by lowering his guard severely. Kokushibo sometimes rests his head on your chest and stomach and will silently ask you to run your fingers through his thick, long hair. He doesn’t like to admit it, but Kokushibo purrs. His chest will rumble and vibrate against you when he’s especially content with your cuddling.

Kokushibo cherishes your hugs greatly. Again, he will not ask for them or initiate them and will instead wait until you embrace him first. Once you do, he will not let go until he savoured your presence for long enough. He is too proud to admit that he craves your presence though.

“I do not need comfort. I am beyond such things… Let go? I will not.”

Affectionate biting/nibbling: 4/10

Kokushibo will not react when you bite down onto his lip, hand or wherever else. He will not entertain your antics either and won’t offer you any body parts (he did think about offering you his fleshy katana as some sort of chewing toy).

On the other side, Kokushibo sometimes entertains the thought of biting down onto your skin. He is a demon after all, although he has enough self restrain to not do it. Instead, he’ll leave hickeys on your neck and collarbone.

“Enough. Do not test me. Do you not realise the risk of provoking me?”

Compliments: 10/10

Kokushibo prides himself by listening to your praise and values them by far the most. He values your compliments about his strength and physique in particular, those are the ones that remind him how far he has gone and how strong he truly is. He will dismiss your words but is cherishing them deep down. If he notices that your praises are wavering and lessening, Kokushibo will start feeling jealousy. Why are you not admiring anymore? Is his power faltering? Is there someone else you admire more than him? He should’ve known better than to fall for your alluring words.

But once you offer another praise for him, his insecure thoughts quieten down again for a while.

“Do not waste your breath on flattery… Although I will continue to allow it.”

Douma

Kisses: 9/10

Your kiss is one of the most favourite things in the whole world to him (besides eating humans). Your kisses are like energy to him, and Douma’ll become sluggish and pouty when you don’t give him his daily required amount of smooches. He loves it when you cup his cheeks with both of your hands and pull him onto your lips. Douma will say “Mwah” and do over-exaggerated kissing noises, kissing your lips and the area around them over and over. Also, he doesn’t care if other people are present and watching. They are below him anyway, so why should they care? So what if Douma loves his woman very much? If he wants to, he’d make out with you all day!!

Regular kisses taste well, so he prefers them! Douma will never get tired of the taste of your lips and will try to turn the innocent kiss into a make-out session get more of you.

Cheek kisses feel innocent and charming. They make him grin and want to pull you back to him for more. Also, those are more acceptable to do around the followers. When you kiss Douma normally and pull him a little closer, some will side-eye you and maybe whisper amongst themselves. Especially the elders, they’re the most judgemental for some reason. But they don’t seem to mind the cheek kisses.

Forehead kisses feel oddly motherly for Douma, therefore he doesn’t really like them. He likes being pampered and coddled, but not… in that way. When you kiss him like that, his eyes look empty for just a split second while his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But once you look at him, his expression looks cheerful again.

Once you start kissing his neck though, it’s game on for him. Douma would trap you either against a wall or in his arm and begin his attack on your poor neck: kisses, bites, hickeys, everything. He is a sadist at heart and gets enjoyment out of your squeals and attempts to escape his sweet assault.

“Do not pay attention to them, I want my darling to appreciate me as much as I appreciate her! Go on now, you haven’t finished loving me properly.”

Hugs and cuddles: 10/10

Douma loves your cuddles, especially when YOU initiate them! It makes him incredibly happy when you come to him and sit down onto his lap and cuddle him. He won’t be able to stop grinning and will bury his face in either your cleavage or find his place between your legs when you not sit ok his lap. Douma absolutely loves skin-to-skin contact, even though you might squirm away at first because of his cold skin suddenly touching you. He will blow raspberries into your cleavage and into your neck, and then nibble around until either a hickey develops or you start bleeding. Douma is incredibly greedy when it comes to your cuddles. He sometimes doesn’t even want you to touch any other cultist, not even offering them a hand. Your skin contact is only reserved for him.

Hugs are similar. Douma adores getting your hugs. They feel so warm and welcoming, he wished he could just melt right against you. Maybe even into you. Oh to crawl under your skin and just bask in the warmth of your organs, feeling them squirm around. You probably smell absolutely divine.

That fantasy, to open your stomach up and huddle up inside you, is how he imagines Eternal Paradise. Your warmth surrounding him everywhere, as you’re hugging and holding him from all sides. Sadly, you’re a human, and he wants to keep you around until you grow old and perish. Maybe you want to become a demon so you could live longer? Oh how fun that would be! If you want, he’d even let you crawl inside of him!

“Oh you’re just the sweetest, aren’t you? If you hold me like this, I might just eat you up!… What? No, I was kidding! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Affectionate nibbling/biting: 8/10

Douma would do it himself. Sometimes, he would just take your hand and nibble on your finger, then move on with his day. If you do it, he’ll do it back to you. Everytime you bite him or nibble onto his skin, Douma watches you with big eyes, as if analysing and learning from you. He might pout if you don’t bite down hard enough. Douma can barely even feel you through his thick skin! He’d nuzzle into your neck while you’re biting him. He might even pull on your skin a little.

“You taste diviiiiiine!~ Would you let me bite just a little harder? Your blood goes perfectly with the taste of your skin!”

Compliments: 5/10

Douma has been praised and drowned in compliments all his life. He values your words over the ones of his followers any day and will take your praises to heartHe will smile at your words and thank you, but his cheery smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Aren’t you the sweetest, dear lotus~”

Akaza

Kisses: 7/10

He can’t quite handle kisses yet. They make Akaza stiffen up and blush brightly every time you surprise him with them. He’s not used to your love and affection yet, so will try to copy your gestures and kiss you as well. Akaza tries to give you as much affection as you give to him, but sometimes forgets to do it. Your kiss reminds him to give you your deserved affection.

Regular kisses make him jerk a little when you do them randomly. But he’ll relax fairly quickly and melt against your lips. His hands would subconsciously wrap around your waist, pulling you closer against him. Akaza craves your kiss and he’s not being subtle about it.

Cheek kisses make his face flush in a bright red. He might even hide his face from you and look mad at you. Don’t worry, he’s just mad at himself for being smitten for you so easily.

Forehead kisses make him feel loved. Akaza likes how you cup his cheeks and pull him downwards a little, kissing his forehead. He’ll close his eyes and savour the feeling of your lips against his cool skin.

One time, you nuzzled into Akaza’s neck and started placing gentle kisses all around. He flinched so heard he turned around and almost punched a hold through your body. You learned to not scare him like that again. How did he not sense you anyway? Does he feel this safe in your presence?

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

Hugs and cuddles: 9/10

Akaza is not good with words or gestures, so he feels like he’s expressing his love to you while cuddling. He feels incredibly honoured when you come to him first. You want to cuddle with him? Yes, a thousand times yes. C’mere.

Akaza also loves it when you cuddle him while laying on top of him and all his muscles. While he’s relaxed they are squishy and are perfectly good pillows to relax onto. Especially his pecks. But also, Akaza loves to lay on top of you. He tries not to be too heavy on you, but he just adores to savour your warmth and body beneath him. Just like the kisses, he craves your touch and cuddles desperately.

When you hug him, he stiffens up. Where should he put his hands? Is it okay to wrap them around your waist? Or should he just hover his hand over your body? So, Akaza just awkwardly stands there, with his hands hovering over your body. But once he melts into your touch, he’d close his eyes and hold you for a very long while. Akaza is incredibly touch starved. He needs to be held. Desperately.

“Can we lay down for a sec? Just finished my training anyway and… I kinda missed you.”

Affectionate biting/nibbling: 4/10

Akaza will think that you’re challenging him. He will try to bite you back, but gently. Like a confused puppy. He’d then glance at your face, trying to see if he did what you wanted.

“Are you hungry or something…?”

Compliments: 6/10

Akaza would react very awkwardly at first. He’s very happy when you praise his strength and power. It makes him feel a little prideful and he might answer with a cocky grin or a small nod.

Complimenting something personal about him, for example his loyalty, protectiveness or smile makes him feel incredible awkward. Akaza would blush and try to hide how flustered he gets. He’ll maybe even get angry at how easily he starts to blush and accidentally deflect his anger at you.

“You don’t need to say things like that… but thank you anyway…”

💠

Hope you enjoyed this @pickmans-muse <3

I was planning on writing this anyway, but you requesting this made me extremely happy!! Thank you for requesting!! I may have neglected Akaza a little. I really love him though! I just got really tired and wanted to finish this! That’s also why I left Gyutaro out, I probably will make an extra part for him. Also, guess who my favourite demon is if it’s not obvious enough :P

I seriously love reading all your comments and reblogs, you’re all so so sweet <33

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

572 notes · View notes

ichorai · 3 months ago

Text

i'm not made by design ; part two ; jaime lannister.

part one.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 9.0k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/murder/injury, this part covers a few events from a feast for crows, politicking, mentions of incest/rape, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, lots of dreams, jaime is a morally grey delight in this part yes, they are being HAUNTED by each other!

a/n ; wow, it's been a long time coming! ok i know this part is quite short and doesn't yet get to where you guys probably want to be, but tumblr has a max limit of 1k text blocks per post now (boo everyone throw tomatoes) so i'll be posting the rest of the story in smaller chunks! expect the third part to be coming soon, and i promise part three will start off exactly where you guys want it to be :) also if any of you can spot any sort of parallels in this part i will kiss you on the Mouth .

main masterlist. read on ao3!

The wintry breeze tousled the two young Stark girls’ hair, whispering frost into their ears. The horse the two were riding whickered as it galloped through the snow. Lyanna was exclaiming something, something lost to the wind, and you only held all the tighter to her from behind.

“Lyanna, I want to get off!” you yelled, tugging at the furs draped over her. “Lyanna, let me off!”

Your older sister laughed some more. Not wickedly, but more out of fond amusement. She slowed the horse down to a languid canter, then to a trot, and led the stallion towards the shade of a tree. There was snow blanketing the branches and the grass which crunched beneath her weight as she swung down. She looked up at you with her large grey eyes, crinkled at the corners as she grinned boyishly. “Were you frightened?”

You held your arms out for your sister to help you down. Only at eight years of age, you were still of short stature, and Lyanna had picked a rather tall horse. She had always been a voracious rider, even more so than all your brothers.

“I wasn’t frightened,” you indignantly replied as she wrapped her arms about your waist and pulled you down onto the ground.

“Right.” She began to stroke the stallion’s mane, his hooves pawing at the snow. “Do you not trust me, then? Did you think I would ride us right off the edge of a cliff?”

“No,” you replied, scuffing your boots against the snow. “I don’t like riding from behind. I can’t see anything from back there.”

There was a moment of silence before Lyanna reached over to ruffle your hair—an action that both she and Benjen often did. Eddard and Brandon often spared you from such irritations, but being the youngest of the family, you were always doted on and hovered over and babied.

“I don’t trust you riding a horse as big as this, so I suppose we can walk back. It’s not too far.”

“Why can’t I just sit in front of you?”

Your sister stuck her tongue out at you. “We’ve got something in common, you know. What makes you think I like sitting behind?” When you glowered at her, she went on, “Let’s get a move on. Ned will complain that I’m stealing you away—especially since he’s just returned. He misses you. Your letters grow briefer and briefer, he tells me.”

You were none too happy about trudging through the snow, but you voiced no complaint and walked alongside your sister, who tugged at the horse’s reins to follow along.

“He’s always going back and forth,” you said, a small frown marring your features. “I wish he would just stay home. The Eyrie couldn’t possibly compare to Winterfell.”

“You know him.” Lyanna’s dark hair was speckled with snowflakes as she turned to you. “Studious and dutiful as ever.” Her voice went an octave deeper and she pulled a mockingly somber expression in a startling resemblance to Ned. You let out a small laugh at that.

“Last time he visited, you were betrothed,” you said, your voice shrinking to a whisper.

The amusement died away from her eyes, turning stony. “Yes. Though I doubt it will be a fruitful union.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as you considered her words, not entirely sure why she would think so. Robert was loud and robust the few times you’ve met him, but you knew little else of Ned’s friend.

“Do you think he’ll bring a wedding proposal for me this time?”

Lyanna’s features contorted with surprise. “Why? Do you want to be married?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, despite the frost settling over your skin. “Well—if Father says I have to, then I will.”

“I didn’t ask about Father,” replied Lyanna. It was hard for her to believe that you were only eight sometimes. You always tried to act older than you actually were. “I asked about you.”

Winterfell grew larger and larger as the two of you drew nearer to the castle gates. Home.

“I don’t think I’d mind getting married,” you told your sister, eyes downcast and brows pulled together in thought. “As long as I get to stay in Winterfell. I never want to leave.”

Lyanna smiled, all teeth and cheek. “Wouldn’t that be a dream?” she sighed.

The rest of the short journey was made in relative silence, and you left your sister and the tall stallion by the stables (not without her ruffling your hair one last time), and you dashed up to the castle chambers where you knew Ned would be.

He carried no proposals, only a few books he thought you would enjoy and a warm hug.

You awoke with a startled gasp, kicking at the thin blanket that laid over your form. It took you several moments to realize where you were. A boat. Rocking steadily, back and forth and back and forth. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes whilst drawing your knees up to your chest, still blinking away remnants of your dream.

Lyanna. Ned. Still young, still practically children.

One of the tongueless little birds stood in the doorway. It was an ominous sight. Her eyes were large and unblinking, glinting like glass balls within her small head. In her hands was a wooden bowl, full of what looked to be a poultice of sorts. She drew nearer, and the heavy scent of honey and flowers reached your nose.

“What is it?” you asked the child, a coil of pity winding in the pit of your stomach. You knew they couldn’t respond—Varys had stolen not only their youth, but their voices, too. “Is this food?”

A foreign delicacy of sorts, maybe? An Essosi dessert you weren’t familiar with, perhaps. It looked quite unappetizing, though you knew you had no room to complain.

The girl shook her head, then pointed to your hair, which was pulled back into a braid. You understood from just that, and nodded your thanks while accepting the bowl from her. This was hair dye, made from a blend of flowers and other substances you couldn’t name. You supposed it was a necessary precaution—you had an unmistakable Northern look to you, and would surely stick out like a sore thumb here down South. Dyeing your hair and cutting it short would help to somewhat conceal your identity. Short enough, and perhaps you could even be mistaken for a man, at least at a first quick glance.

The little girl left a dagger and a small, rusty, hand-held mirror by your legs and disappeared from your cabin in complete silence, as if she was never there in the first place. They were like ghosts, this crew of children. Everything was so quiet all the time, with only your thoughts and the ocean waves to accompany you.

You unbraided your hair and shook it loose. Hair carried memories. Memories of Catelyn showing you how hair was done in the Riverlands, memories of Benjen tugging at your hair to tease you, memories of Jaime commenting on how your hair was a lovely shade of animal waste. That had been grumpily remarked earlier on, when you and Brienne were escorting him to King’s Landing. Before Locke and Roose Bolton and… Robb.

You propped up the rust-spotted mirror against the wall and scooped up the dagger. The reflection that met you was only barely recognizable. You looked so tired. With a resigned sigh, you began to slice off your hair with the sharp blade. Handfuls fell to the ground. You sliced and sliced until your head felt light and your neck was bare. It’s never been this short before. If Benjen were here, you knew he would surely laugh at you. Brandon would comment that he never knew he had another brother.

Yes, you thought. I can surely pass as a man if I wanted to. Though you certainly shared many features with your sister, you hadn’t the wild beauty Lyanna had. No, you were far plainer than her, colder and sharper than she was. Nothing worthy to note—though your father, quiet as a man he was, once told you that you looked the most like your mother out of all your siblings. That had made you feel more beautiful than anything.

Plain was good, though. Plain meant no eyes would be drawn to you.

You weren’t too sure what color your hair would turn with this dye. You lathered the thick paste over your newly-cut strands, massaging it into your scalp. Your nose twitched from the strong odor—not entirely unpleasant, but also wasn’t a delight breathing in.

As you rinsed your hands of the dye, your skin was left with a slight copperish stain. You stared at the color with sad eyes—would your hair turn out red like Cat’s? Like all your nephews and Sansa?

And, like a fool, you wondered if Jaime would like short, red hair. He wouldn’t care much, you found yourself thinking, perhaps wishfully so. Did you want him to care?

Two children brought you food—rations of dried meat and crusty bread. You wolfed half of it down and handed them the other half. Though they couldn’t speak, the children made for pleasant company. Or perhaps you were just lonely. It was hard to tell.

After eating, you rinsed out the hair dye and wrung the water out with a cloth over the edge of the ship. The cloth came away stained bright red. You retreated back into the cabin to look at the mirror.

It was a shock to see your hair resemble Catelyn’s. It was darker than hers had been, but the auburn, orange-red sheen to your head was unmistakable. You looked like a Tully! You nearly laughed with amazement, but any sort of joy was short-lived, and you lapsed into more silence.

You laid on the rickety bed, thinking of Winterfell and your now-scattered family. Robb and Ned and Cat and the younglings Bran and Rickon might have been taken from you, but… you still had family left. Sansa and Arya could very well be scattered somewhere in the Seven Kingdoms, alive and breathing. Jon, at the Wall, as well. At least, you hoped. It’d been so long since your time sending letters to the young boy. Was he hurt that you stopped sending them so suddenly?

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you drew your knees to your chest, willing yourself into a restless slumber.

Days came and went. The little children were growing more agitated, fluttering about the boat with wide eyes and quick feet. They tossed nets overboard into the water—masquerading the boat as a fishing vessel, you assumed. There were many ships out and about Blackwater Bay. Some carried banners of houses loyal to the crown, and others were bannerless. Pirates or fishermen, you couldn’t tell.

So far, all other ships have passed by quietly. But the risk grew with each day. You knew Tywin and Cersei would likely order more fleets to be sent after you, Sansa, and Tyrion. The chances of you being found on water would grow each day—and you couldn’t risk becoming a prisoner again. Jaime wouldn’t be able to help you escape a second time, not with Cersei around.

At least on foot… you had somewhere to run. Being on sea left you nothing but water for miles on end.

And so you told the silent children to let you off at the nearest fishing port. Some part of you wondered if they would object, but they stared at you with round, moon eyes and nodded. You didn’t know whether to thank or damn Varys.

The ship docked in the dead of night, half a mile from Duskendale. One of the little children handed you a map and tapped at where they’d leave you. A pouch full of food rations, more dye, and other necessities was left on your cot. You thanked the child endlessly, who seemed not to hear your gratitude and scuttled away. You grabbed the pouch, the dagger, the bow and quiver full of arrows Varys had presumably left you, and slipped into a large cloak.

Land felt like it was lurching beneath your feet once you stepped onto the pier. Your body was used to the swaying motions of the waters, and would take some time to adjust. You gingerly shook one of your booted feet. The children watched you disembark on wobbly legs, but you dared not wave back at them.

Despite it being nighttime, the docks were busier than ever. Fishermen and merchants littered all over the shore, some selling products and entertainment and others working hard to gather more to sell before day broke. You steeled yourself with a deep breath, and made your way through the busy crowd.

You began trekking your way North towards the Eyrie, the hood of your cloak pulled over your short, red hair.

It took nearly three weeks for you to reach the Crossroads. Nightfall was nearing when you strode in front of the inn, the sky a mirage of bleeding reds from the setting sun and moody greys from the rainclouds. The air smelled of mud and rusted metal. It was certainly no grand castle, but a modest bed was better than sleeping on the cold dirt you’ve been curled up on the past several days. There was a young girl and a dark-haired boy by the front that looked somewhat like your memory of Robert Baratheon twenty-some years ago. At first, the boy denied your request for shelter, but reluctantly clammed up once you offered him some gold, worth more than it ever could in times of war. The two let you pass with not a word more.

Greeting you inside was a ruckus of loud children. Parentless, you realized, as there were none to be seen within the inn’s walls. An inn full of orphans, you thought with a touch of sadness. In that regard you supposed you shared a similarity with all of them.

Just as you slipped onto one of the creaking wooden stools to momentarily rest your weary feet, you overheard a voice. A familiar voice. Low and raspy and unmistakably—

Brienne, you thought, wide-eyed. But she wasn’t alone. A young boy was by her side, yes, that was Podrick, and an older man—a knight, by the looks of his armor, and an even older septon with grey hair and a hunched back. What a queer party Brienne was leading. She was supping on porridge and salted cod.

The impulsive part of you wanted to call out for her and rush to her side, ask if she had found any sign of Sansa, or if she had made any progress on her quest. Instead, you drew in a deep breath, and stood from your stool to take a seat across from Podrick whilst Brienne was busy speaking to the knight. The young squire made a half-gasping, half-choking noise once his eyes raised from the cup he was draining to your cold eyes, recognizing you immediately. You discreetly lifted a finger to your lips to silence him. His eyes went moon-round and he nodded once.

Brienne ignored the knight’s constant jabbering about lips and marriage and castles full of children, and turned to look at her squire in mild concern of him choking on a fish bone. But her eyes landed on you, and her mouth dropped open.

She was very near to bowing her head and saying, “My lady.” But she didn’t, knowing it would draw far too much attention, and stared at you with utter confusion plain over her features.

“Hello,” you said to her. “It has been a while, Brienne.”

“Do you know each other?” the knight bumped in. He spooned some porridge into his mouth.

“Brienne and I were childhood friends on Tarth,” you lied. “I was the son of a cook. A nobody in truth, but Brienne was kind enough to befriend me.”

Brienne was no good at lying, you knew this, but she nodded along to your story.

The knight looked you over. “A little runt boy and a grand beast of a girl. The two of you must have been a sight.”

You could only offer him half a shrug at that.

“What brings you here?” Brienne carefully asked you.

“Someone helped me leave,” you responded with equal caution. Avoiding the knight’s curious eyes, you leaned closer to Brienne. “Is there a place for us to speak with fewer naked children milling about?”

Being around Varys’ little birds for long enough taught you that children were oft smarter than they looked. Somewhere to your right, you saw one of the little orphan boys stick a nut inside his nostril.

Brienne nodded and led you just outside, away from prying ears and eyes. There, you told her everything. From Tyrion’s trial, to Oberyn’s death, to Cersei demanding you to be locked up or killed (whichever suited her taste that day), to Jaime helping you escape, to the birds on the boat, to your journey here. In turn, Brienne told you of her lengthy journey and what she had found on the way. Mostly nothing, lots of war and skirmishes. Sandor Clegane was dead, but Arya had been with him soon before that… not Sansa. The thought of Arya somewhere out there alive, sparked dangerous hope within your chest.

“Varys says Sansa is in the Eyrie, masquerading as Baelish’s bastard daughter.” The thought revolted you. “But I do wonder if the Eyrie is a trap of sorts. I cannot trust Varys. He certainly is no friend of the Lannisters, but neither is he their enemy. For all I know, he may be conspiring with dragons and grumpkins.”

“Sansa would be safe with her Aunt Lysa there, right?” Brienne asked, though even she sounded doubtful of her own question.

“I can’t quite say,” you said, brows furrowed. “Lysa is an unpredictable woman. Frightened and secluded is never a good combination of characteristics. Even so, I doubt Sansa would make her way home up North without being intercepted. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Vale first.”

Brienne nodded solemnly. “We can make our way first thing in the morning. For now, you must rest, my lady. You must be exhausted.”

The sudden reminder of the limitations of your body made your knees wobble. The past few days had you running on little else than adrenaline, fear, and meager portions of salted foods.

“I missed you, Brienne,” you whispered, looking up at her. “I fear trusted friends are few and far in between in these times.” Not that you ever had many friends to begin with. Everyone had always been so afraid of you—something Brienne could relate to.

The term friend dusted pink over Brienne’s large, crooked nose and broad, freckled cheekbones. She was certainly not pretty, not by a long shot, but that was of no matter to you. She was the most beautiful blessing you could have possibly encountered—your chances of survival and finding Sansa were far better with Brienne by your side.

“I missed you, as well,” Brienne managed to choke out after many moments of stunned silence. She had never been good with niceties. “Podrick has been company enough, but the boy is young and easily frightened.”

“I’m frightened, too,” you admitted. “One would be a fool not to be, with enemies at every turn. Young, however, is a trait I have long outgrown.”

Brienne looked up at the night sky. “Youth was a curse on me. I always looked older than I was.”

“Me, as well,” you mused with a thoughtful hum. Memories of the lords and ladies living at Winterfell’s court whispering behind your back… sending you strange looks of distant pity… veering far out of your way in fear of you… it weighed heavy on you, especially in your younger years. “My anger has aged me a decade, I think.”

Before Brienne could respond, there came a commotion of noise. Men on horses, their hooves schlocking through mud and puddles. Instinctively, you drew the cowl of your hood up over your head. They are armed, these men, you thought with grim unease. And there were many of them, just above half a dozen. Far too many for you and Brienne to take alone.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath at the sight of them and unsheathed Oathkeeper. She stepped in front of you before you could even begin to react. The biggest man of the party was so hefty that his beaten horse buckled and shook beneath the sheer force of his weight. His pale face was torn and wept with pus and blood. But Brienne’s eyes were drawn to his snarling helm—with its dull metal nose and sharp teeth of steel. It was the Hound’s property but the man wearing it was certainly no Hound.

The sky grew darker and the storm clouds thundered up above. The young girl that had greeted you into the inn had slammed the door open, now holding a crossbow. Whatever she was screaming was lost to the rain and thunder.

“Loose a quarrel at me and I’ll shove that crossbow up your cunt and fuck you with it. Then I’ll pop your fucking eyes out and make you eat them,” raged the man, his voice nearly as loud as the booming in the sky. Your chest rose and fell in silence as you slowly reached behind you to unsling your bow.

“Leave her be,” called out Brienne, drawing their attention. “If you want to rape someone, try me.”

The outlaws laughed and chortled at that. One japed about fucking horses before fucking her. The rest of their words were unintelligible to you as you focused on drawing an arrow without pulling too much attention to yourself. It proved to be a difficult task when there were seven pairs of eyes trained on Brienne, and, consequently, you, as well.

Brienne said something you couldn’t catch, leaving the man with the helm fuming. He charged forward through the mud. Brienne shuffled away from you—she needed the man to come to her, but not to get too close to you. You were her priority now.

A song of steel screeched through the rain-torn wind as their swords clashed. Brienne managed to cut through the rags of his tunic and slash a gaping hole in his cheap chainmail just before she just barely evaded his swinging axe. The man was screaming expletives at her—whore, bitch, freak.

You nocked the arrow with not a second thought.

Then the drawstring was split in two and you were left with a useless bow. One of the outlaws had made his way to you whilst you were concentrating on the man with the helm—and broke your favored weapon.

“Shhh,” he crooned as he laid the cold, wet blade of the knife he used to cut your bow against your throat. “Enjoy and watch the show, boy.” He must have thought you were one of the orphans that lived here—and not much of a threat, considering he pulled the knife away from you and made a show of pointing it towards Brienne and her attacker. “It’s not every day you see a woman like her battle a man like him.”

You nodded, playing along. You still had the dagger you used to cut your hair tucked against your hip. It was a touch too dull for your liking, but it would have to do for now. You had no other choice. With the man’s eyes drawn back to their messy duel, you drew its blade and drove it forth, straight into throat. His arms flailed for a second before clawing at your face and chest. Pain bloomed over your skin. If you were bleeding, you couldn’t feel it—not with all the rain pouring over you. You savagely tore the dagger out from his throat and drove it through his chest again and again and again. From your peripheral vision, you could see Brienne parry over and over, stab this way and that—and finally skewer her longsword straight through him until its pointy end protruded out his back.

You continued stabbing the man until he fell to the ground in a limp, bloodied heap. Even then you didn’t stop—straddling his waist and bringing the dagger down in furious strokes. It occurred to you that the other men would be upon Brienne a second too late—when you swung around, she was swarmed by the rest of them.

“Eddard!” she called, immediately halting you in your assault on the long-dead outlaw. It took you a moment to realize that she was addressing you, not wanting to call out your actual name. “Run! Run, now!”

Two of the outlaws were coming towards you.

“Brienne!” you yelled just as one of them sliced a cut through her shoulder she couldn’t properly roll away from. The rest of your protests caught in your throat when you watched one of them—one with wild eyes that had irises too small and teeth filed sharp—dive forward onto Brienne, sending her crashing to the ground. He bit a chunk of her face right off.

More men surrounded her. Punching, kicking, and slicing at your friend. No, you couldn’t see her anymore, where is she? Get up, Brienne, get up…

“GO!” you could hear her muffled voice scream. “NED, GO!”

No, no, no…

But if you stayed, you would be dead, as well. One of the outlaws made a grab for you, but you danced back. If not for the two slipping on the watery mud the very next second, you would have been dead.

With your heart beating in your throat, you turned on your heel and fled.

What was a kingsguard without his king? Jaime hadn’t been happy to be sent off to the Riverlands again—his place was beside Tommen. The boy-king with a golden crown sitting atop his golden curls. Cersei had insisted on him leaving, however. She’d grown more restless, more paranoid, more snappy since their father’s death. Lancel, his fool of a cousin, was now a religious fanatic who seemed to be intent on fasting until he passed from starvation, and had confessed his sins of lying with Cersei. Apparently he was not the only one. The Kettleblack brothers, the court fools, and hells, even serving girls, if word of mouth was to be trusted.

He felt a fool for ever loving her. And now she had kicked him out of the castle and away from his duty like one would a dirty mongrel.

Let her run the kingdom to ruin. See if I care.

Jaime wearily pulled at his face. That was the problem—he did care, and he knew he did. Cersei on the throne would mean little good for anybody. Not for his little brother, not for Brienne, not for you. He hoped you were safe, wherever you were.

The knight with one hand had had a long day, even though it was not yet nightfall. He had spoken to the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, in hopes of making some sort of negotiation. Perhaps goad him into a duel of single-combat and spare everyone of the grueling boredom that came with a slow siege. Expectedly, the wind-beaten lord took none of the bait and retreated back into his castle. Then, he had a short, but explosive council meeting with a few of the riverlords. They squabbled over each other like mindless birds over a piece of half-baked bread. Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what his father would do in his shoes, but was quick to relinquish such a thought. Tywin Lannister would never be in this position in the first place. And he was dead, which was perhaps the more important bit. After the council, he paid a visit to Ryman Frey, who was preoccupied fucking some whore who called herself a Queen. He had the big oaf dismissed for wasting so much time and resources, then named his son, Edwyn, command of the siege. He ordered young Edwyn to tell his great-grandsire, Walder Frey, to release all the prisoners for the crown. There was no undoing the Red Wedding, but he could, at the very least, attempt to rectify the troubles it left in its wake.

And now—now Jaime had one more person to visit.

It was his aunt, Genna Lannister, who had urged Jaime to do something about the sullen man with the noose loosely wrapped around his throat. In his state, he posed no danger physically. As a symbol, however, Edmure Tully, was a great danger to the cause. His cause? Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what he was fighting for anymore. It certainly didn’t feel like he was protecting Tommen from all these leagues away from him. His golden hand felt so very heavy strapped onto his stump—why did he still bother carrying it around?

Ilyn Payne made quick work of cutting Edmure Tully down from the wooden gallows he was perched upon. His hair, scraggly and red, hung in limp clumps over his dirtied, bloody face. Eyes deep blue, heavy with exhaustion. Jaime couldn’t help but think of Robb Stark at the sight of him. Gods, they looked alike.

Jaime had Edmure pulled through the tents and mass of Freys and other rivermen alike. One japed about a fish on a leash. A young man holding an instrument was amongst the throng of stares, and he ordered the singer to follow, and the lad obediently did. Onto a ferry they went, where the vessel would carry them to Tumblestone.

“Why?” Edmure has croaked, gripping weakly onto Jaime’s arm.

“Consider it a wedding gift,” Jaime replied.

The Tully eyed him warily. “A wedding gift?”

“I’ve heard your wife is pretty. She’d have to be, for the two of you to be abed whilst your sister and king were being murdered.” Jaime gave him a wry look.

“I never knew. There were musicians outside the bedchamber, I couldn’t…”

“I��m sure Lady Roslin made for a grand distraction, as well.”

At the crass insinuation, however truthful, Edmure frowned and pulled away from the knight. “They made her do it. She had little say in the matter. Roslin never wanted any of it to happen. She wept the entire night, but I thought…”

“You thought it was your rampant manhood that swayed her to tears? It’s a sight any woman would weep to, I’m sure.”

Edmure hung his head. “She is carrying my child.”

Your child or your death? Jaime thought, but tastefully decided not to say it out loud. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “Your king-nephew, Robb. Did he ever speak of his aunt before his end?”

Edmure lifted his gaze to the kingslayer at that. “The Bitter Wolf?” He thought for a moment, eyes distant. “No. She was hardly ever brought up. Robb didn’t like to speak of her. Not after her betrayal with your freedom. If he did speak of her, it would’ve been with Catelyn.”

“Who is now dead,” Jaime dryly said.

“Yes,” Edmured replied, letting his gaze drift down to the waters.

“Much help you are.”

“Where is she now? The Bitter Wolf.”

Jaime saw no point in lying to him. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the ferry trip was spent in silence.

Once at his pavilion, Jaime dismissed Ilyn, but kept the singer around. He ordered the servants there to boil bathwater for the honored guest, and had clean garments brought to him, along with warm food and sweet wine. Edmure still couldn’t quite comprehend why exactly Jaime Lannister was being so courteous, but couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of cleanliness. He clambered into the tub and started scrubbing the grime off his skin.

Jaime pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “After you’re clean and your belly is full, you will be escorted to Riverrun. What happens after that is up to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Jaime. “Your uncle is old. Valiant, admittedly, but his best years are behind him. He has no wife to grieve for him, nor children to succeed him. A good death is the most the Blackfish can wish for. You, however, have many years remaining to you. You are the rightful heir to House Tully, not him. Your uncle serves you, by law. Riverrun’s fate is in your hands.”

Edmure blinked at him. “I don’t…”

“Understand, I presume? All that time with a rope around your neck must have strangled you of all your wits.” Jaime was growing impatient. “You must yield the castle. Yield, and nobody dies. The smallfolk will be allowed to leave in peace, or they may serve Lord Emmon and his lady-wife, my aunt. Ser Brynden will be allowed to take the black and join the Night’s Watch, with as many of the garrison that choose to join. You, as well. The Wall is in dire need of more hands, I’ve heard. If that is not to your tastes, you may go to Casterly Rock as my captive and enjoy all the comforts and courtesy that befits a hostage of your rank. Your wife may join you. If your sire is a boy, he will serve House Lannister as a squire. Once he comes of age, he is welcome to earn his knighthood, along with some lands I will bestow upon him. If Roslin bears you a daughter, she will be well dowered until she is old enough to wed a fitting lord. You may be granted parole, even, once the war is done. All this only if you yield the castle.”

The water steamed and sloshed in the tub as Edmure gingerly shifted about. “And if I will not yield?”

The servants and squires were all listening. The singer watched the two speak with wide eyes. No matter. Let them all hear it.

“You’ve seen our numbers, Edmure. The ladders, the towers, the trebuchets, the rams. If I speak the command, my cousin will bridge your moat and break your gate. Blood will spill. Hundreds will die, most being your own people. Your former bannermen will be the first wave of attackers, so you will start your day by killing fathers, brothers, and sons of men who died for you at the Twins. The second wave will be Freys, and there are plenty of them to spare. My westermen will be the third once your archers are exhausted of arrows and your knights so weary their blades will no longer lift from the ground. The castle will fall, and all inside will be put to the sword. Your livestock will be butchered. Your river will rot with corpses. Your godswood will fall. Your keeps and inventories will burn.” Jaime swallowed as he said the next words. It was true that he did not actually mean to do it, but a threat was a threat, and words are wind. “Your wife may have the child before any of this. You’ll want the babe, I presume. I can send him to you once he’s born. With a trebuchet.”

There came a lengthy silence. Edmure was still in the bath. All the servants and squires stared in horror.

Genna had told him earlier that he was not his father’s son. Tyrion was more Tywin’s than he could ever dream to be. Would her mind change if she had heard his speech? Was this what Tywin would have done?

“I could climb out of this tub and kill you right as you are, Kingslayer,” said Edmure, once he finally regained his wits about him.

“You could try,” Jaime calmly replied. The man made no move, so Jaime pushed himself back to his feet. “Enjoy your food. Singer, play for our guest while he eats. You know the song, I trust.”

“The one about rain? Yes, my lord, I know it.”

Edmure’s head swiveled between the singer and Jaime. “No. I don’t want him. Get him away from me.” The tub water sloshed some more.

“Why, it’s just a song, Lord Tully,” said Jaime, feigning innocence. “His voice couldn’t be that bad.”

The knight left his pavilion with the beginnings of Rains of Castamere playing faintly behind him.

The inns you came across the road were growing sparse. Many had been torched, ransacked, abandoned, or torn down. War left much of the Riverlands in ruins. Though you were none too happy about the state of the lands, pillaged, empty villages meant there would be fewer people loitering about, which was all the better for you.

You had managed to outrun the outlaws through the cover of the storm and ruins. It was only when the rain cleared away did you let yourself sit down and silently cry for Brienne. None deserved a fate like that. She was so undeniably good, more honorable than any other man you’ve ever met—and yet her face was torn apart and now she was dead.

Eventually, you made it out of the Riverlands and began to travel along the high road up to the Eyrie. It was the safest option to get there—the mountains were hardly on the table to walk through on your own, considering it was likely running amok with clansmen and thieves of all sorts. Even on the high road, the terrain was far more mountainous than the relatively-level grounds of the riverlands, and the incline noticeably steeper. You were traveling at a much slower pace than before, growing ragged and tired with shorter distances.

On the third day on the narrow pathway towards the Bloody Gate, you came across two men on a cart. Merchants, perhaps. You spied the stacked wine casks in the back of the cart, wondering if they were empty. Surely they must be, you thought. The Vale is not likely to make any wine of their own, not with mountains as sheer as theirs.

As their cart slowly rolled by, being pulled by braying donkeys, you overheard one of the men say, “A singer, it’s said!”

“A singer?” the other merchant echoed.

“Yes, a singer! They say he shoved Lady Arryn right off a mountain.”

Lady Arryn? Your ears perked up at that. Did they mean Lysa?

He glanced at his companion dubiously. “I heard she threw herself out the door once she confessed her love to him.”

“That’s nonsense, have you seen the way she grips that sickly whelp of hers? She would never throw herself to her death whilst little Robin lives.”

That confirmed it. Lysa is dead?

“If I had a son like that, I’d do the very same,” he grumbled.

“Wait! Good sers!” you exclaimed, turning back to hurry after the cart. The donkeys whined protest as they were pulled to a slow stop. They both glanced back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Sers?” The one with mousy brown hair piped up with a laugh lodged in his throat. “We are no knights.”

“Apologies, it’s a habit now, I fear. I simply wanted to know—” You stopped in your tracks. “What were you saying about Lady Arryn?”

“She’s dead, she is,” the older of the two merchants told you. His nose was crooked in three different places. “Out the Moon Door—or off the mountain—she flew.”

You stared at them for a moment, trying to gauge whether they were being serious or not. Tall tales such as this were not uncommon amongst the lowborn. “And who now rules in her stead?”

“Little Lord Robin is young still—”

“And far too sickly!”

“—Until he comes of age, Lord Petyr Baelish is Lord of the Vale.”

Littlefinger. The realization dawned on you with great unease as you recalled his infatuation with your good-sister and his alliances with the crown. Lannister crowns. This was no good… no good at all…

“Thank you,” you told the merchants. “That’s good to know.”

“Where are you off to?” said the younger one.

“Runestone,” you lied. “I have family there.”

That seemed to appease them well enough. The one with brown hair waved farewell as he set the donkeys back into motion. You silently thanked the Gods for coming across decent men. You watched the cart of wine caskets descend down the path.

Now what? You could hardly stroll straight into the Vale now—not with the threat of Littlefinger handing you right back into Cersei’s mad hands. Should you even trust these rumors, though? Perhaps the septon at the Bloody Gate could clarify the situation for you. Surely he would tell you the truth. But getting there would take weeks, and you certainly didn’t have that sort of time. If word of Littlefinger’s rule in the Eyrie was true, you would be wasting even more time doubling back to escape. And if he heard of your presence in the Vale there was no telling what he would do… have you locked up and sent to Cersei in a cage?

But what about Sansa? Your heart shattered at the thought of leaving her alone at the Eyrie with Baelish. You had to be smart about this. Even if Sansa was in the Vale, and if you managed to get to her, and if you could whisk her out of the castle undetected, there was nowhere for the two of you to go that would be safe. Sansa wouldn’t last a fortnight out in the wilderness. Gods forbid, but perhaps it was best for her to stay in the Eyrie until you managed to find a stronghold that would keep her safe and protected.

Then again, she could just as likely be elsewhere in Westeros. Arya, too. Gods, you wished Brienne was with you. You could still see the blood spurting from her face, her screams cracking through the thunderous air.

Damn you, Jaime. You should have come with me, you said to yourself, knowing it was a foolish chain of thought. He wouldn’t be much help, anyway. All he did when we traveled together was complain and find new ways to irritate me.

You lingered on the path for a few more moments. Then, you frustratedly gestured to nobody, made a noise of displeasure, and turned to follow after the wine merchants.

Back to the Riverlands you went.

Riverrun was now taken, but at a great cost. Brynden the Blackfish had escaped. All thanks to Jaime’s carelessness and Edmure’s wit. This would never have happened if Tywin was around, Jaime couldn’t help but lament. It was no wonder his aunt Genna told him he was nothing like his father.

He was a fool, and his father knew it.

After a series of threats to both Edmure and his wife, the Tully lord managed to sullenly tell him what he knew of the Blackfish’s whereabouts. Which, to Jaime’s dismay, was very little.

“He swam away,” Edmure had told him. He had the very same blue eyes as Catelyn did, as well as Robb. The very same look of loathing in them, as well. There was a time when you looked at him like that. “The Water Gate’s portcullis was raised. Not enough to be noticed, only three feet or so. My uncle is a strong swimmer. He pulled himself beneath the spikes and I can only assume the current helped him from there.”

Damn it all.

Jaime had hounds and hunters on the prowl for the Blackfish, but he had little hope of catching him. And Edmure was to be heading west the following morning. Jaime was glad to be rid of him, though he worried that the man would slip through the guards he would be traveling with. The knight wasn’t too keen on hunting for the Tully a third time.

News of Ryman Frey’s death was brought to him by young Edwyn, the former’s son. Hanged, apparently, by a band of outlaws nearby Fairmarket, which was boldly close by. Thoros, or Dondarrion, or this mysterious Stoneheart woman. There was little to do about the matter now—Jaime ordered more guards posted and that was that.

That night, he practiced his shoddy, left-handed swordsmanship with the silent Ilyn Payne. He managed to last a grand total of three hours before giving into his cramping muscles’ begs for a rest. Afterwards, he poured the both of them cups full of Hoster Tully’s wine, and told Payne of how he used to kiss his sister when they were children. It was innocent at first, until it wasn’t. It felt nice being able to freely tell someone of everything knowing he couldn’t possibly relay such information to anybody else—Payne’s lack of a tongue ironically made Jaime chattier than ever.

“Tyrion once told me that whores oft avoid kissing their patrons. They’ll fuck you until your legs fall off, he said, but they keep their lips far from yours. It’s what separates work from real romance. I wonder if my sister ever kissed Kettleblack.” Jaime thought for a long moment. “I kissed the Bitter Wolf.”

Payne spared him no reaction.

“She was crying.” Jaime took a sip of wine, leaving out the fact that he had shed a tear or two. “Not because of the kiss, though. I hope not, at least. I’m not that bad of a kisser. Cersei never cried when we kissed.” Though, after he said that, he realized basing his assumptions around Cersei wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do. You and Cersei were many leagues apart from one another.

Payne drained his cup and gestured for Jaime to refill it.

As he did, Jaime went on. “If not for Tyrion’s reckless call for a trial by combat, I would have married her. The Bitter Wolf. We would be at Casterly Rock, and Tyrion would be at the Wall, and my father would still be alive, and my son would sit the Iron Throne, and all would be well. Or not. Cersei would make matters difficult. I doubt Y/N would be pleased about her predicament, either, come to think of it.”

He decided to change the subject back to Kettleblack when Payne’s silence stretched for a little while longer.

“It would be ill-fitting to slay mine own Sworn Brother. I should geld him and send him to the Wall—make up for Tyrion’s loss in some way. He’s been to the Wall, perhaps he had no taste for returning. It’s bloody cold there, I’ve heard. Of course, if I were to lay a hand on Osmund, there would be his brothers to consider, as well. Brothers can be dangerous. Aegon the Unworthy had Ser Terrence Toyne dismembered into pieces after finding him abed with his mistress, and forced her to watch. Toyne’s brothers tried to kill the King for it, though their plans were ultimately foiled by the Dragonknight. It’s written in the White Book. All of it, including every knightly deed and chivalrous act. It doesn’t tell me what to do with Cersei, though.”

Ilyn dragged a finger across his scarred throat.

“No,” Jaime said. “Tommen has already lost a brother, and the man he thinks is his father. If his mother were to die by my hand, he would hate me for it. I’m sure his sweet little wife would use that hatred to her benefit, as well.”

An ugly smile stretched at Ilyn’s thin lips. Jaime misliked the crude gleam in his eye.

“You talk too much,” Jaime told the mute.

The next night, Jaime found himself in Hoster Tully’s solar, looking over a map, wondering where the Blackfish could have gone. Many of his hunters had returned that morning, torn and bleeding. Direwolves, they had told him. A monstrous pack with a large she-wolf leading them. He wondered if that could have been the wolf that had mauled Joffrey what had felt like a lifetime ago.

In consequence, Jaime couldn’t help but wonder about you. Did the direwolves like you at all? He strained his mind to remember, but couldn’t seem to recall. It confused him when his chest constricted at the thought of forgetting you.

The war was practically won. Dragonstone was taken, and Storm’s End would be very soon. Stannis was welcome to the cold fruits of the Wall—if Roose Bolton hadn’t already destroyed him. And the Riverlands were successfully taken without Jaime ever having to raise a sword against neither Stark nor Tully. All in all, he was to be content.

But where did that place you? Once everything calmed down, what would happen to you? To Sansa, who surely deserved no harm that would come to her? She was just a young girl and you… you were far from the paragon of innocence, to be certain, but surely he could have Tommen pardon you for any of your crimes. Your crimes being allegiance to your own nephew, which Jaime could hardly fault you for.

Then again, Cersei was the problem. There was no chance she would sit idly by and let you live. Once he returned to King’s Landing, he had to find a way to whisk Tommen from her crutches before he would turn as corrupt as Joffrey. A new council full of abled men would be in order, as well.

More and more days passed. Jaime had the entire Tully garrison safely released from their keep, which displeased his Aunt Genna greatly, but Jaime was intent on letting them go. There was little harm they could do when they were scattered, weaponless, and hungry.

He dreamed of Cersei most nights. Of her golden hair, which then molded into golden hands. In his dreams, he always had two hands. Sometimes touching her, stroking her, holding her—dreamy memories of old. Sometimes he was strangling her, which he certainly had never done before.

Other nights he dreamed of Brienne. Her big, brutish face red with rage and exhaustion. She would swing Oathkeeper at his neck and he awoke just before his head rolled off his shoulders.

Some of the nights, however scarce they were, were far more precious. He dreamt of you, your hair freckled with snow, your eyes alight as you watched children play beneath you. He was in Winterfell, he realized, and with a shocked start looked back down at the children. His? No. They were your nieces and nephews, of course. Their faces were a blur, but their red hair was unmistakable. Save for the littlest girl and the bastard boy. Snow, Jaime remembered.

“We should have one,” your dream-self said to him, so serious that Jaime wondered if it was actually you standing there in front of him. “A little wolf-lion.”

Did Jaime want that? Would they have golden hair like his? Like Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen? But how could he have another child when he was never a father to the ones he already had? It felt wrong to even consider it. Dishonorable. Any romantic notion of a normal life with you was quickly dashed.

“I know we can’t,” you continued on before he could respond. “They’re all dead.” You gestured down to the Starklings. “And I’ll be joining them soon. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?”

“No—” he said, reaching out to you, but you had already faded into a blur.

Not all of his dreams with you were as bleak. Once he was abed with you, and another time he was bound by rope as you pointed an arrow at his forehead while he cackled maniacally.

A week after releasing the last of the garrison, Jaime woke up with a start after dreaming about a cloaked figure that looked eerily similar to Cersei, though he knew it wasn’t her. His mother spoke soft riddles, where Cersei would bark harsh insults. He couldn’t quite tell which he favored. He threw the covers off him with his stump.

The room was frigid. The hearth’s warmth had waned away and the windows had been left pushed open when he fell asleep. In the darkness, Jaime made his way to close the shutters, but his foot touched against a wetness on the ground. Blood had been his first thought, but blood would not be so cold. Rain, perhaps, but he would have heard the sound of pattering coming from outside.

Jaime drew the damp curtains apart, letting the moonlight stream through. Moonlight and snow. Down below, the yard was spotting with white, growing thicker and thicker in the minutes he watched. After a moment, he even began to see his breath misting in front of him.

Winter is here, he thought. Marching south, and our granaries are half empty.

He watched the snow fall, and stood there thinking of you. It irked him that you haunted his every thought. Nonetheless, he hoped you were warm, wherever you were. If he was as fanatically religious as his dear coz Lancel, he would have even prayed for your safety.

When morning dawned, Riverrun’s maester came to pay him a visit. He was pallid-faced and shaking.

“I know,” Jaime said, glancing at the bound letter in the old man’s quivering hands. “The Citadel has sent a white raven. Winter has come.”

“No, my lord,” said Maester Vyman. “The bird came from King’s Landing. Forgive me, I took the liberty to open it, I did not know it was meant for your eyes…”

Jaime took the letter and sat by the window to read. It was Qyburn’s hurried hand, but he knew it to be Cersei’s fevered words.

Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.

“Does my lord wish to answer?” asked Vyman, hovering by the door.

A snowflake landed on the letter. He was reminded of the snowflakes in your hair, in his dream. It was quick to melt, blurring the inked words and streaking down the paper.

Jaime rolled the paper back as tight as he could with his one hand, and handed it back to the maester. “No,” he said. “Put this in the fire.”

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister fanfiction #jaime lannister fluff #jaime lannister angst #jaime lannister fic #jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister x stark!reader #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #jaime lannister

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amaranthineghost · 11 months ago

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| I CANT HELP BUT PUSH YOU AWAY, MY DEAR. SELF SABOTAGE IS ALL I KNOW ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: feeling loved is foreign to her, she wants to self sabotage, but he won't let her.

ꕥ authors note: I enjoyed this too much, probably one of my favorites I've written, not requested. side note, this will probably be the last thing i write because i work like 20 hours this weekend (including friday) plus another 15 hours next week(not including sunday) so i'll be busy with work and school, but i'll try my best to get some writing done. I suspect i'll be working more because of christmas being close, but we'll see! thanks for all the support <3

if anyone has any christmas requests for any driver, PLEASE i would love to write it :3

ꕥ warnings: mentions of anxiety and overthinking and everything that comes with it, as well as struggles eating caused by anxiety, partially unrevised.

GIVING LOVE WAS EASY. receiving it felt too good to be true. giving love was easy when she'd spent her entire adolescence handing it out like a warm beverage on a cold day. it was always up for grabs, and people always wanted to take it for granted.

the idea of love was something she'd daydream about daily, craving it in a way she didn't believed she deserved. giving her love away was easy because she had lots to give. she'd trust easily, but not at the same time. she'd give her heart, but not her mind and that's how she'd end up hurting.

she longed to be loved. she swore every single love language was hers, but she'd realize how often she'd crave a single touch from the man she wanted. physical touch was always the one she longed for.

love was hard to believe. she was surrounded by it, but she never had it on the level others had.

she longed to be loved, but could she handle being loved? she knew she couldn't from past, failed relationships that failed because of her. because all it took was one relationship to break her trust for the rest to follow.

it was hard to trust that relationship to begin with, anxiety ate her away with every waking moment. she didn't believe she deserved to receive love in return of giving hers away. countless times her friends told her that he didn't deserve the love she gave him, it was best that she found out who he really was, but it destroyed her.

because now when any man showed any slight interest in her, she'd recede with heaps of anxiety.

growing up, from a kid to a teenager, she was never told she was pretty or attractive. she never had the attention from the right guys to make her feel it too. she knew she didn't need guys to tell her things to make her feel better, but she wanted them to. she'd watch her friends find solid relationships, or go between guys. she couldn't find one.

it solidified her belief that maybe she wasn't deserving. being loved was so foreign to her, she didn't know how it felt to be loved in the right way.

after all, all she knew was heartbreak and self-sabotage.

when she'd finally found her first relationship, she'd swallow the looming anxiety that bubbled in the pit of her stomach. because someone wanted to be with her. she'd give them all her heart, she'd give them her trust.

but a relationship laced with infidelity was bound to burn. and so it did. it set a fire greater than she could've put out by herself. because deep inside, it still burned in her heart. it ruined her. now she couldn't comprehend the idea of trusting someone on such a level as a relationship. being genuinely loved by someone other than herself, but even she couldn't. she didn't deserve it. because what others couldn't see in her, she couldn't see in herself.

every other 'relationship' that followed failed. they burned before they even got a chance to ignite into something else. something good, and or something bad.

because she'd never let them get close enough to have her trust. she wasn't the type to easily communicate her feelings towards another individual, pushing it into the deepest depths of her heart and mind. for her and her only.

growing up, her feelings were often stepped on or put out. she'd get called a cry baby, or no one would even care to listen. it's one of the reasons her self sabotages work so well.

she wouldn't communicate, a key component to the formula for a relationship. because what goods a relationship that you know nothing about. what goods a relationship that she's miserable in because she's too scared and untrusting to let someone through to her heart again.

it was a miracle she even managed to date him, let alone meet him in the first place. he was famous, she was her. one of the reasons she didn't think the relationship was going to go as far as it did.

because she'd constantly compare herself to his former lovers. pretty models with perfect features, famous like him.

but the attraction between the two was undeniable, even she had to admit. when they'd lock eyes for the first time, she felt that same anxiety. she always felt it when faced with anything that could be more than just a friendship. but he was different because not only was the feeling of anxiety present, the feeling of wanting more, longing.

though with every notification, she found herself praying it wasn't him, not because she didn't like him because dear god, he was probably the most attractive man she's ever seen. but because she didn't know how to talk to someone with the intention of being more than friends.

it was so vastly different than if she was texting to become friends. she couldn't imagine going from barely knowing each other, to hanging out, to dating.

because it meant she had to trust the person. she'd have to trust herself, and she didn't know if she could handle it.

she found herself struggling to reply within a message that didn't seem too dry, but not giving her burning heart away like charity. she was never good at it.

but when random texts throughout the day turned to late night conversations over the phone, to falling asleep on facetime calls, she knew she was in too deep.

especially when they'd hung out for the first time. they had a magnetic energy pulling one another together, like they couldn't and wouldn't be separated. neither of them wanted to.

but she didn't know what to tell him. she didn't know how to express her feelings when she's forced herself to keep quiet for as long as she can remember. she didn't know how to tell him she needed words of reassurance because her anxiety was her mortal enemy.

it wasn't like she couldn't trust him, she knew she could. but her mind made every possible way that he couldn't be trusted by her. it was always in her thoughts.

self sabotage seemed like the better alternative than spilling her heart and hurt to him, or overthinking every way that this would be a bad thing because there's no way he could be good to her.

when the days of anxiety got particularly worse after they'd started dating, he'd notice the times when she'd shy from his touch. he noticed her lips more irritated than usual from the consistent biting, or how short her nails became. how little she ate, and how much she'd pick at her food, pushing it around the plate till it got cold.

days like those, he did what he could with what he knew, which seemed like nothing. but he'd never fail to say something that he'd hoped would make her feel better.

and it did, at least a little.

as she laid on her back in his bed, her eyes stared into the dark of his room. her stomach rolled with the nauseous feeling that came with her anxiety, and biting her lip became a routine. her head turned to see the back of his. lando's curly hair, the chain around his neck, his bare shoulders and back. a sight to see, especially in the dark.

she'd spent countless nights awake long after he falls asleep, each time she'd carefully reach for his phone. she knew it was wrong, but she needed reassurance, and she didn't want to ask for it. but his phone was password protected, something she was too scared to even hint at.

so it became a routine. stay up well past when he'd fallen asleep, slipping his phone in her hand and simply trying a few passcodes she could think of that might work. to no avail, she'd place the phone right back, trying to make it seem like it never moved.

his phone had face id, she knew but it always seemed too risky, even for her. but she was desperate. she needed to know even when in her heart, she knew there wasn't a chance of infidelity. but her heart was charred and still in flames, so it wasn't enough.

she'd hold his phone in her hand, sliding across the cold phone case that'd matched hers. her heart beat in her chest as she slowly turned closer.

her body loomed over his, her arm snaking in front of his tired face, desperately trying for face id. she knew it'd be too dark, but this was the only time she'd actually try something. she saw the screen illuminate his face slightly, but not enough.

" 'm password's your birthday," his words slurred because of his tiredness, but nonetheless she heard him and she froze. he knew she'd been trying to get into his phone? for how long?

her mouth was dropped open and she slowly retreated the phone, though the rest of her body in shock. her feelings were conflicting. it never occurred to her that his password would be about her. because in her mind, she wasn't important enough for that.

with her breath held, sweaty palms and shaky hands, her fingers danced across the number pad, entering the date.

it worked, her eyes flickering back to him. the fact he was so willing was already enough to calm her because if it was any of her past situationships, she'd be sure they wouldn't be so forgiving if they found her with their phone. it was a deal breaker in the past.

but the way he just didn't care was nearly enough for her. at this point, she just wanted a peak, and that's all she did.

when she reassured her heart, she'd slid his phone back on his bedside table. she laid back down on her side, thoughts running through her mind at a million miles. she turned to him once again, slipping her arms around his midsection. she felt the warmth of his back spread across her chest, pressing her cheek against his skin and fluttering her eyes shut. for so long, she'd craved touch, being held by someone she was in love with.

she'd remember the last feeling she felt before slipping into a warm slumber, the sensation of his smooth and callused hand around her wrist, his thumb caressing her skin softly. she'd smirk against his back.

when morning came, she didn't know what to expect. most of the time, she wouldn't even make it through the night before she was kicked out, forced to go back home. because to them, it was much easier to force her out than to have a conversation with her. she didn't know which one she'd prefer though.

because what she didn't expect was waking up to the sun in her face, leaking through the curtains and spilling across the bed. she'd found her way to the other side of his bed, lying on her stomach with his arm across her back. her hands found their way to his wrist, feeling the multitude of bracelets between her fingers. she examined the difference between them, the fancy designers to handmade ones from his fans.

though mostly silver, there was an odd gold one that stood out, it caught her attention. the corners of her lips twitched into a smile as she separated it from the rest on his wrist. though it was mostly a simple thin chain, it had a bar with the designer name on it. she'd liked it. it was simple and pretty.

she heard the bed rustle next to her, she dropped the bracelet back down on his wrist, her head turning to watch him go from lying on his stomach to pressing his chest against her back. though his eyes still closed, he'd press his face into her neck tiredly. the hand that she'd played with grabbed hers while his other arm snaked around her shoulder and across her chest.

"you can have it, if you want," he muttered against her skin, sending chills down her spine and vibrations through her skin as she inhaled sharply. she watched him bring his hands close together, unclasping the simple bracelet.

"you don't have to, lando-" she stuttered, assuring him it was fine, but he was stubborn. he'd shush her, lifting his head to find her wrist as he'd place it around it.

" 'ts fine," he told her, "pretty girls should have pretty bracelets," he whispered against her shoulder, his lips lingering on her skin. he'd tuck the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. she felt his breath against her, shuddering.

"are you sure?" she questioned, her voice barely above a whisper when she'd look into his green eyes, watching how his pupils change size. she now laid facing him with her arm under her, supporting her weight.

she was scared it was some sort of bribe, that he'd ask her to do something in return, or that it'd be a thing to use for her to overlook something he'd done.

he nodded, studying every feature of her face. every mole, freckle and blemish, every lash on her eyelid, noticing how some crossed over the other.

"y'know we need to talk, yeah?" his tone was gentle, the rasp of his morning voice melted her brain. her heart paused, her eyes dancing across his face as he waited for an answer. his head tilted to the side.

she brought her hand to her face, biting at the flesh around her nails nervously. she felt anxiety creep over her body, tummy churning with unease. she just nodded back, unknowing of what to say.

" 'm not mad, love," he brought his hand to her face, the pads of his fingers running across her cheek, slipping into her hair, "jus' want to know what's goin' on."

the way his voice was so warm and inviting, with the slight rasp in his throat, causing a dip in his voice with every hushed word he spoke, it caused shivers across her body.

her lips parted, but no words left her throat. she pursed them together before thinking of what to say. she'd whisper back to him, "I jus' don't know how to tell you."

his head tilted even more, feeling his fingers scratch her scalp softly, "tell me what?"

"how I feel."

he felt a pang in his heart as he heard her words, the hurt laced into her voice as she watched his face closely, "how do you feel?"

she hesitated, looking at her hand nervously, finicking with the new bracelet on her wrist when he'd carefully push her chin up to meet his face.

she sighed, biting her cheek, "I feel," she started, "like I don't deserve to be loved."

she'd watch his eyes soften at her words, the expression on his face growing sadder the more he processed what she said.

he shook his head, "you do deserve it, darling, m'kay?" he leaned closer, his forehead against her, "I don't know how many times I'll need to say it for you, but I will because it's true."

his words sunk into her skin, her mind, her heart still set afire all these years later. she couldn't extinguish it by herself, but he could.

the fire that burned in her heart started to diminish with every word, with every sentence of affirmation from him. it told her she could spill her guts to him and he'd be there to simply listen. she needed that so desperately.

"I'll tell you anything you want to hear," he sat up more on the bed, his head stretching above hers, "but we need to work together on this." his hand pulled from her hair and lined across her jaw.

she nodded, sighing softly as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, her tongue gliding across her cracked lips with a stinging pain.

"I jus' get really anxious, and then I start to overthink," she started so easily and without realizing, she couldn't stop.

she'd spill all her trust on him and he'd pick it up and lock it safely with him. because he'd die than betray her trust, after they'd worked so hard to make this work.

he'd see the fire ablaze in her heart and body and put it out in a matter of a few words when it took her years to even lessen the hurt.

he'd restore her charred heart, picking away at the blackness that plagued it. picking her mind apart from the bad and making her realize what she needed all along.

he put out her fire.

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alotofrandomfangirling · 1 year ago

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Dating Roronoa Zoro would include (liveaction!Zoro x female!reader headcanons)

Tw: slight cursing, a bit suggestive towards the end, mentions of sword fighting

A/n: okay so i decided to give it a try myself lol this is completely based off the live action (i haven't watched the anime nor read the manga). I hope you like it, i'm so in love with our green haired baby 🥰 also forgive me for any mistakes, english is not my first language 🙏🏻

• First things first,we gotta make it clear: Zoro acts tough and all but deep down he is a big softie akslajskak

• The thing is, because of his past, he isn't very used to being treated kindly

• So when he found you it was like his world completely changed

• He cherished every little act of care you did for him

• He loooved when you ran your fingers through his hair

• He would close his eyes and enjoy it with a small smile on his lips

• Or when you caressed the back of his neck when you kissed him

• It drove him crazyyy

• He loved these little delicate touches that made his heart do a backflip

• And how about when you grabbed his face, looked deep into his eyes and kissed the tip of his nose?

• Boy would blush like hell

• "You're so cute when you blush" - you'd tease him with another kiss on the cheek

• "No, i'm not" - he said frowning and trying to brush that off, which only made you giggle and kiss him again

• You would always make sure to let him know how much you loved him

• And even though he wasn't the best in expressing his feelings, you could feel how grateful he was for that

• He would always look at you with the most passionate eyes and that's when you knew he loved you just as much

• And he would show it too

• Hell he would do anything for you

• Once he made Sanji prepare a whole feast for you (with him helping ajdkajskaj) because you accidentally let slip you missed food from home

• Or that time he secretly bought you a cute bracelet he saw you staring at when you stopped by at a village

• That's how much he loved you and wanted to make you happy

• And the straw hats would always tease you guys about it

• Except poor Luffy who didn't understand anything that was going on lol

• But he saw how happy you both were and, if his crew was happy, he was happy too

• Now Zoro wasn't much of PDA

• But he made sure to show everyone you belonged to each other

• He would usually put his arm around your waist or around your shoulders

• (When he did the latter one, you liked to intertwine your fingers with his which he thought was super cute ajskajskja)

• You on the other hand liked to hook your arm with his when he had his hand in his pocket

• Let's be honest you loved feeling the strong muscles of his arms

• Yeah, his physique was something you admired a lot

• You loved to watch him practice his sword fighting

• The way his strong arms moved

• That pretty face he did when he was concentrated

• The way his fingers moved on the sword

• Him all sweaty...

• okay let's stop over there

• He noticed you watching and one day he had a brilliant idea (or so he thought)

• You were a very skilled fighter, but you had never tried fighting with a weapon

• So he decided to teach you how to fight with his swords

• Ngl it was tough

• But you were very decided to try your best

• But actually the best part turned out to be being extra close to him

• "Hey, you have to position your arms like this" - he said as he gently lift your arms with a touch so soft it gave you butterflies

• He stood behind you as he helped you correctly hold the sword, putting his hands in yours (yeah like a big cliche move lol)

• He was so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck

• Which only made you even more distracted and had you get the move wrong again

• "Zoro, love, let's be honest, i can't do it. You are the greatest swordsman i know and i'll never be any close to that, so let's just give up" - you said, frustrated

• "What? No. (Y/N), you are the most determined and dedicated person i've ever known and i'm sure you can do anything you want" - he said, holding your hand and looking at you lovingly - "just... try it one more time. For me?" - he said with puppy eyes and you couldn't say no to the man you loved so much

• You grabbed the sword again and to your surprised you nailed the movement

• "I did it! Oh my gosh, Zoro, i did it!" - you said smiling from ear to ear

• He was as surprised and happy as you, with that pretty smile he didn't show often but that you loved so much

• He grabbed you and spun you around as you both laughed

• "I knew you could do it" - he said as he put you on the ground again - "i'm so proud of my girl" - he kissed your cheek

• And now it was your time to blush as he ruffled your hair

• (Needless to say, Usopp and Sanji were watching the whole thing and started making fun of you two, which only made you blush even harder lmaooo)

• Okay so we all know and love his deep voice, right?

• Now imagine his morning voice 💀

• After spending a ahem very good night together you'd wake up next to each other in the morning

• "Morning, Zoro" - you'd say still sleepy

• "Morning, babe. D'you sleep well?" - he asked in that deep, raspy voice that gave you all the butterflies

• Damnnnn

• You'd get weak in the knees all over again lmao

• And that could lead to something else 👀

• But that's a whole another story ajdkajskaj

• And speaking of his voice

• He wasn't much of talking, but he slowly started opening up to you

• Sharing his thoughts, fears and stories from his past

• You saw through him and broke down his walls, so he felt 100% comfortable around you

• You'd lay down together and talk about everything

• That was such a special and intimate moment for you

• You loved being there with him, taking in his scent and listening to his voice while he traced circles down your back

• He would tell you stories about Kuina and the promise he made

• You swear you had never seen him that vulnerable

• But you were glad he felt safe enough to share that with you

• In the end you just hugged and reassured him

• "I know you will keep your promise, and i'll be here supporting you until the end" - you said, gently cupping his cheek

• "Thank you, (Y/N)" - he said softly, and you could see the warmth in his eyes - "now i have another reason to believe i can make it"

• "What is it?" - you asked, a bit confused

• "Having you by my side" - he said in his low voice, laying down and closing his eyes

• Your heart fluttered at that 😭

• "It's my pleasure, Roronoa Zoro" - you said smiling and cuddling him as you both fell asleep <3

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece live action #netflix one piece #live action roronoa zoro

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byuntrash101 · 5 months ago

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milkshake. — 정.우영

f!reader x sub!wooyoung ft. seonghwa & san smut | mdni 3k wooyoung needs to impress the ceo and chairman to get the newly open cfo position and for that he's planning to go all out, show off everything he's got. including his precious, stunning and bewitching wife: you. nsfw tags under the cut

#20: riding + nipple play (twt p☆rnlink) office!au, ceo!seonghwa, chairman!san, husband!woo, billionnaire boys club vibes (very wealthy), trophy wife!reader, babysitter!yeosang (mentionned), the three of them worship reader, woo is a fierce business man by day but your good boy by night, mommy kink, cowgirl, unprotected sex (they are married so i'll allow it for once), brief voyeurism from hwa and san, nipple play, wooyoung lowkey has an oral fixation, also he's obsessed with your boobs, actually the others are also obsessed with your boobs (your milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard), lactation, lots of praises, creampie, cockwarming, lowkey wholesome (idk im in my feels)

a/n: yeah for my first woo fic! cant believe it took me this long but i actually absolutely love this piece. it really feels like woo idk like kinda very determined and ambitious but also simping for the one he loves in private... i love him ok? 😣

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

divider: @lavendergalactic

“I was just with Yeosang on the phone.” You settled the burgundy lips stick and grabbed your favorite blush. “He said she was exhausted after playing with uncle Sangie all day” you giggled picturing your little girl running around making his uncle crazy.

“Are you really going to wear that?” Wooyoung said as he lifted the dress you had chosen for tonight off the hanger with an almost disappointed expression.

You put down the blush powder and the brush you were holding to lower the volume of your “getting ready” playlist. You sighed, scanning your husband’s distressed face then the scrunched up material in his large balled fist.

“What’s wrong with this dress? You’ve always liked it and isn’t black your favorite color?”

“Yes it is but we need to make a strong impression tonight!” Wooyoung said, discarding the dress on the shared bed and disappearing in the adjacent walk-in closet. You shrugged and went back to your blush, time was running out and you still had to do something with your hair that was in the time being wet and wrapped in a towel.

“I have to show just how successful we are to show them how much more I can do for the company. I just have to get the job, '' Wooyoung said while rummaging through your wardrobe.

The CFO position had opened and Wooyoung was not about to miss his chance for a stupid simple black dress. Tonight was about showing off everything he got from the luxurious penthouse apartment in the heart of Seoul to the expensive sports cars tucked away in the garage and of course that included you. Without a doubt his most treasured accomplishment. His beautifully stunning wife.

His fingers brushed over the sequins he was looking for and he pulled from the hanger a beautiful bodycon long dress. It was corseted at the waist and of a beautiful fiery red. It gave the exact message wooyoung wanted to convey: “alluring, daring, bold”.

He remembered when he saw you for the first time when he was just an intern finishing off university and entering the cruel cold world of business. Wooyoung fell for you on the spot. And the thing with this man is that he always gets what he wants. He was absolutely charming, witty, funny and of course obsessed with you. How could you not fall for him too? A year later he was buying you the ring. And you saw him year after year climbing the corporate ladder, making the right decisions, the right connections until he led the both of you here.

You made the right choice when you picked him and his company will make the right choice when they’ll promote him. He’ll show them tonight.

He came back from the dressing room as you were taking the towel off your head.

“Here, wear this!” he said, laying the dress on the bed. You approached him and pointed at the rather revealing dress.

“Are you sure about this one?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Absolutely certain”

You shrugged once again and unwrapped your satin lounging gown to slip on the dress. As soon as you turned around, Wooyoung's heart jumped in his throat. The dress looked practically sewed onto your skin. It was kissing your frame beautifully and highlighting your womanly features perfectly.

His eyes dropped to your decolletage and he swallowed hard trying to push back the thought of shoving his face right in your chest, pulling on the red fabric to make your breasts jump out, wrapping his lips around your nipples, sucking them, nibbling at them until they hardened under his hot tongue. Beg you to wrap your hand around his leaking coc-

“If your goal was to show off then it’s mission accomplished” you said, pulling Wooyoung out of his inner turmoil. You shook your shoulder slightly and your husband’s eyes diligently followed the swaying of your breasts which made you smirk. You knew he was holding back with everything he got. He never was able to resist you but you enjoyed watching him try.

“You’re so fucking hot” he breathed out, jaw hanging loose.

“Woo! You don’t think you should be a little more refined than that? That kind of behavior won't impress CEO Park and Chairman Choi” you chuckled as your husband reluctantly peeled his eyes off your chest to settle on your smoked out eyes.

You were a vixen goddess, created solely to have men kneeling at your feet. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Wooyong pulled on the Fendi blazer and checked his Rolex. Time was definitely running out but…

“Fuck them” Wooyoung huffed, taking a step towards you and pulling on the dress to reveal the object of his every fantasies.

“Woo!! We’re going to be late” you slapped his shoulder, chuckling. He didn’t even last a handful of seconds.

“Please” he puffed quietly, wrapping his large hand around the lump of flesh lightly squeezing it, watching it ooze out of his grasp. He already sounded desperate. And you knew he was by the way his rock hard cock was pressing on your hip. But just in case you didn't catch on yet, Wooyoung made it very clear.

“Please, mommy. Let me have just a little taste” he looked up at you with such pleading eyes. Nothing of the fierce and determined business man he was a second ago and will be in a minute from now.

“Fine baby.” you admitted defeat and instantly wooyoung wetted his pretty lips and wrapped them around your nipples sucking on the bud and pressing them with his palm until they started leaking his favorite treat. So warm, velvety and sweet. Perfect.

He didn’t waste a single drop hungrily sucking and swallowing in big gulps. You moaned at your husband’s fervor before pushing him out lightly.

“Enough”.

Wooyoung extended his neck just to prolong the pleasure for a brief second before he popped off your chest with a lewd wet sound.

He wiped the milk with his thumb. “Go and get ready” He said before licking a drop o white milk on his thumb. So he turned on his heels and left.

In the next minutes you did your hair in an elegant updo that complimented the rest of the ensemble. And you finished off the look with a pair of opened toed high heeled sandals.

Meanwhile Wooyoung tended to the rest of the preparations and just as he went over the menu one last time with the private chef the doorbell rang.

“CEO Park, Chairman Choi, please enter” Wooyoung said politely inviting the guests in.

“Aaaah Wooyoung-ah!” Mr Park tapped Wooyoung’s shoulder in a friendly manner. “Thank you for having us” Mr Choi said, lightly bowing his head, as always his manners were irreproachable.

“Very nice place” Mr Park noted as he admired the high ceiling of the hall and the huge stairway leading to the upstairs.

“Thank you, CEO Park” Wooyoung smiled politely.

“Come on, call me Seonghwa!” he said, tapping his shoulder once again. “We might have to work a little closely, so we better get used to being familiar, huh?” Mr Park gave a light squeeze on his shoulder. Wooyoung’s eyes turned round with surprise. He turned to Mr Choi to make sure he heard correctly and the latter gave him a small knowing smile that creased his cat-like eyes. Wooyoung’s face brightened up, things were going even better than he expected.

“Right, Sannie?”

“Of course! You played your cards well up until now. There’s no reason we should change our minds tonight, right?” The Chairman smiled again.

“Yes! Of course, sir” Wooyoung bowed respectfully and returned the bright smile, radiating. “Please follow me to the living space. My wife will join us short-”

“I’m here, honey” You said from the top of the stairs. Gently picking up your red dress before descending.

As soon as you appeared all three heads whipped to you. You were absolutely stunning, captivating their gaze with just the way your legs were supporting you and letting you down the stairs so elegantly. Wooyoung’s smile grew twice as large when he saw from the corner of his eyes Mr Park’s talkative mouth close in surprise and Mr Choi mechanically pull on the collar of his italian tailored shirt that suddenly felt a little tight. He knew they wanted to throw themselves on their knees and kiss your feet. It was in their mortal nature to worship a goddess like you.

“Please excuse me. I was held back for a while” you simply excused yourself while the two other men thickly swallowed and tried to regain composure to start articulating something that sounded intelligible.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Mr Park said, round eyes turning sharp all of a sudden. “You look sublime, Madam” You giggled as he took your hand and laid a soft kiss on the back.

“Oh thank you, what a charmer” you laughed exchanging a winning look with your husband.

You knew how much he liked to see other men eyeing you like candy knowing he was the one holding your hand every day and tasting you every night. He loved to show you off. Seeing other men drooling over you, imagining in a split second how a night with you would feel just reminds him you are his. His only. They can look all they want that only fuels your husband.

And the spell was definitely casted as Mr Choi’s gaze was inevitably pulled by the magnetic power of your cleavage, he eyed your chest with little to no restrain. The legendary Choi Clan’s princely manners didn’t last long, Wooyoung thought, grinning to himself.

“Mr Choi, you bowed respectfully making the man blush slightly as he also bowed.

“Mrs. Jung.”

“Please follow me. Let's sit and enjoy tonight” Wooyoung said, saving Mr Choi from more embarrassment.

As the evening progressed you all had drinks before moving on to the meal. You captured the attention more than once of the two other men trying so hard not to look below your neckline. Of course they couldn't. But Wooyoung really shined through. He was talking strategy and finance for the company but also knew how to entertain the guests. He was funny but also incredibly competent. That much was obvious. Of course he was! He was your husband. Nothing resisted him. Not even you.

At some point the night was well advanced, the house staff all went home and after so long you just couldn’t handle anymore of all this attention on you, you needed a little break from it all. You excused yourself to the bathroom.

Since you had deserted the battlefield you figured you would send a small encouragement to your husband. You took your phone and hit ‘record’. You pulled down the dress once again, making your breast jump out of the fabric, they were so full, already pearling. You lightly palmed them with one hand and pinched your nipple, making yourself moan in release before pulling on it making your tit spurt out a big squirt of white warm milk, you sighed and moaned, your milk spilling on the marble floors. You barely managed to keep your voice down and you figured you should probably stop there before you make an even bigger mess. So you hit ‘send’.

“Where did you find her, Wooyoung-ah? She’s incredible. Right, San?” Mr Park asked, blatant admiration in his voice made airy with the alcohol. Wooyoung laughed, happy to add yet another name to the long list of your suitors.

“She is quite the lady isn’t she?” Mr Choi agreed, tilting his head back and downing the rest of his whisky, already crimson red in the cheeks.

Wooyoung’s phone chimed when he pulled it out he noticed it was a video file he muted his phone and played the video, without realizing the other two were peeping at the screen. He immediately felt his pants grow tighter as you pulled on the dress revealing your breasts. And when you squirted the milk out he was about to lose it.

“Fuckkk” Mr Choi let out in a quiet whisper.

“Wow” Mr Park breathed simultaneously.

Both their voices were drenched in need and transpired arousal beyond comprehension. Even though they were sitting, there was no need to see below their waistline to know they both were hard and leaking.

All three men looked at each other in shock. For a second silence fell between them. Wooyoung knew he could have been a little more careful and the other two knew they shouldn’t have peeped but it was too tempting. You were too tempting.

“Looks like she needs you right there, Wooyoung-ah” Mr Choi said before sitting up. “I think we overstayed our welcome. Are you ready to go, CEO Park?”

Wooyoung accompanied them to the front door despite the discomforting tightness of his pants but it was an issue the other two were sharing.

“I believe we’ll see you in your new office on Monday, CFO Jung?” Mr Choi winked at Wooyoung and went on his way while Mr Park stayed back.

“You’re one lucky bastard, you know that?” he added before joining Mr Choi.

As soon as Wooyoung closed the front door he ran upstairs with big strides to your bedroom where he found you waiting for him standing in the middle of the room.

“You did such a good job today, Youngie” you said, spreading your arms where he immediately engulfed himself, nuzzling your neck with his nose that you loved so much. You sat him on the edge of the bed while you stood and his face slipped from your neck to your breasts.

Finally his happy place.

“You were such a good boy for mommy today”

“I was?” he looked up at you with loving, sparkly eyes.

“Yes of course you were, CFO Jung”

“Fuck it sounds so good when you say it” He huffed and you chuckled.

“You deserve your reward” you zipped down the red gown and let it pool at your feet. Wooyoung almost exploded just looking at you. He wanted to be all over you, to worship you but he knew better than to say anything. He knew he just had to wait and so he did when you stripped him off his clothes until you were both in your simplest forms.

You pushed on his chest until he was leaning back on his elbows, feet still flat on the floor.

“You’re going to be a good boy and let mommy ride your pretty cock?”

“Y-Yesss mommy. I’ll be g-... fuck- I’ll be so good for you” he panted as you pumped his cock a couple of times between your fingers before straddling him and aligning hm with your entrance. “Look at me baby” you whispered as you were lowering your hips, Wooyoung eyes snapped to yours, they looked so distressed, they were begging for help. And you were about to grant his wish.

“Nhhgggg Fffff- Mommy~” Wooyoung’s last two brain cell were officially bing fried beyond recognition as he felt your warm and wet pussy taking him. You felt like heaven, so tight but so welcoming. So fucking perfect that he had to focus on anything that wasn’t you not to bust immediately. He looked at the moldings on the ceiling or the subtle diamond pattern of the satin sheets just so he could last for you. Be good for you. It was what he desired most. He wanted to make you feel good.

“Mmmhh so good my baby” you cooed, your voice a tad strained. You too were pretty worked up and you knew you wouldn’t last long. All this teasing made you quite impatient and you started to rock your hips back and forth immediately taking a rhythm that you knew was aiming the both of you straight to the finish line.

“Fuck mommy please I want t-… nghhh- to have mommy’s milk” Wooyoung cried as his cock throbbed inside you. You wrapped your hand around his nape and brought his mouth to your tit.

“Drink up, baby”

“Fank youph” Wooyoung said his mouth full eagerly sucking on your nipples while your hips rolled and bucked against his, making him see stars and forget about anything that wasn’t you and him. The precious nectar flooded his mouth and he swallowed in thick gulps, white and sweet milk spilling down his chin and dripping onto his abs.

“Good boy, good baby” you huffed as you picked up the pace earning another perfectly muffled moan from your devastatingly cute husband. You were very close, your cunt clenching down on Wooyoung’s length like it was the last time ever.

“Now you’re gonna cum for ma baby Okay?” you panted. “Make mommy nice and full with your cum, okay?”

“Yeshyeshyesh” Woyoung mumbled, sucking even harder on your hard and leaking nipple. Urging you to rutt your hips even faster making him whine and whimper as his cock was ready to implode inside you.

“Fuckk baby you’re so good. So so good for me~~”

“Mommyyy” Woyoung said, finally losing it as he took your nipple between his teeth harshly pulling at the skin, squirting a stream of milk onto his wet tongue while he pumped you full of piping hot cum.

You moaned and arched your back as you came undone, the stimulation on your tit paired with the delicious filling sensation in your lower stomach swept you off in a wave of mind numbing pleasure, your cunt throbbing around Wooyoung’s cock until it was certain he had given you everything he had to offer.

You stayed exactly like this. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tight to your chest as you both tried to catch your breath, mind pleasantly fuzzy after an intense orgasm.

After a while you pulled back slightly, careful to not let his softening cock slip out, keeping him nice and snug inside your heat. You kissed his pretty and reddened face, his cheeks, moles, nose and lips. Everywhere you could, pushing his dampened hair out of his pretty eyes.

“Excellent work, CFO Jung. The company is lucky to have you. But I’m even luckier.”

a/n: thanks for reading <3333

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

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loganwritesprobably · 4 months ago

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Jealousy Headcanons

Wanted to switch up the character combo, but I know I have a good few Benn fans reading my stuff so I ofc had to include him

Content/Warnings: Jealousy headcanons about Mihawk, Benn and Smoker, GN!Reader, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, minor NSFW content

Mihawk didn't know he was the jealous type until he met you

He'd gone so long without a partner and been content that way, that if he'd really considered it he'd have assumed he would be a relaxed partner

He is not

He discovered that he's a possessive partner, and you are his

If someone approaches you in public, he begins with surprised amusement - when you're with him, few are brave enough to approach

He won't stop you from making new friends, he's not controlling, but he will keep one eye on the conversation for signs of distress

He's possessive, jealous, and a bit of a mother hen

If they persist, even after you've turned them down, he of course intervenes and usually does so quite violently

He's killed at least a dozen people for touching you in the wrong place, and he is prepared for that number to continue to increase

Mihawk doesn't mind if you have friends who are the same gender as you're attracted to, doesn't care at all actually - he's glad that you have friends since he's prone to being away for long periods

But, he isn't afraid to speak his mind if he feels that you, or one of your friends, has crossed a boundary (thankfully, he's not the arguing kind)

Benn was far more jealous as a younger man, but he mellows out with age

As a young man, he would treat potential other suitors to broken bones on good days

He'd follow anyone who'd given you a hard time half way home and leave them writhing in the street

He also loves to fuck when you get home after a night where he's had to watch you entertaining other people

He's only too happy to speak up in the moment, catching people off guard with his to stiff to actually be polite attitude

In his older age, he's far more secure in your relationship

He knows that these younger models can try to sway you, but he's the one you'll be coming home to

The jealous sex is still incredible, that never goes away

He also likes to brag about you as an older man, to the people he would've previously been jealous over

Smoker is the quiet type when it comes to jealousy

He doesn't approach in the moment, preferring to sit back and observe

He knows you're not unfaithful

But he hates that other people can occupy your attention - he wants it for himself

He thinks you're too good for him, but he's also a selfish man

Afterwards, he makes it clear just how jealous he was

The moment you're away from crowds, he'll have you pinned up against walls and be whispering in your ear

Sex always happens after he's been jealous, and it's rough, desperate sex

He revels in knowing just how many people are jealous of him because hell - look at you

But he does also tend to smoke his cigars a hell of a lot faster in those jealous moments

Help me decide what I'll do to celebrate 200 followers

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots

#one piece #fanfic #writing #reader insert #loganwritesheadcanons #one piece x reader #dracule mihawk #one piece smoker #benn beckman #benn beckman x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #smoker x reader #mihawk x reader

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miabebe · 20 days ago

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Anything and Always (YJH)

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it wasn't regardless of anything and longer than always?

Pairing - Afab!reader x Yoon Jeonghan

Word count - 3.9K (this is a miracle)

Genre - Oof buckle up my friends. This is a halloween special so I tried not hold back - its a psycho-thriller, there's smut and then there's more pyscho-ness, it's a rideee! Warnings under the cut!

A/n - It's the week leading up to Halloween folks! Unfortunately I'm not the biggest fan of clowns and ghosts and vampires etc, but I do love me a good dose of psychos (who I think are scarier btw) so here you gooooo - I may have more psycho plots for other members too but I have tooooo many og projects to work on to indulge in this T.T - I'll decide if I should do more based on the reception hehe so I would love to hear your thoughts and more!

Big big big thanks to @tusswrites and @tomodachiii - you guys were really the hands behind this one ❤️

warnings - death, murder, blood, lots of toxic emotions like jealousy, possessiveness, extreme insensitivity, PDA, sex in a public place but no one sees them? unprotected sex, rough sex, filthy talk, marking, manhandling, mentions of blowjobs and sloppy seconds, mentions of exhibitionism, choking, creampie, fingering, stalking, obsession, disposing bodies mentioned?, honestly this whole fic is just a warning at this point, idk what to say

“.....Police say that this is possibly the most brutal act of violence they have come across in Seoul city in a long time. The forensics department is still trying to identify the body but estimate that the time of death might have been around 6 months ago. The motive of the crime is still unclear and….”

Ignoring the sound of the tv you glanced at the two figures on the other side of the glass, standing close to each other, snickering away. Your hand tightened around the letter opener, the sharp edge slicing your skin open, blood trickling down your fist. The crimson felt cold but there was a strange fire coursing through your being.

How dare she? How dare she twirl her hair like a schoolgirl and put her hands on him? And what kind of fool did she take you to be? Did she think you couldn’t see the way she was stuck to your boyfriend like a leech or did she want you to see her making a move on your man? If it was the latter then she was most definitely successful – your eyes hadn’t left their huddled figures in the last ten minutes. At least not until red began to leak onto the papers strewn on the table. Groaning slightly, you quickly let the blade go and grabbed a tissue instead.

But you couldn’t let go of what was happening outside.

Pushing your chair back, you reached for your red satin gloves and slipped them on, covering your wound. It stung as the cloth grazed your skin but you knew it would feel better later, when you’ll run your hand through your boyfriend’s soft tresses as he fucks you into oblivion. He always made everything so much better.

In complete contrast to the professional approach you’ve always advised your employees to maintain, you opened the door of your cabin and walked over to the pair, hugging your boyfriend from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Han.” You muttered, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck before glancing at the woman before you. She tried not to look at you, the same way the entire office was averting their eyes, choosing to look down at the floor instead. Afterall, no one wanted to see their boss romancing right in the middle of the workspace. You didn’t care what they thought, at least not anymore. All that mattered to you was what Jeonghan felt, so when he slowly pulled your hands away from him, you were a little hurt.

But in all fairness, Jeonghan was always like this. Always so wary of people around him, always so conscious, always so proper. If you were being honest, even you used to be the same until a few months ago. Until Jeonghan came into your life to be precise.

Before him life was different. Inheriting your father’s company at such a young age meant you had to prove you were worthy, you had to make sure you were taken seriously. That’s why you made it a point to enforce discipline at work – employees always had to be on time, tardiness was looked down upon, improper dressing was not allowed, discussing anything unrelated to work was not permitted and office romance was strictly forbidden. Again, all that was until Jeonghan made his way into your office one fine day, to interview for the position of your secretary.

You still remembered the moment he walked into your room, clutching his file against his chest, looking around with big eyes. Your childhood nanny turned caretaker introduced him, stating he was a smart guy who just finished his MBA and had a lot of potential. Apparently, a few months ago, he was recruited on the street and used to work as a part time model in your company – you couldn’t seem to recollect his face as he went on explaining how he wanted to do a more serious job now. Surely you would have known if the literal man of your dreams worked in the same space as you right? But then again, before your father died and you took over, you used to work in the writing column of this fashion magazine, the photography side of things was never in your radar. Yoon Jeonghan was never in your radar.

Making him your secretary was quite an easy decision – he had the qualifications, he already knew the company in and out and very soon, he knew you just the same too.

Well, almost.

He knew you took your coffee with foam art but he didn’t know it was because you liked that concentrated look on his face when he making it. He knew you always wore gloves as a fashion statement, but didn't know it was also to stop yourself from digging your nails into your skin every time you were stressed. He knew your caretaker and how important she was to you, but he didn’t know she was the closest thing you had to a mother, one whose presence you craved since you were a child. He knew inheriting this company had always been your dream but he didn’t know it was you who mixed the sleeping pills in your father’s milk that led to his overdose.

Albeit you only added enough to make sure he wouldn’t make it to the extremely important meeting the next day. The idea was that you would have gotten the chance to replace him as CEO temporarily and show the board your talent, but apparently your father was weak enough to die from that miniscule amount, allowing you to permanently take over his role. But this wasn’t your fault, was it? So there was nothing for Jeonghan to know about it.

Though there were a few things that he had discovered over time that a part of you wished he hadn’t - your anger, your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, your possessiveness…. He didn't know how bad it could get, but Jeonghan knew enough. That’s why the first thing he did when he pulled away from your grip was lead you to the private washroom in your cabin and fuck you mindless, thrusting into you hard and fast, letting your mark his neck carelessly.

Letting you mark him as yours.

“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, pulling you closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your pencil skirt went further up your torso as your boobs spilled out of your bra thanks to his sheer force as he showed no signs of slowing down. The granite of the sink counter felt unbearably cold against your bare ass but you didn’t care. Not when this position allowed him to ram into you while you ran your glove clad fingers in his hair, moaning right into his ear, and coaxing him further.

“Cum in me Hannie.” You purred, fingers digging into his arm. “Don't you want to fuck it back into me after work? I know how much you love your own sloppy seconds.”

“Don’t.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming harsher just at the thought of it. “We have an investor meeting after work today and I need to go pick up my niece after that. We can’t, baby.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him into a heated kiss. This was what you loved and hated about this man. From day one, he was incredibly efficient, always so aware of your schedules, of which client calls to avoid, which pen to carry to sign official documents - he was the perfect secretary, always keeping an eye on everything. He was also a perfectly good man, always donning the sweetest smile, trying to be helpful, staying alert about your smallest needs and wants. As much as you loved how he looked after you, it was seeing him being nice to everyone else that bothered you.

Why did he have to lean over the desk of the girl clearly pretending to be stupid when he clarified her doubts? Why did he always agree to the dinners and the after work parties that various women in the company invited him to? Why did the lady in the canteen always bat her eyes at him and give him extra sandwiches? And was it your fault that one fine day nearly all these women decided to mass resign from your company? Yeah maybe you glared at them a bit too much and maybe you increased their workload to an unbearable amount but they chose to resign, that wasn’t on you right? Honestly, you should have stopped employing women after that - at least then you wouldn’t have hired her and seen her getting all handsy with your man.

“Stop thinking about her.”

Pulling you off the counter Jeonghan spun you around, letting you look at your fucked out face in the mirror. Your lipstick was smudged at the edges and the remnants of his cum were still at the corner of your lips from when you let him fuck your mouth minutes ago. “Eyes and mind on me when I’m fucking you, sweetheart.” He grabbed your face with his hand, squeezing it roughly. “The only thought that should be in your pretty little head is me, so stop thinking about her.”

And this was yet another reason you loved this man. He knew you like the back of his hand. He could tell from the slightest change in your expression what exactly you were thinking. He could tell from the furrow of your eyebrow what exactly you needed. He could tell when you wanted to be handled softly, and gently made love to and when you needed to just be fucked like a ragdoll. Right now, you just needed him to fuck the inappropriate thoughts out of your head and that’s exactly what he was doing, snapping his hips against yours with a relentless pace. Jeonghan might be someone who looked sweet and soft and fragile but man was he capable of fucking like a beast. No wonder you fell in love with him.

The moment you realised you had fallen head over heels for him, the first thing you did was simply tell him. Though it took him a fleeting moment, he confessed that he had been in love with you for the longest time now. Brfore you could properly even kiss him, he pushed you against the office window 78 floors high and fucked you right against it, ignoring the hundreds of staff on the other side of the glass cabin who didn’t know what to do but immediately evacuate from the floor.

Since then, you had gotten the glass tinted and the two of you had christened almost every piece of furniture in your cabin in a similar fashion. You had Jeonghan’s things moved into your office from his cubicle and at any point you were not working, there was only one thing you were doing. Rather, one man you were doing. People would walk in on you more often than you liked to admit but stopping wasn’t an option and shame really wasn't a part of your character profile anymore. Only one thing mattered, then, now and always - Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan.

“Oh god I’m close fuck fuck fu…” You felt your mouth hang as the feeling began to tighten in you, your legs weakening. With a hand on your back, Jeonghan pushed you onto the marble of the counter, your breasts and cheek pressed onto it, his other hand on your neck, pinning you in place

“Me too baby.” He groaned, fucking himself in you harder, momentarily forgetting how tight his grip around your neck was. The oxygen to your brain being cut off only made you feel more insane, mumbling meaningless words as you felt yourself being split open by the man you love. It was only when he saw your eyes nearly roll back that he loosened his hold, pressing his fingers into the soft skin on your hips, thrusting faster and deeper, grazing that spot again and again until you finally snapped. With a loud unintelligible moan, your walls fluttered around him, clamping his length and coating it with slick in a way that immediately sent him over the edge as he came, spilling into you in spurts. With a few more thrusts he continued to ride out his high like he didn't want to leave your warmth but when you winced at the overstimulation, he grimaced and finally pulled out.

As the two of you caught your breaths, slowly straightening yourself, you turned, finding yourself towered by him. Sighing, he caught your lips with his in a sweet kiss, in complete contrast to the way he slipped his fingers into your hole, pushing his cum further into you, for later. When the two of you finally parted, he stepped back, pulling up and buttoning his pants with a small smirk on his face. You smiled back, adjusting the panties he wasn’t even bothered to remove in his urgency, as you rang for your caretaker. Like always she would help you with your clothes, hair, makeup and make you look presentable but what was the point? Anyways, in a few hour’s time, everyone would get off work and you’d have to attend that one last meeting of the day but since it was just an audio call, you could still ride Jeonghan on your office chair while you were at it. You knew how much he loved the sight of his dick covered in his own cum pumping in and out of you so another round today was a given.

Just as Jeonghan finished dressing himself, your caretaker walked in with a fresh set of clothes, trying not to meet either of your eyes as always. Normally, Jeonghan didn’t hang around till you were made decent to the public eye, he let you have your space to dress but today it was like he could tell you wanted him around. Though his neck was littered with the red of bruises and your lipstick, and he smelled like he was doused in the sweet scent of you, the image of that woman’s hand on him kept flashing in your mind. You knew he could tell you had slipped back into those thoughts as he sighed, shaking his head.

Putting his arm out he stopped the older woman, much to your surprise. “Let me.”

And she did, handing your clothes to him before bowing deeply and excusing herself from there.

Your eyes followed Jeonghan as he slowly undressed you of your wrinkled clothes, sweetly kissing you anywhere and everywhere he could. You loved feeling his mouth on you like this and you know he loved it too, you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. Except when he slipped your gloves off; then his expression shifted to one of pained worry.

“What happened?” He looked at you confused. “Y/n what-“

“I’m fine.” You brushed him off, but his grip on your wrist was tight. “I wasn’t careful when I used the letter opener so it just….”

“Baby.” If he could tell you were lying, you didn’t know. He just kissed your palm softly, looking at you like he was hurting more than you were.

This man loved you. He loved you so much. He loved you just the way you were, he always made sure to let you know just how much he cared, yet you couldn’t help but continue to obsess over that memory.

Shaking your head, you kissed him back, long and hard.

You had to get it out of your mind. You had to do whatever it took to get it out of your mind.

This entire weekend you didn’t get to see Jeonghan thanks to his niece’s birthday.

As much as you shouldn’t be jealous of a little girl for getting so much of your boyfriend’s attention, you were. You didn’t like anyone getting between you and Jeonghan but knowing how much he loved her, you were willing to let it slide. You still wanted to see him first thing Monday morning so you made sure to reach work as early as you could and were waiting by the door for him.

Instead, to your surprise and disappointment, you were met with the familiar face of just the woman you didn’t want to see as she limped in, bandages scattered all over her body, her arm in a cast, hanging in a sling around her neck.

Running your eyes over it, a small triumphant smile creeped on your face – now let her try and touch your man.

As though on cue, Jeonghan walked in, his eyes flickering between both the women before him. Reaching for your hand he pulled out the white glove you had donned today, running his finger along the fading wound. Seeing that it was much better, he interlaced his fingers with yours, and led you away to your cabin, without sparing his colleague a second look. You though, turned around just to catch sight of her dejected face.

As Jeonghan prepared your morning coffee, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking at the way he meticulously pressed the coffee powder. There was no fear or possessiveness in this hug, you were just happy. Jeonghan made you happy. He always made sure you were happy.

Since the day he began working in this company, your smile was what he craved for the most. No, not since he began working as your secretary - since he was recruited as a model, when he first laid his eyes on you.

It was during a press conference, announcing you had joined your father's company now that you had graduated from business school. You looked so prim and proper, like a sweet little girl from a high society, a perfect heiress with your glove clad hands clasped, resting on your lap modestly. Something about you was just so…. innocent, so easy to corrupt. It made Jeonghan fear for you - The corporate world was harsh and cutthroat. Sweet little things like you didn't belong here.

But over time Jeonghan learnt you weren't the little innocent girl you seemed like after all. He saw how ambitious you were, willing to even put down others to climb the ladder, willing to do anything. He saw your anger and the things it made you do. He saw your tantrums when you didn't get what you wanted. He saw everything because Jeonghan was always watching. Always.

He was watching you at work, he was watching you make your way home, he was watching what you did in your little penthouse, strutting around in your pretty night dresses…. Jeonghan was always watching. That's how he knew that you liked men with longer hair, and that you preferred them blonde and tall and lean. That's how he made sure to groom himself, to become the man of your dreams. Because he knew exactly what your dreams were - afterall, he always watched you sleep too.

That's also how he knew the number of sleeping pills you added in your father's milk weren't right. Yes you were ambitious and vile but you were short sighted. What you needed wasn't an opportunity to prove yourself but a permanent position to lead the company. That was your dream after all and Jeonghan would do whatever it took to make them come true. That's why he slipped in more pills into the glass - silly little you could surely not have thought so far.

The thing that Jeonghan didn't take into consideration though, was how inaccessible you would be to him once you became CEO. He didn’t get to see you as often and even if he did, you always had company. You were constantly monitored, always followed by security, always protected. He needed other ways of getting close to you, other ways he could keep an eye on you.

The first step was to get your previous secretary to resign. Honestly, that was probably the hardest step along the way - no matter what Jeonghan did, and mind you, he did everything possible, she did not step down from her position. So he did what he had to make sure she never returned, to make sure they didn't ever find her.

Although he might have been a little less successful on that front - from what he heard on the news yesterday, it turned out that after all this while, they finally had found her. He just hoped that the cops didn't dig around there any further - it wasn't like anything could trace back to him, he made sure of that, but he didn't know if they could digest everything they would find in his favorite dumping spot. Afterall, he had to make all those who truly knew him disappear - he couldn't take the risk of anyone letting you know what he was capable of. Of how far he was willing to go for you.

Your caretaker knew. She was the only one who knew but Jeonghan needed her. He needed someone you trusted to recommend him to you so he dealt with her in a way that was far easier - he just promised her he would pick up her granddaughter everyday after working hours and make sure she reached home safely as long as she kept her mouth shut and introduced him to you. The old lady was a sensible one - she did what she was told. Perhaps she knew that if she didn't, no one would question if her foot were to accidentally slip and send her plunging down 78 stories. No one would care.

But if anything similar were to happen to the colleague who was trying to make a move on him yesterday, Jeonghan knew you would be suspected. He couldn't have that happen, he couldn't have anything happen to you.

That's why he followed the woman around over the weekend, making note of where she went and what she did, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. She told all the concerned employees asking her that she was too drunk and so she didn't realise she had walked into incoming traffic and Jeonghan didn’t see the need to correct her - she didn't walk on her own will, she was shoved.

But then again, all that happened was she broke an arm and a few ribs, and dislocated her shoulder, it was hardly anything. At least when compared to the wound on your hand because of her. All that mattered was that the sight of her finally seemed to have put a smile on your face, knowing that he wouldn't have those hands on him again. That was enough for him, your happiness was enough for him. For that he would do anything.

“Thank you for all that you do for me Han.” You muttered against his skin breathing in the combined scent of him and the coffee as he smiled to himself. But of course.

Topping off your drink with a tiny foam heart, he turned to hand it to you, receiving your sweet smile in return. It made him scoff inwardly. Look at you, pretending to be all innocent.

Like you too weren’t obsessively stalking her over the weekend.

Like it wasn’t your car that caused the accident that night.

Like you didn’t pay off the cops to let you go while your employee laid bleeding and unconscious on the road.

You always tried to hide so much behind that saccharine smile, but how could you? How could you when he was always watching? How could you when he would do anything to be by your side? How could you when he loved you more than anything Y/n?

More than anything and longer than always.

A/n - This is the first time I've dabbled in a genre like this so I'm nervous - kind comments and just thoughts in general are much appreciated! Heads up, I have 4 more plots so if I can, then I shall be dropping those too hehe

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