#perhaps I will include them in a few of my other fics

[sungstars]

slut me out | njm x fem!reader

i.e you needed to give your situationship the time of his life after seeing his instagram story.

word count: 2.8k (not proof read)

content warning: situationship, open ending, smut lol, oral (m. rec.), fingering (f. rec.), explicit sex, unprotected sex(no!), creampie, lmk if i missed anything thanks!

author's note: two fics in one day! can we believe this LOL. would you guys be surprised if i said that i have a mark one that i'm hoping to finish and it'll be queued up for tomorrow morning/afternoon. i hope you all enjoy this fic and as always, dedicated to my crazy and delusional bffs. likes & reblogs are appreciated as always. requests are open till october 5th! i'm still working on my jay fic, and hoping to have that out by tuesday!!

“you’re fucking crazy,” you said once the phone picked up after the first ring, “you can delete that story, i saw it.”

jaemin let out a hearty laugh, “hmm? but jisungie looks so cute, what if one of my followers wants me to put them on with him?”

you jeer, fingering hovering over the red button on the screen, “you definitely could’ve posted him without making sure your shirt is unbuttoned and they can see the chain that i bought you peeking through. what if they’re crazy like me?”

“don’t worry, nobody has you beat in that department.” jaemin added quickly, “you can come over if you want.”

did you want to? absolutely. you needed to rock his world so hard that it was likely to be rated a category 9.5 earthquake.

“you can come to me,” you quipped back, “and hurry up, i dont have a lot of patience. don’t change either.”

“you’re so demanding,” jaemin whined, a glint of playfulness evident in his voice, “i have to stop at my other hoe’s house first, but i’ll be there.”

“not even funny.” you hung up the phone, rolling your eyes.

focusing back on your room, you jumped up in a panic. you needed to change and also pick up the clothes you had thrown all over the place.

realistically, you didn’t know if jaemin was kidding about seeing somebody else first, but if he wasn’t, you had about twenty minutes including traffic before he got to your place.

you shoved all the loose piece of clothing into whatever drawer or laundry basket they would fit into. doing a once over your room, you were satisfied with what you were able to do.

looking at your floor length mirror, you didn’t care too much about what you had on. a big t-shirt with snoopy playing baseball on the front.

easy access for jaemin, but you should probably change your dingy halloween panties from victoria secret into something cute.

perhaps pink? that seemed on brand for tonight’s theme.

you were digging through your underwear drawer looking for that lacey pink thong you got from the mall a few weeks ago when you heard a knock on your door.

“fuck,” you said, slamming the drawer shut to no avail and rubbing your hands down your hair to smooth out any frizz, “fuck.”

the knocking got louder, causing you to practically trip on air as you ran to grab the door.

“took your sweet time letting me in,” jaemin pouted. leaning against the doorframe when you opened it, “that mad at me?”

rolling your eyes, you pulled him in by his silky pajama shirt and closing the door behind him, “guess she wasn’t that good if you got here within the same hour of calling.”

jaemin smiled, dropping down onto your couch and sliding his shoes off, “i’d say she was pretty damn good if i got done quickly and i’m not here.”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at his comment and began to walk to your bedroom.

“you’re such a dick.”

“i heard that,” he said, jumping off the couch to chase behind you, “i'm just kidding y/n, you know it's just you."

"are you sure? cause you keep making comments about other girls, are you trynna compensate? i don't care if you see other people."

jaemin laughed at you for the nth time this evening, making you want to just slam your bedroom door in his face and lock him out, but unfortunately for you, seeing jaemin in those pink pajamas and gold chain sent you into borderline ovulation.

you grabbed jaemin by the arm, leading him to sit on your bed and standing between his legs.

"it's just you," jaemin reassured, a hand coming up to rub your hip gently, "just like driving you crazy 'cause i know you're really fucking insane."

jaemin got a whiff of your secret cloud perfume as you leaned down and kissed his neck gently.

"i'm going to turn you every way but loose tonight," you whispered into his ear, teeth grazing the shell of his ear, "and i'm gonna show you how insane i am over you."

a shiver went down jaemin's back as you kissed down his neck and to his adam's apple, making sure to suck dark marks into his skin before placing your lips on his.

his arms wrapped your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he deepened the kiss. your hands found their way entangled into his brunette locks, moaning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

the two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, though jaemin just wanted to put up a good fight before letting you win.

you then slipped your tongue into his mouth, removing your hands from his hair and moving them down to his shoulders.

you gently pushed him back and onto the mattress, letting your fingers skillfully undo his pajama shirt, enjoying the smooth silk under your fingertips before pulling the shirt open.

jaemin pressed his hips up, hoping to get a small bit of friction on his growing erection and moaning when you rut your own hips down.

pulling away from the kiss, your chest heaved as you did a lookover his body. his plush lips swollen and glossy with spit, dark splots decorating his skin from earlier, his own defined chest moving rapidly as he tried to catch his own breath.

"you look so pretty under me, jaem," you complimented, your fingers dancing across his exposed collarbones and down his gold chain, "a sight only i should be allowed to see."

jaemin exhaled heavily through his nose, "a sight only for you. . please, don't stop. i want you. . i need you so badly, y/n."

how could you deny such a request from a pretty boy completely at your disposal? you weren't a cruel or dumb woman, so of course you'll comply.

you leaned down to attach your lips to his collarbone, biting and sucking gently as you made your way down his chest.

moving the pink fabric away, you let your tongue teasingly flick at his nipple to elicit a whiny moan from his mouth before taking his nipple between your lips.

"fuck y/n," he groaned, "that feels so good."

smirking to yourself, you pull off and stand up. the boy's eyes widened, trying to hold back another whine because why did you pull off? and why are you standing?

"c'mon," jaemin said, voice cracking slightly, "don't be a tease."

"a tease?" you titled your head as he sat up on his elbows, "if you beg, i'll consider."

a bright red hue cascaded over jaemin's face at your request, but he couldn't get any more pathetic than he already looked.

"y/n," he pleaded, "please do something. i am so undeniably hard, and if i don't feel those pretty lips or pretty hands wrapped around my dick that i know you love, i will implode and you'll be out of a bomb dick appointment and home."

a laugh escaped, jaemin really knew what to say to make you give into him. it's why you liked him honestly. he was funny and charming, and did in fact have a great dick that drove you insane. you used to be normal before he stuck his dick in you.

jaemin reached forward, grabbing your hand and placing it over his boner. that action alone could've made you cum in your panties because pathetic jaemin was probably your favorite jaemin.

you instinctively wrapped your fingers around it the best you could while it was restrained in those silky pants, slowly jerking him off and watching a bead of precum stain the fabric.

"see how hard i am?" he asked, breathily, "all for you. all because of you."

stroking your ego was one of the many things jaemin was good at, so you decided to play nicely and give him something to relief this tension you could feel growing in his body.

"take 'em off," you said, releasing his cock from your grip, moving back to give him room, "show me that pretty dick, jaem."

if you weren't standing in front of him, you were sure he would've fell face forward onto your carpet from how fast he was trying to get his pants down and off his hips.

once they were at his thighs, you leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before sinking down to your knees.

you were face to face with jaemin's cock, the tip an angry shade of red and precum still leaking from his slit.

spit began to pool inside your mouth the longer you looked at it, and you stuck your tongue out to swipe the precum dribbling from his cock.

jaemin moaned out, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, “stop. . put it in your mouth.”

you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, “don’t make demands.”

the brunette’s jaw ticked, one hand coming up to your hair and the other grabbing the base of his dick.

he pushed your head back roughly, tapping the head of his cock on your lips and smearing more precum across, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

your eyes widened in surprise at the switch in jaemin's demeanor, but instead of giving him a hard time, you complied by opening your mouth for him.

without hesitation, jaemin shoved his cock into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat which caused you to gag and tears well up in your eyes.

"don't get sensitive now," he mumbled, swiping the tears from your face, "now be good and suck. show me why you're my favorite."

his favorite? you should been his fuckin' only like he said you were earlier. what is up with the inconsistency? he's gonna piss you off.

you used your tongue to lick the under part of his cock, pulling off to leave just the tip in your mouth.

jaemin's grip on your hair tightened, trying his best to let you have control, but wanting nothing more than to just fuck your throat until you're sobbing.

you pulled completely off his cock, bringing your hand to jerk him off while you used your tongue to lick a stripe on his balls and gently suck.

the brunette's eyes rolled back, a string of moans and high pitched whines leaving his throat as you continued to toy with his balls.

whenever your hand reached the tip, you would squeeze every so slightly, causing him to fuck into your hand.

jaemin was close, and you could tell by the way he was whimpering and trying to chase your hand.

you looked up at him, smiling to yourself before pulling off his dick completely, basking in his borderline sob at the loss of contact.

"why did you stop?" tears welled up in his eyes, feeling like he would explode, "you're so fuckin' mean."

cooing, you wiped tears away from his eyes like he did earlier, "cause i knew you were close, jaem."

he sniffled, grabbing you and pinning you down onto the bed in one swift motion.

sometimes, you forget how strong he can be, causing you to get even more wet if that was possible. your panties were sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt, and you were hoping he would do something to relief that soon.

too lost in your own thoughts of pleasure, you didn't even realize jaemin was pulling your t-shirt up until the cool air hit your nipples.

he used his lithe digits to roll your perked nipples around, causing you to squeal at the contact.

"love the panties," jaemin teased, using one of his hands to snap the waistband against your skin, "so cute and so soaked. god, you really get off from anything as long as it's me, huh?"

"you fuckin' wish," you tried to bite, but it came out as a whimper when he pressed his hand against your core, allowing for some friction of pleasure.

"shhh," he said, "can't even muster an ounce of niceness when i'm about to fuck you?"

jaemin flicked your nipples, smirking at your almost pained moan before moving down to take your underwear off, eyes watching how they were sticking to your sopping cunt, "so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded your head in compliance this time, "all for you."

he swiped a finger up your slit, bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean, "taste so sweet, but act so so mean towards nana, wonder why that is?"

you huffed, hooking a heel behind his thigh and pulling him close so his cock would make some contact with your cunt, a noise escaping your throat when the tip came into rough contact with your clit.

"that needy? what was it you said earlier? beg. beg for it, dumb whore."

degrading was something you and jaemin never tried, but with how effortlessly it slipped out of his mouth, you wish he would've done it sooner.

"jaem," you grinded against his cock, "please fuck me, y'know you want to. please, i need it so badly."

jaemin just looked at you unimpressed, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, looking at how you falter when his tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves, "beg more."

you wanted to burst into tears, he knows how much you want him, he can feel how wet you are and probably at more slickness slipping out as he teased you, "nana, please put it in. i'll stop being mean, promise. i need your cock--i need you. please fuck me."

his left hand came up to smooth your hair out, smiling all his pearls at you as he slowly pushed the fat tip of his cock into you, finally.

jaemin slowly pushed himself into your cunt, moaning at how easily you took his cock, letting his hand fall from your hair and place pressure on your clit.

"it's like you were made for me, fuck" he gritted his teeth, thrusting shallowly into you, "taking me so well every time, your cunt just fuckin' sucks me in.. ha."

all you could do was moan in response, eyes rolling back when jaemin's gold chain smacked you in the nose, "fuck, too good."

jaemin rubbed your clit roughly as he picked his pace up, hips snapping against yours as your arousal ran down your thighs and his balls, creating a wet sound between the two of you.

you clenched around jaemin's cock, letting out high pitched noises of pleasure as he fucked you harshly, the knot in your stomach tightening and traveling down your pelvis.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" you cried, placing your hand on his lower abdomen and trying to push him away, but he quickly snatched it and held it above your head, "jaem, fuck, please, it's too much."

jaemin ignored your pleas, "y'know you can take it, stop trying to run from it."

when jaemin snapped his hips harshly once more, you felt that knot in your stomach break and ecstasy overtake your senses.

you couldn't even muster the feeling of embarassment from how good you felt when liquid practically sprayed your thighs and jaemin's abdomen.

the boy tapped the head of his cock on your clit, groaning loudly as you continued to squirt before roughly showing himself back into you.

"jaemin," you squealed, back arching up, "i can't! i can't."

"you can," he said, fucking you harshly, feeling himself getting closer and closer, "and you will take this dick. you wanna whine about other people havin' it so bad, take it, slut."

with jaemin fucking you so soon after an intense orgasm, all you could do was sob and mumble his name. it wasn't going to take you long to cum again, and jaemin could tell about how you were clenching on his dick.

your fingers dug into his shoulders, creating red crescents as his chain smacked you over and over again, his orgasm approaching any second.

"i'm so close, angel." he whined, his thrusts starting to stutter and slow down, "fuck, can i come inside please?"

"o-of course," you nodded your head, your own orgasm approaching once more, "please cum in me."

one more snap of jaemin's hips and he let out a loud moan, stilling himself as white hot ropes of his cum began to fill you and create a creamy ring around his cock, "fuck, you were too good."

he began to thrust slowly to ride out your orgasms, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

once you pushed his chest away to let him know he was overstimulating you, he pulled out completely and laid next to you, chest heaving rapidly.

"y/n." he turned on his side, "i really do like you."

you smiled, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers, "i really like you too jaemin."

he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and pulled you closer to him, "it's always been just you."

end!

[midnight-mourning]

1000 kudos/100 Follower Special!

wow so um, there’s a LOT of you now

👀👀👀

WHERE DID Y'ALL EVEN COME FROM LIKE?? HI!! 👋👋👋

AND ALSO

THIS???? CRAZY, incredibly appreciated <3 but also wild

anyway, I think that deserves celebrating! So, here’s a couple ideas I came up with for y’all to vote on, with the option of sharing other ideas in the comments, I’ll do the top two and save the others for the next milestone :)

If the 'other' option gets the most/second most votes, I'll do another poll with ideas that people suggested and we'll go from there. You can scroll down and click the read more if you'd like more info on each option! SO, having said all that:

Letting you guys make the call with this one! I have stuff prepped for all of it, just a matter of people voting since this is ME showing my appreciation to YOU. And again, next milestone will have the opportunity for the other choices :)

Also, this isn't just for followers/the moots either! Anyone is welcome to vote and participate if they'd like to 💙💙

Please also feel free to ask questions in the comments if that helps you with voting! Can't wait to see what you guys pick :D

I will expand on each option here for clarity in your decision making:

CS one-shot: I will write a one-shot (3,000-5,000 words prob) based in the CS universe. It will be canon to the fic but will never be mentioned/referenced in the fic itself so stand alone to read. It may be a future scene, may be based somewhere in the current timeline. Open to ideas on the POV and such (though I have some floating around that I can do ;))

Q&A/Ask the Cast: a classic, I know my ask box is open but here's also a clear chance to ask something that you've been really curious about! I won't share spoilers for the story, but everything else is on the table, including stuff about me, writing etc. Just no super personal questions is all! Additionally, you can ask the cast questions and answers will be in character, perhaps with a little doodle as well ^-^

Finished refs/busts for the cast of CS: I'll post the finished versions of the rough sketches I shared a few months ago, along with the remainder of the cast! This includes the rest of the engineering team, the division heads, the glamrocks, and the DCA! I also will include little blurbs for all the characters as well. This will probably happen eventually anyway BUT if you want them sooner rather than later this is you're chance if you're curious :)

Spooky Season one-shot: something halloween-related that again I'm open to ideas for! Would also be about 3,000-5,000 words in length, could be related to CS or not

Writing Requests: similar to the requests I did for reveal day, same rules apply (no nsfw, suggestive is fine, be specific if you want specific) but a little longer in length (500-1000 words)

Doodle requests: I provide you with a little drawing I made with tender love and care (would be lined, colored, shaded, etc.)

A peek into the drafts: I do in fact have a couple other fic ideas floating around in my brain that I simply haven't started so that I don't get bogged down/focus on CS. I would share those and a little bit of concept art

Other: explained above

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ He pulls away from you with a perplexed expression. Then he laughs, it’s short, cruel, he shakes his head. “Don’t be funny”, he mutters as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “You know I have a girlfriend, nerd.” He spits the words out like the venomous bite of a snake. His gaze drops to your unbuttoned blazer, briefly passing the harsh bruises on your chest. — “Don’t think you’re anything else besides a quick fuck.” ⸝⸝

wc ➘ 26k

pairings popular/bully!yeonjun x nerd!reader(fem) college au ! warnings heavy bullying, violence, exploitation, cheating, drinking, yeonjun is an asshole for 80% of this, redemption arc, some angsty scenes, hurt-comfort sort of? this fic contains 3/4 descriptive smut scenes which include — oral (both f & m), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, a handjob, lots of degrading (reader receiving) but also a splash of praise, some tit groping, implied marking, very soft sex at the end (yeonjun cries a little), reader is inexperienced = virginity loss, + yeonjun teaching her how to give a blowjob as always lmk if I missed any!

#serene adds ✎ my god this fic has taken literal years off my life. But I could not have been happier with the outcome of it !! It's a long one, but I've tried to keep it interesting throughout it all for a lighter read. I'm not one to beg for feedback, but I will actually get down on my knees this time around. Please please comment/reblog or even send asks with your thoughts on it, I need it to be perceived in any way possible !! hehe please enjoy because I have slaved to get this done (if anyone notices the Skins reference in one scene, lets kiss)

(I was also slightly delirious when I read this through ahem...) anyway, ready, set go !

You don’t exactly know how it started. The cheating, the lying, the sleepless nights, the crying, the heartbreak, Choi Yeonjun. One day he was just…there. You had never met anyone like Yeonjun before yet you knew hundreds of people like him. He was everything, he was the cause of your pain, your tears, your self loathe. — But mostly importantly, Yeonjun was your first love. You would always remember him as that. You suppose it might have started on your first day at that college, back when you were only known as the junior transfer. 

He was a senior. Perhaps it was a bit cliché, you don’t know, you didn’t think so. But you remember it clearly, the first time you saw him. — The air was hot, suffocatingly so, despite it being early October. Your palms were sweaty, and you squeezed them together as your hands remained neatly clasped in front of you. The eyes of the other students weighed a ton and you felt your knees buckle under the pressure. 

Your professor clears his throat as he steps up beside you, gazing out across the classroom. “We have a new student today”, he announces what was already painfully obvious and you felt your cheeks redden further. Apart from a few sniggers here and there, silence follows. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?” His direct question made you flinch as you quickly glanced up from the floor, your gaze flitting between your professor and the large ocean of heads turned in your direction. 

Your introduction was meek, the words getting caught in your throat as you stammered out your name. You could almost hear the smirks plastered on their faces as they drank in your fidgety frame. You jump when you feel your teacher's hand on your shoulder, “your new classmate is a year younger than you guys, but due to her impressive work ethic she has finished the majority of her classes already. She will therefore be joining us for the time being.” — His words of praise felt more like a set up for humiliation and you watched as students leaned over to whisper in each other’s ears, grinning at the words being passed around. You could hear the rumors already. 

“Why don’t you take the seat over there?” Your new professor points to an empty desk by the very back and you breathe out a small sigh of relief, glad to be shielded from the peering eyes of your new classmates. But just as you’re about to step down and make your way toward the safe haven, you lock eyes with him. — Part of his face was shielded by his dark hair but you could clearly make out his brown eyes, staring right back at your own. He’s quick to catch on to your stare and you watch as his lips stretch into a menacing smirk. 

Forcing yourself to look away, you grab onto your bag as you quietly make your way past the many rows of desks. An outstretched foot makes you stumble forward and you barely manage to catch yourself. “Careful”, one of the girls turns in her seat as she eyes you with a not so friendly smile, “wouldn’t want you to fall.” You give her a small nod as you hurriedly continue toward your own desk.

Thankful to have stepped away from the spotlight, you lean back as you let out a small breath. But it wasn’t enough. As class went on you continued to catch the multiple glances thrown your way, the small chuckles, the papers being passed around. It all felt too familiar, and your heart slowly sank. — You pushed the feeling away, focusing on what you did best, studying. Class was a nice distraction, but after an hour and a half it came to an end. And as soon as your professor had shut the door behind him, chaos erupted. 

The scraping of chairs against the stone floor filled the classroom as students turned to get a glimpse of you. It didn’t take long for a small half circle to form around you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“How did you do it?” 

The first one to speak up was a lanky guy, he leans closer as he studies your uncertain face. Before you could even process the meaning of his question, a girl interrupted him, the same one who had tried to trip you over at the beginning of class. “I bet she slept with them, I mean, she must have.” — Her statement is followed by laughter as people nod in agreement. “But how did you get them in bed?” Another girl asks as she looks you up and down with distaste, “surely it wasn’t whilst looking like that?” More laughter. 

Your face might as well have been on fire as you glanced down toward your notes. “What if she drugged them?” Another guy chimes in as he points an accusing finger toward you. Hurriedly you shake your head as your lips part in a reply, a reply that immediately gets stuck in your throat as you’re interrupted. 

“You guys are being too harsh.” Another voice speaks up, everyone falls silent and soon the crowd parts as the guy you had made eye contact with earlier steps through. He’s followed by two of his friends and the small group stops by your desk. “It’s obvious you guys”, he exclaims as he leans down to come eyelevel with you. When this close, his sharp eyes somehow felt like daggers, boring into your soul as his lips curled into a smirk. 

“She’s a nerd.” He draws out each syllable like it was his last, his lips stretching wider as he sees your face fall. Small gasps and hums of agreement fill the silent room, as if everyone just instantly agreed with whatever he said. “Don’t think of her as anything else”, he drawls, straightening his back once more as he stares you down. 

You soon found out that his name was Choi Yeonjun. 

⸝⸝

Your first day had only proven to be a small trial of the school year ahead. Word had quickly spread of the transfer student who took classes with the seniors, and wherever you went, you had eyes on you. — You tried your best to keep to yourself, to focus on your studies. That was how you had made it through your previous schools. But it seemed futile here, because no matter how low of a profile you kept, they always found a reason to pick and pull at you. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing nerd?” She yells as she shoves you against the red lockers and you groan in pain. You couldn’t remember her name, but you knew that she was a senior too, she sat two rows ahead of you and to the left. — Confused, you look up only to be met with a harsh slap to your face. “Don’t play stupid, I know that’s the last thing you are.” She sneers and your lips part in objection, though no words come out. 

The girl signals for her friends to block either side of you, shutting off any escape routes as she rolls up her sleeves. “You think you can just go through my shit like that? That I wouldn’t know?” Her statement baffles you and your eyes widen, “what?” Another slap to your cheek, “right, come on now. Give it back.” 

You frown, “give what back?” Her friends on either side of you grip onto your arms and you wince as they twist your limbs. She scoffs, “my lipstick you idiot, I know it was you. Who else would take it? Besides, I’ve seen the way you eye it whenever I put it on.” — While her words were partly true, you did think that her lipstick was really pretty and often found your gaze lingering whenever she picked it up from her bag, you would never stoop to such a level as stealing. 

“I didn't steal your lipstick”, you croak out and she lets out a huff of disbelief. She goes off on yet another rant but you’re suddenly distracted as your eyes land on the small group of students walking by. 

After your first day, Yeonjun hadn’t addressed you once. He never picked on you, never engaged in gossip about you, he barely even acknowledged your existence. But you knew that he was behind most of what happened to you, because everyone listened to Choi Yeonjun. If he didn’t like what was going on, he would put an end to it, but he never did. 

You often saw him in the halls, he was always followed by his two friends. On your second day you had learned that the three of them were practically inseparable. — To his left was a tall guy, his frame could easily tower over just about anyone, yet he trailed behind his friends quietly with his head hung low. If it wasn’t for the scowl on his face whenever someone dared to glance in his direction, you would have assumed that he was just any other student. His name was Choi Soobin, that much you knew. 

To his right, was perhaps Soobin’s opposite. He was shorter than his friends, not by much, but it made him stick out. His hair fell in uneven sections across his face and he often brushed it away with his pinky whilst he spoke. Unlike Soobin, Choi Beomgyu talked almost all the time, with the occasional input from Yeonjun. Though few of his words were kindhearted. He often picked on you, his comments were snarky and mean, you only ever caught a break when Yeonjun got fed up. 

Then there was Choi Yeonjun, walking in the middle, he gazed ahead as Beomgyu blabbered nonsense into his ear, Soobin following slightly behind them. The Choi’s, that was what people called them. Something to do with their names all being Choi, you thought it was kind of corny. Yet you couldn’t deny the way your eyes lingered on Yeonjun, just a little longer than the rest. 

It wasn’t like you thought that he was handsome or anything, but he was nice to look at…you supposed. And even though you knew better than to pay him any mind, it was hard to tear your gaze away from him. Only when he passed you, did you feel your heart stutter. For the first time since your first day here, he looked at you, if only for a brief moment. His gaze flickered over your practically torn limbs and a small smirk etched its way to his lips. — You felt your knees go weak under his eyes and swallowed hard. 

Though his attention soon returned to the girl draped under his arm, the same girl that had tried to trip you over on your first day. You had found out that she was his girlfriend, her name was Mimi. She twirled a strand of her hair as she whispered something in his ear and Yeonjun chuckled. — Their small party continued past you as if nothing was wrong before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you to face the fate before you. 

⸝⸝

You convinced yourself that it wasn’t a crush, that you simply found him appealing. The topic of crushes stopped being a thing after middle school, right? You, a twenty year old, have a crush? The thought was ridiculous. But no matter what lies you forced into your brain, your heart still beat a little faster whenever he was present, your eyes drifted in his direction and there was nothing you could do to stop them. — So what if you did have a small crush on Choi Yeonjun? It wasn’t going to harm anyone, it wasn’t like you were going to act on it. He had a girlfriend. Whenever you reminded yourself of said fact, a pang of guilt shot through your chest. You know you shouldn’t feel guilty, but it was hard not to. Most of all you felt guilty toward yourself — guilty for letting yourself sink to such a level. 

As October went by, you did your best to stay out of the firing line of your classmates, you kept your head down and did your work. And when there was no work left to do, you spent your time looking at Yeonjun. He really was pretty to look at. — You noted the way he would lean back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before yawning, his eyes momentarily fluttering closed. Usually, he wasted his classes on his phone, or chatting with Beomgyu, it was unusual for him to be doing any of his coursework. Perhaps he didn’t need to, or he simply didn’t care to. 

Occasionally, you would catch your name slipping past Beomgyu’s lips, your gaze immediately snapping down to your book as your heart practically beat out of your chest. But no matter how many times he mentioned you, pointed at you, sneered at you, Yeonjun never even as much as turned his head in your direction, simply shrugging along to whatever his friend was saying.

The only time Yeonjun looked at you was when everyone else did. That one time someone poured milk over you in the cafeteria, or when you got a basketball in your face during gym. Only when the whole school pointed and laughed, only then did he spare you a fragment of his attention. And maybe you did like it, maybe you did want him to look at you. 

It was kind of pathetic. 

What was perhaps even more pathetic was that one offer you hadn’t been able to pass up. It wasn’t like you could say no to your professor either, right? — “I think there are a few students who would benefit from studying together with you.” You blink up at him as you watch your teacher lean back in his chair. This was why he had called you? To be frank you don’t know what you had expected when he asked you to stay behind after class, but this was far from it. 

“Studying with me?” You repeat as you point a confused finger toward yourself. Sure you worked hard, but that was because you had your mind set on doing so. You doubted that your classmates would want to spend even a second wasted in your presence. 

Your professor sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are a clever girl”, he nods toward your latest test result on his desk and your gaze follows his movement as you swallow. “Not to mention the fact that you are a whole year ahead of your peers.” He then adds with a small smile and you silently thank him, even though you were certain that he could smell the hesitation radiating off of you. “Look, it is not something you have to decide on today”, he begins as he gathers the papers on his desk, “but students like Mr. Choi could definitely use a hand in their studies.” 

Your ears perked up at the brief mention of his name, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly your head jerked in the direction of your teacher. Though you did not dare get too ahead of yourself. Shifting on the spot, you softly clear your throat, “Choi…Choi Yeonjun?” Your professor stops to look at you, “why, yes, but you do not have to decide today take the weekend to-” 

“I’ll do it.” 

⸝⸝

You’ll do it? What a joke. 

Your whole weekend was spent pacing back and forth across your room. Teeth gnawing away at your fingernails, your mind wrecked with different scenarios of how that following Monday would play out. What were you honestly thinking, saying yes like that? — With an exasperated groan, you flop down on your bed. Staring at the ceiling, you envision Yeonjun, a furious Yeonjun, or maybe a jeering one, you didn’t know which approach he would take. But surely he wouldn’t be happy once the news reached him, unless they already had?

Briefly you considered calling in sick that Monday. You had never called in sick before, at least you couldn’t remember doing so; recalling the multiple times you had ignored the fever in your body as you marched on to class. Not to mention that time you had the flu and still sat through your three hour long exam. — Were you really considering calling in sick over a mere guy. But it wasn’t just a guy, it was Choi Yeonjun. 

Regardless of the situation, you still went to school on Monday. But as soon as you stepped inside the classroom, you could tell that something was different. It was like the air had shifted. And as you made your way to the back of the room, carefully taking your seat, not a single one of your classmates bothered to pick on you. Instead they all occupied themselves with whatever they had in front of them. It was odd to say the least. 

In regular fashion, the classroom door swings open during the very last minute as Beomgyu saunters inside. Behind him follows Soobin and Yeonjun, both in the midst of a hushed conversation. You find your gaze instinctively lingering by Yeonjun’s tall frame, fingers twirling your pen mindlessly in your hand. It isn’t until you glance up and find his eyes already boring holes into your own, that you’re suddenly ripped from your trance. 

Yeonjun was looking at you. He was actually looking at you, no, he was glaring at you. The realization was enough to send your heart into a frenzy as you swallowed a gulp. His gaze is unwavering as he approaches his desk, still conversing with his friend, but his eyes remain entirely on you.  — Sweat builds on your forehead and you grip your pencil tightly. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find yourself to break his gaze. You knew that you were giving him exactly what he wanted by letting his eyes practically tear you apart, so why couldn’t you pull away? 

It isn’t until the classroom door opens yet again that he puts out the fire he had momentarily created between the two of you, his eyes shifting toward board as your professor clears his throat, ready to begin today’s lecture. As his monotone voice fills the room, you breathe out a sigh of relief, glad to be out of his sight. 

He had to have known by now, the nasty looks he shot you throughout the day were more than telling. For someone who never even paid you as much as a second thought, it was most unusual for Yeonjun’s full attention to be directed toward you. Even during lunch, you could feel his eyes on you as he sat by his usual table. With Mimi on his lap and Beomgyu talking in his ear, his gaze still remained on your slumped figure as you focused on your plate of food. 

⸝⸝

Your professor had helped set up today’s session, but after that you would have to schedule them on your own. You were supposed to meet by the library, at 5:15pm that Monday. — You were there by 4:55. It took you about five minutes to pick a suitable table, not too close to the door, not in a corner somewhere, but also not in the center of the room, perhaps you were overthinking it. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Desperately you tried to calm your nerves as your trembling hands brought out your notebook and pencil case. 

By 5:15 you were ready, actually you had been ready for the past ten minutes. The small library had been vacant even when you arrived, you didn’t know if you felt relieved at the fact or not. — By 5:25 you started to think that he might not show up. Out of all possible scenarios fabricated in your way too creative brain, the one of him not even bothering to come hadn’t crossed your mind at all. What would you do then? Accept defeat? Tell your professor? Talk to him in class? Neither option seemed too appealing. 

It’s 5:32 when the doors creak open. Hesitantly, you lift your gaze as you watch Yeonjun’s eyes wander across the room, finally landing on you. His face morphed into a scowl and you felt your stomach drop. You notice that he hasn’t brought any study materials along with him and you bite the inside of your cheek. The short breath he lets go of echoes out into the silent library and then he marches toward you. — You don’t have time to think before he’s by your table, the palm of his hand slamming against the wood with such force that your pencils rattle, and you flinch. 

“Do you think this is some kind of sick joke?” He sounds agitated, his hot breath searing through his gritted teeth as his nostrils flared. Your once tense jaw falls open as your brows draw together in a confused frown. — “I mean, I knew you had a thing for me. But don’t you think this is going too far?” He sounds almost hysterical as a grin spreads across his lips. 

You felt color rushing to your cheeks at his words. Did he know? Could he tell by your small glances? But you thought you were being subtle. Yeonjun seems to be reading your mind as he runs a lazy hand through his hair, “oh come on now nerd, for someone so clever you really are quite oblivious.”

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice the way you eye-fucked me every single opportunity you got?” He sneers, tilting his head to the side as he watches you with a cruel look of distaste. Your lips part but no words come out. So you shake your head, you didn’t know who you were trying to convince, him or yourself. “It wasn’t like that…” 

He scoffs, “no?” Suddenly his face is only inches from yours, and you had to force your gaze not to stray down to his lips as he spoke. “Then what is it?” He murmurs, so close that you could almost taste his words on your tongue. You swallow, hard. What was it? You didn’t know, you didn’t want to answer, he couldn’t make you answer, could he? 

His grin widens as a low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “No way”, he shakes his head as one of his hands grip the backrest of your chair, easily twisting you to face him fully. His previously cocky expression was replaced with a look of sympathy, his voice now laced with pity. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a little crush, nerd.” He spits the words out and you’re quick to shake your head, denying his blunt accusations. “I don’t”, you stammer, leaning back as far as your chair would allow you to. — “You’re telling me you’re doing this out of goodwill?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. He hardly seems moved by your denial, but when you quietly nod his smug face turns into a snarl. “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“What? No, no, no that’s not what I-” You stop yourself before getting another word out, it felt like no matter what you said, you only worsened the already sour situation. Yeonjun exhales, his warm breath slamming against your already hot face. He leans back, taking a seat on the edge of the table as his hands dig into the pockets of his uniform. Confused, you watch him as he silently gets comfortable. 

“What do you want then?” He finally asks and you blink up at him. “My number? Is that it?” He wonders as he fishes up his phone, unlocking it as he pulls up his contacts. You shake your head and he frowns, “then what?” — Your lips part and you motion toward the books in front of you, “just…”

“Don’t tell me you want me to fuck you, because that would be pathetic, even for you nerd.” 

His statement catches you so off guard that you almost hit your leg on the chair opposite your own. “What?” You whisper, unsure of the fact that you had even heard him correct. You knew that there was no such universe in which someone like Choi Yeonjun would ever view you in that way, so it felt almost bizarre to hear those words leave his lips so casually. 

He sighs as he gets up from the table, leaning down to become eye level with you once more. “I mean, I get that you’re desperate, believe me”, he lets his gaze drop to your chest for a brief second. “Looking like that, I’m sure it’s hard to get by”, he hums, and in that moment, you wished for the ground to swallow you whole. 

It had been a foolish idea to even consider doing this, even more to say yes. If you had only turned your professor’s offer down, none of this would have happened. Because in all honesty, if this was how Yeonjun looked at you, with such menace and fabricated pity, you think you preferred it when he paid your existence no mind. 

“But you’re lucky”, he murmurs before leaning even closer, his breath mingling with your own. Lucky? What a joke, you thought. — You flinch when you feel the light caress of his fingers on your shoulder as they slowly entangle themselves in your hair. “I’m feeling particularly nice today”, he smirks and your eyes involuntarily dart down to his perfectly plump and pink lips. “Besides”, he drawls, his hand moving to cup your cheek. 

“I’ve never fucked a nerd before.” 

You barely get the chance to second guess his words when Yeonjun presses his lips against yours. Immediately you freeze as your shoulders jerk up and your back curls against the chair. The hand on your cheek moves to your chin as he grabs ahold of your face, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and you let out a small shriek. — He hums against you, his eyes fluttering closed, lips moving on top of your unresponsive ones. 

A moment later he pulls back. “You kiss like a virgin”, he states as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. As soon as the words left his lips, he grins, “but I bet you are.” — Still too stunned to even speak after his sudden course of action, you merely shake your head as you glance between him and the floor. You weren’t a complete virgin, you did have a boyfriend back in high school. Not that the two of you ever went further than kissing though, and even then, his kisses were nothing like Yeonjun’s. 

Hesitantly you meet his gaze, swallowing down the nerves bubbling in your throat. “Come on now nerd”, he murmurs as his hands grip onto the armrests of your chair, large arms entrapping you against the old wood. “You’ve done it now haven’t you?” — “You got me here all to yourself, why don’t you use it to your advantage hm?” His eyes gleamed with mischief and you knew better than to trust his persuasive ways. Still you found it hard to do anything besides gawk at him, in utter disbelief of what was currently happening. 

Biting your lip, you let your eyes flit down to his parted lips, focusing a little too long on the sheer layer of saliva that coated them. Yeonjun is quick to pick up on the subtle shift in your focus and he chuckles. You clearly see the way he moves closer, but it still doesn’t register that he’s kissing you again until his tongue molds against your own. Despite your initial shock, you try your best to kiss him back this time. You knew that you were probably horrible, but even then, he didn’t say anything.

Your breath catches in your throat when his hand envelops one of your breasts, groping it softly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had your tits touched?” He drawls, easily noting your uncertain approach. Your silence is almost deafening and the way you squirm when he pinches one of your nipples tells him everything he needs to know. With a small frown he pulls back, just enough for you to see his face. He looks conflicted, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He sounds almost…serious and you find yourself slowly nodding as you grip the hem of your skirt tightly. 

Yeonjun sighs and you hear him mutter something under his breath. His gaze snaps back to you and you can see the shift in his eyes once he settles on a decision. “Alright”, he states before quickly dropping to his knees. Baffled you follow his direct movement, shrieking as his hands on your knees part your legs. “We’ll start slow”, he hums as his fingers dance across the exposed skin of your thighs, your weak arms easily giving up when he pushes your skirt up. 

“No need to be nervous”, he reassures you as his fingers hook around the hem of your panties, “I’ve done this plenty of times.” With that, he tugs your underwear down, past your knees, letting them pool around your ankles before his attention shifts to your exposed core. Your legs close in an attempt to shield yourself from his invasive stare but Yeonjun only gruffs out a short breath as he breaks your knees apart once more. — When he doesn’t say anything you grow worried, clearing your throat awkwardly as you shift on the chair. You had never done anything like this before so you had no idea if his silence was a good or a bad thing. 

You don’t have to ponder for long as his fingers suddenly graze your folds. The touch was unexpected and you jolted forward as you tried to suppress the surprised noise threatening to escape. The smirk stretching across his lips only grows as Yeonjun basks in the way you react to his simple touch, you were far easier than any of the girls he’d been with. — “Ever had anyone touch you like this?” He asks, his voice a low murmur as his attention remains on his fingers sliding against your cunt, gathering the slick that formed as he smeared it all over you. 

Meekly you shake your head, breathing out a small “no.” He seems satisfied with your answer, his ego inflating by the minute as he watches you writher under his small touches. Everything still felt so surreal, there was no way that this was actually happening, was it? You’re reminded of all the times you had watched him from afar, sneaking shy glances at him during class, before and after school, in the cafeteria, where he sat with his friends and…and his girlfriend. The reminder is enough to pull you from whatever euphoric state that transpired within your body as you jerked away from his touch. 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap to you with a hint of curiosity and you bite the inside of your cheek, drawing in a small breath before daring to speak. “M-Mimi… w-what about her?” — He groans, a frustrated groan, and you wonder if you overstepped. “Nerd, someone like you, doesn’t count as cheating, got it?” He holds your gaze, speaking clearly, as if giving instructions to a toddler. He grins, a menacing grin, “besides, shouldn’t you be happy? I’m giving you what your perverted little mind has craved since you first stepped foot here.” Sheepishly you nod, heat rushing to your cheeks at the blunt statements he made. 

Choi Yeonjun was bold, his words were harsh, and a lot of times they hurt. For some reason that made you like him even more. 

“Now stop asking obvious questions”, he grunts as his hands trail along your thighs, pulling you forward on the chair, ignoring the way you squeal when he nuzzles his face between your legs. — It felt far from what it looked like in the movies, or even in porn. Yeonjun's hot breath against your core, his tongue dragging across your folds, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand and you gasped as he flicked your clit. 

It was almost impossible to control the way your thighs twitched, squishing either side of his head as you fought to remain composed. A small whine left your lips as he latched on to your sensitive flesh, licking and sucking on it as if it was the only thing he was capable of doing. You barely register the way one of his hands grab onto your trembling ones, guiding them to his hair as he hums against your cunt. “Don’t be so awkward”, he mutters, his tongue dwelling deep inside of you, eliciting a moan from you as your fingers immediately twist in his dark locks. 

Never in a million years had you thought that the study session that you had been far too eager to agree to would turn into something like this. And that Choi Yeonjun of all people would be the first one to see such a part of you. — You didn’t know if it was such a good thing. But it was impossible to form a single coherent thought with him between your legs, mouth falling open in surprise as his nose bumps up against your clit. He doesn’t seem to mind when you push yourself further onto his face, practically grinding your hips on his mouth as small noises of pleasure ripped from deep within your throat. You were thankful that the library had been vacant for hours. 

“Y-Yeonjun!” His name falls from your lips without registering in your brain beforehand and you almost slap a hand over your mouth as realization washes over you. Yeonjun on the other hand, only chuckles, the sound sending vibrations against your sensitive cunt and you whimper as he withdraws his tongue from within you. — A somewhat familiar sensation bubbled in the depths of your stomach. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had an orgasm before, but the occurrence was rare, you didn’t exactly spend much time with yourself like that. 

His name is pulled from your chest once more and his grip on your thighs tighten. “You got something to say, nerd?” He wonders without leaning away from you, hot mouth working against your throbbing core as he draws moans and whines from you. “C-close..” you mumble, feeling your cheeks redden at the small statement, and you were suddenly glad that he was unable to see your flustered face. 

“Cum on my face then, bet you’ve never done that before.” 

The comment was mean, possibly even degrading, but it still made you clench incoherently around nothing as you released against his waiting lips. To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately pull away, his face remaining between your legs as he laps up the aftermath of your orgasm, drinking in the taste of you with a small satisfied groan. — And when he does finally tear himself from your sore cunt, you can barely look him in the eyes, ashamed at what had just transpired between the two of you. Yeonjun doesn’t seem affected in the slightest, his thumb wiping away the sticky fluids on his chin before popping them in his mouth. The sight should not have made you throb but it did and you bit your lip. 

Without warning, he suddenly gets up as he dusts off his pants. “W-where are you going?” You’re unable to stop yourself from asking. He shoots you a glance that says ‘well isn’t it obvious?’ He sighs, frustrated by your blunt obliviousness, “our session is over, isn’t it?” 

You blink at him, still recovering from your climax as you pull your panties back on. “But the study-” — “You’ve got what you wanted, haven’t you?” He states as he stares down at you, much like he had on your first day, and your words suddenly fall short as you meet his gaze. Shaking his head, a small chuckle escaped his lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow, nerd.” 

The last thing you hear are the library doors slamming shut before the room is enveloped in a deafening silence once more.   

⸝⸝

Everything had returned to normal the following Tuesday. You could barely wrap your head around it. The snarky comments were back, the pestering stares, whatever had roamed the air yesterday seemed to have completely vanished and you were left dumbfounded. — There was only one exceptionally different thing. Choi Yeonjun.

Part of you had hoped that he wouldn’t come to class, but that was a foolish thought. You hear him before you see him, or rather, you hear Beomgyu’s obnoxiously loud voice echoing off the hallways as The Choi’s approach. The classroom falls into a hushed murmur as the door swings open and the three of them enter. — You had told yourself that you would avoid him at all costs. That meant not speaking to him, not looking at him, not even glancing in the same direction as him. 

You found it to be very hard. But the shame over what had happened not even 24 hours prior kept your gaze trained to the pages of your notebook. Not even as he pulled out his chair, making an agonizingly scraping noise that cut through the otherwise quiet room, did your eyes stray from the words in front of you, rereading them over and over as you tried to get your brain to register them. — You lasted approximately two minutes. 

One small peek his way confirmed your every fear. Leaning back in his chair, Yeonjun paid you no mind as he scrolled through his phone, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck as he did. He acted…just like he usually did, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. For a moment you had worried that he would tell everyone, that was a shame you wouldn’t be able to bear. But perhaps he was trying to spare his own reputation, you could only hope he would keep quiet. Did he regret it? Probably. Why wouldn’t he? 

What was perhaps even worse than his indifferent mannerism toward you was when Mimi greeted him with a kiss. Flinging her arms around his neck, she pulls him close as she practically shoves her tongue down his throat. Beomgyu makes a vile comment before turning to Soobin but besides that, no one else paid them much mind. Except you. The guilt was eating you alive, and you weren’t even the one who had cheated. What would happen if she found out, would she break up with him? Surely she would find a way to put the entire blame on you. You did not dare think of how miserably you would be treated if she found out. It couldn’t happen. You would have to talk to Yeonjun about it, one way or another. 

But how? 

You tried approaching him at lunch, but you only managed one step in his direction before you chickened out. Then you tried again before English, this time you made it halfway before Soobin swooped in right in front of you, his tall frame covering Yeonjun completely from view and you sighed. Your last shot was after gym. As everyone ventured toward the locker rooms you trailed behind, Yeonjun had, too, stayed to talk with your professor but just as you were about to approach, a tap on your shoulder freezes you in place. 

“The hell are you staring at, nerd?” Beomgyu’s voice is filled with distaste as he eyes your sweaty figure, his nose turning up in disgust. Stunned, you fumble for words as your eyes dart between him and Yeonjun, just a few paces away. “N-nothing I was just…” — “Just leaving, right?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and you quickly nod. “Y-Yeah”, you squeak out before rushing off. Why did his friends never stray from his side? It made things so difficult. 

You were always the last one to leave the changing rooms. Hiding away in the bathroom, you waited for the other girls to finish before you dared to venture out and get changed yourself. It had become somewhat of a routine, not that it was particularly comfortable, but as it was your last lesson of the day, you weren't in any rush. — Whilst you get dressed, your mind concludes with a ton of ideas to approach Yeonjun. It would have to be when there was no one else around, before or after school seemed like your best bet. The only remaining problem was his friends, who seemed to be glued to his side. 

Grabbing your bag, you walk over to the exit as you think of a way to get him alone. But as the door to the locker room closes behind you, it seems your problems have solved themselves for you. 

“What took you so long?” 

Yeonjun’s sharp voice startles you and you almost drop the bag in your hands as your head snaps in his direction. Leaning against the wall, his own gym bag swung over his shoulder, Yeonjun studies you with an indifferent expression plastered across his face. Your mouth falls open as you peer down the empty hallway, completely at loss for words. “Y-you waited for me?” You splutter as your attention shifts back to him. 

He purses his lips as he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “yes, but I’m starting to regret it.” — “Do you always take this long?” His voice is laced with annoyance and you swallow as you shake your head. “I- I mean I…I didn’t know you were waiting I..” 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He waves your meek explanation off as he shifts against the wall. Still confused on why he was even here in the first place, you bite your tongue as you wait for him to speak first. But out of everything he could’ve said to you, you had not expected the next words that were to come out of his mouth. 

“When’s our next study session?”

What? He wanted to have another study session? You had been prepared to confront him about yesterday, to tell him, no beg him, to keep quiet. Yet he was asking for another session? You were sure he could read the bewilderment on your face as his lips drew into a grin. “N-next session?” You gawk out as your mouth repeatedly opens and closes. He rolls his eyes before huffing out a short breath of air, “yes our next session, we never settled on a date.” — Well you didn’t think he wanted to, you had planned on telling your professor that the whole ordeal had been unsuccessful but here he was, asking for a redo? 

Was it a good idea to say yes? Considering how last time had played out, the answer was probably not. — “I- I’m free whenever.” But you obviously were very bad at listening to your gut instincts. However the smile that spread across his face made it all worth it, you felt your heart speeding up at the endearing sight. “Perfect”, he chimes, “then we’ll do tomorrow 5:30.” You nod but before you can get another word out he adds, “third floor, room 291.” 

Would you guys not be studying in the library? Despite your slight uneasiness, you nod, “alright.” — “Make sure no one sees you on the way there, and don’t be late.” He warns before turning on his heel and walking off. You were left stunned as you leaned against the wall, still gripping your bag tightly in your hands as you tried to process what had just happened. 

⸝⸝

Wednesday rolls around, the day progresses just like any other would. But something feels different, you feel different. It’s a different kind of excitement, bubbling in the pits of your stomach. You had barely gotten any sleep last night, which was a warning sign on its own because you always made sure to get 8 hours. But you don’t feel tired, not in the slightest. And as the last bell of the day rings, you hurry to the bathroom. 

You never fussed over your appearance, far too busy with having a book stuck under your nose. But today felt different, sure the two of you were just studying, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t make an effort if you wanted to look nice, right? 

The sound of bathroom stalls slamming behind you shifts your attention to a group of girls passing by. They all stop as they watch you apply a clear gloss to your lips, their noses scrunching up in disgust. “What’s gotten into that freak?” One of them mutters as she makes a move toward you, only to be stopped by one of her friends. “Don’t, you might get contaminated”, she sneers and the small group burst out into a fit of giggles. — Holding back a small sigh, you ignore them as you wait for them to leave before daring to do the same. 

Your shoes echo off the now almost empty hallways, it was late enough to where few students lingered behind. Still unfamiliar with the building, you made your way to the third floor. You took no classes here and you had to rely on the numbered doors in order to find 291. It takes a while but soon you’re standing in front of it. 

Your hands tremble as you hurriedly glance down the hallway, making sure no one saw you. When your gaze returns to the door you realize that it was a lot smaller than the others, its red paint standing out amongst the otherwise beige ones. That was odd. Yet you push any concerns aside as you reach out to twist the handle. 

Upon stepping inside you quickly realize that this was not a classroom. The room was small, crowded shelves pushed up against all walls, displaying a large range of items, from old books to tools such as screwdrivers and wrenches. Your eyes scan across the multitude of contents as your mind tries to piece together the scene before you. 

“You’re awfully punctual”, Yeonjun drawls as he emerges from a shadowed corner. You jump as you turn to him with a confused frown, “what’s this?” — He grins, his hands digging deep into his pockets as he leans against one of the shelves, “this is where our study sessions will be taking place from now on”, he explains as he motions for you to have a look around. From now on? But there was hardly room to study here, was there? 

Quickly noting your perplexed expression, Yeonjun’s grin widens. “Well come on now, nerd. You didn’t actually think I was planning on sitting down and doing algebra with you?” Your frown deepens, lips parting as your eyes dart between him and the cramped space. “But what…then why are we here?” You ask as you readjust the rather heavy bag on your shoulder. —  He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a step forward, that single step is enough to get him right in front of you, his chest dangerously close to yours. His hand slides up your arm, reaching your shoulder as he hooks two fingers under the strap holding your bag. “Use that clever little brain of yours for something other than your studies, and maybe you will start to see the bigger picture.” 

Your bag hits the floor with a thud as Yeonjun’s hand returns to your shoulder, fingers twiddling the collar of your blouse as he waits for the wheels in your head to finally turn. And when they do, you glance up at him, your eyes wide with realization. “Yeonjun I… I don’t know…” Your eyes flit toward the door, mind altering between your options, stay or go, stay or go, stay or– 

“Tell me now.” 

His voice is calm and his posture remains stoic as he peers down at you. “I’m not about to waste my time on a loser like you if you’re not even into it.” He sneers as his hand lets go of your collar, pushing you back, only slightly, but enough for you to hit the shelf behind you. Was he seriously asking for your opinion right now, for your consent? Choi Yeonjun was willing to spend time on you, with you. The news were hard to melt and you found yourself awkwardly gazing up at him as your mind fumbled for an answer. 

“What’s it going to be, nerd?” He tsk’s before leaning forward, one of his hands resting on the shelf next to your face as he cages you against it. Briefly you considered turning back, walking away, to return to your otherwise dull life as you watched him from afar. You remembered Mimi, his girlfriend, the guilt and shame, suddenly it came crashing down all over again. But you also remembered his words: “someone like you, doesn’t count as cheating”. Had he really meant that? If not, why else would he be here right now? 

In the end, you nod. “O-Okay”, your voice comes out as a small peep and you curse yourself for not controlling it better. The smug smirk that immediately crawled onto his face should have been a waving warning flag, yet you ignore it, too caught up in the way his eyes darted to your lips, eyeing the clear coat of gloss you’d previously applied. His thumb swipes across the sticky substance. “I was about to tell you not to disappoint me”, he murmurs before pulling your lip down, “but I can already tell that you won’t.” 

Your heart swelled at the small praise, and you leaned into his touch. You hear him scoff at your blunt advances, his lips twitching as he eyes your eager figure. “You virgins really are gullible.” — He presses his mouth against yours, making you gasp in surprise as your pupils blow wide. In what you guessed to be an attempt at loosening you up, his hands roam up and down your sides, settling on your waist as he pushes himself closer, grinding his hips against yours. 

You had no clue of what to focus on, his tongue in your mouth, his hands on your waist, or the way his thigh pushed between your legs, rubbing against your panties in a way that had you practically squealing. — You knew that he was enjoying the reactions he pulled from you, ever so sensitive to his smallest of touches. It’s not long before his hand is on your thigh, gradually moving along your skin before reaching the hem of your underwear. He pushes the fabric to the side, fingers sliding across your already pathetically wet folds before finding your clit, as if they had done this a hundred times.

The moans you emit are all swallowed by his hungry lips on yours as he lets you grind yourself onto his hand. None of the previous hesitation you had felt during your session in the library was present in your mind, all you could think about was how good he felt, how you didn't want him to stop, and how you wanted more, a lot more. 

“More.” 

You can feel him smirk against you, your desperate whine ringing out into the hot air. — “Yeah?” He muses before pulling back, his lips are coated in your clear gloss, the sight was strangely enticing and you find yourself nibbling on your own lip as you sheepishly nod. He chuckles, pressing his lips against yours whilst he hikes your leg around his waist, the small adjustment bringing you even closer to him, and as you feel the hard bulge through his pants, reality slowly sets in. 

But you can’t stop now, you don’t want to. The sound of him undoing his zipper becomes a muffled noise somewhere in the background as your arms wrap around his neck, clinging to him in every way possible. — He breaks the kiss, confused, your eyes flutter open as you try and peer at him in the dim light of the storage room. You briefly catch him tearing a small package open with his teeth and for a moment you’re left completely dumbfounded before realizing that it must’ve been a condom. 

People wore condoms for one of two reasons, either they were avoiding knocking someone up, or they were afraid of catching diseases. But what disease could you possibly be carrying? So that would mean… You don’t have time to ponder on the matter further as you feel the tip of his cock against your folds. Immediately your eyes shoot open as your hands grip onto his shoulders. Suddenly everything seemed very real, perhaps a little too real. 

“Tell me if it hurts”, he murmurs, his forehead leaning against your own and you meekly nod. Was it supposed to hurt? You draw in a sharp breath as you feel him slowly push inside, the stretch of his fingers had been nothing compared to this and you felt completely unprepared. His movements come to an abrupt halt as he leans back to gauge your reaction with a wary expression. Quickly nodding, you loosen your grip on his shoulders, breathing out a small “‘m fine.” 

“Yeah?” He wonders and you nod once more. Only when he’s fully inside, do you dare let out the breath you had been holding in; feeling your body relax against his. “You feelin’ okay?” His genuine question catches you off guard and you give a small nod of assurance. “Y-Yeah I am..” — He smirks, then he captures your lips in a small kiss, the gesture distracts you from the moment he begins to move, gently rocking his hips into you and you gasp against his mouth. 

“Fuck”, he grunts. With one hand around your waist and the other maintaining a steady grip on the shelf behind you, he slowly thrusts inside of you. “Are all virgins this tight?” He murmurs, the question was rhetorical and he doesn’t give you the chance to answer, “or is it just you nerd?” — “I bet it is.” He sounds menacing but his ragged breathing makes it hard for you to tell if he’d really meant it or not. 

The items on the shelf rattle as his pace grows quicker, harsher, drawing moans and whimpers from you with every move his hips, cock stretching you wide as you claw against his shoulders. He leans back, enough to where he can watch the way your lips part, your now smudged gloss spread across your cheeks and chin as you whine. His gaze drops to your chest, fingers quickly beginning to work on the buttons that concealed you from him. Flicking them open one by one, Yeonjun’s hand quickly tears your blouse apart, eyes darting to your plump breasts as they bounced in rhythm with his movement. 

“You’ve got some nice tits for a nerd”, he muses, his hand groping your chest as his thumb flicks along your covered nipple. Feeling your cheeks redden, you only moan as he draws deeper inside of you, the tip of his cock brushing against parts of you that made you squirm. — Yeonjun made you think of yourself, see yourself, in ways you never had before, and it was exciting. 

“Has anyone ever told you that, hm?” He sneers, his hand pushing your breasts together as he watches the flesh squish against one another, groaning at the sight. Unable to form a single coherent thought, much less a full sentence, you merely shake your head. “Well you do. You got some of the nicest tits I’ve ever seen.” He grunts, hips snapping against you. The compliment makes you throb around him, your orgasm approaching at a rapid pace and your fairly short nails dig into his shoulders. 

“P-Please”, you wail and Yeonjun rolls his eyes, letting out a gruff sigh. “Thought you would last longer than this, nerd.” — “But don’t worry”, he murmurs, leaning in close as his lips trail the shell of your ear, “it comes with practice.” He moves down your neck, prepping your skin in soft kisses before he pulls it between his teeth. 

You whimper when his thumb rubs at your clit, legs trembling around his waist as your hands move to his hair, fingers threading through his dark locks before securely latching on. It doesn’t take much for your high to hit, your cunt clenching down around his cock as it pulls him in further. — Yeonjun curses under his breath as his hips jerk forward before stuttering. In the pure ecstasy of the moment, you roughly pull his face from your neck as you crash your lips against his. You knew that it was messy, sloppy and uncalculated, but you didn’t care as long as you got to feel him this close to you. 

You hear him sigh, you can’t tell if he’s content or not. But a moment later he breaks the kiss, gazing at you with a clouded expression as a small grin tugs at his mouth. He bites his lip, eyes dropping to your chest one final time before he pulls out, making you wince at the sudden feel of emptiness. — “Not too bad for a first timer”, he comments as he rids himself off the condom. You open your mouth to say something but he beats you to it. 

“Same time Friday, got it?”   

⸝⸝

Your study sessions with Yeonjun became a regular thing, and every instance was just like the former. They would take place after school, in room 291, shielded away from prying eyes as he had his way with you. You were there, at his every beck and call, never once showing up late nor canceling. — It was both thrilling and excruciating. You knew that whatever transpired between the two of you was nothing personal and only temporary. Yet you couldn’t help but long for something more; you longed for Yeonjun to like you back. 

It was probably a selfish thought, a selfish fantasy. But the images of Mimi flashing before your eyes, which had previously filled you with both dread and guilt, were suddenly replaced with a feeling of superiority. Because even if she didn’t know it, her boyfriend fucked someone else on the side, her boyfriend was cheating on her, with you. And it felt good. Often you had to hold yourself back from letting said fact slip past your lips. The scenarios would sometimes look something like this… 

“Watch where you’re going, nerd.” Mimi spits after purposefully crashing into you in an almost empty hallway that provided more than enough room for two parties to pass. Her friends turn to you with a scowl as they fold their arms across their chests. Your eyes dart between them and their vengeful leader before flitting down the long corridor, down to where The Choi’s were hanging out. 

Making the mistake of letting your gaze linger, garners her attention as Mimi snaps her fingers in front of your face. “What the fuck are you looking at nerd?” She barks as her eyes follow yours. She scoffs, her lips curling into a smirk, “do you think my boyfriend looks good or something?” Her question rips your attention back as you feverishly shake your head. — Mimi only laughs, her friends quickly joining in as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you, really.” She tries to appear nice, perhaps even pitiful, but the malicious intent behind her words linger. You shake your head once more, “no I wasn’t I..” She holds up a finger to silence you, “come on now, it’s obvious. Everyone knows you have a thing for him.” She practically giggles as she covers her painted lips with a hand. Your cheeks feel as if they were on fire, your gaze dropping to your shoes as you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“But don’t worry”, she leans closer, her breath, which reeked of the strawberry bubblegum she always chewed, fans across your face. “You’re not exactly his type.” 

The statement almost made you scoff. Not his type? Was that what it was? You briefly considered telling her, telling her what her boyfriend was doing behind her back, and with the school nerd at that. The one girl she thought she didn’t have to worry about. It was almost a bit comedic. But you held your tongue. No matter how bad you wanted to crush whatever illusion she had going on, you couldn’t. Besides, Yeonjun would probably just deny it, and who would believe you?

Speaking of Choi Yeonjun. — He had become almost insufferable outside of your sessions. From barely looking at you in class to bringing attention to you at almost every possible second, Yeonjun was now the sole epitome of the bullying you endured. Whether it was the nasty and mean comments he shared with Beomgyu, his words echoing out through the classroom as he brought the whole class to laughter. Or the multiple times in which he’d trip you over in the hallways, undoubtedly peeking up your skirt as he did, but of course, no one noticed that, and if they did, they didn’t fault him. 

Choi Yeonjun did nothing wrong. He never did. So when he invites you to a party, your very first one, you don't know what to say. 

“Think about it”, he huffs as he zips his pants back up. The air in the small storage unit felt hot and stuffy, your clothes sticking to your sweaty body as you pulled your panties on. “I don’t know..” you quietly murmur, glancing down toward the dark floor as you twist your hands behind your back. — Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his hair before he tries again. “Why not? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” 

You shake your head. “I’m not. But…I don’t know anyone, I don’t… I can’t just show up there.” You argue before swallowing the lump in your throat. It had been an outright baffling proposal on his side. What would people think if you just turned up? — “Tell them I invited you, they’ll let you in.” You blink up at him, was he being for real right now? 

“Y-You?” He nods, as if it was a given. “Make sure to wear something half decent at least.” He says, giving your shoulder a pat before he pushes past you and out of the small room, leaving you in the dark once more. 

⸝⸝

Something half decent? What was something, half decent? You didn’t know, and it took you about an hour to pick out a dress you thought would be suitable. It wasn’t particularly short, stopping at your knees, the dark purple complimented your skin nice, you thought. But it felt uncomfortable to walk in, and with one hand wrapped around the fabric, you pull it down as you near the driveway of a large villa. 

Your eyes flit across the scenery, it was dark out, but the house remained lit despite the late hour. Music was playing, loud enough to where the beat echoed out across the empty street. Swallowing a gulp, you run a hand through your styled hair one final time before daring to step inside.

Immediately you’re greeted by a large number of perplexed eyes, everyone slowly turning to you as you venture further into the villa, reaching the filled kitchen space. “What’s she doing here?” “Did someone invite her?” “I can’t believe she would actually show up.” — You cringe at their remarks, trying your best to ignore them as your eyes scan for Yeonjun. What if he wasn’t here? What if this had all been a ploy to draw you out and humiliate you further. You shouldn’t have come here, you really should– 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Mimi’s harsh voice snaps you from your small trance as she immediately corners you. Freezing on the spot, your hands curl into fists as you turn to her. Desperate for a way to defend yourself, to explain the situation, or to just escape all together, your mind spirals with excuses. Your lips part but you can’t seem to get a single syllable out. “Come on nerd, I asked you a question.” She huffs, growing impatient as she takes a step forward, her chest almost touching yours. 

“I’m…I..” Could you really tell her that her boyfriend invited you? Would she believe you? No, of course not, no one would. You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes flitting across the crowded kitchen. — “Did you come here to make a scene or something? I mean come on, you’re not even a senior.” Her comment makes everyone hum in agreement as they nod, some even sharing a couple of laughs. 

She was right, and even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. You stood no chance against anyone in this room. Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes and for the first time since you came here, you actually felt like crying. Taking in a small breath, you slowly exhale again. “Well I…” 

“I invited her.” 

Your heart practically froze over as Yeonjun’s voice cut through the tense air. Quiet murmurs carry out through the room as everyone redirects their attention. Somewhere in front of you, you can hear Mimi scoff as she takes a small step back. “What?” She questions and you finally dare to lift your gaze, your eyes immediately locking with Yeonjun’s as he leans against the kitchen island, seemingly unbothered by the small uproar taking place. 

Mimi on the other hand seemed to be fuming as she glanced between her boyfriend and you. “What do you mean you invited her?” She seethes, her voice laced with hatred and spite. Yeonjun shrugs as he digs his hands into his pockets, an indifferent look on his face. “Come on now, loosen up a little. It’s our responsibility as her seniors to take good care of her, don’t you agree?” He lets his gaze wander across the multiple eyes directed at him, everyone seeming to break under his stare as they quietly nod. 

He cocks an eyebrow in the direction of his girlfriend, “then there’s no problem, hm?” Mimi’s mouth had fallen open as she watched him win everyone over within a matter of seconds. Though quickly regaining her composure as she nods, muttering out a quiet, “whatever”, before she pushes past you with such force that you almost lose your balance.

Yeonjun sighs as he moves off the countertop, placing a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder, “get her something to drink won’t you?” His friend frowns, “why me?” But Yeonjun doesn’t pay him any further mind as he, too, takes his leave, most likely in search of his raging girlfriend. 

As soon as he leaves, the previous tension seems to lift as everyone returns to whatever conversation they had been preoccupied with earlier. You breathe out a small sigh as you wrap your arms around you, leaning against the kitchen island as you keep your gaze down. — A drink is shoved in front of you, it’s reddish hue making you frown as you gingerly take it from Beomgyu’s outstretched hand. “T-Thanks”, you mumble as you grip the plastic cup tightly. 

You’re surprised when he doesn’t leave, instead he groans as he takes place beside you, resting his hands on the countertop behind him. “Y’know I really don’t understand why he invited you of all people.” He begins and you can feel his eyes roam your body with distaste. Swallowing, you quietly nod as you sip on the drink, it wasn’t at all as bitter as you had expected it to be, rather it tasted kind of sweet. 

“I…I don’t know either”, you shyly mumble, keeping the cup to your lips as you occupy yourself with gazing down at the liquid swirling around. Beomgyu scoffs as he shakes his head, “Of course you don’t. No one knows what’s going on in that thick skull of his.” — His words came out…almost insulting, and you wondered why he chose to speak in such a way about his friend. 

“You’ve got some guts though, I’ll give you that.” He states, running a hand through his messy hair as his eyes fixate on something in front of him. Surprised at the sudden almost compliment-like statement, you glance up at him in sheer bewilderment. “Not many people in your shoes would’ve come here”, he adds as he gives you a quick one-over. “No offense y’know, but you kinda look…” His nose scrunches up in what you could only guess to be disgust and you bite the inside of your cheek as your gaze drops to your dress. 

“O-Oh yeah…I guess.” 

Beomgyu chuckles, “My, are you gullible.” You internally wince at his words, a small grimace flickering across your face as you take another sip of your drink. You can feel his eyes on you as Beomgyu studies you closely, a little too close. “Y’know, maybe I do understand why he invited you”, he sniggers, pushing himself off the kitchen island, he leaves without saying another word. 

Left confused and yet again, alone, you chew on the plastic of your cup as you wonder how long you would have to stay before it would become appropriate to leave. 

⸝⸝

You think an hour had passed, it felt like three. Back pressed against the wall of the open-spaced living room, your eyes roam the makeshift dance floor as you watch the way your classmates enjoy their evening together. Your presence had soon become old news and after your first encounter, Mimi had left you alone, and so did everyone else. You were thankful, you supposed. But you still didn’t know why Yeonjun had invited you, much less why you had even decided to show up. Because right now, he was nowhere to be seen. 

You think that you might be able to just sneak out, leave, go home and forget that this evening ever took place. This wasn’t for you, that much you could tell. You would face the embarrassment come Monday, but today, now, all you wanted to do was evaporate. 

Standing up a bit straighter, you tug your dress down once more, preparing to leave. It’s only then he makes an appearance. It’s quick, so much so that if it weren’t for the subtle tap to your forearm, you would’ve probably missed him as he passed you by. Your eyes follow Yeonjun’s retreating frame as he aims for the staircase, leading to the second floor. Before climbing the first step, he throws a quick glance over his shoulder, eyes finding yours as he flashes you a small smirk. 

You gulp as you watch him disappear again. Nervously chewing on your bottom lip, your gaze flits across the room, no one was looking at you. Still you wait another five minutes before aiming for the stairs as well. Each step forward made your legs feel like jelly and you steadied yourself against the railing. 

The second floor consists of a long hallway, with doors either side of it, reaching down to at least four of them. Your heartbeat picks up at the thought of having to push all of them open as you carefully peeked inside. But your attention is drawn to the third one on the right, slightly ajar as a yellow light seeps through its cracks. Hesitantly you venture forward, coming to a halt in front of it as you debate your next move. Did you knock? Call out for him? Was he even there? Maybe you were seeing things. There was only one way to find out was there? 

Mustering up whatever courage you have left, you gently push the door open. The room is… a bedroom. A small onesize bed, pushed up against the window alongside the empty bedside table, tells you that it’s most likely a guest room. Your eyes flit to the armchair in the corner, widening as they land on Yeonjun’s figure, sprawled out against the cushion, a hand down his pants as he lazily strokes himself. He watches you with a faint smirk, his head leaning back against the backrest, eyes half lidded as they peer over at you. 

What was going on? You glance back and out into the hallway, afraid that someone, anyone, might walk by. What if Mimi came looking for him? But you were almost certain he’d meant for you to follow him. Quickly you shut the door behind you, locking it for good measure. Yeonjun watches your hurried movements with an amused expression, the hand on his cock unwavering.

“W-What’s all this?” You quietly wonder, willing your eyes to look anywhere but him, anywhere but the hand down his trousers. He doesn’t say anything, lifting his free hand, his index finger beckons you over and you hesitantly comply. Stopping by the chair, you awkwardly clasp your hands together in front of you as you wait for him to break the stale silence. 

“You look nice tonight.” He finally says, his voice seemingly indifferent as he shamelessly lets his gaze roam your body, stopping at the slight cleavage your dress provided. In the dim light casted by only a small lamp on the drawer next to him, you were unsure if he could make out the blush coating your cheeks or not. “Thank you..” 

He hums, readjusting himself on the soft cushions as his legs spread further apart. It takes everything in you not to let your gaze drop. For a moment everything is quiet, and you wonder why he had even bothered to get you up here in the first place. But then he sighs, the small exhale easily garnering your attention as you shift on the spot. 

“Have you ever blown someone before?” 

He asks the question as if it were any other and you feel the color on your cheeks intensifying. He can’t just ask someone something like that…But then again, there was little Choi Yeonjun couldn’t do. Part of you doesn’t understand why he even bothered to ask, wasn’t it obvious? Another part of you suspects that he wants to hear you admit it, wants to see you get flustered as you shake your head, squeaking out a meek “no, never.” 

That’s exactly what you do. — He smirks, a wide smirk, exposing his sharp teeth as his free hand grabs onto one of your own. You let him pull you to your knees, the soft carpet beneath your bare skin felt nice but it was hard to focus on anything but the bulge in front of your face, the movement of his hand visible through the material of his pants. 

“I’ll teach you”, he mumbles, letting go of your hand as he pushes your hair back, gaze wandering across the light makeup you had applied, lingering by the cherry red lipstick on your lips. You slowly nod, hands gripping onto the hem of your dress with such force that you’re surprised it doesn’t tear. 

Without further warning he leans back, swiftly pulling his cock free from his jeans as he continues to stroke it, now only inches from your face. Sure you and Yeonjun had hooked up before, in the darkness of the small storage unit, in places where you never paid his dick much attention apart from when it was inside of you. This was the first time you actually saw it, you think, and this close too. 

Your jaw goes slack as your eyes trail across the large veins climbing up his shaft, coated in a sheer layer of arousal, seeping through his fingers as they wrapped around the length of it. Gulping, you eye the tip, a bright red hue as droplets of precum spilled from the slit. You would be lying if you said that the sight didn’t make your thighs clench together. — Obviously enjoying your stunned response, Yeonjun groans as he gives himself a particularly harsh tug, making your eyes widen further as they flicker from his cock to his face and back again. 

“Come here”, he directs you to scoot forward and you do, offering your hand for him to take as he guides it to wrap around his shaft. He felt hard and heavy in your palm, and you bite your lip as you try to gauge his reaction. Letting his hand drop to his sides, Yeonjun sinks back against the cushion as he peers down at you. “Start slow, don’t use too much pressure but don’t be afraid to touch me. I’ll tell you when you can speed up.” He instructs as he lets his head fall back, getting comfortable as he pays you little mind. 

Your attention returns to his cock in your hand, doing as he said, you slowly let your palm glide up and down, fingers quickly becoming coated in the shiny layer of his arousal. You can’t tell if he likes it or not, he gives little reaction as he stares up at the ceiling. You want to ask him, you want him to reassure you, but it feels stupid to ask, and you hate feeling stupid. 

His hand joins in on top of your own, guiding your fingers to his tip, which you had purposefully avoided as you didn’t know how to approach it. “Flick your wrist like this”, he murmurs, letting your palm glide over the head before returning to stroke him. He only shows you once before his hand moves back to his side. But you can tell that he’s watching you now, eyes tailing your every movement as you repeat what he had just showed you, rolling your hand over his tip, drawing a small huff of air from him. 

“Use your thumb”, he breathes, and your gaze flickers to his face in slight confusion before catching on. The next time you twist your wrist over his head, you press the surface of your thumb against the slit. He shudders under you, a small groan passing his lips and your heart speeds up at the small confirmation you just received. It managed to boost your confidence enough to where you gripped him more firmly, experimentally squeezing his cock, just like he had done moments prior, relishing in the way his breath hitched. 

“You can go -f-fuck- faster.” He grunts, his hands sliding against the armrests of the chair, fingers digging into the plush cushion. Quickly nodding, you’re happy to oblige, repeating your previous movements but with an increased pace as your eyes dart between his leaking dick and his slightly contorted face. 

When he first twitches in your hand, you’re taken back. Surprised by the sudden movement yet you felt yourself throb as you tugged at him even harsher, wanting to pull that very same reaction from him once more. — He’s stopped guiding you, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he tries to muffle whatever noises threaten to escape. You don’t mind, in fact it only spurred you on further as you flicked your wrist over his flushed tip once more. 

His hips buck up against your hand as he lets out a strangled noise. His hand quickly finds its way to your hair, brushing it back as he breathes out through his nose. “Fuck, slow down”, he mutters, tugging at your hair as he forces your face up to meet his, “I’ll cum before you’ve even blown me at this rate.” The statement made your chest swell with pride, still, your hand slows down as you settle back into a more languid pace. 

He takes a moment to open his eyes, drawing in a few ragged breaths before he does. The hand in your hair moves to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you closer, the tip of his cock merely inches from your lips and you swallow. “Relax”, he says, fingers pulling your mouth open and you let him. “Breathe through your nose, and don’t use your teeth.” — You slowly nod, your hands bracing themselves on his thighs as he taps his cock against your parted lips, smearing his arousal all over your cherry lipstick. 

He pushes inside slowly, you wince at the stretch, your mouth widening as much as it allows. The first thing you note is the salty taste, it isn’t particularly strong and you’re relieved. But no matter how hard you tried to relax your jaw, when his cock hit the back of your throat you instinctively pulled back with a small gag. — Yeonjun tsk’s above you, the hand on your cheeks gripping you firmer as he pulls you back onto his dick. “Thought I told you to relax, no?” He murmurs, letting out a breathy moan as you let him slide himself back into your hot mouth.   

Your eyes screw shut as you focus on evening out your breathing, taking steady breaths in and out through your nose as you allow your tense frame to relax under him. “Think of it as the same as what you did with your hand.” His fingers relax against your cheek, thumb grazing your skin as he feels the way his cock slides in and out of your pliant lips. — It feels weird at first, uncomfortable too, but after a while you slowly get used to the feeling of him in your mouth. 

Hesitantly wrapping your lips around him, you press your tongue flat against him as you carefully bob your head up and down. He groans somewhere above you and your eyes flutter open as you peer up at him through your mascara coated lashes. Yeonjun always looked good, but there was something about him like this, from this view. A sheer layer of sweat that made his dark hair stick to his forehead, his parted lips and furrowed brows, you clenched at the sight, taking him deeper and with much more urgency. 

Something about tonight felt…special, perhaps even more intimate than all your past encounters. Maybe it had to do with the change of scenery. The dimly lit bedroom, the plush armchair, the fine carpet, you can’t place it, but something is different. And for the first time, you can only think about Yeonjun, not his girlfriend, his friends or even your classmates. It was only him. 

Remembering how you had pressed your thumb against his slit earlier, you pull back to refocus your attention to only his tip, your hand joining in to stroke the rest of him. You press your tongue flat against his head before swirling it to the best of your abilities, watching intently as Yeonjun’s brows drew further together, a breathy moan ripping from deep within his chest. 

“F-Fucking hell”, he groans, his head falling back against the cushion. “Fuck ‘m gonna-” His hips jerk forward, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and you pull back with a small wince, unprepared for when his hot cum spurted into your mouth. Not really knowing which approach to take, you continue to suck him off, cum dribbling down your chin as you fought to swallow the rest without losing your breath once more. Yeonjun slumps back against the armchair, his hand releasing its hold on your cheeks as he lets it fall to his side. 

Carefully pulling off of him, you sit back as you begin wiping your chin with the back of your hand. You steal a glance at him, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head as a small grin etches its way to his lips. — “Was…was it okay?” Your words are barely above a whisper, and he cocks an eyebrow at you, his grin widening. 

“Sure it was, nerd.” 

You blink up at him, “really?” — He chuckles, tucking himself back into his pants with a small grimace. “Would I have asked you to do it if I had doubts?” He retorts and you bite your lip, no perhaps not you supposed. “You’ll get even better with a bit of practice”, he reassures you, giving your head a light pat before getting up. 

He’s reached the door before he turns back to you, “wait another fifteen minutes or so before leaving, yeah?” Without waiting to hear your answer, he unlocks the door and steps out, slamming it shut behind him. 

⸝⸝

You spent another thirty minutes aimlessly wandering around the large villa, astonished by how someone could afford a place this big. You still had no clue whose house this even was, and no one seemed to care for the sake either. — Halfway down a long corridor, filled with what you could only assume to be modern art, you suddenly freeze in your tracks as the voices of someone else joins your quiet footsteps. 

After spending a rough minute trying to locate the source of the sound, you finally realize that it’s coming from behind one of the larger pillars a few paces ahead. Debating your choices for a solid ten seconds, you opt to try and eavesdrop, if only for a moment. And as you quietly creep forward, their conversation suddenly becomes a lot more clear. — Shuffling to squeeze yourself behind another pillar, you lean against the cool marble as you try and pick up on what’s being said. 

You knew the voices belonged to two of the girls from your class, but you were unable to pair them with any faces. — “Did he really?” One of them asks, her voice is slightly high-pitched, almost a bit squeaky. Her friend’s voice is fairly deeper as she replies, “Yes! And it was a week before her birthday too!” A small gasp. “You don’t mean… But with whom?” The first girl asks. 

There’s a brief pause, and you, too, find yourself holding your breath as you await the second girl's answer. “With Hera..” You frown, unable to recognize the name but the other girl seemed more than aware as she let out a small shriek, earning a sharp “hush!” from her friend. — “But that’s…” the first girl begins only to be interrupted by her friend, “her best friend.” 

Their conversation made little sense in your ears, and with a small sigh you turned to walk the other way when suddenly, a familiar name surfaced. — “But it was kind of obvious was it not”, the girl with the deeper voice begins, “Yeonjun has cheated on Mimi with practically all of her friends. She’s bound to find out some day, it’s only a matter of time.” 

You felt your face fall as your heart plummeted through your stomach. Had you heard them right? You hoped you hadn’t but the first girl quickly butts in as she confirms what you dreaded. “I told her from the start that Yeonjun was promiscuous, but she didn’t listen of course”, the girl huffs as her friend hums in agreement. “Better her than me”, she adds. 

You had heard enough. That was it, you were going home. Turning on your heel, you quietly dart down the long corridor. — You knew that you didn't have a reason to be upset, hell he had even cheated on his girlfriend with you. It still didn’t stop the tears that pricked in your eyes as you pushed past the crowd in the kitchen. A small part of you had thought, perhaps even hoped that maybe, maybe what he saw in you was different from what he saw in Mimi. God you’re so stupid. You quietly mutter, reaching the open living room just in time to see who you had hoped you wouldn’t. 

Near the front door, leaning against the wall, was Yeonjun, arms wrapped around his girlfriend’s frame as she pressed sloppy kisses to his neck. Your mind flashes with the images of what had taken place between the two of you not even an hour ago. Yet here he was, shamelessly buttering his so-called girlfriend up as if he hadn’t had you on his cock moments prior. And to think that you had allowed yourself to become part of his crowd, it was disgusting. 

You finally saw Choi Yeonjun for what he really was. A fucking asshole. And with that clarification in mind, you forcefully push past the pair as you march out of the front door, leaving the still lively party behind as you begin your journey home. 

⸝⸝

Monday came all too fast. The aftermath of the party is still fresh in your mind as you rummage through your locker. You had spent the whole weekend reanalyzing your every interaction with Yeonjun; from the day you first met to the thirty minutes spent in the guest bedroom just two days ago. You questioned his true intentions, more than twice. But no matter how many hours you tossed and turned in bed, you got no closer to solving the mystery that was Choi Yeonjun. 

Slamming the red steel door shut, you almost drop the books in your arm as you come face to face with the person you least wanted to see. — Yeonjun leans against the locker next to yours as he studies your face intently. Quickly you turn around to see if anyone was watching the two of you before shifting your attention back to him. “What are you doing?” You whisper as you watch him with a wary expression. 

He only shrugs, a small grin playing on his lips. “See me after class”, he nods in the direction of the stairs, leading to the third floor and you internally sigh. Still, you should talk to him, you really should, so you nod. “Okay.” — His grin widens as Yeonjun pushes himself off the locker, continuing down the hallway without another word. 

You find yourself counting down the hours, lesson after lesson, your eyes remain glued to the clock on the wall. In fact, you’re so focused on the afternoon ahead that the insults thrown your way merely passes over your head. — Then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you find yourself walking up the steps and past the doors as you neared room 291.

He was already there, waiting for you. And as soon as the red door closes behind you, he’s got you pressed up against it, hungry lips on yours within a matter of seconds as his hands roam your body. It was easy to get caught up in his world, his kisses and his touches, you have to remind yourself of why you came here. His name falls from your lips, but it’s not the usual desperate whine, it’s serious, you know that he can tell, humming against your lips yet his hands don’t stray away from wandering beneath your shirt. 

"Yeonjun, wait." 

He stills, if only for a moment, leaning back slightly as his lips brush against yours. Taking in a deep breath, you prepare yourself for the conversation to come. You had rehearsed it many times in your head, but as you glance up at him in the dim light of the storage unit, you find it hard to even look him in the eyes. “I…I’ve been thinking”, you slowly begin, watching the faint smirk that surfaces on his face. “Don’t you always, nerd.” He mutters, his hands resuming their journey up your chest, flicking the buttons to your shirt open as his mouth leaves hot kisses against your neck. 

You try to ignore the burning sensation sparking through your body, forcing yourself to go through with what you wanted to say. “Yes but, I’ve been thinking about…about us.” — Your words make his hands around your breasts stutter and he goes quiet against you. Biting your lip, you hold your breath as you wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t, only humming against your skin as he continues to litter you in red marks. 

“What makes you think there is an ‘us’?” 

His question makes your composure fall as you let out a shaky exhale. “There isn't?" You hesitantly ask, already anticipating the answer you were bound to receive. — He pulls away from you with a perplexed expression. Then he laughs, it’s short, cruel, he shakes his head. “Don’t be funny”, he mutters as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “You know that I have a girlfriend, nerd.” He spits the words out like the venomous bite of a snake. His gaze drops to your unbuttoned blazer, briefly passing the harsh bruises he’d previously left on your chest.

“Don’t think you’re anything else besides a quick fuck.” 

Oh. There it was. He finally said it, he finally confirmed what you had been dreading all along. You weren’t stupid, you knew that whatever the two of you had was nothing romantic. But hearing those words come out of his mouth, it hurt more than you ever thought it would’ve. Still, it was just what you needed. With your palms pressed against his chest, you push him back, as far away from you as the small room allowed. 

“I don’t think I want to be that.” 

Your voice is trembling as you speak and you have to force your gaze not to drop down to your shoes. Letting your hands fall back against your sides, you draw in a small breath, holding it as you watch Yeonjun’s face form into a confused frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He huffs, sounding almost angry as his hands clenched into fists before relaxing again. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, giving a meek shrug of your shoulders. “I don’t want to be just a… a quick fuck.” You murmur, unable to maintain his intense gaze, you let your eyes drop to the floor. He scoffs, leaning back against the shelves with such force that the items behind him rattled. “Do you honestly believe that anyone else is even going to consider fucking you, nerd?” He was pissed, that much you could tell. 

Shaking your head, you blink away the tears that had managed to form in your eyes. “I don’t care, I just…”, you exhale, praying that your voice wouldn’t break as you continued, “I just don’t think this is for me.” — Yeonjun laughs, the same laugh that echoed off the classroom walls as he made fun of you. You realize then just how fucked up your situation had become. How could you have allowed yourself to stoop to such a level? 

“I gave you so much, and you… you don’t think that it’s for you?” He jeers, taking a step forward as he comes face to face with you once more. But now none of the previous lust and desire remained, only fury. All you can do is continuously shake your head, not daring to meet his gaze. “No. It’s not.” You state as you tear your eyes from the floor, it takes everything in you to not have your resolve crumbling as you peer up at him. 

“So let’s stop.” 

You motion toward the small unit you were currently standing in. “Whatever this is, was, let’s end it now.” You swallow, hard, the sound ringing in your ears. Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair once more, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as his eyes flit between you and the door. “You want to end things? Fine.” His voice lacks all the anger it previously held, now sounding almost monotone. 

“But don’t come crying when you realize just how much you’re about to lose.” He drawls, eyes boring into yours one final time before he pushes past you, knocking you back against the wall as he rips the door open. Darkness envelops you as soon as it's slammed shut behind him, and you finally let out the sob you had been holding in. 

⸝⸝

You didn’t go to school that following Tuesday, nor Wednesday. It was the first time you had missed a whole day since your junior year in highschool. Was it pathetic? Probably. Curled up on your bed, you spent the two days in front of your laptop, binging whatever show seemed appealing as you sniffled into a tissue. — You wanted to go back in time, back to when you only knew Yeonjun as the obnoxious leader of bullies from your class, back to when things were simple. 

You wondered what he might’ve said about you in your absence. What kind of lies he might’ve conducted, surely he wouldn’t just sit still. You dreaded returning, but you knew that it was inevitable, and as Thursday rolled around, you pulled yourself from bed. 

The classroom was empty when you arrived, there was another thirty minutes left but you had chosen to get there earlier to save yourself perhaps at least a few stares as you walked toward your desk. You had missed a lot, you were sure, two days was a long time to be away from school and you worried that you would have a lot of reading to do when you came back home. Though you supposed the distraction of studying would be nice. 

It’s about ten minutes left until class when the first few students emerged from the doors, swinging their bags down on their desks as they chatted loudly with one another. “Watch it nerd!” A girl sneers as she gives the leg of your chair a harsh kick, you grip onto the edge of your table as you hang your head low. But beside that, nothing happens, and you frown. You were sure it was going to be worse than this, but it wasn’t. For the first time ever you felt relieved that your classmates were treating you indifferent. Well, all except one. 

Yeonjun doesn’t show up to first period. And just as you think he’s about to be absent for the second one as well, the door is pushed open as he walks inside. Yeonjun seldom did what he was supposed to in class, but he always brought his bag, not today though. You tried to not let your eyes linger, inevitably failing as you watched him pull out his chair and sit down, his hands remaining in his pockets as he leaned back to gaze across the board with a lazy expression. In regular fashion, Beomgyu goes off about a random topic next to him as Soobin twirls a pen between his fingers, seemingly bored out of his mind. 

Class begins, and ends, and nothing happens. Not even as much as a glare in your direction. It was just like before, before the two of you were ever intimate, Yeonjun acted as if you didn’t exist, and you watched him. But this time, you didn’t feel a sense of longing, honestly, you didn’t know what you felt. Relief, a sense of mourning, regret? You didn’t like the way your stomach felt when you looked at him, so you stopped. 

⸝⸝

Weeks went by, the bullying never stopped, why would it? You kept quiet, your gaze downcast as you moved through the hallways. It worked, because you rarely saw him anymore. You didn’t know if he was avoiding you or not, you didn’t care. It felt nice to not care. The only thing tugging away at you now… was the loneliness. It wasn’t like Yeonjun acted friendly with you, especially not during school hours, but he had made you feel less alone. In the most fucked up way possible, he was the only one you had ever had some kind of relationship with since your first day here. And a small part of you missed it. 

But even the loneliness would one day stop. 

You blink up as a plate is placed opposite yours in the crowded cafeteria. Confused, your eyes darted between the boy before of you and the plenty of empty tables. He doesn’t seem to care as he slides down on the chair in front of yours. “You’re the junior girl who takes classes with the seniors right?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side, studying you with wide and curious eyes. — Still wary of the intentions behind his move to sit with you, you slowly nod, “I am.” 

He smiles, it was perhaps one of the first genuine smiles you had received since you started here. Shuffling a bit closer, he offers his hand for you to shake, which you hesitantly do. “I’m Hueningkai, but you can just call me Kai.” He says as you let go of his hand once more. — “I’m a junior too, but I’m stuck with everyone else our age”, he explains with a coy smile. 

You nod, taking a small sip of your water. His eyes shift to the book placed next to your tray. “Lord Of The Rings?” He asks and you hum as you turn it around for him to see. “I love those books!” He exclaims as he brings it to his face, studying the back intently. “I’m re-reading them..” You quietly mumble as your gaze flickers between him and the glass in your hand. Kai sets the book down as he turns to you, “you mean you’ve read all this more than once? Sick!” 

That was how you met Kai. You don’t know why he approached you, you didn’t care to ask. All you knew was that you had finally found a friend. And though the two of you still took separate classes, you always stayed behind to study together, ate lunch just the two of you, and walked each other to class. It felt nice to have someone to talk to, even though you didn’t tell him about you and Yeonjun, he still listened to you as you explained all of the bullying. 

You were amongst the last to return to class after lunch one lousy Tuesday. Kai and you had spent the entire break discussing quantum physics, and you had only realized the time once you went to search something up on your phone, making you rush to class. Not thinking much of the rare occurrence, you make your way over to your desk by the very back of the room, only freezing when one of your classmates addresses you. 

“What’s got you coming in so late, nerd?” He sneers as he leans back in his chair to see you better. With the intention of not replying, you take your seat as you begin rummaging through your stuffed bag. But when another girl butts in, you feel yourself go stiff. “Don’t you know?” She drawls, easily garnering the first guy’s attention as well as everyone around her. Even the Choi’s seemed to be listening as Beomgyu put down his phone. You held your breath, anticipating the worst yet it somehow ended up being so far from anything you could’ve ever imagined. 

“Nerd’s got a boyfriend.” She exclaims, watching triumphantly as everyone began whispering amongst each other, hushed murmurs carrying around the room. You felt your face burn as you glanced toward Yeonjun’s table. — He was still scrolling absentmindedly on his phone, but the way his jaw clenched, accompanied with the small frown of his brows, made your stomach sink just slightly. 

“That’s such bullshit!” Mimi exclaims as she throws you a harsh glare. But the girl who’d announced the news merely shakes her head. “I’ve seen them myself!” She retorts as she folds her arms across her chest. “That junior boy, y’know the blonde one.” — “I’ve seen them too!” Someone else chirps in and the girl is quick to nod. 

“They always eat lunch together too”, the girl turns to you with a wide smirk, “isn’t that right nerd?” — Your fingers curled around the pencil in your hand, gripping it with such force that it might break. You don’t look at her, gaze dropping to your table as you merely shook your head, earning a scoff from the girl as she turned back to the rest of the class. 

“Shit, are you serious?” Beomgyu wonders as he leans forward in his chair. But before the girl has a chance to reply, Yeonjun cuts her off. “Don’t be stupid”, he mutters as he pulls Beomgyu back by the collar of his shirt. — “What the fuck man, it’s just a question”, he whines as he rubs his now sore neck. Yeonjun huffs as his gaze remains glued to his phone screen, “of course she isn’t serious. Stop believing her bullshit.” 

Beomgyu falls silent at his words and so does everyone else. The next few minutes are awkward as everyone scrambles to occupy themselves with whatever they could find, desperately wishing for your professor to walk through the doors. 

⸝⸝

The sound of the old library doors being pushed open shifts your focus from the book in your lap as you glance up just in time to see Kai approaching your desk. He smiles, waving his hand enthusiastically and you find yourself reciprocating the small move. — “Sorry I’m late”, he apologizes as he takes the seat next to yours, pulling a few books from his bag. “It’s fine, really”, you assure him as you place your own book down. 

It had become routine for the two of you to meet up and study together, well, you often just talked the hours away, but neither of you seemed to mind the lack of work getting done. “Which chapter are you on?” He wonders, and you slide the book over for the two of you to share, “fifteen.” He nods as he scoots closer, your shoulders practically touching as you take turns reading and scribbling down notes. 

Usually you didn’t mind the close proximity, but when thinking back of what had transpired after lunch earlier that day, you felt different. Ever since your break up with Yeonjun, if break up was even what you could call it, you had little desire to enter into a new relationship. But the more you mulled over your classmate’s words, the more sense it all seemed to make. — Eating lunch together, walking each other to class, even now, you both sat so close that you could hear the pattern of his breathing. 

Kai was cute. He was the type of cute that made you look back twice when you passed him on the street, the type of cute that made you want to revisit the small café because of the waiter that had served you, the type of cute that you wanted to bring home to your parents. — Not only was he cute, he was nice too, you felt happy, comforted, in his presence. Unlike Yeonjun, Kai only made you feel giddy inside as you longed to see him. He never made you second guess his intentions or yourself. 

But there was still something missing, something that you couldn’t quite place. Something that Yeonjun had made you feel by just stepping into the same room as you. You hated yourself for comparing your new friend to someone like him, but it felt almost impossible not to. You didn’t care about Choi Yeonjun anymore, so why did he continue to haunt the subconscious parts of your mind? 

As if on cue, Kai turns around in his seat, his nose almost grazing your own due to how close you sat. “Hey are you following along?” He wonders, seemingly concerned as a small frown tugs at his brows. Blinking, you shake your head, “sorry no..” — You swallow, willing yourself to be honest with him, you need to be.

“Can I…can I tell you something?” You hesitantly ask, gnawing on your bottom lip as you twirl your pencil anxiously between your fingers. He nods, a small smile painting his lips, “of course!”  — Awkwardly clearing your throat, you think of a way to begin the whole thing. “W-Well basically…Everyone in my class they-” 

Your words get stuck in your throat, not because you were afraid of uttering them, not because Kai made you in any way feel uneasy. But because the oak doors to the library opened once more, the sound almost deafening to your ears, eyes becoming glued to Yeonjun’s frame as he enters. It doesn’t take him long to spot you, his already spiteful expression seemingly worsening as his gaze locks with yours. 

He grasps a book tightly in one hand, walking over to the front desk as he practically slams it on the table, making everyone inside the room jump as their heads turn in his direction. Yeonjun however, pays them little mind, his eyes never straying from yours as the old librarian goes to check out his book. — Even Kai’s attention had shifted toward your classmate, watching as Yeonjun leaned against the desk with a scowl on his face. 

“Isn’t he in your class?” He wonders as the frown on his face deepens. You nod, “ignore him”, you mumble as you shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze. “But he’s looking at you..” Kai states and you shake your head again, “please let’s just ignore him.” — Finally, Kai tears his gaze from him as he gives you a small nod, “of course. So what’d you want to tell me?” 

Oh right. “Well I… It’s a bit weird, promise you won’t be freaked out.” You begin as you bite your lip, feeling an evident blush rise on your cheeks. Kai nods as he takes your hand, the small action somehow making the whole thing even worse but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off. From the corner of your eye, you can make out Yeonjun’s figure as he watches the two of you, his mere presence made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. 

“My classmates they…they sort of think we’re…well they think we’re dating..” You quietly mumble, the last part becoming nothing more but a faint whisper. You can easily read his surprise as Kai’s eyes widen, his gaze flitting down to his hand on top of yours as he swallows. “Oh.” Is all he says. — “I hope it doesn’t make things weird between us”, you quickly add, your voice near pleading as you search his gaze. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Kai slowly nods as he keeps his eyes on your hands. “No I suppose it doesn’t… I mean, it’s not like it’s true..” He says, offering you a small smile as his gaze returns to your face. You nod, “y-yeah, exactly..” — Daring to steal a glance in the direction of Yeonjun, you barely manage to catch his retreating figure as he exits the library, oak doors slamming shut behind him. 

Kai follows your gaze, his hand on top of yours moving back to rest on his lap as his eyes flicker between the spot where Yeonjun just vanished and your almost longing expression. He sighs. 

⸝⸝

It’s nearing 6pm when you finally part ways outside the library. And after waving Kai off, you turn to walk up the flight of stairs leading to your locker. The hallways are vacant, your low heel shoes clacking against its floors as you readjust your heavy bag on your shoulder. — Your footsteps come to an abrupt halt about halfway down the long corridor, your eyes spotting a tall figure, leaning against the red lockers by the end of the hall. You swallow, easily recognizing his lean frame. It’s too late to turn back, you know that he’s heard you already. 

“Have you been waiting here all along?” You wonder, stopping a few paces from him, maintaining a good distance as you shift your weight over to one leg. Yeonjun’s head, previously leaning against the red steel behind him, lazily turns in your direction as he studies you with a tired expression. “No.” — You knew it was a lie. 

“Then why are you here?” For once, it’s your gaze boring into his, and not the other way around. Yeonjun remains silent, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his pants, his eyes roaming your body just like they had so many times before. He doesn’t say anything. You wait for him to speak, you wait for two whole minutes. Nothing. 

With a small huff, you give up as you approach your locker. Now only inches from him, you type your code in as the red door clicks open. Pulling your books from your bag, he watches you as you place them neatly inside the small space. You bite your tongue, refraining from saying the many things on your mind. It would only complicate the situation further. — It’s not until you close the locker again, turning around as you get ready to leave, that he finally breaks the silence. 

“Is it true?” 

You freeze, slowly turning back to face him with a small frown. Still leaning against the lockers, he tilts his head to the side, his expression holds no amusement, not even anger, just…emptiness. You had never seen him like that before. — “What?” The surprise is evident in your voice, and you watch as he pushes himself off the lockers, moving to face you completely. “You and him, is it true?” He repeats his question and your breath gets stuck in your throat at the mention of Kai. 

You didn’t want him to become the next affection of Yeonjun’s harsh bullying. More than anything, you wanted to maintain the only friendship you had, you could not have your past mistakes getting in the way of it. — “Does it matter?” Your stance remains guarded as you fold your arms across your chest. He cocks an eyebrow in your direction, his lip twitching, “of course not.” 

Confused, you frown, you had forgotten how near impossible he was to read. “Well then there you have your answer.” You firmly state. He shakes his head, and you could’ve sworn you caught the small grin on his face before it vanished again. “So then it is true..” — “Yes.” The small word of confirmation slips from your lips without you even realizing it. But it was too late to take it back now. Yeonjun frowns, he seems almost surprised at your immediate response.   

“It’s true that we hang out everyday. It’s true that he makes me smile, and laugh. It’s true that he cares for me and I for him. All of it is true, is that what you wanted to hear?” You’re almost out of breath by the end of your small rant. — Yeonjun’s jaw clenches, hands curling into fists inside his pockets as he draws in a sharp breath through his nose. 

“So does it really matter if it’s true or not when he treats me in a way that makes me feel loved and appreciated?” You’re unable to hinder yourself from letting out all the emotions that you had kept pent up during the past weeks. And by the end, your voice sounds as if it’s about to break at any moment. — But he doesn’t say anything. His expression remained as indifferent as possible, watching the way your chest heaved as you caught your breath again. 

His silence felt heavier than a thousand words. Part of you wants to swallow your statement again, another part is relieved to finally have gotten it out. You quickly realized that you probably wouldn’t get another response from him, and thus you made your second move to leave. Except this time, he acts faster. 

Fingers wrapping around your wrist, Yeonjun prevents you from taking another step away from him. His grip is tight, but not enough to hurt, you can feel the slight tremble to his hand and your gaze dart between his hold on you to his now determined expression. 

“I could too.” 

His voice is low, yet the sentence echoes off the empty hallway walls. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, blood rushing beneath your skin as your wide eyes meet his. — “I could make you feel like that too.” His voice is clearer now, steadier, and he takes a step forward. You find yourself shaking your head, making him frown. “Why, don’t you believe me?” 

The question made you scoff. “Of course I don’t.” You exclaim as you withdraw your arm from his grip, he lets you, briefly glancing down to his now empty hand before letting it fall to his side. “You’ve said it yourself. I’m nothing besides a quick fuck, right?” — He bites the inside of his cheek, your words undoubtedly true. 

Maybe three weeks ago, his small statement would’ve been able to sway you, to make your heart beat a little faster. Now it only felt like he was rubbing salt onto your barely healed wounds. Just as you had gotten over him, just as you had finally made a real friend, he had to go and ruin it all again by saying exactly what you both dreaded and longed to hear from him. And you hated him for it. You hated Choi Yeonjun. 

Tears stung in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You couldn’t let him see you cry. — He grabs onto you a second time as you turn to leave, pulling you flush against his chest with such haste that you barely have time to register what’s happening before his lips are on yours. “Don’t go”, he breathes into your mouth, kissing you with such urgency that you thought he might just be on the verge of dying. 

Your hands are on his chest within seconds as you pry him off. “Stop. Just stop.” Your pleading voice cuts like knives through the air and he pulls back with a stunned expression. Shaking your head, you tear yourself from him as you take a step back. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. But it better stop.” He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “Don’t let me get my hopes up only to crush them again.” 

Refusing to hear him out any longer, you quickly turn on your heel as you hurriedly walk down the hallway, leaving him behind as he runs a hand through his dark hair. 

⸝⸝

The next day, Yeonjun doesn’t show up to school. You’re just as confused as everyone else, your eyes darting toward the door every other second, thinking that it might be him, but it never is. — “Is he sick?” Someone asks but Beomgyu only shakes his head, leaning back in his chair with a small huff, “beats me.” Ah, so he didn’t know either. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you’re suddenly filled with worry, was it because of what happened yesterday? Was he actually hurt by it? No, surely not, it was Choi Yeonjun after all. 

It’s not until the doors bursts open once more, revealing a disheveled Mimi, that realization slowly starts to set in. Her usually put together face is in ruins as makeup has been smeared across her cheeks. Heads turn in her direction as one of her friends guides her over to her desk. — “What happened?” A guy asks only to be hushed by her friend, quietly mouthing out the words: “he broke up with her.” 

Everyone seems to fall silent after that, allowing Mimi’s quiet sobs to fill the room as you wait for class to start. — He broke up with her… You blink, glancing down to the empty page in your notebook as you swallow. Did that also have anything to do with what happened yesterday? Once again you’re left feeling guilty, Yeonjun always seemed to make you feel that way. 

When your professor finally arrives, the lecture moves slowly, agonizingly so. And for once, you didn’t find any joy in your studies. Sure it might also have something to do with the persistent feeling of being watched. — Turning your head ever so slightly to the right, you find Soobin’s eyes locked on your unnerved frame. Not even when he knows that you’ve caught him does he turn away.

He continues to watch you throughout the day. Wherever you went, he seemed to be there too. Eyes boring into you at all times, an indifferent expression on his face. He knew something, that much you were sure of. 

⸝⸝

Finally, as your last lesson comes to an end, you manage to slip past Soobin’s prying gaze as you hurried down the stairs to meet Kai. The two of you had begun accompanying each other on the way home as you both took the bus from the same station. — You find him waiting by the entrance, a large smile plastered across his face and as soon as your eyes fell on him, all worries were washed away. 

“How was class?” He asks as you walk down the courtyard. You shrug, swinging your bag in front of you cheerily, “nothing out of the ordinary.” — “No mean comments, no nothing?” He wonders and you bite the inside of your cheek, “no…actually not.” After the news of Mimi’s breakup, everyone had fallen into this sort of trance where no one seemed to want to bring attention to themselves. Thus you had been left alone all day, which felt both nice and incredibly weird. 

Kai hums, the two of you were walking so close that your arms brushed together, but you didn’t mind. Once you reach the large gates leading out onto the streets however, you freeze. Stopping a pace in front of you, Kai turns to you with a small frown, “something wrong?” — You shake your head, “no…I just.. think I left a book behind, you go ahead.” 

He opens his mouth, as if to object but you quickly interrupt him, “it’s fine! I wouldn’t want you to miss your bus”, you reassure him as you offer a small smile. “Then what about you?” He wonders but you just wave it off in a disregarding manner, “I’ll take the next one, don’t worry about me.” He doesn’t seem entirely convinced but the small hug you give him makes him nod. “Alright, text me when you get home”, he says and you quickly agree as you send him off. 

You watch him disappear down the pavement with a small sigh. Not until he’s completely out of sight do you turn to cross the street. You walk with long and determined strides, not stopping until you reach the large tree by the sidewalk. — Yeonjun isn’t wearing his usual school uniform, instead he’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans, a black jacket wrapped around his torso to prevent the chilly December air from getting to him. He leans against the naked tree trunk, his gaze flickering from the concrete beneath him and over to you as you approach. 

Feet planting in front of his, you cross your arms as you peer up at him with an expectant look on your face. He doesn’t say anything, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Unable to bear the silence, you break it. “You didn’t come to school today.” You don’t know why you stated the obvious, perhaps you wanted him to explain himself, but he doesn’t, only nodding silently. 

Frustrated, you run a hand through your hair. He wanted to talk to you, right? That’s why he was waiting across the street from your college, openly risking being spotted by your classmates. So why wasn’t he saying anything? — Huffing out a short breath, you part your lips to say something, but he’s quicker than you. 

“I broke up with her”, he calmly states. His posture remains relaxed as he speaks but his eyes search yours with something akin to desperation. — “I know.” You mumble, biting the inside of your lip before continuing, “she was crying all day, did you know that?” He scoffs, “so?” His nonchalant approach made you frown, “so? Don’t you care?” Your question is met by the mere shake of his head as he shrugs, “no, do you?” 

“I do.” 

He hadn’t expected your answer, you could tell by the way his face dropped, if only for a moment. “Why? It’s not exactly like she’s a good person.” He jeers, shoving his hands deeper into the denim pockets of his jeans. “And you are?” Even though your voice remains steady, there’s a linger of hurt between your quiet words. — He goes silent in front of you as his gaze flits between yours and the entrance behind him. 

“Why are you even here, Yeonjun?” Your tone is near accusing and he looks almost guilty as his attention shifts back to you. He swallows, rubbing a hand along his neck, as if stalling for time. You bite your tongue, waiting patiently for him to speak. — “Why do you like him?”, he finally asks. It hardly took a genius to guess who he was referring to. 

You sigh, observing the way the naked branches of the tree moved against the mild breeze. “I told you, didn’t I?” You drawl, readjusting the bag swung over your shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitches as Yeonjun shakes his head, “that’s not what I wanted to hear.” — “And you think you’re in a position to make demands like that?” You snort, watching as he pushes himself off the tree before taking a step in your direction. 

Leaning back to glance up at him, you try your best to hold your ground as he tilts his head to the side, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you. “Then tell me what I need to do.” — Your mouth falls open as you gawk at him, what was he implying? Taking a step back only ends up with him taking yet another forward, his hands coming up from his pockets to rest on your shoulders. 

“Tell me how to be like him.” 

Slowly you realize just what he was asking of you. Immediately shaking your head, you take yet another step back. “It doesn’t work like that.” You quietly murmur, averting your gaze to avoid looking him in the eyes. He frowns, a confused frown, “sure it does”, he says, sounding almost hopeful as he grips your shoulders tighter. “Just tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.” 

Did he honestly think that everything could be undone just like that? The pain, the tears, the bullying, that he could take it all back just because he wanted to? Just because he had a change of heart? The thought was almost as ridiculous as his proposal. — This was Choi Yeonjun, he wasn’t about to change his ways just because of you, you should know that. Whatever this was, this moment of confusion, it wouldn’t last, and you had to pull out before you got hurt, again. 

“I don’t know what you want from me…” You bite back the harsh insults waiting on your tongue, shaking your head once more. “I don’t know what it is, and I don’t care. Please just stop confusing me”, you almost beg as you try to pry his hands off of you. — Yeonjun looks perplexed as he lets you push him off. “Confusing you? I don’t–” 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You retort, your voice growing in intensity as you failed to hold back the anger and resentment you held for him. “I let you screw me over, I let you use me, humiliate me, I put up with all of it, because…” You exhale, taking a step forward as you point an accusing finger to his chest. “Because at one point I thought that I liked you, but I don’t. I know exactly what you are and I know that you won’t change.” 

He frowns, his fingers wrapping around your wrist on his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about m-” — “I do.” You cut him off, aware of the way his jaw clenches as his grip on your wrist tightens. “I know that you cheat, you lie, you use people as you please, and worst of all, you don’t even feel guilty about it.” 

You tear yourself from his grasp, stumbling backward as you cradle your sore wrist. “I know far from everything about you”, you state, watching him bite the inside of his cheek as he fights off the remark he so desperately wished to fire. — “But I know that I hate you. And that’s enough reason for me to stay as far away from you as possible.” 

“So please, leave me the fuck alone.” 

As soon as you turn around to dart down the street, the tears spill from your eyes as you sob into your open palm. More than anything, you regret ever becoming infatuated with him. 

⸝⸝

Yeonjun didn’t come to school the following day either, nor the day after that. People stopped asking about him, only becoming disregarded by both Beomgyu and Soobin as the two kept to themselves. Yet the taller’s persistent stares remained as Soobin watched your every move, like a hawk stalking its prey. Even now, as you sat by your usual table, listening to Kai as he rambled on about a random topic, did you feel his gaze on you. 

“D-Did you hear me?” 

Kai’s hesitant voice snaps you from your trance as your eyes shift to his fidgety frame. Nervously twisting the hem of his uniform, he gives you a sheepish smile. You blink, “I…s–sorry what did you say?” You wonder, feeling a bit embarrassed by your lack of engagement as he spoke. But Kai only shakes his head, the tips of his ears turning pink as he clears his throat. “I was wondering if… if you would maybe want to study this weekend a-at my place?” 

You could tell that it had taken almost all his courage to ask the simple question. But somehow you find yourself comparing it to how easy such demands had fallen from Yeonjun’s lips as he shamelessly took whatever he wanted. Internally you curse yourself for letting your mind so comfortably shift to the subject of Yeonjun when you had tried so hard to forget about him. 

“Sure I would love to!” You smile, heart swelling at the endearing sight before you as Kai’s face practically explodes in an ocean of red. “R-Really?” He asks and you nod, “of course!” — You’re about to ask him what time would be suitable when suddenly a large shadow  is casted over your table. Squinting up your eyes lock with none other than Choi Soobin as he peers down at you with a vacant expression. 

“I need to talk to you.” He states in a monotone voice, jutting his chin toward the large entryway of the cafeteria. Your gaze flits between him and Kai as your friend shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “O-Okay”, you quietly mumble, giving Kai an apologetic look as you get up to trail after Soobin’s tall frame. 

He walks fast, and you almost have to jog in order to keep up. Pushing past the crowded hallways, Soobin doesn’t seem to mind the multiple glances shot his way. The two of you walk for a good five minutes without stopping, and just as you’re about to ask where you’re going, he comes to an abrupt halt, making you almost facepalm against his back.

With the light kick of his foot, the door to a vacant classroom swings open and he steps inside, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. — Once the door is shut behind you, he turns to lean against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Nervously, you tug at the collar of your blazer as you glance around the dark room. 

You don’t think you had been alone with Soobin, ever. Nor did you think that you had ever heard him utter more than two words out loud. And he had never directed a single one to you. So to say that your current situation was surprising, would be a grave understatement. — You think a whole minute must have passed when he finally speaks. But the words coming out of his mouth made you wish for everything to be silent again. 

“What’s your deal with Yeonjun?” 

His voice is low, barely above a murmur, and deep too. Not at all like his snarky friends whose laughs would echo off the hallways. You swallow, hard, the sound is audible in the otherwise quiet room. Unlike Beomgyu, Soobin never once picked on you, nor did he join in when the others were laughing, at best or worst, he would give a small grin. — If it were Beomgyu you would at least expect him to be mad in a situation like this, but Soobin remains eerily calm as he watches you from a distance, just like he had these past three days. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business”, you stand your ground, despite the fact that it felt as if the floor was literally shaking beneath you. He chuckles, it’s breathy, almost inaudible. “You don’t need to act so prideful, he’s told me everything about you.” — It feels as if all air has been knocked out of your lungs. So he did know something. 

“Everything?” You exhale, your breath near trembling. He gives a curt nod, “everything, except for why he isn’t here today”, he mutters, seemingly displeased with the fact. — A small frown etches its way to your face, lips parting in confusion. “I know you’ve got something to do with it.” He states, tilting his head back as he gazes up toward the ceiling. “But he won’t tell me what.” 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance down to the floor, the uneven wood planks suddenly seeming very intriguing. “I couldn’t possibly know why he–” — “Don’t bullshit me.” He snaps, his eyes flickering back to you within milliseconds. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you flinch, taking a small step back before your thighs hit the table behind you. Soobin ignores your skittish reactions as he continues. “I don’t know what he’s getting at, going for someone like you.” He says it with such distaste that it makes your skin crawl. 

Before you know it, he takes a step forward, then another one, and another one, until he’s got you caged against the desk. He doesn't say anything, one of his hands reaching into his pocket as he rummages through it. Pulling up a folded piece of paper, he shoves it into your open palm. “He asked me to give you this.” — He brushes his hand against his jeans as he takes a step back. 

“Fix whatever you caused.” Is all he says before turning on his heel to leave again. Upon yanking the door open, he’s met with Kai’s alarmed frame as he jumps to the side. Sparing him a mere side glance, Soobin shoves past him as he takes off down the hallway. — You shove the small paper in the pocket of your blazer as you walk over to your friend with a sheepish smile. “Hey how long have you been standing-”

“You and Yeonjun?” He asks, almost baffled as he eyes you, full of distrust. The smile immediately vanishes from your face and your throat suddenly goes dry. “W-What?” You ask, still not registering his question fully, hoping that maybe you had heard him wrong. Kai shakes his head, his jaw momentarily clenching. “Just how much exactly did you hear?” You quietly whisper. 

He gives you a small shrug, “enough.” — He sighs, looking almost defeated as he runs a hand through his blond hair. “I thought you…I mean the two of you, I never thought…” Frowning, he gives up with a small huff and you bite your lip, reaching out a hesitant hand to place on his shoulder, but he only jerks away from your touch. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds hurt, you can tell he is. The guilt was slowly seeping back into your veins, Yeonjun always made you feel guilty, but this time…this time it was your own doing. “I’m sorry.” The apology is genuine, you hope he can tell. Because you really are sorry, sorry for not being honest with your only friend. 

Kai looks at you, his eyes hold so much pain that you wondered just how deep your lie had stung. “Do you like him?” He asks, his voice sounds strained, as if he was holding back tears. The question catches you off guard and you blink. Did you like him? No, of course not. You hated him. You hated Choi Yeonjun. 

“No, nevermind, don’t answer.” He shakes his head, “I don’t care.” — You fumble for words, wanting to say anything that would comfort him. It felt almost impossible. “I- I’m sorry I should’ve told you I–” — “Yeah you should’ve.” He bites back, his unusually harsh tone making you wince. “You should’ve told me a long time ago. Before I..” He cuts himself off, biting his cheek as his gaze drops to the floor. 

“Before what?” You quietly wonder, noting the way his shoulders slumped as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Before I liked you.” His voice is merely above a whisper, his attention strained to the floor as he refused to look you in the eyes. Your mouth falls open, it wasn’t like you were completely unaware. Kai’s lingering touches and stares didn’t go unnoticed but you had never imagined that his feelings ran this deep. 

“You like me?” 

He scoffs, dragging his feet leisurely in front of him. “I thought that was obvious.” He pauses, his gaze briefly meeting yours before fleeting down again, but it was just enough for you to catch the shiny layer of tears coating his lashes. You swallow, it felt almost as if you were about to throw up, the guilt slowly eating away at you. 

All you could do was stare at him with a stunned expression, not knowing what you could possibly say to mend the situation. Kai draws in a sharp breath before he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “It’s alright”, he mumbles, “it’s not your fault.” — Your heart might as well just have been ripped out and stepped on at this point. Why was he being so kind to you, when you so obviously didn’t deserve it. 

“We’re friends still…aren’t we?” He wonders, looking up from the floor with bloodshot eyes. “T-This doesn’t change anything, right?” — You wanted to tell him that this changed everything, that things might never be the same again. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t hurt him like that. So you shake your head, wrapping your arms around him as you hug him tight. “Of course not, Kai.” 

You wondered if things had turned out differently between the two of you, had you never gotten involved with Yeonjun. 

⸝⸝

It’s early, earlier than you’d like to admit as you leave your apartment that Sunday morning. The sun has yet to rise and the city is still asleep, but you haven't been able to shut your eyes and relax for the past three days. No, you had waited, dreaded, for this day to come. — The bus is almost empty, save for another young woman, but she looks far more comfortable than you as she rests her head against the window. 

The air is cold as you step off, and you hug your coat tighter around your body. You walk for about ten minutes before a large building comes into view. Pulling the small note from your pocket, you glance between the address scribbled down and the number on the building in front of you, they perfectly align. — The note, the one Soobin had so hastily shoved in your hand three days ago, the note you had reread at least a hundred times throughout the weekend. An address, a day, but not a time. — Perhaps you were a bit early, but as you trudged up the stairs, you no longer cared. You had waited for three whole days, you’d had enough. 

You take the stairs instead of the elevator. To get some exercise in, you tell yourself. But there was no mistaking the fact that you wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible, despite your urgency to get here. — Finally, you reach the fifth floor, out of breath, you lean against the wall as you take a moment to gather yourself. 

The first time you read the note you had considered not showing up at all. It was a cowardly move to send his friend in his place. But at the same time, your mind longed for answers, answers that you would hopefully get today. — You bring the paper to your face, rereading it one final time. The address, the day, and the small sentence, at the very bottom. 

“Let’s talk, please.” 

Fine, if he wanted to talk, then you would talk. Your fingers curl into a fist, lightly tapping the dark wood. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve been mindful of the still early hour. But right now your mind was set on one thing alone. — Your heart beats obnoxiously loud in your chest, the wait seemingly eternal. 

Then the door creaks open. And as soon as your eyes fall on him, you can tell that he’s had trouble sleeping too. The bags under his eyes were a most unusual look, his hair too, laid messily sprawled on top of his head. He’s still dressed, almost as if he hadn’t gone to bed at all. — “Hi”, his voice is low, raspy, like he hadn’t spoken in days. You give him a small nod of acknowledgement and he steps aside as he lets you in. 

Yeonjun’s apartment is clean, minimalistically furnished. It wasn’t like you had ever tried to imagine what his home would look like, but this somehow felt just like him. Your gaze trails across the few paintings on the walls, you can tell that he hadn’t picked them himself, most likely they came with the flat. The white couch, situated by the large windows, catches your eye. 

Upon walking over and taking a seat, you find that Yeonjun does the same, maintaining a respectable distance as he glances down towards his hands. For a moment, everything is quiet. Part of you wished to stay like this forever. But that was of course impossible. — He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly on the sofa. “Do you want something to drink?” You bite your lip before nodding, “water’s fine.” 

He gets up, walking over to the joint kitchen as he turns on the faucet. You can hear him grabbing glasses, filling them to the brim before returning to place one in front of you on the marbled coffee table. Quietly thanking him, you take the glass, bringing it to your lips as you take a sip. You wait for him to speak first, he was after all, the one who had reached out. 

Yeonjun looked very different like this. In the comforts of his own home he resembled little of the person you had grown accustomed to in school. You wondered if he often brought people over, judging by how awkward he was acting, you supposed not. — He draws in a sharp breath, his gaze remaining downcast as he speaks. 

“You got my note..” He mumbles as you set your glass down. “I did”, you state, leaning back against the soft cushion as you turn your head in his direction. “Why didn’t you give it to me yourself?” You frown, feeling rather hurt by his choice of using his friend, his friend who definitely didn’t seem to like you. Yeonjun is silent, he’s silent for a good while, fingers intertwined with one another as he bites the inside of his cheek. 

“I was scared.” He quietly admits and your eyes widen at the confession. “Y-You were?” You can’t shield the surprise in your voice, Choi Yeonjun, scared? He scoffs, and for a moment, his usual self emerges as his face turns into a small scowl, but the way his eyes flicker as he speaks gives him away. “Of course I fucking was, I still am.” 

“Why?” 

He doesn’t answer straight away, as if considering his next words with great care. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he lets out a small almost inaudible exhale. “Because I’m scared that I’ve fucked things up so bad this time… That there’s no going back.” — You uncomfortably shift on the couch as you distract yourself by taking another sip of your water. Yeonjun’s body is taut as his jaw clenches, refusing to even glance in your direction he keeps his gaze steadily fixed on the window in front of him as the darkness outside slowly shifts into a deep blue.  

“I want…” He slowly begins, his sentence falling short as he takes another couple of breaths. “I want to apologize.” You blink, your eyes shifting from the water in your glass and over to him, you don’t think you had ever heard him speak with such sincerity. — And for the first time since your arrival, he looks at you. He swallows, adam's apple bobbing as he does. 

“I’m sorry.” 

When you don’t say anything he hastily continues. “I know that it doesn’t fix shit, but I…I still need to say it. And if I could I would go back and undo all the pain I caused you, I really would. I don’t expect you to forgive me, quite frankly I don’t even expect you to ever talk to me again, I suppose that’s fair. But if I don’t tell you how sorry I am now, I’m afraid that I never will.” He takes a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it go again, his shoulders slumping, almost like a deflating balloon. 

“So, I’m sorry…for everything.” 

He holds his tongue after that, gaze dropping down to his fingers once more. You don’t know how to feel, much less what to say. It was all so surreal. Hearing those words come out of his mouth felt almost like a fever dream and you wondered if you had perhaps managed to fall asleep after all and that this was just a fragment of your imagination, the universe pulling a sick prank on you. 

But then you turn to look at him. He’s nothing like the Yeonjun who had hurt you for so many weeks. Right now he looks small as he sits on the couch, biting the inside of his lip as he nervously rolls his thumbs together. In the end you realize that no matter how you feel, there’s only one thing you can say to him. 

“I forgive you.” 

He freezes, teeth letting go of his lip as he slowly lifts his head to peer over at you. An almost puzzled look paints his otherwise tired face, “you do?” He sounds almost disbelieving as he studies you with a wary expression. — You slowly nod, watching as his eyes widen with recognition, he swallows. Then everything becomes silent once more. This time it’s a different kind of silence, it’s not comfortable but the air somehow feels lighter, if only a little. 

You find yourself staring out the large windows. The sky had turned a deep orange now, shades of pink seeping through the cracks formed by the clouds. The darkness slowly makes way for the light as a new day rises before you. — You want to say something, now feels like a good moment to get things off your chest. But you can’t seem to find the words, your throat feels thick and it becomes hard to swallow.  

“Please like me instead.” 

At first you thought that you had imagined it. The faint whisper of his lips. But when he shuffles next to you on the couch, turning to face you fully, there’s no doubt about it. You tear your gaze from the warm sky as you glance over at him. In the morning light, Yeonjun looked like he was glowing. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his dry lips, or even his unkempt hair; he looked truly beautiful. 

“What?” 

Your voice is soft, a low murmur, unsure and hesitant. He scoots closer, your knees touching as he places his hands on the cushion either side of him. “Like me instead. Instead of him.” Instead of Kai. He searches your gaze desperately as he bites his lip, leaning closer. — You don’t say anything, if you do, his statement would become real. You’re scared, you think. 

But he doesn’t give up. “I know that you hate me, but please, I can’t stand it when-”  

“I don’t hate you, Yeonjun.” 

His mouth shuts, and he blinks at you, confused, brows knitting together. “What?” — “But you said..” You shake your head, turning away as you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes. You hated how easily he made you cry, even when he didn’t intend to. “I lied.” You confess, shame and guilt overflowing your senses. “Why?”

“Because I was scared.” 

As the words left your lips, you think that the two of you might not be so different after all. Maybe, just maybe. — Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, his attention dropping to your knees, barely grazing one another. His hand on the sofa twitches, as if he held himself back from reaching out, from touching you. 

“I was scared of liking you.” Your quiet whisper felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. A small murmur was all it had taken, so why had it seemed so hard? — His gaze shifts back to your face, his eyes wide as his lips part in surprise. “You were right all along”, you give him a half hearted smile, watching as his frown deepened. “I’ve always liked you”, you swallow, “even when I didn't want to.”   

A pang of guilt takes over his expression for a moment as he internally cringes at your words, more so his own actions. “I thought it would go away if I told myself that I hated you.” You shake your head, glossy eyes dropping to your hands, the first tears threatening to escape at any moment. “It never did.” Your vision slowly becomes blurred as you blink away the salty droplets that fell down your cheeks. 

You can barely see it, but you can feel it, the warm caress of his hand on your cheek. It feels nice, comforting, you don’t push him off, you don’t want to. He wipes your tears, the very same that he had caused. The faint whisper of yet another apology lingering on his lips. — Then he hesitates, you never saw Yeonjun hesitating, he always took what he wanted, did as he pleased. But you can tell that he’s uncertain of his next move. His eyes flickering between your teary eyes and parted lips. 

In the end he decides to be brave. Slowly initiating what had been on both of your minds for weeks now. But when his lips meet yours, it feels different, this kiss is nothing like your previous ones. It holds no guilt, no shame, no secrets, it doesn’t feel forced nor desperate. It feels like an apology, remorseful of the past, and like a promise, a vow to the future. You can tell that he expects you to pull back, to tell him off, just like you had days prior. 

Instead you cling to him, part of you thinks that this might be just what you need, another part says it’s stupid and reckless. But in the end, you want to be brave too. Even if that meant being stupid and reckless. — The stupid and reckless part of you lets him push you back against the soft cushion, lets him kiss you deeper, lets his hands trail across your body. 

“I’m sorry.” He chants it like a prayer, littering your body in the light caress of his lips. You know he means it, every kiss, every touch, every apology. — His hair feels soft between your fingers, you twist the strands lightly, feeling him sigh against your skin. Yeonjun was usually one to talk in moments like these, but today there are no sarcastic remarks on his tongue. He’s quiet, attentively listening to the hitch of your breath, the small moan passing your lips, he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. 

He tugs your tights off, his hands immediately soothing the goosebumps erupting on your naked skin. You think he looks pretty like this, basked in the first rays of sunshine, half lidded eyes rapidly moving as he trails them across every inch of your body. — His lips return to yours, fingers sliding between your legs just like they had so many times before, but this time it’s different, everything is. 

He touches you slowly, he pays attention, he wants to know exactly how he makes you feel. Treating you as if you were made out of glass, worshiping you as if you were made out of gold. You become hyper aware of the way his body moves against yours, the soft pattern of his fingers sending sparks through your stomach. 

You had been intimate with Yeonjun more times than you could remember. Yet as he lines himself up alongside you, it suddenly feels like the first. It feels new, nervous, perhaps even a little scary. But that was okay, you knew that he was scared too. — He goes slow, savoring the moment as his face rests in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry.” He can’t stop saying it, it’s never enough, it never makes up for the damage he’s created, he knows it. But you forgive him, you would continue to forgive him for eternity if he apologized for as long. 

He groans against you, his voice is near trembling. Your hands are on his back, feeling the smooth surface of his skin, then they’re tangled in his hair, pulling him to look at you. For the first time it feels as if you’re seeing him clearly. Behind the lying, the cheating, the bullying, it was just him. Just Yeonjun. 

As soon as the first tear rolls down his cheek, you kiss him. Tasting the saltiness on your lips, he sobs into your mouth. His chest heaves against yours, his once slow and deliberate thrusts becoming jagged and uneven as he fights to stay composed. You want to say something, but you don’t know what. Instead you pull him closer, so close that you can’t feel anything but his body against yours. 

You stay like that, melted against one another. Hours pass, neither of you seem to mind. His breath is warm against your chest, your fingers are soft in his hair. The silence is light, comforting, reassuring. Your mind is filled with him, he’s all you can think about, all you want to think about. You know he feels the same, it’s comforting to know. It’s also scary, you’re not sure if you’re ready. But even then, you’ll at least be scared together, just the two of you. 

It’s nice to not be alone. 

⸝⸝

Monday morning also feels different. Maybe because you’re walking down the hallway side by side, you and Yeonjun. People stare, he tells you to ignore them, you try, and it works. You glance over at him, he looks happy, his step is light, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. You find yourself smiling, biting the inside of your cheek as you gaze ahead. 

It’s not until you reach the all too familiar door, leading into your classroom, that you halt. Confused, Yeonjun stops a pace in front of you. “Is something wrong?” He asks as he studies your nervous posture, your eyes flickering between the now almost empty hallway and the door in front of you. The corridors were one thing, but the classroom held so many memories. Memories that wouldn’t just vanish over a day.

He notices your hesitation, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head. He reaches out, his warm hand enveloping yours as he grips it firmly. You glance between your interlocked fingers, and the small grin splayed across his face. — “I’ve got you, nerd.” 

The small reassurance makes you smile, and you nod, letting him tug you closer as Yeonjun pushes the classroom door open.

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[koocycle]

over wine; chapter one (j.jk)

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

word count. 37.8k (it’s gotten out of hand)

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

warnings. mild cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive and mature themes including the following: unprotected sex, spanking, choking, dom!jk, oral (f. receiving) mirror sex and car sex. 

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series masterlist

one, two, three

author’s note. oh my god. to say i have written for a lifetime and got nothing in me anymore, would be an understatement. (kidding. i’ve got an entire series to finish) no but, to actually be able to finish this part of the series and publish it with pride is such a milestone for me. for over a year, i’ve been drafting and drafting, deleting documents and rewriting them, moving from concept to concept, pausing and swearing i’d never write another word again. really, i’m dramatic like that. and i want to take this little note as a thank you to @latetaektalk who’s been hearing me bitch over this for so long. who’s been reading draft after draft and even when she’s busy, was sulking about the fact that she was too busy to read it. but future doctors don’t read silly fics linh!!! they just scream whenever their friends scream and hop off to biology (?) class. i’m very thankful & proud.

OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the “reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen”, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck right now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘‘Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you…you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

‘‘I get it, okay?’’ He finally says, now at the edge of his seat as well. ‘‘It sucks to sit here and be confronted on issues that we can’t seem to work out ourselves, but we’re trying to crawl out of whatever hellhole this is. At least I am. Some cooperation would be appreciated.”

You don’t argue back as fast as he expects you to. ‘‘I’m trying, too.’’ You don’t stutter, you don’t fidget with your fingers and you sure as hell never break eye contact with the man. You never do when you defend yourself against your husband, and Jungkook has always admired how firm your feet are planted to the ground. Though when you’re wrong, then he’s the one who must be right. ‘‘She doesn’t fit our needs. Stick your head out of the sand and try to see what I see, Kook.’’

‘‘She doesn’t fit?’’ Jungkook’s brows pull together in frustration, defensively resting his palms on his inner thighs and causing his arms to crook. ‘‘What? Because we’re not a match or because you can’t stand it when you’re not winning?’’

‘‘What is this, the fucking Olympics?’’ You scowl, impulsively copying Jungkook’s defensive form. ‘‘I don’t need to win a damn thing. Look at where we got ourselves,’’ angry hands fly in the air and fall back down your lap with a loud slap. ‘‘We’re already losing with a therapist like her. You and I both.’’

‘‘You can’t just sit here and suck these theories out of your thumb, ___, we’re no kids no more. Stop acting like we know that woman,’’ Jungkook cries out, accusing finger-pointing your way. ‘‘You just can’t stand the fact that Seulgi is actually doing her damn job and isn’t blindly taking your side. Is it really that hard of a pill for you to swallow?’’

‘‘She’s blindly taking your side.’’ You spit back and your husband can only respond with a humorless chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. ‘‘The minute we step into this room, every fucking time, I’m painted as the clown. I’m the damn joke. Forced to listen to the way she’s putting you on a pedestal as she’s digging me deeper into the ground like there aren’t two sides of the story. Why is your first response telling me to shove it? You’re being a real asshole right now.’’

‘‘I never told you to shove it. Don’t put words in my mouth.’’ He attempts to say with a bit more composure but you can see the fire in his sharp eyes all the same way. Pierced lip curling in to hold himself back from saying all the wrong things. ‘‘I’m trying to be the rational one here.’’

‘‘Rational? You don’t need many words for it to be obvious.’’

‘‘Damn it, ___.’’ He curses and his fingers fall to rub at his temples, elbows digging into his thighs. You always got your word ready to spit back in his face. ‘‘Why don’t you just go home if you’re so unhappy? I’ll do this by myself if you’re really going to be this childish.’’

It feels like a slap in the face when his words work through, while it doesn’t sting and only seems to work you up with immense rage. Blood fast to rush to your head. You’re not sure what it is that’s keeping you from defending yourself. Knowing you, you’re not one to let accusations like these slide that easily, and neither is Jungkook. Maybe you expect him to apologize as far as your husband is able to. As long as his pride doesn’t tumble to the ground and shatters into pieces. You don’t know, maybe you expect him to at least take his word back while he looks you in the eye again.

It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t.

Jungkook’s head tilts when he hears the rumbling in your mini bag, watching your manicured hand dig through your belongings. ‘‘What are you looking for?’’

Your lips purse together again at the sound of his voice. ‘‘My phone,’’ you say shortly before you pull out the device. Long, almond-shaped stiletto’s tap against the screen and it is the only sound that’s creating much of a suspense. ‘‘To call a cab, I mean. You think I’m walking home in these heels?’’

‘‘Really?’’ he states more than he asks, sending him to the very edge. ‘‘You’re actually going home.’’

Your phone is already to your ear when you stand up from your spot on the sofa, Valentino Garavani falling in the crook of your arm as you straighten your dress. Heavy lidded eyes surf back to his dumbfounded state. ‘‘That’s what you told me to do?”

‘‘You know that’s not what I fucking wanted.’’ Jungkook scowls. ‘‘Seulgi’s gonna be back any minute now.’’

‘‘Good. Tell her I said hi.’’ And with those last bitter words slipping off your tongue, you leave him astonished in the luxury office with his hands reaching for his hair.

You’ve never been an easy one, Jungkook has been told by various people since the start of your relationship. But neither has he ever been a goody two shoes. Whether the both of you could handle each other, even after all these years of tough practice, might be a totally different story.

It was in college when Jungkook first realized he caught the most beautiful gem in the jeweler's inventory. Fresh into his first year as a finance major, entering his twenties and living life to the fullest in a brand new world that consisted of sex and alcoholic beverages to explore. Jungkook has always been a big dreamer, even back then. A real go-getter. One who used to scribble down achievable five-year plans at that marked page in his notebook, in that awful handwriting anybody could barely read. It was quite funny, considering you weren’t a part of the initial plan before you said yes to a single date with him. But when you finally became Jungkook’s girl to kiss, to fuck and to admire, he knew he could easily squeeze you in that plan. Jungkook wanted you for life. He knew so from the start. He was the one who dreamed of moving out of the city and into a large house in the beauties of suburbia, surrounded by a white picket fence, a little family and two guard dogs on the side. He wanted it all with you. You were his dream girl.

Jungkook was never one to shy away when it came to you. He was yours, and you were his. It was just the way it was supposed to be and everybody had the right to know. Jungkook was most proud to call you his when curious eyes easily swayed your way across campus. It happened every time you came to pick him up from class. Your perfectly pin-straight styled hair fell down your perfect face all the time, and the dark denim low waist jeans that stopped just beneath your pink, sparkling belly button piercing made anyone want to be with you, or be you. No in between. He loved how his hands fit so perfectly around your waist, on top of that_ Prada_ belt encircling your hips. But what he must have loved a little more, was how everyone’s eye shifted to the way he’d pull you chest against chest. He was all yours, and you were his. Everybody knew.

Seven years later, and things haven’t changed a bit.

Well, most of that.

The low waist jeans are replaced with the champagne-colored Celine dress which enhances your every curve, stopping mid-thigh. Jungkook is aware that each spouse, faithful or not, must have taken a second look your way. The rounding of your wine glass hides in your palm as the French Chardonnay in it sways back and forth with every minor hand movement you make. Eyes are on you. Subtle or not for whatever reason your neighbors might have to peek and mumble about, it doesn’t matter. Probably from every corner of Park Jimin’s pool party, too.

Even Jungkook can sense the air tighten around you when his large hand finds that familiar spot above the swell of your ass. This doesn’t feel like seven years ago, when you were mere college boyfriend and girlfriend, smothered all over each other like your time together was limited. The tension is here and fairly obvious.

“What are you guys chit chatting about?” He interjects your conversation with Kim Joohyun anyway. Kim Namjoon’s wife: the lady down the street you claimed to never really like. Something about her being too merry, and her collection of flowery sun hats you can’t bear to look at. Jungkook figures he does you a favor, but you don’t spare him a second glance even when his chest nearly bumps flat to your back. Which probably still has something to do with the incident back at Seulgi’s office.

“You, actually.” You say, a click on your tongue.

Jungkook grins cutely, dimples appear at the sound of it while his hand rubs in small circles at your back. “Oh? Good things only, I hope.”

‘‘___ was just telling me about your upcoming trip!’’ Joohyun shrieks, no ill intentions behind that wide, toothy smile of hers. You don’t even blame her for not noticing how Jungkook stills on your side. ‘‘Gotta say you have me jealous, Jungkook. A trip during this time of the year? Sounds lovely.’’

‘‘Well… not sure how jealous you should be. It’s just business,’’ he heaves a breathy chuckle as he pulls you closer to his side, the tugs at his lips awfully forced in front of your neighbor. ‘‘But you knew that,’’ Jungkook nudges your side even though you don’t put in the effort to lock eyes, so he just watches your face crumble. ‘‘You didn’t mention that?’’

Your brows pull together in question. ‘‘Why would I?’’ You ask as you’re fast to focus your attention back to Joohyun, thumb pointing his way for emphasis. ‘‘He’ll be gone for almost two months on a Caribbean cruise. Isn’t that enough to be jealous of?’’

Joohyun cackles along to your bitter chuckles, the wine in her glass nearly tipping over. ‘‘You had me at Caribbean.’’

‘‘It’s not a vacation.’’ Jungkook quickly defends himself, interrupting the laughter. ‘‘It’ll be less fun when I’m going to be stuck in conference rooms all day. Believe me, it’s really not that big of a deal.’’

You swirl your glass in your hand, teeth digging into your lower lip. The feel of his fingertips at your hipbone now becomes more prominent. ‘‘You only cared to inform me last week, so I’m sure it’s no biggie.’’ You say, voice laced with irony. ‘‘He’s leaving in two weeks, by the way.’’

It’s true. Jungkook didn’t care to mention a thing about the business trip until a week ago. On a random Thursday night with Chinese take-out served on the table and a glass of red wine on the side. You’ve never been upset over any of his trips in the past, so when you stared back at the flabbergasted man with pulled brows, chow mein stuffing your cheeks as another episode of Ugly Betty blared in the background, it came as a surprise. Why, he asked you, why is it so hard to keep you happy? And the question threw you off the edge, snapping something inside you didn’t know you were keeping in. A trip that would last nearly two months had to be planned in advance. Longer than a total of three weeks, that is. Jungkook must have known he’d be gone for a long time, and he didn’t even care to inform his wife.

Jungkook apologized the moment he saw the confusion shift into anger. Though the apology was rushed and spurted out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he did it because he didn’t want any wine stains spilling your loveseat with the way you gripped onto the glass so tight. Or maybe because he realized he wasn’t the owner of a newborn pup, a last-minute search up his sleeve for a sitter during his two-month cruise vacay.

It was probably the former.

Even Kim Joohyun in her tipsy state takes note of the tight air around your throat. She smiles a little and takes another sip of her Chardonnay as if she isn’t being obvious. ‘‘More wine, babe?’’ You turn to Jungkook. His glass is still half full when you take it from his grip, pushing past his shoulder.

A pout plays on Joohyun’s lips as Jungkook’s gaze stays on you until you’re out of sight. Sad eyes trying to meet Jungkook’s as he watches you disappear into the crowd. ‘‘She’s a lady. She’ll come around.’’ She cutely tries to reassure him, a light slap to his bicep with the back of her hand. ‘‘It’ll be over by the time you all reach 30. Trust me, Joon knows all about my shenanigans by now.’’

Jungkook fakes a laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes the same way. But that’s you, he thinks to himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted, innocent joke, but Joohyun and Namjoon are only a couple years older than you two are, not even close to reaching their mid-30s. And ever since Jungkook moved into the neighborhood and has known his friends for, he’s seen the way they have never encountered a genuine threat to their relationship. Maybe you won’t ever come around, maybe Jungkook won’t either.

Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’

‘‘Most likely.’’ She carries on, apparently determined to lighten up the mood. ‘‘Isn’t that what Seulgi is there for?’’

Joohyun’s words spill off her lips before she gives herself the chance to comprehend them, not even waiting for an actual answer before she brings her glass back to her lips, painting yet another spot at the rim a bright, cherry red.

Rule 101 to a successful neighborhood-friendly party: don’t bring therapists into the conversation. Avoid at all costs!

It catches Jungkook’s attention as if alarm bells are going off. Wide eyes and usually perfect brows are suddenly a little less sharp than they were a minute ago. Kim Joohyun knows about the sessions with your couple’s therapist? Have you been going around town, casually rolling the topic into the conversation with a bunch of neighbors? Jungkook isn’t sure why he can feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the thought of it, at the mere assumption. Maybe because this is something between you and him. Something so personal, so intimate and so damn private. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to allow people to dig their noses into your business. To put it out in the open without talking to him first.

‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’

Jungkook finds it in him to stay calm. Though curiosity gets the better of him when it becomes obvious in his voice. Joohyun stands tall on both of her feet when she hears it, lips parting into a slight O. ‘‘Oh well, I mean, yeah. We’re girl friends.’’ She casually says, and it makes him wonder how deep into detail you went with the woman. When she catches him clenching his jaw, her eyes grow big. ‘‘I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was pry!’’

Kim Joohyun is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, Jungkook knows she’s already drowning herself in guilt with only a single glance his way. This is not about her. And let it be a coincidence or not, but he has mastered his poker face ever since his first years in college. Seems like the skill came in handy after all. ‘‘Don’t be sorry, what have _you _done?’’ That is all he can manage to say for now. A silly, shammed smile on his lips though he doesn’t even wait for an answer.

You, on the other hand… you’re nothing like Kim Joohyun.

A heat of adrenaline rushes through him, and he swears it is not the wine that has gone through his system. No, it can’t be, because his mouth has gone dry while the Chardonnay Park Jimin poured him earlier had some sort of sweet aftertaste. It was one of the sweetest white wines he owned, is what the blonde man gushed about.

Without any other thought hazing his mind any further, Jungkook politely excuses himself to fetch off and find you. Like a hawk, he bumps shoulders with a couple strangers as he tries to scan the large backyard, until his eyes land on you. Seated at the pool chair by the water with the sun in your face, bare legs stretched and crossed as your Givenchy sunglasses sit on the tip of your nose. The two wine glasses from earlier are forgotten and disregarded at your side table. You seem disinterested in the ongoing party at your side, not really one to mingle with strangers in the dirty pool water. You’re not a shy woman, and Jungkook has always admired that about you. It’s just that you don’t always fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. But not once since you moved to the suburbs did you mind. Instead, it almost seems like you’re glad.

‘‘You’re blocking my sun, Kook.’’ You say as if it isn’t obvious when Jungkook comes to stand at the end of the chair, by your feet. Your glasses are tipped to the tip of your nose as you lock eyes with him.

‘‘My bad.’’ He grins cutely before sitting down at the edge, fully taking you in when your middle finger pushes the tinted glasses back to your bridge as you make yourself comfortable again. ‘‘Are you enjoying yourself, babe?’’ Jungkook questions sweetly, tatted hand reaching out to cup your inner thigh, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the soft skin.

“It’s okay.”

He hums. “Mhm, I can see that.” Gentle fingers drag across your hot skin but you don’t pay him much mind. There is no need for much eye contact when you’re closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair, hands intertwining on top of your stomach. He can tell you’re still upset about earlier, when Jungkook ignored your worries and encouraged you to leave Seulgi’s session. And yes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He is aware that maybe he had gone a little too far when he just let you walk out of there without sitting you down and letting you say your thing. Though you and him both know he wouldn’t push your buttons after pulling a stunt like that. ‘‘Look at me, love.’’ He says with a tight line of his lips. You broke a piece of his trust the moment you laid your relationship bare before a woman you barely know, and God knows who else you might have told.

You do as he tells you, but mainly because the pet name sits so strange on his tongue. Like there is a bite to it. And for some strange reason, the confused look on your beautiful face irks the fuck out of him. As if you never feared he’d find out you told some neighbor about something so personal. Like he wouldn’t get upset.

‘‘Care to tell me when you got so tight with Kim Joohyun?’’

You frown, lips pursing together. ‘‘Joohyun?’’

Jungkook wants to give you another bit to process the question, but you made him an impatient man. It’s a simple query, he thinks, and there is no need for him to elaborate any further. Though you seem on the slower side today, eyes half lidded through the dark brown lenses of your glasses, like you’re done with his bullshit for the week.

‘‘You know,’’ he pushes, nodding along. ‘‘When you had no issue letting her know the ins and outs of our relationship like you’re pulling off some Vogue interview type of shit.’’

‘‘Jungkook, what are you even saying?’’

‘‘The therapy, ___. The sessions, Seulgi—all of that shit.’’ He hisses, voice lowering even though the edge to it is just as sharp. ‘‘Why would you tell her?’’

It takes a moment before he watches the realization sink in. Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and threatening flames swim in them, restlessly waiting for your word against his with his lips curled inwards and brows pulled together. You owlishly blink at him, stumbling on whatever you’re about to say next when he is looking at you like that, holding you under that microscope he’s had you on for years. Though it feels like it’s the first time he’s actually paying attention. At least now, after a long fucking time.

Jungkook is not one to easily feel small due to anyone’s actions, let it be his own mother and he wouldn’t dare to let his guard down. He is a true businessman at heart. At one point in his career, forceful assertiveness was an important skill that had to be drawn into his system in some way or another. Whether that’s considered a good quality or not, to Jeon Jungkook, financial manager of four years by now, it has always been reality.

‘‘You’re upset I told Joohyun about the therapy?’’ Qualities, skills and class. All of that thrown out of the window with a single look at those big, astonished eyes.

He returns them, all the same way. ‘‘Of course I’m gonna be upset. I mean, Kim Joohyun?’’ Jungkook scoffs loudly, having trouble keeping his voice down. ‘‘This is our fucking shit, ___. It’s none of her damn business.’’

His rage is working you up as you catch a couple heads eagerly turning your way. Negative attention is still attention, some say. ‘‘Can you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood is here.’’

Here’s one thing: Jungkook can’t give a damn about any of them now. The chatter and mingles are done for, he’s over it today. It messes with his head; the fact that the first words that came from you weren’t a set of haste apologies. Call him self-centered, he doesn’t care. It’s all he intends to hear. ‘‘You should’ve discussed this with me before you went out to talk about our personal shit with others.’’ He lowers his voice anyway.

‘‘Discuss?’’ You ask quickly. “This is not some business ordeal, Jungkook. Am I not allowed to vent to someone?’’

‘‘I’m here. Right under your nose.’’ Jungkook argues, an angry finger digging into his chest. ‘‘Why won’t you vent to me? Why would you turn to people you barely know when you’ve got me?’’

‘‘You?’’ A humorless chuckle escapes you before you can hold onto the irony. ‘‘Sure, I’ve got you. For two full weeks before you leave for that damn trip–isn’t that a luxury? My relationship is going to shit and I don’t have a single friend in this town who would want to hear me out. But thank God I got you, the one who sends his wife home mid-therapy sessions.’’

Jungkook painfully pinches his brows together as he shoots daggers through your shades. ‘‘It doesn’t matter the circumstances, ___. You don’t just casually discuss that shit with people. It isn’t something to be fucking proud of.’’

You take the glasses off to get a better look at him. ‘‘You’re not actually upset, are you?” You ask, head tilting and gaze clouding. ‘‘God, it’s beyond me how much you care about these people’s opinions. It was just a harmless neighbor-to-neighbor talk with some woman down the street. What are you afraid is gonna happen next? Them throwing us off the Saturday night mini-golf game?’’

Irony. You’re a master at it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem amused by your humor. ‘‘You know what? Tell whoever the fuck you want.’’ He stands up from his seat. ‘‘If you’re unable to see the issue at hand then maybe you’re not even worth my damn time. Figure this shit out yourself, ___.’’

And with so much, Jungkook slips away in between bodies of people you don’t know. It leaves you unhinged in your seat, the sun gracefully falling down your skin again like you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Your head runs blank when you repeat the conversation, running around in circles when you recall all of the finger-pointing. All the looks of revulsion.

You’re not one to really care about other people’s opinions. You’ve never been and never will be, you swear. People will gossip about anyone to spice up their own lives anyway. There's the unemployed wife from number 09 who walks around town in designer mini-skirts with a diamond at her ring finger bigger than her own head. She’ll undoubtedly be a broad topic with many chapters for many. You let them talk. You don’t care. There is no point in caring what those low lives say about you. The grass on the other side of the white picket fence isn’t any brighter.

So when Kim Joohyun subtly warmed you up to the topic of unstable marriages, you saw no point in lying to her and telling her you couldn’t be happier. That you’re on cloud nine and that Jungkook is the type of partner you always dreamed of, that you are his ideal partner he’s been dreaming of. Because he isn’t, and neither are you. Yes, your marriage is going to shit and you’re trying to fix it. So what if the entire neighborhood knows? You might as well give those nosy Suburbans a reliable source to gossip from.

Jungkook has always cared. You know he has. Your husband cares about the way he’s perceived by strangers; you’ve seen it as long as you’ve known him. He’s never shy to show off the gold-coated jewelry that hangs off your neck, or the overpriced three-piece suits he’ll wear long after office hours. Of course Jungkook would go feral, you then realize. Jeon Jungkook is a flawless soul. God forbid he is dealing with an unhappy wife at home and a couple’s therapist to place the cherry on top.

The door softly thuds behind you as you get home, the loud keychains announcing your return to the big house instead of a sweetened hello. You catch the back of Jungkook’s head immediately, facing you as he’s seated at the dining table. The change in his clothes stands out. The laid-back blouse he wore at the pool party is replaced with a more formal, striped button-up with neutral colors and you wonder why he’d change into it if he’s working from home, where no one would see him. The brightness of his laptop screen hits his face and it makes you realize how fast the sun had set since he stormed off earlier. He must have been working ever since he came in.

You don’t care to take your heels off as you approach him, wanting him to hear the slow steps you take instead. ‘‘Would it really hurt Park Jimin if he offered his guests some snacks? It’s a pool party for God’s sake; people shouldn’t swim on an empty stomach,’’ you whine, making your way over.

‘‘You’re home late,’’ Jungkook mumbles, teeth grinding at your presence. His eyes are set on his laptop screen, a bunch of numbers you don’t care about filling his file.

‘‘I didn’t think it’d hurt if I stayed out a little longer.’’ You hum cutely. Hands come to rest on his broad shoulders before you gently start kneading the tense muscles. You watch from behind as his head tilts a little, not yet sparing you a glance and letting go of the cold shoulder but relaxing into the feel instead. “You and I could spend some time apart after that conversation we had, no?”  

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Sighing, he speaks. “Whatever you’re trying to do right now, it’s not working.”

You pissed him off. That much did you understand when he stormed off Park Jimin’s backyard and didn’t return to make any more small talk with any of your neighbors. That perfect, white-toothed smile gone and hidden in the safety of your four walls, where he didn’t give himself the time to unwind and went to work behind his laptop straight away. You know his ways by now. Jungkook is a workaholic, that much isn’t a secret. It’s a Sunday afternoon with bits and pieces of sunlight on every corner of the neighborhood, but Jeon Jungkook would rather spark an argument with his wife and work his ass off to distract himself after.

“Hm, what is it that I’m I trying to do?” You’re provoking him, hands traveling down south beneath the thin fabric of his unbuttoned blouse while you continue to leave sweet kisses at his jaw. Quietly, you move on to deeper spots of his silky, thick neck. A cute bite here and there. “I’m not doing anything.” Your nails gently scrape against his chest in need for attention and you know it’s working despite all his efforts to remain calm. You can feel the slightest hitch of a breath with the way your palms are pressed against him. He is holding back because he’s angry, but not on your watch.

“Cut it, ___.” Jungkook snaps even though you know you nearly got him hooked around your finger. No matter how many years you’ve known the man for, he is only a man. They’re the easy kind. “I’m working.”

“On the weekend? Don’t act so fussy babe,” You circle his chair, lingering fingers in the back of his neck with a big pout on your glossed lips. You lean against the edge of the table, ass planted next to his laptop. “You used to fuck me on and off business hours all the time. What changed?”

Jungkook leans back in his chair with a loud exhale through his nose. You’re playing a silly game and he can be just as witty. His hands intertwine and his head tilts as he locks a cold eye with you. The smug curve of your lips tells him everything he needs to know. A sharp brow rises. The familiar, cocky attitude telling you to continue your little act. Continue it and see what happens, is what he tells you.

You move on command, closing his laptop with a soft thud before you impatiently shove it to the side. Jungkook watches your every move like a hawk and you wouldn’t dare to break eye contact; you wouldn't lose to him. Straddling the man with a bare leg on either side of him, you make sure you’re seated just right as your heat hovers above his already growing bulge. He whines a little at the feel of it, ever so soft like he doesn’t want to give into you. “You used to hold me, just like this,” you whimper, ushering his large hands to sit at your hips where they tighten their grip, one of them quick to move to the swell of your ass and grab a handful. “You’d tease me, play with me,” another roll of your clothed heat against his sends a wave of relief through him. It’s slow, addicting. “You used to want me all the time.”

“I still want you.” Jungkook is fast to object. Eyes flickering down to the plumpness of your tinted lips and you waste no time in shutting him up when he does so. Your lips clash together like it’s second nature, perfectly in sync from the get-go like it is always that easy between you. Teeth clash and tongues dance like you’re desperate. You don’t stop until a tattooed hand reaches through your hair, gently make shifting your locks into a ponytail until he tightens his grip. Prying you away with a little more force than he‘s shown earlier. “But you fucking piss me off baby,”

He has you in his lock, gripping tighter onto the ponytail until you look down on him and that smug smile is wiped off your lips. “Do I?” You ask dumbly. You know you do. He knows you know.

“You do, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?” He questions with a closed-lipped smile. Jungkook’s free hand moves to hike your dress higher up your ass until it sits completely bare on top of him, one less layer until he can feel you. With the fresh air that is roaming through the house, you’re not given enough time to adjust to the new feeling against your bare skin when he spanks you once. Soothing the skin with a little graze after. “You think sex makes me forget about the way you can’t shut that tight little mouth? Hm? Always gotta complain about something.” Another spank. Through it all, you remain eye contact as you watch the fire swim through his gaze. “Not to me, though. To your little friends around the neighborhood, right?”

“No.”

“Hm, what was that?” He heard you, though he hums anyway.

“Just Joohyun.” You whimper in his grip, stopping yourself from rolling your hips into his when he grabs a handful of your flesh. “I only told Kim Joohyun from number 05. She doesn’t fucking care about you or me. Nobody fucking cares about us.”

His grip on your hair only tightens as you spew the words out, a delicious sting at your scalp. “Aren’t you sorry, baby?” He whispers with a sharp edge to it, spitting the words out like he doesn’t need an answer from you. Like he already knows the answer. “I’d be fucking sorry if I were you, because I’m yours. And you’re mine.” His lips press together, sharp eyes burning into yours. “And whatever the fuck is mine, I keep to myself. Don’t you think that’s rational?”

You nod, but it isn’t enough for him. “C’mon, babe. You were talking so much shit earlier, you can give me more than that.” He says.

“Yes, Kook. You’re right.” You whine out loud, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tilts his head cutely, intently peering back at you. “Sorry, for?”

“For talking shit about everything. The sessions, the therapy. I should’ve understood this is something between you and me.”

A smug smile paints his lips, seemingly pleased with your answer as he loosens his grip at your hair. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard now?” He asks sweetly, eyes softening and fingers continuing to travel through your locks, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying the way you relax into his touch. “Go lay on that table and spread those legs for me.”

You shoot him a look even though the state between your legs worsens, pausing. “Jungkook, we eat at that table.”

“I told you to get on there, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when he’s looking at you like that. Those dark, hazy and impatient eyes seem to bore into your skull until you do what he asks. The petty attitude you carried with pride is now long gone, lost in the heat of the moment as you climb onto the dining table before him, like a five-star buffet. Heels dig into the stool in between his legs and thighs clamp together as you lean back to observe him, testing to see how much longer you can push his buttons. He knows you’re trying to work him up because you’re great at it. He gave you seven years to master all your troublesome ways on him.

The corners of your mouth curl up to a sly and mischievous smile as your teeth dig into your lower lip. ‘‘You wanna play, baby?’’ Jungkook challenges, noticing the look you give him. He rises from his seat until he hovers over you with his broad shoulders. With your knees stay put against his chest, he quietly watches how you get down to lay your back flat against the table the closer he comes. Just the way he told you to. ‘‘Let’s play then,’’ he murmurs, his hands sliding up your bare legs, pausing at your thighs and gently tearing them apart until you’re spread out to his liking. Your breath hitches in your throat, back already curving off the surface of the table when Jungkook’s thumb grazes soft circles over your panties. The black-laced thong does little to block the sensation. He sighs heavily, breath fainting in the crook of your neck while his free arm supports his weight next to your head.

‘‘I don’t even know if you deserve to be fucked good.’’ Jungkook groans into your neck. There is no way he doesn’t feel the wet spot on your panties, not when his fingertips continue to feel you up and dig a little at where your hole is covered up. ‘‘What if I just,’’ he slips your thong aside, ‘‘…fucked this soaked pussy with my fingers, hm?’’

You can’t stop the whimper that leaves you when his thick middle finger teases a long strike down your folds. ‘‘Please, Jungkook.’’ You cry, nails scraping at his nape. ‘‘I want you.’’ Jungkook never fails you when it comes to sex. He knows your body like the back of his hand and no matter how shaky the ground underneath your feet might be, Jungkook will always be a passionate lover underneath the sheets. Some days, it might be all you can hold on to.

‘‘Yeah? You want so much, baby.’’ He continues to trail messy kisses down your throat, traveling lower until he reaches your hardened nipples. His free hand flicks it twice before he takes the sensitive bud in between his lips and starts sucking with no shame, teeth grazing with a slight sting. ‘‘And I give it all to you like an idiot, even when you don’t deserve it. What makes you think you deserve to feel good?’’

‘‘I apologized, Kook.’’ You defend yourself, heat pooling in your lower belly when his lips sink lower. Tasting every inch of you until he stops just above your begging heat. ‘‘Please, baby, right now I just… need you.’’

A low hum leaves him as if telling you he understands. With a single, last kiss does he finish off, hands sweetly running over your thighs like he’s thinking. “Let’s compromise.’’ He then says, looking up at you. “I’m eating this sweet pussy, but you don’t cum unless I tell you so.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Clear?’’

You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’

He only strikes you with a satisfied smile before he averts his focus. Large hands curl around the back of your thighs to keep you in place and the excitement rushes through you merely at the feeling. Your pussy is pulsing beneath him only at the thought of having him so close to you and it pushes his ego. “And I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Understand me?’’

“Yes, Kook,’’ you wail, feeling the impatience tug at you.

A desperate whimper cut short leaves your pretty lips when he pushes your panties aside again, this time until he’s able to fully expose your bare heat. You’re sensitive and a little swollen beneath him, eagerly awaiting his touch. That, or his lovemaking. He doesn’t know which one it is, but he is convinced it doesn’t matter. When he gets to watch you like this, so needy for his touch and desperate for his attention, then ultimately, Jungkook feels like he has won.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook needs to win petty games because it’s obvious you don’t need him like you used to. Some days you barely talk to each other, and others, you don’t even see each other. You fetch for yourself and so does your husband. No issue, he often tells his friends when they ask about your relationship and its rocky road. Part of life, it’s gonna cool off, is what he says. Though when he’s got you beneath him like this, moaning and whining his name in utter desperation, then yes, he remembers what it is like to be wanted by you. And yes, he needs to win that game.

“Always so perfect for me,’’ he mumbles more to himself than to you as he spreads your lips apart with two thick fingers. Blowing cool air directly on your drenched cunt, curious to see how sensitive you really are. And to say he’s pleased when he watches you flinch away with that cute little gasp coming from your throat, is an understatement. “Have you touched yourself since the last time I fucked you, baby?’’

He knows he has. Jungkook has thought of you in the shower, a door away from where you were sound asleep. Or on the downstairs sofa, the night you were out with a couple women down the block. And most embarrassingly of all, locked in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, when you were too angry over his late hours to give him a call back. He watches your face distort, trying to read whatever it is he expects you to say. “Be honest with me, there is no wrong answer.’’ He mellows, a single finger continuing to stroke your folds ever so gently.

“Yes…’’

He hums. “Yes, what?’’

“Yes, I touched myself since you last fucked me.’’

It’s been a long week since he last fucked you. Your husband had been busy preparing for his upcoming business trip, while you were upset with him for prioritizing work over your marriage. Both of you were angry with each other. Though, despite the high tensions, neither of you was willing to break the standoff by dropping your cold shoulder and making the first move. Until now. “What did you think of when you were touching yourself?’’ He asks you quietly, tip of his tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe at your wet folds. “Was it my mouth?’’ It’s a gentle move at first, though Jungkook grows more focused on the sensitive bud of your clit when your little whines increase. Taking it in his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you stumble beneath him.

“Yes, I was thinking about your mouth on me,’’ you’re out of breath when you finally speak and Jungkook snickers into your heat at the fragile state he’s got you in. “Also your fingers, Kook.’’

“What about them?’’ He breaks free from your lips, thumb back at your clit and rubbing in sweet circles before you can comprehend it. “You imagined me fucking you with my fingers?’’ His other hand reaches down to play a little at your hole, teasing as a string of wetness attaches to his finger.

“Yes, Kook, please.’’ You groan out loud, ‘’I need you to fuck me.’’

His mouth is back on you as soon as the words come out. Little pools of saliva drip from his lip and fall onto your cunt until you’re a mess beneath him, rolling your hips into his face and growing desperate for some sort of release. Jungkook hums sternly with the bud in between his soft lips as a warning, the sensation of it pushing you even more off the edge. “You wanna be fucked, baby?’’ He asks you like it isn’t obvious in the way your face seems to glow with delight, eyes shut so tight and lips so pursed you might explode. “What is it? Your own fingers didn’t satisfy you?’’

A thick finger enters your slick fold just as his words get through. Curling inside your tight walls as his tongue flicks to make a return. “Need yours,’’ you cry, his tongue making circular motions onto your clit for as long as he feels you tighten around him, encouraging him to fasten the pace and make you cry on his tongue. “Yours always make me feel better.’’

“Hm, yeah?’’ He buzzes, eating your needy whines up. ‘’Pretty baby can’t make herself feel good so she needs me to do the job for her?’’ Your moans are like music to his ears, adding another finger to your tight warmth and fucking in and out of you until your moans aren’t recognizable anymore.

He pumps in and out of your warmth until you’re squirming beneath him, until he is satisfied with the sounds your cunt makes for him. Wetness coating his fingers as proof he is the only one out there who makes you feel this good. The only one who gets you to roll your eyes to the back of your head in absolute bliss. It sparks his ego, alright. Jungkook can’t stop the smile from spreading onto his lips when you grip his wrist tightly, holding onto him because his pace sends you to your high a little too quickly. He curls his fingers inside you once more, rubbing your sweet walls to remind you how much you need him to be yours.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.’’ There is a layer of desperation he hasn’t heard in a while, and fuck, it is an addicting sound coming from you.

Jungkook’s tongue clicks at the roof of his mouth, tsking loudly. “We had a deal, baby. Want to remind me what we agreed on?’’ His fingers reach deeper into your pussy and he rolls his tongue more passionately onto your clit, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you try to run back on it. “Remind me, ___.’’

The stern tone throws you off guard and you might be imagining things, but you swear he fucks you a little harder the longer you stay quiet. “I can’t cum without your permission.’’

“See who listens if she tries a little?’’ He throws in a wink just to get to you, ‘’So we’re gonna be patient, aren’t we? You told me you could do it, ___. ’’

There it was. That sweet tone of his that always drives you off the edge. His eyes tease when they meet yours, something challenging gleaming in them as if he’s already won your little game. And with the way you squill when he rewards you with a particularly harsh suck at your sensitive clit, he might be closer to crossing the finishing line than you are. He knows that, too. Feels it in the way you fumble as you lay there, in the way your pussy clenches around his thick fingers.

“I can,” you defend yourself, although it doesn’t sound convincing. Not when you’re so out of breath.

Jungkook snickers at you like he’s amused. He finds it endearing how you’re trying so hard to remain calm underneath him. You’re so stubborn, so sure of yourself like he hasn’t known you for almost a decade. Like he hasn’t been given ten years to explore you, to know you from the inside out. And whether you forgot about it or not, there was a time when Jungkook read through you and you loved it. There was a time when you were his, and he was yours. A time when you wore that diamond around your finger with pride.

“Gonna miss this sweet pussy when I’m gone.” He’s talking about his trip. But you don’t want to hear about it, and he knows. He sees it in the way your face crumbles and the sighs of pleasure turn into ones of distress. Jungkook reaches up to you, two fingers still buried to the hilt until he hovers above you. The warmth radiating off his chest is addictive no matter how many times you’d deny it. He locks your lips with his in a swift motion, dancing together like you weren’t shooting lasers at each other earlier today. A lewd moan leaves you when he bites down your bottom lip, the sensational sting holding on to it even when his teeth let go. “Are you gonna miss me?”

I miss you every day, is what lies at the tip of your tongue. Though you realize it sounds a bit too sentimental for the current state of your relationship you find yourselves in. So you opt to respond with beats of silence instead. You figure it wouldn’t complicate things. It breaks his heart a little when his answer is filled with only the sound of his fingers pumping in and out your pussy, but he knows he isn’t one to dwell. “I’ll bring you something pretty back.’’

You figured he would bring something exquisite back with him. It is just the way he does things. Always bringing something pretty back home and never returning from his trips empty-handed. Jimmy Choo high heels, Prada mini handbags, you name it—he has a knack for finding you the most coveted items. Though right now, you don’t care about any of that. All you want is him, there is no need to offer much else. The thought of his embrace, the way his touch sets your body on fire, it was once enough to fill you with a longing. A craving only he can satisfy. Not some luxury item he’s pulling off his sleeve.

You hold Jungkook’s cheeks to draw him nearer, at a loss for words. You haven’t gotten much to tell him, after all. His warm breath grazes your lips and you’re sure he feels the same thing, eyes flickering from your dark gaze, back to your lips as his fingers slow down. “Jungkook,” you whimper, shivers sending down your spine when he rubs your walls so deliciously slowly. “Make me cum, please.” You beg, silenced by the way his lips meet yours in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves you a little breathless. He tastes like white wine and sweets, the flavors melting on your tongue in a sensual tango as your fingers run through his perfect locks, pulling him closer as your breaths become ragged.

“You want me, baby?” His lips are swollen when he breaks free, needing confirmation. He hates that he can’t go without.

“So bad,” you tell him, nails sweetly scraping at his jaw when his fingers are buried deep to the knuckles. “Want to cum on your fingers.”

It’s all he needed to hear to be satisfied, the smug smile on his lips dying to make an appearance when you whimper beneath him like you do. “Come for me, princess.” He orders sweetly, a toothy grin lingering as his hot breath falls down your face. “Make me a mess on my fingers.”

You comply gracefully, without needing him to ask twice. As a wave of pleasure pulses through your body, the knot in your lower abdomen unravels, causing your back to arch off the table and your thighs to clamp together until Jungkook’s torso blocks them from doing so. He watches intently, observing the way your jaw drops and your lips part ever so slightly, noticing the crease that form between your eyebrows as your eyes squeeze shut. He wants to preserve this image, to savor it in the recesses of his mind, even when he’s halfway across the world and separated from you.

Your breathing slows down until you come down from your high. Jungkook’s fingers gently slip out of your cunt before they cup your warmth one last time, sweetly spreading your wetness over your folds until he’s satisfied enough and you can’t seem to take any more of his touch, even if they are minor and gentle. You make a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with him, even though he seems to be pleading with his gaze. He keeps his eye fixed on the side of your face as you drift off, the weight of your breaths gradually easing until the tension between you suddenly tightens. His chest above you becomes a little less warm, and you become a little more cold. Some sort of emptiness arises, both of you can feel it.

Moments ago, you couldn’t even tell him you’d miss him in return. And despite the fact that you might not miss him back, he would much rather have you spew out that little white lie in the heat of the moment than have you stay silent the way you did. It would spare his feelings a little, he wouldn’t mind. But even after your glow died down and the initial rush subsided, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. You know your relationship is, and has never been solely based on sex; that much was evident from the beginning. So why are you acting as if it is?

“You don’t gotta.’’ He says simply, not wanting to elaborate much further as the issue at hand becomes more apparent, becoming clear to him. However, for you, he doesn’t have a clue what is going through your mind. But for him, the problem nags at him to the point where he can’t find it in him to come up with a solution. Where he doesn’t necessarily want to find one.

You stare back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “I don’t mind.’’ You shrug, hands falling limp on your sides. “Do you?’’

You observe as Jungkook’s lips purse together and his eyes start to wander around the room as if looking for something fascinating. He shifts his weight to one leg as his hands slide into his pockets. “Yeah,’’ he mumbles in a low voice with a frown, no indication of humor on his face.

You wait for him to provide an explanation. Maybe he’s simply worn from today’s events and wants to head to bed early. To go upstairs and take a long, hot shower after he worked his ass off behind that screen. It was only last week when Seulgi brought the topic of sex to the table, at first suggesting you’d attempt to see each other more often during the day. Maybe go out for lunch together during his breaks, or have breakfast together before he takes off.

No way, Jungkook told her then. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are spent behind his laptop screen and it’d be impossible to shift around the schedule, let alone picking you up and bringing you back home by the time his break ends.

You’d have to find the time some way or another if you want this to work, she said. Try having more sex, she then suggested, attempt to rekindle that spark that brought you together in the first place through more intimate, private methods and connect to each other in your most vulnerable ways. Intimacy can help reignite the passion in some relationships, is what she tried to convince you of.

A bunch of crap, you swear. Two hundred bucks an hour for advice you could’ve found at the back of some middle-aged gossip magazine? Not when he has an obvious hard one hiding in his pants and rejects you like he has better things to do than to _“reignite the passion you share that has brought you together.’’ _

Especially when you haven’t fucked ever since that day.

Jungkook’s lack of response speaks volumes, leaving you feeling frustrated and disrespected. If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he could just say so.

Screw him and screw Kang Seulgi. You refuse to settle for a partner who rejects your advances, or a therapist with shallow suggestions. You deserve a partner who is willing to put in the effort to keep the spark alive in your relationship, and not just dismiss your needs with a simple swipe of his card at Seulgi’s office.

The week continues much like the way you and Jungkook prefer to handle things—tons of escapism and much less communication than is probably needed. In your defense, your husband will leave the country in a little over a week, and all the issues you could address and possibly solve now would still be forgotten and buried by the time he travels back home. It’s pointless, you think. You figure there just isn’t much to talk about in such short amount of time, and Jungkook must think something similar; it is evident in the way your backs face each other every night of the week, the way he eats dinner at the dining table in the living room while you do it at the kitchen counter, the way either of you can barely look at each other for longer than a few seconds. Your pride is too high to break through your walls.

Car rides have never been this dreadful before.

It is only when Jungkook stops in front of a red light that manages to steal a glance at you in the passenger’s seat. His demeanor stays cool, with his tattooed hand on the wheel as he sits back and takes the opportunity to observe you. His inked sleeve is on display, with his dress shirt rolled up all the way up to his elbows, although he is required to cover up in mere moments before you arrive at the business event that got you so dolled up, surrounded by tens of his colleagues.

You’re typing away on your phone screen on his side. Long, almond shaped nails tapping against the device as if you’re setting several emergency meetings up for the upcoming hour.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | So, you haven’t had sex in over a week? He didn’t want to at all?

You | I don’t know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t fucking talk.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | Maybe he’s relieving it somewhere else. Any big fights gone on between you two recently?

The text causes you to pause. You look up, looking a little puzzled with the way eyebrows furrow. Jungkook catches on quickly, meeting your eye for a split second before you tear your eyes back to your tiny screen. You’re not sure what Joohyun is implying and neither do you care enough to know. You may make Jungkook out for a lot of things a lot of the time, but you know there is one thing he is not.

You | You better not say what I think you’re saying. Lol.

Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.

The implication pisses you off as you let your phone fall to your lap, arms folding over another. He watches as you’re visibly bothered, instantly recognizing that look on your face because he has seen it a dozen times already. The pursed, glossed lips and the clenched jaw, it’s a classic. Jungkook isn’t sure who pissed you off to the point where you’re not even arguing with him, but he doubts you’ll tell him. His eyes are on you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. Instead, you remain silent, your annoyance palpable in the air.

Jungkook clears his throat, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ He speaks over the radio, a careful start.

You can’t help it. You’ve been with the man for almost a decade, and sure, not always has it been pretty, but somehow it has worked. Maybe it was your first mistake to tell Kim Joohyun about the therapy sessions and the whole Kang Seulgi issue at hand, but you needed an outlet. Something close to a friend who would listen to you since Jungkook was always out of the house. Now you’re stuck with random people implying your husband doesn’t need your sex, that he’s fine finding it someplace else. You so dearly hope you misunderstood her, because your heart pounds a little faster, chest grows a little tighter.

Your head lolls to the backrest of your seat as you take a deep breath, eyes set on the scenery outside. ‘‘It’s just something Joohyun said,’’ you finally say. The sky above you paints an array of pinks and purples, a beautiful sight if only you weren’t feeling so sour right now.

Jungkook nods like he understands, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his head softly nods along to the music at the radio. ‘‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’’

The words throw you off guard. You can’t help but stare back as he looks at you with a patient, and rather relaxed demeanor. You can’t recall the last time where either of you suggested to talk. It must’ve been a long time. It’s rare, that is. You shake your head slowly, swallowing before your head falls back to your seat. ‘‘No, it’s nothing,’’ you murmur, eyes back out of the window.

He clicks his tongue softly. ‘‘Alright. If you say so,’’ Jungkook says, quick to dismiss the offer, and something inside of you wishes he pushed a little further. Moments of silence continue to fill the car, with the only sound coming from the radio and the soft hum of the car’s engine. ‘‘You like the dress?’’ He reaches out to lower the volume, eyes scanning down your body, where the simple, strapless silhouette of the Valentino mini dress hugs your curves so charmingly. Worn as a vision of elegance with the way you do it, he knew you’d like it too. 

‘‘I do. Thank you.’’ You say, only now having the chance to thank him for the luxury item you found on the kitchen counter this morning, just like Jungkook’s text told you where to find it. The message didn’t say much, just that the dress was there and that he’d pick you up straight after work for the business event he was invited to. You got the hint, styled the dress with some jewelry that matched the rich, ivory white fabric and you picked out your prettiest heels. The Jimmy Choo ones with the bow that you knew Jungkook loved so much. You’re not sure how long it took for you to get ready, maybe an hour or two tops, but you know you took your time. Maybe because you wanted to look pretty for him, knowing he probably wanted to see you in the dress if he bought it for you.

His eyes travel to your legs, also leaning back in his seat as his foot hovers over the gas pedal, the car humming as it moves forward a little. ‘‘Thought everybody should see you in it tonight.”

Reality rushes back to you, then. Jungkook doesn’t care about you _or _the dress. Your husband only cares about the way the both of you will be perceived tonight. By his colleagues, by his friends and by his acquaintances. Yes, you’re looking stunning tonight. Your hair sits flawlessly and your legs have never looked sexier before. But what does that matter when he can’t proudly put his arm around you and call you his?

The light turns green and he tears his eyes off you, back to the road. ‘‘But I hope you get to smile a little more by the time we’re there.’’

There’s an attitude to the statement, leaving you a little in awe. ‘‘I don’t really feel like smiling,’’ you declare, arms folded. It’s a sassy response, one he catches on to instantly and you know it, considering the way he side-eyes you from behind the wheel. The glances he throws your way burning at your head.

‘‘I don’t need you acting petty, ___.’’ He chuckles, though there is no humor to it. ‘‘I know we’ve got a lot of our own shit to worry about, but we don’t need any of that tonight. Please,’’ he adds, ‘‘just be there with your head.’’

You feel a surge of anger rising inside you at his words. How dare he tell you how to feel and how to act? You take a deep breath, voice already shaking from the way he works you up. ‘‘So you want me to pretend all is good in front of everyone? Because you know it isn’t.’’

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the pedal a bit harder, grip tightening around the wheel. ‘‘I’m asking you to keep it down,’’ he argues, ‘‘there’s no need for us to be mixing business with private matters in front of these people–it doesn’t concern them. We can talk about everything else later, I just want to get through with it for tonight.’’

You scoff. ‘‘Funny you say that, considering we haven’t exchanged a word all week.’’

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second before focusing back on the road. ‘‘Not now, ___.’’ He insists, ‘‘I promise we can talk about anything you want the minute we’re back home, just not now.’’

‘‘Now you just need me to be perfect. Got it.’’

His grip on the wheel tightens even more, the tension radiating off him. You never make the effort to try and understand him. ‘‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘‘All I want from you is to act professional. It’s not the time or the place for this shit, ___. We can deal with everything else later.’’

You don’t agree but keep it to yourself just to save either of your energy. The rest of the ride is quiet, but far from peaceful. It takes not much longer than twenty dreadful minutes before you arrive at the grand hotel as you waste no time getting the hell out of Jungkook’s Benz to breathe some fresh air, dusting some imaginary dirt off the ends of your dress while your mini bag hangs in the crook of your arm. The valet rushes to your sides, taking care of his car keys before Jungkook leads the two of you inside with his large hand burnt to your lower back. It takes everything to keep yourself sane, to not rip his touch off you as he sends his prettiest, most charming smiles to people you only know the faces of.

The dimmed lobby is bustling with people as you make your entrance, all dressed up in their finest attire and sipping on champagne while chatting amongst themselves. The night passes uneventfully, with the occasional surge of excitement as the guests mingle and socialize. You’re grateful for the attentive staff, who makes sure your glass is full throughout the night. Mainly sticking by Jungkook’s side with champagne as your only friend, an arm looping around his own as you lean into him and fall back into your own world.

New colleagues of his stumble in left and right, and you admire your husband’s ability to remember each of their names and faces. You, on the other hand, stopped keeping track of whoever stands before you. You figured it is easier to become the wife Jungkook wants to represent you when you keep your mouth shut and merely stand there looking pretty. Designer dripping off you as your hand caresses over his chest in circles with a sweet, dimpled smile on your face.

‘‘I would’ve worn my fancy tie if you told me your girlfriend was this beautiful, Jeon,’’ a rough, low voice interrupts. ‘‘You know, the one that lightens up when you press the button.’’

Before you stand an older couple, their eyes crinkling with sweet wrinkles and sparkling with warmth the minute you lock eyes with them. They mirror you, where their arms loop together and move in perfect sync. Jungkook chuckles on your side, cute apples of his cheeks making an appearance. ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Choi,’’ he exclaims, moving to place his hand just above the swell of your ass before pulling you closer into him, though his touch leaves a chill in its wake. ‘‘I take it you haven’t met my wife yet.’’

‘‘Oh, dear Lord,’’ the woman known as Mrs. Choi squeals as she gladly takes your hand in hers. Hers are warm and embrace yours gently, only now knowing you sipped a bit too much champagne when the movement throws you off guard. “I keep insisting that Jungkook needs to bring you to the office so I can meet this pretty face but he won’t budge,” she says, keeping your hand warm in between hers. “Now I get why he wants to keep you to himself—you’re a doll.”

You snicker a little at the comment, feeling the champagne flush at your cheeks at the older lady’s words. Jungkook’s thumb runs in small circles at your hip. “Isn’t she?” He speaks, softly pulling you towards him. “Why would I share with anyone?”

The Choi couple share smiles of delight, visibly over the moon when Jungkook pulls you closer to his side and plants a sweet kiss on your temple. “A married man,” Mr. Choi sighs with fondness in his eyes, hands gesturing your way as if to say look at you. “I wouldn’t have known for the love of God, son. It’s wonderful to witness young love well and alive.”

Jungkook wears his prettiest smile, obviously enjoying the way Mr. and Mrs. Choi worship at his feet. He takes your free hand in his own before he pulls it up for a showcase, the shining diamond around your ring finger glinstering beneath the warm lights. “We mark 7 years this season.” He seems proud as he speaks, the close lipped smile telling them all they need to know.

Mrs. Choi holds an exaggerated hand to her chest, eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry. “You must be so proud of him,” she glows when she speaks to you. “You’ve got the office’s heartthrob in your hold, dear. I can guarantee you he’s taking that award home tonight.”

“Businessman of the Year!” Mr. Choi exclaims with theatrical hands, fading away before you. “I can see it, kid. The title looks good on you.”

“Oh, I won’t assume anything.” Jungkook snickers on your side, pretty dimples visible when he smiles. “I don’t intend on winning tonight. I’ve got strong competitors to see eye to eye.”

It’s not that you’re not proud of all that Jungkook has accomplished, but the bitter smile returns and is barely perceptible. You doubt anyone notices. Hell, Jungkook’s pride seems to consume him, too far gone to notice you straying away in his warm hold. It astounds you how his colleagues seem to put him on a pedestal, quite literally worshiping the ground he walks on and hanging onto every word he says.

“They got nothing on you.” Mrs. Choi argues with a light scoff before her toothy smile returns. “But I get it. Who wants to win some trivial award when you already got your hands on the most beautiful gem in the room, right?” She throws the compliment your way, a wink thrown in there but your stomach tightens at the words all the same.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching for a connection that seems elusive. “You know, we’re all so consumed by the road to success that we sometimes don’t realize what we already got,” he begins, eyes back at the Choi couple when you refuse to look back at him. “If tonight ends without that award, I’d be more than content to celebrate with just the two of us. Just like we always have done—years on end.”

“That’s what love is about.” Mrs. Choi nods with a tilted head like she understands. Like you and Jungkook will go home tonight and make love with butterflies in the pit of your stomach, hearts fluttering with anticipation, and a sense of triumph in the air. She probably wouldn’t smile so wide if she knew the ground you’re standing on is not so solid. “And that’s why good things come your way, Jungkook. You do everything with so much dedication and love, you should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s true.” Mr. Choi interjects, nodding sagely as he extends a wise finger. “Take that well-deserved promotion for example. It didn’t appear out of thin air, son. You’ve worked hard to earn it.”

You still on Jungkook’s side and he can feel it in an instant. He feels your eyes on him, a piercing gaze that cuts through the chatter of the lobby. His sharp brows furrow slightly as he senses your scrutiny. His voice, tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension breaks the silence, hopefully able to remove that big question mark off your forehead. ‘‘Yes, the promotion,’’ He begins, now avoiding your eyes as his fingers loosen at your hip. ‘‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Choi.’’

Mrs. Choi’s cheerful demeanor suddenly falters, replaced by concern etched onto her face. “Are you feeling alright, dear?’’ She asks you, her voice filled with genuine worry. ‘‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You don’t spare Mrs. Choi a single glance when she puts the focus on you, practically forcing Jungkook to lock eyes with you. Your eyes bore into his, your attention solely on Jungkook and his bewildered state. “Promotion, huh?” You say, voice tinged with a touch of resentment. The bitter tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny how you never mentioned anything about a promotion, Jungkook.”

He hesitates, his hand retracting slowly, an obvious gesture of unease. “Well… it was meant to be a surprise,” He pulls out of his ass, a reassuring smile aimed at the elderly couple who already seem remorseful for bringing the topic up, apologetic smiles on their faces. “To be honest, it isn’t that big of a deal anyways. Just a small step up the corporate ladder.”

‘‘A small step up the ladder?’’ You repeat a little louder than you mean to, voice dripping with disappointment. You turn to fully face him, back turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Choi when you do your best to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook. I know exactly what a promotion entails.”

The room seems to hold its breath, the tension palpable as the air grows heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed grievances. The once-glowing atmosphere now feels suffocating, the sense of disconnect between you and Jungkook impossible to ignore. The weight of your words fall heavy on the tip of your tongue and your eyes tell him that you’re becoming furious, the fire in your eyes burning with an intensity that can’t be contained. How dare he? You’re hanging on to this relationship with every fiber in your body and what does he think is the solution to that? Adding hours to his already demanding contract while you continue to plan more sessions with Kang Seulgi?

Jeon Jungkook’s audacity is truly unbelievable. How could he be so blind to the problems that you’re already trying to tame? He chuckles quietly, devoid of any genuine humor. His eyes dart around the room, scanning for any sign of anyone else besides the Choi couple taking note of the tension. ‘‘I was going to tell you, it’s just that nothing is final yet. I haven’t signed anything,’’ he stammers, attempting to justify him keeping this from you.

‘‘But you were going to.’’ You snarl, jabbing an accusing finger digging into his chest. ‘’Do you even realize what you’re doing, Jungkook? It’s not a matter of when. It’s the fact that you’d do it in a heartbeat, not even taking us into consideration like any decent partner would.’’

‘‘Sweetheart,’’ Mrs. Choi’s tries to interject, voice filled with concern. ‘‘I’m sure he just wanted the moment to be special,’’ Her well-intentioned effort to comfort you falls on deaf ears with a dismissive wave of your hand. You’re not sure if you can take any more of this bullshit tonight, the surge of resentment is swelling within you.

‘‘Please, excuse us,’’ Jungkook says with a forced smile, gently pushing you forward by the small of your back, signaling you’d better walk if you want to talk some more. And walk you do, your arms crossed tightly and lips pressed into a thin line, leading the way out of the sea of people chatting about God knows what.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook gets held up again. You don’t recognize the face of the taller man who approaches him, and neither are you interested in his being, though the blood rushes to your head when Jungkook starts talking back with that familiar sweet smile. He searches for your eye over the taller man’s shoulder, making sure you’re still there before his polite, charming grin paints his lips again like nothing is wrong. Like you aren’t ready to lose each other.

You make a beeline to the bathroom the moment you realize it. And for just a moment, you find solace from the suffocating air outside the restroom. It happens the moment you lock the door and cover your bare neck in cold tap water, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you as it seems to hit you like a train. You don’t know if you and Jungkook will ever be okay. It might be the alcohol in your system, but the tears that form in the corners of your eyes threaten to escape. It’s difficult to hold them back, but you do it somehow. You wonder if there’s any hope left over, or if this promotion is just another confirmation of his growing distance, a subtle way of telling you there’s little left over to salvage.

Three quiet knocks tap against the bathroom door. ‘‘___, it’s me,’’ his voice booms from the other side and you take a moment to recollect yourself. When you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, tears still hang in the corners of your eyes if you pay a little attention and your throat falls dry. “Open up?” He shouldn’t see you like this. You don’t remember the last time Jungkook has seen you cry; the last time he’s seen you vulnerable.

‘‘I need a moment, Jungkook,’’ you reply, shuffling around the small space.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. ‘‘Please, just let me in. We gotta talk.’’

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing him now feels overwhelming. Back there, amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces, you felt as if you could explode. Steam blowing out of your ears, blood rushing to your head. But right here, in this confined space,  it’s just you and him. Your eyes are slightly glossy and your lips anxiously curl inwards. You don’t know what’s coming over you. You’d much rather have him see you angry, with your head held high.

With a heavy sigh, you turn the lock, leaving the door ajar just wide enough so you can see his face. The tight purse of his lips eases when he takes in your appearance, and you swear you can see a glimmer of softness in his eyes. A flat, tattooed hand gently pushes the door open before he enters with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress pants. Your fingers curl over the edge of the sink when you stumble back and lean against it, watching as he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Silence hangs heavily in the air, overtaking you. Neither of you can help it. There’s nothing to bicker about when it seems like you’re at the verge of breaking down, so silence it is. ‘‘Then talk,’’ you say, voice distant. ‘‘You’re not talking. You said we needed to.’’

Jungkook’s gaze flickers with something you can’t place. You hope it has something to do with regret and determination. He takes a step closer, closing the space between you. ‘‘What happened out there,’’ he starts, voice quiet when a finger points towards the door. ‘‘It was unnecessary, ___.’’

You shouldn’t have opened that door for him like a fool, expecting he wouldn’t spit in your face like that. You don’t know what it is you want him to tell you, but for some reason, you yearn for something that sounds like an apology. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. ‘‘You waltz in here like that and that’s the first thing you say? Cut me some slack, Jungkook, please,’’

His jaw tenses, a sign of growing frustration. ‘‘___, we had a deal. No business mixing with whatever problems we have. Not tonight… not when tonight is supposed to be special.’’ Jungkook quietly reminds you, taking another step closer until your chests almost touch. ‘‘And as for the promotion,’’ he sighs heavily, his hand tugging at his tie with a frustrated huff. ‘‘I was going to tell you when it was just you and me–just us, away from all of these people. That was going to be our damn moment.’’ Jungkook spits, teeth grinding together as his brows furrow. ‘‘They had no business opening their mouths on it, but they did anyway. So if you want to be mad, then fine, do your thing. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but you did.’’

The small room feels suffocating, tension building with each passing second. Your tears are long forgotten every time he opens that big mouth of his, because the anger seems to consume you. ‘‘I don’t fucking care about any of that,’’ you scoff, pushing yourself off the edge of the sink with a head held high. Now you’re the one stepping closer. ‘‘It’s the idea that you would even accept all those extra hours and responsibilities when you know,’’ there is a heavy pause for you to catch your breath, a finger digging so deep in his chest it makes him stumble back a step. ‘‘When you know what is going to happen to us if you take this.’’

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his own frustration surfacing. ‘‘And what’s happening?’’ He retorts, his voice filled with defiance. ‘‘How can you expect me to turn an opportunity like this down when I’ve worked so hard for it? I worked my ass off for this, proved my fucking worth and ended up deserving it. I haven’t even reached the age of 30 and chances like these don’t just appear out of thin air, ___. I’ve got colleagues twice my age trying to achieve what is waiting for me to grasp.’’

The intensity of the argument rises, voices echoing off the walls and you’re sure people passing on the outside hear every word. You scoff, a humorless laugh escapes you. ‘‘So this is all about your precious career, isn’t it?’’ You hold up your hand, where your wedding ring catches his eye. ‘‘You made me a promise, too. Long ago, before you knew any of those people you’re trying to prove your worth to.’’

Jungkook’s face flushes with frustration, his hands clenched into fists before they settle at your hips and shoves you back until you’re leaned against the sink again. Though not too harsh. He is never too harsh. ‘‘Why can you never be satisfied?’’ He mumbles, anger giving way to hurt. ‘‘This is my chance to provide for us, to make sure we have a future that we deserve living. Why won’t you support me, be by my fucking side?’’

Bitter laughter escapes your lips, almost grazing his own. ‘‘Support you? How can I support you when you’re digging us deeper into the ground? We’re already so close to reaching the fucking limits. So close to becoming everything we’re trying not to be and then you continue on to pull this crap? It’s like you’re waiting for us to call it quits.”

Jungkook’s anger simmers beneath the surface, his grip on your hips tightening as he fully closes the distance between your bodies. His dark, sharp gaze is fixed on you, the air between you crackling with tension at the false accusation. A blend of frustration and desire when you meet his intense gaze, the moment overwhelming you, and without a word, he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate, fiery kiss.

The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and desire, the electricity between you undeniable. Each touch and movement speaks volumes, conveying a complex blend of emotions that words fail to express. As your lips move against his, you can feel the weight of the argument still hanging in the air, but for a moment, it's forgotten. Until he speaks against you. ‘‘That’s the last time you’re gonna accuse me of something so ridiculous. Got it?’’

Between heated kisses, angry whispers escape your lips. "You can't just expect me to follow blindly," you mutter, your voice laced with frustration. "We're too close to the edge already."

Jungkook’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his voice husky as he responds. ‘‘I know, but I’m trying.’’

It is all he says, and you fight the urge to say something back just because you feel like you’ve had enough for one night. You’re the one to pull away first, a flat hand to his hard chest as you push him off with ease, no fight, no nothing. The momentary connection fades and a sense of unease settles between you. You exchange a final gaze, unresolved emotions and unspoken words clear in the air. It’s obvious that the underlying issue remains unresolved, and with that, you both walk out of the ladies’ room together. Side by side, like everything is fine. The bitter taste of the argument still hangs onto your tongues but you choose to ignore it even though there is no way you can get rid of it tonight.

Jungkook stops before the bustling crowd, causing you to stop in your tracks as well. His hand delves into the inner pocket of his jack, retrieving his wallet as he goes through the contents. With a subdued voice, he offers you his card. ‘‘Here,’’ he says quietly. ‘‘Go buy yourself something to drink. I’ll be over there talking to some people if you need me.’’

You accept the money silently, a slight nod of acknowledgement before you part ways, heading toward the bar while Jungkook navigates through the crowd. As you order your drink, the bitterness of the argument still weighs on your mind, the unresolved issues swirling in your thoughts.

Your husband hasn’t spared you much of a second glance after he handed you the money, already too busy mingling with his colleagues to notice that the bottom of your cocktail glass is starting to show. As he brings his own glass back to his pretty lips to sip on his dry wine all the way on the other side of the lobby, you continue to listen to the nameless people around you and the award he might be winning tonight. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—it might drive you crazy.

It drives you crazy, and you would probably never admit it out loud, but you feel smaller without Jungkook’s presence so close to you, without his arm secured around your waist, your chest tighter than he seems to realize. You don’t need him to feel confident, you know. You don’t need any man in order to make you feel secure about yourself. Though tonight, even though it is only for a little while, his absence feels a little more pronounced than usual, and you don’t like to feel like some fraught, single woman in her late 20s. It unsettles you, and you don’t mean to feel like it.

You’re counting fifteen minutes when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Jungkook seems to be in his element, watching as you occasionally meet his eye from across the room before he rips his gaze off you, interrupted by another coworker every two minutes as they block your sight. More small talk with the man of the night as he’s sucking it up like second nature. Adoring the constant praises he’s receiving throughout the entire event. A charming smile paints his features, one that makes him look smug as hell.

“That dress makes up for the fact that you look like you don’t want to be found dead in here.” A low voice booms from behind the bar, “Valentino, no?”

The rim of the cocktail glass in your hand detaches from your lips when you realize you’re being spoken to, another spot painted a smoked almond shade at the edge. “Good eye,” you nod, high heels impatiently tapping against the steel of the barstool. It’s the first interaction since the Choi couple took notice of your distress, and suddenly, you feel a little less invincible. .

“I know a thing or two.” The owner of the velvety voice reveals himself, emerging from behind the massive camera cradled in his veiny hands. Smooth, jet black curls cascade over his forehead as a troublesome grin broadens on the unknown’s glistening lips. He briefly catches your eye before shifting his focus back to the display in his grip. Rounding the bar, he comes to sit at the edge of the stool next to you. “You seem to be a natural. Ever thought of a career shift and dropping this business ordeal?”

The picture on the display reveals. It’s not bad, you look greater than any other night, the effort you put in tonight’s look clear to see. But he’s joking, though you can barely crack a smile. “Oh, please, I’m just a plus one.”

“I see.” The man who you now assume to be tonight’s cameraman leans over the edge of the bar as he allows his camera to hang low at his neck. He subtly searches for your eye and when you meet his gaze, indicating that he’s got your attention, he pulls his focus back to the crowd, a finger beneath his nose as if he’s deep in thought. “So, which one of those pricks is responsible for making you sit here by yourself all night?”

You roll your eyes but a suppressed snicker betrays your amusement, prompting the corners of his own mouth to lift as well. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore the derogatory remark about your husband, though it might feel good if someone else would openly share your sentiments right now. “The same prick I’ve been with for the past six years,” you point Jungkook’s way when you speak, leaning a little more to the man’s side to give a good point of view. “He’s a busy guy,” you remark, Jungkook looking devilishly expensive when he’s networking, his navy blue Prada suit shimmering beneath the dim lightning. His jet black hair is slicked back and he’s never looked sexier before. Such a shame you’re not talking.

“The man of the night himself.” The guy huffs at your side, back leaning against the bar as he’s no longer interested in Jungkook, eye solely on you now. “I’m not really supposed to shoot plus ones tonight, he’d have to be in the picture for that,” he taps at his camera. “A shame he’s too busy to bat an eye when she’s looking this lovely tonight.”

A dagger to the heart, but you take it lightly. You pause as you finally take a good look into this sharp, cat-like gaze of his. A sly looking smile tugs at the corners of his lips when your eyes meet. “Complimenting a married woman? How audacious of you.”

He shrugs indifferently. “He isn’t doing it, so,” he says nonchalantly before he pulls himself together, a polite hand to his chest when he speaks. “Pardon me. It’s just that I’ve never been good at keeping thoughts to myself.”

You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”

He catches on to the challenge that’s hidden in your voice, the slight attitude you’re subtly bringing over. He pauses for a moment, reading your face before he continues. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly, though his voice is low enough to recall mischief. His eyes lower a little down your dress before he takes out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. I’m tonight’s photographer.”

You accept his hand, hot and tight around your own. It feels refreshing in some way or another, his eyes locking with yours again when his head tilts just slightly, tongue slipping out to wet his pink lips. “It’s good to meet you,” You tell him, returning your prettiest smile, “I’m ___.”

Taehyung stills. “God damn.” He curses quietly, just a whisper above his breath. “I knew you had to be from someplace else—you’re one of Minnie’s girls.”

His words take time to process. There is only one Minnie you’d know. “You mean, Minnie Chang?” You query, frowning when his knowing finger bounces your way. “My modeling agent? You know her?”

“Sure,” he beams, shoulders visibly relaxing as he sits at the edge of his seat. “I run shoots with Minnie’s girls all the time. We just wrapped up an upcoming November issue. It’s such a pity she never sets me up to shoot your covers, we use your references all the time.” His sharp eyes darken, running down your figure again. “We’d kill the job together, if you’d ask me.”

Your cheeks flush a little at the statement. “Oh, well, we probably would.” You stumble, still trying to catch on. “Though Minnie no longer works for me. I quit modeling some time ago, which is probably why we never worked together.”

Taehyung’s pretty lips part when his head tilts even more, a light and humorless chuckle escaping. “I mean, do tell me you’re screwing with me.” The smile ghosts his lips, though this time a little died down. Your silence answers his questions and the sheepish grin only adds on to it. “Forgive me for being so straightforward, but I’ve seen your works, ___. No one in their right mind would want to give such potential up for some mingling on the side bar.”

Taehyung jokes again but there’s a bit of truth hidden in it, and neither of you dare to laugh too loudly over it. You sigh, bringing the glass back to your lips even though your drink is almost finished. “You’d be surprised what love does to people.” You chuckle but it holds no humor, you just sound so ironic. Taehyung’s eyes rip away from you to scan the lobby in search for the man in question, easily found in the sea of people because Jeon Jungkook just works like that. Wherever he goes, your husband seems to carry this magnetism with him. People fall in love with him left and right, and you don’t blame them for it. Look at where you are. “I wanted to go wherever he went. Now I’m just trying to live up to the consequences.”

Taehyung hears as you try to laugh it off, chuckling softly and unable to match your energy. “I’ll give you my card,” he then decides, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket as a set of protests already stumble off your lips. “No buts,” he warns. “My office line is on there. Do whatever you want with it, but just know that you can always hit my line whenever you’re done dealing with the consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you start but it holds no weight, watching as he nips the piece of paper in between his fingers. “You don’t gotta do that.” His eyes draw back to your lips before they flicker back to meet your gaze, the curly locks at his forehead almost preventing you from doing so, seemingly darkening his eyes.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, ___.” His voice lowers, deepening as his breath almost fans your cheeks. It’s hot. A little alarming. “I own a studio downtown where we could meet up someday. I’ll shoot us a couple photos, and if you want, we could add some to your portfolio. If it feels right, you’ll know,” he says, clearly catching on to the glint in your eyes. “If it doesn’t, then all I am is wrong. But you can’t convince me you’re feeling content, sitting on the sidebar waiting for that idiot to come to his senses.”

You know Taehyung just earned himself a slap across the cheek for the degrading comments about Jungkook. For the assumptions he’s so quick to make when he’s met you five minutes ago. Probably no less than a hard push against the shoulder too, but you hold back from doing so when his words speak to you in some way. Somewhere not so deep down, you know Taehyung made some points. It has nothing to do with the rich cologne that embraces you when he stands this close, or the darkened gaze that tries to meet your own when you rip your eyes away.

“Take it.” He waves his card in the air before he gently tosses it at the bar in front, next to your empty glass. “I don’t expect you to do anything with it, but it’d feel good knowing you have it. Who knows what good it’ll bring.”

You don’t hesitate but pause anyway, meeting his eye and the moment that famous grin paints his lips, you can’t stop yourself from copying it. “Thank you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.” You say, taking his card.

It surprises you how at ease Taehyung makes you feel afterwards. Once his card is out of sight, hidden in the safety of your handbag, he doesn’t pry further about any more modeling shoots or your forgotten career. Nor does he bring Jungkook up again, even though everyone else around you can’t seem to shut up about the man. It’s a peaceful feeling, distracted from the eye of reality because of this man who excels at making small talk. He’s chatting away about his camera, pointing at elements you don’t know the names of as he explains the functions of them.

You don’t listen. You haven’t been listening for a while and wonder how you stumbled upon this topic instead. It’s not a bad thing; Kim Taehyung makes you feel comfortable and that’s all there is to it. You appreciate him for fading your surroundings off.

It doesn't take long before a large hand rests above the swell of your ass, stroking sweet circles there. “Are you ready? They’ll start presenting the awards soon.” Jungkook’s voice booms at your left, sending a jolt of surprise through your body. You turn to face him, finding him standing there with his usual confident demeanor, contrasting with the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The touch of his hand on your backside feels a little more possessive the longer you take your time to respond.

You glance over at Taehyung, who also seems to have noticed the change of atmosphere. His expression remains composed, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say before you hop off the barstool and recollect yourself. “It was so good meeting you, Taehyung. I hope we get to talking soon.” You slide your mini bag over your shoulder, an apologetic smile at your lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you so occupied, I know you’re on the clock.”

His lips only curl into a warm smile that seems to reassure you, a small shake of his head shrugging you off as if to say you shouldn’t have to worry. Your attention reverts back to Jungkook, noting that his gaze is already fixed on you as he searches for something you can’t decipher. “Okay, I’m ready,” you repeat, this time a little more determined. He nods quietly, hand curling at your waist before he leads you the way towards the ceremony, eager to be gone, but not before he steals a look at the older man by the bar, tongue in his cheek. A hint of playful defiance glimmers in Taehyung’s eyes and Jungkook wouldn’t know for the love of God what it means.

The following hour ends up not being as dreadful as the previous ones. Jungkook still guides you throughout the night with prolonged small talk and half-filled champagne glasses which you’ve grown tired of drinking. Nobody is paying attention to the wife of, much to your luck, because it gives you the opportunity to slip into your own world with Jungkook’s hand still snaked around your waist. Taehyung’s words ghost your head instead, and as much as you try not to, you sneak a glance his way every now and then.

You can’t help it. It’s been some time since someone recognized you as anybody else than Mrs. Jeon Jungkook. The lucky one who gets to wear designer dresses and expensive jewelry with a zipped mouth on her face. The brief minutes spent with Taehyung were cut short, but reminded you of your own persona. So hidden behind the shadows of Jungkook’s success that you almost forgot you once had built the start up of a successful career as well.

You can’t think in this room. The warm air is rising to your head and all you can hear is the low murmurs of Jungkook and his colleagues at your table. You start to wonder things. Big things. Like, what if Taehyung wasn’t the only person who believed in continuing the neglected modeling career you were so desperate to let go of some time ago? What if he wasn’t the only one and you’re just meant to find the right people to support you? What if that dream was worth pursuing, now still, after all this time accepting this is what your life was going to be like; a bitter housewife in the suburbs forever holding on to a forgotten career.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook queries on your side, eyes lingering on you for too long and you don’t care to return it. His hand travels to your upper thigh beneath the table cloth but you barely process it, head too clouded with whatever you’re worrying about to take notice. “You seem distracted.” He says, his large hand resting there without much thought, warming the skin up as he gently starts rubbing in circles.

“Yes,” you say though there is a pause to it, one where you hold your breath as you wonder if you should say more. You know he doesn’t like it when things start getting personal when all these people surround you, but you’re so close to the edge. You turn to him, knees touching. “I just need some fresh air. Hand me the car keys?”

He stares at you for a moment, a look shared that tells you he’s trying to read you even when you’re shutting him out. An arm lazily rests atop the backrest of your chair as he sighs through his nose. “They’re starting soon.” He breathes out like he hasn’t said it a thousand times already. “And you’ve been drinking. I’m not handing you anything.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not drunk and I’m not driving. I’m just gonna sit in the car and take a moment for myself.” it’s your turn to sigh, a bite to your words that Jungkook easily catches on to. His eyes narrow, lips growing into a thin line. “What is it, are you not allowing me?”

His chest grows tight when he hears your words, the sassy attitude not gone by dismissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t you take half an hour longer?” His voice lowers in case anyone overhears, the back of his fingers reaching to stroke over your cheek softly. “Batting those pretty lashes the way you do it so well?”

His comment flies to your head, hitting you like a slap to the face and you search his eyes for some sort of sincerity. Some sort of remorse for spitting that degrading shit in your face like that. You notice the way people perceive you as the wife of Jeon, how they look at you because you’re just one of his pretty things. You’re aware. And you don’t need anyone to tell you, because you could care less about them. Though when the confirmation slips from Jungkook’s lips, you swear he turns the switch inside you.

“You’re an ass.” The feet of your chair screech loudly against the floor tiles of the lobby, the sound of it making heads turn your way with curious gazes. And unlike your husband, who seems troubled upon the sudden attention, you couldn’t care less, storming out of the quiet lobby like your Jimmy Choo heels are meant for you to stomp off the way you do.

You hear a faint call of your name even though it doesn’t take long before you reach the main entrance doors and fumble your way out. The anger rises to your head and you consider you might have done Jungkook a favor with the way you made it out so quickly.

It takes a couple minutes before the swinging doors you just erupted from come to a loud shut once more, revealing a heated Jungkook sauntering down the stairs. “Get moving. You were the one who wanted to go home,” He doesn’t spare you another glance when he passes you by with a pinched expression. Both your jackets hang from his arm but he doesn’t care to hand you yours, quick to rush to his Benz with you right behind him.

The only sound that fills the air is the angry stomping of your feet, Jungkook’s not as prominent as your own heels clack loudly against the pavement. “I just needed a minute out. I never said you couldn’t finish your little act in there,” you retort, frustration lacing your voice.

He opts to ignore your remark at first, jaw set and focus straight ahead. Though the more he repeats your words in the back of his head, the faster his own spill out. “I asked you not to throw a scene and you go ahead and do it anyway,” he sneers, unlocking the back door before he throws your coats on the backseats. Slamming it just as loud. “For what, ___? Couldn’t stand not being the center of attention for one night so you pull this shit?”

Jungkook is fast to open the door to the driver’s seat but you beat him to it. Slamming his door back shut only to earn one of his lethal, disturbed looks. “You take that back.” You point an accusing finger his way, trapping yourself between his hovering body and the car. “For years, I’ve been tagging along to these stupid events like some luxury piece on the side. Supporting and loving you from behind your huge ego,” you huff, a pillow of air rushing from your lips and into the icy air. “All the while you choose to show me off whenever you feel like it when I’ve been happier for you than anyone in there—’’

“Have you?” His lips curl inwards, sharp eyebrows tightening. “Because the second you heard about some promotion, a couple more hours added to my contract, you start freaking out. Running out there like the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t, ___. Get it out of your head.”

“Jungkook—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly waves you off, pointing an angry finger back to the building you just came out of. “You know I’m winning an award at this very moment? I’m reaching the tip of the iceberg tonight, and instead of celebrating it, I’m out here trying to keep you sane.” Jungkook grunts, hand falling back to his side. “I didn’t see Jung fucking Hoseok do that last year when he won that damn award. His partner stood beside him, supporting him while he accepted the prize.”

You maintain eye contact, no matter how much fire swims in his gaze. “I know you didn’t just compare me to your coworker’s wife.” You scoff loudly, “Jung Hoseok probably has the decency to include his partner in every major decision he makes. Including promotions that will require your everything, Jungkook. If that was our case,” your finger swats back and forth between your raging bodies, “then yes, I would love to be that kind of wife for us. But I’ve done that for a long time. I can no longer be like her.”

Jungkook groans, stepping closer and causing you to press your back flat against his Benz. “Maybe Jung Hoseok works his ass off to earn such a prize in the first place, knowing his wife is there. On his side. No matter the case.”

“Well, maybe that is because Jung Hoseok and his wife never stopped loving each other!”

Little puffs of air escape your lips and the statement leaves you a little breathless when realization strikes through. They mold together with Jungkook’s, who also seems to need a moment to register whatever it was you just spat in his face. His aura changes not much longer after, eyes digging into yours with the tip of his tongue running over the back of his teeth. Jaw set tight with a dare running in his gaze. He looks down at you with heavy lids, and when you stay quiet for longer than he was hoping, he speaks up. Though the voice is low enough to pass as a warning.

“You want to repeat that for me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes as you try to place a somewhat reassuring hand to his burning chest, it’s hot and under fire beneath your palm. You didn’t mean to slap him across the face like that. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean you and I—’’

“I don’t care what the fuck you meant.” He says slowly, swatting your hand off him with an intense gaze. “Repeat that for me.”

You shake your head, keeping it up high even with the way he’s looking down on you. You can stand your own ground as well as him. “Kook, I’m not going to repeat myself when I didn’t mean to say that.” You argue, arms folding.

Jungkook locks eyes for much longer than is necessary, like he doesn’t believe you and he’s trying to find some sort of truth in them instead. Hands now situated in the pockets of his dress pants, he leans his weight down on one leg. “Then get in the car.” He then simply says, tone a bit too composed to ease you down. “We’re going home.”

“No,” you argue back with a stern voice. You’re both upset, incredibly so. The last thing you need to do right now is push your anger to the sidelines. “We’re not done talking, Jungkook.”

“We’re done.” He’s quick to tell you, taking a step back before and impatient, sharp eyebrow arches. The weight of his body on one leg. “I said, get in the car, ___. You wanted to go home? Let’s go fucking home.”

The bite in his voice is evident to send the warning through. He is just standing there, hands casually hidden in his pockets as he glares down at you, patiently waiting for you to get moving. You shoot him a look, something that says something along the lines of, seriously, this is how we’re gonna do this? He nods once. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all you’ll get.

Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.

Jungkook is quick to get in the driver’s seat when you huff and round the car, the silence quick enough to break through the tight space once the doors slam shut. For a brief moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at the packed parking lot without another word exchanged. You know Jungkook needs a moment to collect himself before he gets off driving you both home, but he is not the only one in desperate need to let go of some steam. The tight gripped hand around the wheel, where his knuckles turn a pale white is telling you enough about his current state. He hasn’t even stuck the key in the ignition yet and that might be for the better.

He finally looks at you without a word and you don’t back down from the challenge. He still fumes with fire when your gazes meet, lips tightly pressed together. The man watches you like a hawk, right hand still planted at the steering wheel as he stares back down at you from over his shoulder—seemingly no intention to drive off anytime soon. You seem to glow with a heated bitterness and he finds himself feeling a similar way. It does little to intimidate you, though.

Rage consumes you and the silence only seems to worsen it. You’ll have to voice your thoughts or you might go feral. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.”

He scoffs, bits of amusement tugging at the edges of his lips. “Don’t get me started, princess.”

Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.

Your eyes narrow, challenging him. “Go get started, Kook,” a dare drips off your mocking voice, low and anticipating when you raise a single brow. ‘‘I don’t mind.’’

And just like that, something in the air shifts. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drag down your glossy lips without an ounce of shame, or the noticeable fact that his pants are starting to tighten around his crotch area. Your eyes fall down there. You can’t helpt, and neither do you mean to hide it.

“You don’t want me to, baby. Trust me.” He asserts, tone firm and unwavering.

“Try me.”

Time seems to go still and Jungkook seems like he’s hesitant, eyes flickering down your lips one or two times too many. There’s not much sentiment found on his features. No pretty little smile at the lips, and no softened gaze roundening his eyes. Instead, his jawline is locked so tight, you’re able to catch each huff and puff that leaves him. The silent battle of wills unfolds between you. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if debating whether to succumb to your request or stand his ground.

However, Jungkook is a raging mess, all he needs right now is an outlet.

“Damn it,” He curses before he slams his lips onto yours. A surprised, muffled gasp falls from your mouth into his when your noses angrily collide, finding the right amount of balance when a tattooed hand reaches the back of your neck to keep you in place. His lips feel velvety against yours, soft and inviting despite the intensity of his movements. Even though his moves are much rougher. Much more raw.

You respond to the passionate kiss with the same intensity, kissing him back just as hard with your hand steady at his jaw. His own hand hides at your nape, both of you hovering over the storage box in between your seats like two horny teenagers hiding in his big brother’s car. Moans escape his lips and resonate against yours. Youthful desire builds the intensity, sending sweet tingles straight to your core.

‘‘Fuck, come here,’’ Jungkook utters, exhaling heavily as he settles back into his seat.

Not one to resist, you swiftly maneuver your way into the driver’s seat, straddling him with both legs on his either side. His hands instinctively find place at your lips as you lean in to capture his lips in a heated, messy kiss where you hold onto his jaw and push the back of his head to his seat. However, tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, he can’t let you take control.

Jungkook’s kisses become fervent as he pushes you against the steering wheel with a bit more force than intended, causing it to dig into your back with a sharp yelp eliciting into the air. The soft gasp you breathe out as you try to catch on easily gets ignored by him. Still adjusting to the rapid pace, his hands tenderly explore your backside, rubbing in sweet circles before moving down to roam over your ass.

His slender fingers carefully tug at the hem of your dress before he rushes to ride it up your thighs, just until your bare ass hovers above the growing bulge that’s hidden away in the dress pants that now seem too tight around his thighs for his own good. It is no longer something you could ignore even if you wanted to. Not with the way his cock throbs against your panties; the thin material of his slacks not helping much to create a decent barrier.

Nonetheless, you don’t seem to care when you shamelessly start to grind down on his clothed erection. He groans on your skin when you throw your head back, fingers playing while they tangle through his slick locks as if to guide his mouth. “Sit still,” he angrily mumbles, though he doesn’t try to still your hips from humping onto him.

“Don’t wanna,” you stubbornly mutter in response, tugging tighter at his hair in the hopes of a response. You have to hold the evil smirk that's threatening at your lips when you shift back and forth in his lap with a much quicker, more dangerous pace. “Make me?”

His mouth stills at your neck and a rush of satisfaction wavers over you. Jungkook’s hot breath fans over the same spot his lips were just pressed against, slow to look back up at you. Only to find you grinning in his lap like a fool. “You got such a big mouth on you tonight.” He murmurs so close to your lips like he’s planning on kissing you again. Heavy lidded eyes stare back at you in the dark when his middle finger hooks around the lace of your thong at your ass. “Such a big mouth but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. What a terrible trait, sweetheart.” He teasingly tugs at the thong, rubbing the material in between your sweet cheeks.

Your hands reach behind you, reaching for the zipper at the back of the dress before you start to unzip it. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” You sing, tweaking the straps off your shoulders with a teasing grin. What are you waiting for? Undress me, is what your eyes tell.

God. He can’t stand you.

His lips are on yours within a heartbeat. And neither of you plan to let go without a fight.

It’s like both of you are fighting for dominance over the other as the kiss grows more intense. Noses angrily bump into each other, teeth clash and bite into the already swollen flesh of your lips. You’re so engrossed in the lip biting and breath sharing that you barely realize Jungkook pulling down your dress with force, the latex now hunched around your waist to reveal your bare chest. It is only when his fingers reach out to pinch your hardened nipples when you break free from him, the sensitivity growing into excitement before it runs straight to your core.

“Hm, so sensitive baby.” Jungkook hums with a pleased grin threatening on his face, pinching a few more times at the sensitive buds. “I have a feeling you’re all bark and no bite tonight. How come?” He asks quietly. “Felt ignored because I didn’t look at your pretty tits all night? ‘Specially when they’re looking so nice and swollen for me right now, mhm?”

He dives down and wraps his pretty lips around the perky bud when you don’t respond on time, tonguing and nipping until he can hear you squirm on top of him. “I knew that was it.” He mumbles, letting go with a lewd pop. You almost don’t catch it with how low he is speaking, almost like you’re not even meant to hear him in the first place. His tattooed hand gently massages your other breast in the warmth of his palm. “Baby feels neglected the moment the focus isn’t on her. Ain’t that funny?” He chuckles humorlessly, something far away from genuine laughter and you don’t manage to crack a smile either. “Now she’s on top of my cock waiting to get fucked like she wasn’t acting like a total brat back there. Like brats deserve to get fucked nice and slow.”

You push Jungkook back against his seat by the chest, his head lazily lolling back without much surprise as he patiently waits for your next move with a darkened gaze. He knew he was going to press your buttons some time soon. Both your heart and head are fuming. “Not true.” You argue weakly before you decide it’s your turn to pepper angry kisses at the silky skin of his neck. Your grip tightens at his throat, right beneath his jaw. Only to keep him still, you convince yourself. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” You mumble against the hot skin, surprised he’s able to understand your muffled words.

Your hand isn’t that secure around his throat, but he decides to play along nonetheless, keeping his head locked to his seat. “So I’ve heard, sweetheart.”

You ignore the cheeky comment and instead allow your free hand to fumble with the leather belt wrapped so deliciously around his hips. You continue biting and licking in the crook of his neck, not caring if any purple marks find their way there. Jungkook swallows back a whimper of relief when your hasty hands unbuckle his gold coated Montblanc belt. His dress pants aren’t even supposed to be this tight fitted around his crotch area, even when he’s hard. Though it’s no secret Jungkook has been working on his thigh muscles throughout the years. And to say it has served him right would be an understatement.

“Take me out, sweetheart.” He breathes when you dip your hand inside, not yet granting him the pleasure of pulling out his cock just yet. Cupping him over his boxers instead, you suck his quiet moans up like second nature.

Jungkook’s hips eagerly buckle into your grasp and you contemplate on giving him the satisfaction this early on, because even you are growing impatient. Instead, you continue stroking his cock over his boxers, rubbing up and down his length with more pressure as you watch him exhale through his nose. Jungkook’s adams apple moves at his throat when he swallows tightly, eyes shutting in frustration.

You bring your lips to graze over his cheek, so sweet and romantically as the two of you are. Hot and sharp breaths fan on his skin. “Stop bossing me around, will you, Kook?”

He breathes lowly; still through his nose as his chest heaves up and down. Almost like he’s holding himself back from doing things you can’t handle. “Spoiled girls need someone to boss them around.” A sharp sting tingles at your ass, realizing he just spanked you there, the sudden cry you let out in the shell of his ear explaining why his large hands are now soothingly caressing the sensitive skin. “They turn into brats the minute someone doesn’t put them in place. Did you already forget the way you acted tonight, babe?”

He gently continues to knead your ass in his big hands. “You’re just as responsible as I am for that.” You whimper weakly, deciding you’ve had enough when you take Jungkook’s thick cock in hand and out of his pants and boxers. He’s warm, heavy and angry in your grip, red and swollen tip staring back at you when he’s fully out. You raise a brow at the sight. “But it seems like you don’t mind it right now.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he despises more at the moment. The way the shit-eating grin on your face only seems to spread the longer victory consumes you, or the way his dick twitches when your hand tightens around his shaft. Jungkook holds back his grunts. Adding free coins to your egoism is the least bullet point on his to-do list.

“Careful,” he speaks with a warning, eyes flickering back down your lips before the tips of his fingers slide down your covered slit from the back. They rasp against the black lace a little before he adds more pressure where your hole is covered, content to feel your soaked cunt leaking through the fabric. Continuing to feel up to the damp spot, he speaks. “You’re not one to talk when you’re dripping like this. Take this off for me, sweetheart.” He hints at your panties even though he is the one dragging the lace down your legs already.

For as far as his cramped Mercedes allows you to reach down atop his muscled thighs, you make sure you’re at a safe distance before a chunk of spit runs off your lips and onto his throbbing cock. Jungkook groans loudly, hips rutting up when you start pumping him with a tight grasp. You maintain eye contact while you do so, addicted to the way his hazy gaze angrily stares back at you, free hand moving to knead his balls. Your thumb grazes over the head, silently massaging his slit where you spread the precum over the rest of his leaking cock.

“Fuck,” you curse, the wetness coating your fingers. “Want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah.” You repeat.

Jungkook’s hands tighten at your waist, digging into your skin. “None of that.” He then mumbles, earning a confused frown from you. “Rub yourself against my cock, baby. Need to feel how wet this tight cunt is for me.”

“God.” You roll your eyes like you mean it, but your pussy starts to throb at the thought already. He knows it does. How could he not? Jeon Jungkook knows you from the inside out; knows what you like and what you don’t like. Six years of being with you has taught him that much. And because of that, Jungkook is not one to wait around for you to make your move and pushes his hands harder at your hips instead, guiding your bare cunt towards his cock.

“That’s it.” Jungkook lets out a low groan from the base of his throat, the pressure at your hips slacking down once you take over with a slower, more experimental pace. His head falls back and his thick neck comes into view instead, velvety skin on display when your cold fingers hide to intertwine at his nape again. Wet lips drag over his cock and spread wider the more pressure you add. “Look at you soaking my cock like you’re ready to ride it. As if girls like you deserve to be stretched out in the first place.”

“I deserve it.” You nearly stutter when you find the right amount of pressure, your clit now directly rubbing against his head.

He hums softly at your engrossed self. “Yeah?” He continues to ask. “You think you deserve to fuck yourself off on this cock?”

You can only nod in return when your pace increases and eyes shut tight. Jungkook takes sight of the teeth that dig into your lower lip and nails that scratch at the skin at the back of his neck. He moans a little at the sharp feel, his own chest heaving up and down when the blood rushes to his cock. “Can’t hear you, baby.” He pushes when you continue to rock against him without another word, his tattooed hand spanking your ass cheek again to grab your attention. “Need words to decide if I’m letting you ride me.”

It’s not an easy job to pry your eyes open again when your cunt is so deliciously dragging against him, but you manage to do so with heavy lids. “Not to bruise your ego, babe,” you breathe out, thumb padding on his slit as if addressing an obvious issue at hand. “But you’re not really in a position to make demands either.”

He huffs out some air, the warmth of it fanning against your lips. You know you’ve got him trapped without a comeback to throw back in your face when he pierces a single brow. “You should really do something about that mouth.”

“Thought you said you were gonna take care of that.” You boldly recall, clearly challenging him. “Or are you backing out so soon?”

Jungkook doesn’t care enough to defend himself against your assumptions. Instead, he nods his head to the backseat. “Get back there.” He instructs with pressed brows. “You won’t be so smart when you’re coming on my tongue.”

A dramatic sigh leaves your lips like you’re tired. Hands cupping his cheeks sweetly, the back of his head easily lolls to his seat so he looks up at you with those darkened, dangerous eyes. You take him into a slow and wet kiss where your lips seem to dance together in unison, breathing heavily into each other until his tongue presses between your parted lips in an attempt to enter. But you pull away on time. Still, only inches away from his face, his eyes glued to your lips. “You don’t have to eat me out. I can take you right now.” You heave with swollen lips brushing his.

“You know I don’t mind,” Jungkook frowns a little at the odd statement, fingers absentmindedly running circles at your hips again.

“I know you don’t.” You’re quick to speak, hands moving to rub at his shoulders. “But Kook,” you whine with an obvious pout, removing his grip off your hips before you guide his fingers to your dripping cunt, voice sweeter than candy as you watch him observing quietly. “Feel me—I’m so wet for you. Can’t I have you right now?”

A sense of relief already rushes through you when Jungkook’s fingers carefully pad at your wet lips, spreading them apart with a clear string of fluid sticking to his fingertips. “You’re soaked,” he says like you don’t already know, and you can only nod in agreement, the glossed and pouty lips never leaving your face. His cock grows harder in his pants at the feel of your hand cupping his own, hips rolling into his palm. “I won’t hurt you because we’re being eager, though.”

“Aw, come on babe,” you whimper like a little child. “I’ll let you know if it hurts...”

You watch him hesitate for a bit, playing it off when his finger sinks into your warmth. Subtle and careful at first, focusing on the way your walls tighten around the thick digit. You’re sucking him up like he’s meant to be there, silent moans hanging in the base of your throat when he starts pumping inside of you, deliciously curling at your walls. “I see what this is about,” you say with an edge cut sharp, a moan already at the tip of your tongue when his pace increases. ‘‘You’re scared you’ll bust the moment you’re in deep.”

You’re obviously teasing him. Evident in the way your heavy eyes fall down on him with a slight curve at the corners of your lips. He scoffs anyways, your words getting to him whether you’re joking or not. “Please,” he laughs, a humorless chuckle thrown in your face. “We both know I got you creaming around my cock before I even get the chance to.”

You tug a little at his long, jet black locks that were slicked back so perfectly before. Watching as his head rocks back at the action. “Show me? Make me regret assuming.”

He visibly gulps, but not out of nervosity. No, Jeon Jungkook rarely gets nervous, especially not around the woman he spent a total of six years with. Instead, he wonders what to do with you and your crazy attitude. There is a quiet dare you’re exchanging and he catches on just as fast. Never being one to sit back down on a challenge. Especially not when it comes to you and your sneaky games. Though truth be told, Jungkook can be just as devious as you do it.

“Ride me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook’s green card causes your devious lips to form back into the familiar sweeping grin while your excitement flows straight to your cunt. You palm his cock in your hand, feeling as he gets harder in your hold at the sensation. Lining him up between your lips, Jungkook is found having a hard time keeping himself sane, watching you with thoughts drowning him as the head disappears in your tight pussy, already sucking him up like you’ve never taken him before. “Good girl. Go nice and slow for me.” He grunts quietly, fingers digging harder at your sides the lower you sink down and onto his cock. “So good to me whenever you want to, hm?”

Your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck and you feel him move with you, lips at your temples waiting in anticipation. Like he expects an answer. “I’m always good to you.”

“Whenever you want to,” he corrects with a sharp edge, hands roaming over your ass in soothing circles when he can feel your hot, short cut breaths in his neck, inhaling the fresh citrus smell of his fragrance just the way you’re used to. His own chest heaves up and down in hammered motions, cock deliciously brushing against your velvety walls when you take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Would’ve been much easier if you let me eat you out, sweetheart.”

“I can take it.” You whimper against his skin, stilling to let both of you adjust. Slumping down, chest against chest for a mere minute before you suck a sharp breath in when he reaches in between your bodies, thumb continuing to rub small and fast circles at your clit. “J- Kook,” you voice just above a whisper, his fingers circling with more pressure at your clit. “Kook...”

“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice vibrating at the shell of your ear when his lips are so painfully close. “Are you already starting to regret it? I knew you were bluffing, but damn, can’t even play pretend so soon?”

He’s mocking you with that annoying tone of voice, and everything in you wants to prove him wrong. To spare yourself the embarrassment of being caught slacking. Slowly, you start to move with his thumb still driving you insane at your clit. It’s a small and minor movement at first, making sure he feels every little drag of your walls around his angry cock before he gets the chance to open that big mouth again. Well, to be frank, it is open; pretty and plush lips slightly parted to let the moans die down on his tongue.

You remove your head off his shoulder just so you can catch the look on his face when you heave yourself up, only until his tip is inside you and the rest of his cock is already covered with your juices. He shoots you a look that tests your limits, but you’re not intimidated enough to back down and mirror him when you sink onto his cock once more. The familiar stretch of his thick shaft making both of you moan out in delight, blending perfectly together in the narrow space of his Benz.

“Fuck, Kook.”

His shoulders slump a little, eyes shutting tight and the sight of it only makes you bounce faster on his cock. His slight curve hits the sweeter, more sensitive spot with each roll of your hips and your head nearly falls back at the delicious feel. Sharpened nails dig into his blouse at the shoulders but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind the slightest, probably too lost in his own pleasure to even notice. His tattooed hand reaches out to tug at your nipple some more, sweet moans of delight filling the air almost instantly.  

Jungkook got his veiny arm secured around the small of your waist, keeping you close enough to him to the point your breasts are pressed against his chest. Bouncing on his cock the way you do it so gracefully, you let your head fall down his shoulder, where your breaths become heavier and more ragged. “So eager for someone you claim no longer to love,” he hisses, seizing the opportunity to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin at your neck, just beneath your jaw. “Isn’t that what you said, baby? That we no longer love each other?”

“I didn’t mean it,” you groan, uttering out the words as he bites down even harder, intensifying the searing sensation in the heat of your neck.

His fingers curl at your hips, guiding them up and down above him with a delicious stretch of his cock at your walls. “So what,” he drawls, jaw twitching when your pussy tightens around him. “You said it just to say it?”

One thing about Jungkook is that, even after all these years of being married to you, he never tells you what the deal is about. You said something you weren’t supposed to? Sure thing, but he needs you to figure out what you did wrong yourself. Being the business man at heart, he has taught himself since his early college days to be straight forward and precise. Straight to the point. A no-nonsense approach with an ability to cut through the fluff. It’s a dance you’ve become familiar with. Maybe all he wants to hear is an apology, some cue that indicates a hint of regret—he himself isn’t even so sure. Maybe he just wants to know if you meant it.

Between heavy gasps and angry moans, you manage to speak, voice strained with a mix of arousal and remorse. “I... I didn’t mean it in the way you think,” you pant, the words barely audible in between your entangled bodies. “I was angry... and lashed out.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping onto you in a way that makes your hips still with only the tip of his cock inside. Your pussy pulses around nothing, desperate for the release he’s been building up so effortlessly. “Yeah?” He huffs, hips lifting off his seat to buckle into you with harsher, deeper thrusts. You can barely breathe when his pace increases and the only sound that’s filling the car is skin slapping against skin. “You just had to have the last word, didn’t you? Baby couldn’t keep her pretty mouth shut so she spews shit like that out.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you argue back, lifting your head to meet him for a messy kiss you can’t keep up with. Not with the way his thrusts bounce you up and down his dick uncontrollably. Lips angrily dancing together like it’s your last time, moans molding together like it’s your last taste. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kook.”

Those slender, tattooed fingers run back down until he spreads your ass cheeks apart, gaining more control over you as you let him guide you throughout the thrusts. “Neither did I,” he says and you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. Rhythm becoming more focused than before, you notice his thrust seeming to slow down a little, though his dick reaches deeper, sweeter spots inside you that has you yelping into the tight air. “This pretty pussy about to cream my cock?”

You whimper with despair, head thrown back as he fucks into you from below. The tip of his dick reaches all your sweet spots each time his hips meet your ass, eliciting your head to fall back and exposing your velvety neck before him. “Fuck, yes,” Jungkook is quick to place his lips at your throat, soothingly swiveling his tongue around in circled motions. “You fill me up so well.”

“Do I?” He knows he does. Can feel how each drag of his cock in between your sweet, hot walls drives you a little more crazy. “Are you gonna make me dirty and cum all over me when I fuck you like this? Baby can’t take it?”

‘‘I can take it. Jungkook, please,’’ a lewd moan leaves your lips when his hand curls around your throat, heated and tight until he can feel you swallow against his palm.

Your pleads don’t fall on deaf ears when Jungkook firmly plants both feet to the floor, one hand tightening around your hip and the other around your throat. Lifting your hips until your warm walls are only wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pauses, locking eyes with you and keeping it there as if telling you there’s nowhere else for you to look at. He doesn’t give you any other warning before he’s thrusting into you, hips meeting your ass cheeks with force until he’s satisfied and buried to the hilt. “Keep your eyes open babe, want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He doesn’t move, keeping his cock deep inside you until you manage to pry your eyes open and meet his dark gaze, lips formed into a big O.

You do as he says, unable to get another word out when his hips draw back back, cock deliciously returning with another single, harsh thrust that got your tits bouncing up and down. It takes everything in you not to break eye contact, not to pinch your eyes to a tight close with the way he fills you so well. “Oh my God,” you choke out, barely audible as your hand wraps around his wrist by your neck, nails scratching against his sweet skin.

Jungkook sucks your whimpers up, watching your eyes grow heavier before he pounds into you again. Pace fastening with each thrust that becomes a little more precise and aimed to reach your sweet spot. Your moans grow uncontrolled and his name rolls off your lips with each thrust, the sound of your shaky breaths melting together with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slight curve of his cock so deep in between your walls, you have a hard time keeping it together.

“I said, eyes open. Keep them on me.” Jungkook rasps out in between his own heavy breaths when your eyes shut close again. “That’s it, my pretty girl.” Lewd whimpers fill the air and he’s loving every sound that comes from you, ego swelling at each whine and each sob you throw his way. 

‘‘Fuck, Jungkook.’’ Your moans fill up the tiny space with each drag of his cock hitting your sweet spots, you don’t know how much longer you can take it when he pounds into you so deliciously.

‘‘Shit, cum for me, baby. Cream my cock.’’ He groans out loud, reconnecting your lips in a breathless kiss as he doesn’t need to tell you twice. The wave of your orgasm running through you, body tensing as your juices coat his thick cock.

He’s panting now, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and as you coat him to the brim drives him insane. He pumps into you a couple times more before unloading inside. Your head falls back at the hot feeling of him filling you up, buried into you as he groans into the suffocating air.

It’s a funny thing, the way you and Jungkook operate.

Contrary to what many might assume, even after being together with the man for almost 7 years, you still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Finding yourselves grappling with a sense of uncertainty, far from a picture perfect commitment the way you’d think of marriage those years ago. It isn’t a pretty sight, but you figure either of you have gotten used to the same song, the same  rhythm that there is to your relationship, a dance of trial and error, where you stumble your way through challenges together, yet apart.

It defies logic when you put it that way. It isn’t a secret that you and Jungkook haven’t been able to make each other happy for quite some time, to put it plain and simple. Initially, the two of you were capable of hiding your worries beneath a thick blanket of luxury items and long office hours, and it’s not like much of that has changed, but the clock is ticking until Jungkook is leaving for his two-month business trip and you haven’t exchanged a word since the event two days ago. Since the heated sex in the driver’s seat of Jungkook’s Mercedez. Usually you’d just shrug it off, swearing no ignorant man of a husband is worth the wrinkles at your forehead.

So you’re not sure why you can’t seem to lift the weight of your shoulders off.

It feels wrong, that is. Wrong for Jungkook to leave you to fetch for yourself for two months without some sort of reconciliation. He tries to maintain some resemblance to your usual routine, you can tell. He continues to hold you during your sleep, an arm draped around your waist as you can hear the peaceful rhythm of his breaths. Though he isn’t close enough for you to feel his burning, bare chest against your back. He still brings back home dinner from your favorite Malay takeaway downtown, but doesn’t linger at the dinner table to make sure you eat everything to the last rice grain. He still surprises you with beaming jewelry you added to your wishlist months ago, but doesn’t stay to look how it adorns you.

Jungkook’s absence drains you.

It’s true. Not a fact you would ever admit out loud, but when push comes to shove, you might want him by your side every here and now. Yet at the end of the day, you’re a stubborn woman. Always have been and Jungkook knew it from the start. If he wanted to fix things between you before he leaves for his trip, then he would’ve done it by now.

‘‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’’ Your voice beams through the living room, Jungkook’s presence surprising you as you enter. Seated at the sofa, his back faces you as he’s dressed in his formal attire, elbows digging into his thighs as he’s typing away on his phone.

You linger at the arm of the sofa, gaze fixed at his side. There is a moment of silence that settles between you, filled by the quiet taps of his thumb against the screen. ‘‘My meeting got canceled,’’ he answers, voice tinged with a bit of weariness. ‘‘I only got a few hours before I have to get back.’’

The tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your guard remains there. ‘‘Oh,’’ you respond dryly, that being all you can give him right now, turning on your heel to grab your shoes and coat and move your way out of the house.

Slipping your shoes on with your coat hanging in the crook of your arm, the car keys rumble loudly in your grip. Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air, making you halt in your steps. ‘‘I was thinking we’d see Seulgi in the meantime,’’ He calls over his shoulder, barely turning around to see you eye to eye. ‘‘I just called and she says she got a gap free for us.’’

Your brows furrow and his words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes glue back to his screen, mindlessly scrolling through it and you wonder what is going on through his head. You saunter back to the sofa, weight leaning on one leg when you stand before him again. ‘‘Right now?’’ You ask, head tilting. ‘‘I’ve got things to do, Jungkook.’’

Jungkook sighs, setting his phone aside and clasping his hands together between his thighs. He musters a smile, though it seems more ironic than genuine. ‘‘Well, it’s kind of urgent, ___,’’ He smiles with closed lips though it seems ironic. ‘‘Considering the fact that I’ll be leaving in less than a week.’’

You stand there, feeling your feet glued to the floor. ‘‘That’s not on me,’’ you manage to utter, an accusation thrown in there. It’s almost like he’s shifting the blame on you. Like you were the one to tell him to get on that boat and leave for two months. ‘‘You were the one who wanted to go on that trip, Jungkook, not me. If you wanted to see Seulgi you should’ve planned it sooner because I already made plans for today.” You call, “I can’t just reschedule them.’’

You hold his gaze, your eyes conveying a mix of frustration and disappointment. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You realize that the disconnect between you and Jungkook runs deeper than this singular moment. It's a culmination of unaddressed issues and unmet expectations that have taken a toll on your relationship. ‘‘Can’t you see that I’m trying? I just want to make things right before I leave,’’ Jungkook sighs softly, ‘‘she already said she doesn’t do virtual sessions. You know this could be the last time in a long time for us to visit?’’

Your patience wears thin when your eyes meet. He looks at you like you get to cut through the ropes, which in fact, right now you do. But again, you're not the one to distance yourself for months on end. You can’t help but blame him. ‘‘That still isn’t on me.’’

You’re fast to turn on your heel, ready to leave him in that big house. But you don’t get far when a gentle grip takes your hand in his own. He takes you by surprise, turning to look at him when his eyes find yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold on to you, to keep you from slipping away. There’s a silent plea in his gaze, a plea for understanding and trying to make things right.

‘‘Why are you pushing me away?’’ His voice is quiet as he tugs at your hand, urging you to stand before him again.

‘‘I’m not,” you respond, your voice laced with a touch of defensiveness, giving up the fight to his gentle grip, where he guides you to stand between his legs.

“I’m trying to make amends,” he adds, his tone a little gentler than before. “I’m trying, but you won’t even tell me where you're going.’’

His words leave you a little hesitant, torn between the desire to hold onto your grievances and the flicker of hope that perhaps there is a chance for reconciliation. “I don’t see how it’s important where I’m off to,” you finally say, looking down at those big eyes that stare back at you. “I already made plans and that’s all there is to it.”

His grip on your hands tightens slightly, his thumb gently caressing the back of it as he searches for the right words. “It matters to me because I want to be there for us,” he says, his voice earnest. There is a vulnerability in his eyes, a genuine sincerity that tugs at your heart a little. “I leave in less than a week and I take full responsibility for that decision, but at least give me the chance to make things right before I leave.”

With a soft sigh, you release your hand from his grip and reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing up his cheeks as an amused, humorless smile paints your lips. “A single, last minute session with Seulgi isn’t going to ‘make things right’, Jungkook.” You mock him, softly pinching his cheek like he’s a child. You turn your back on him, gathering your things with your shoulder bag secured beneath your arm. “If anything, it’ll just make things worse the way we do it.”

Jungkook hears the chuckle that escapes your lips but can’t bring himself to crack a smile, unable to catch the joke at hand. Sharp eyes never leave your frame as you shuffle around the living room, collecting everything you need before getting out of the house. “Fine,” his voice booms through the room as he stands up with a huff, hands at his hips. “We’ll just sit here and talk if that’s the way you want to do it.”

“And then? You think that’ll do the trick?” You retort, bitter laughter escaping your lips. You can count the amount of times you and Jungkook could’ve just sat down just to talk and fix your issues on one hand. You’ve always been here, at the house, waiting for him to finish his shifts to do exactly that. Now his meeting got canceled and suddenly he got time for you?

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together, his own frustration rising to the surface. “I never said it would magically fix everything,” he shoots back, his tone matching your intensity. “But at least it shows that I’m trying, that I want to make things right before I leave.”

You scoff. “Trying? Is that what you call it?” Sarcasm drips off your voice when you finally turn to face him, seemingly ready to get your ass moving right then and there. “Fine. Let’s try when I get back home tonight.”

The haste kiss you place at his cheek nearly comes across as an insult, your lips barely lingering for a moment before you pull away. And just like that, you’re ready to fly out of the door, fueled by frustration and the desire to escape the argument that has consumed the room. Jungkook thinks you’re being childish, perhaps a little selfish when he watches the way you almost seem to float your way off. He understands that a two month business trip will only deepen the rift between you, but living like you’re strangers during your last days together, leaving with a packed suitcase on empty words—he doesn’t want to know what would happen in that case.

“What in the world could be a priority over an attempt to fix your relationship right now?” Jungkook’s voice rings just as your hand grips onto the doorknob, the frustration evident as his voice raises to catch your attention.

You pause on your tracks, still holding onto the doorknob with all you got. The impact of his question makes you halt, awfully familiar like you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Funny thing you ask that, considering I’ve asked myself that same question every time you head off to wherever you are needed at the time.” You retort, bitterness lacing on to every word. You hum like you’re thinking, “I never got an answer to that, by the way.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slump, his eyes searching for your understanding. “That’s because I’ve got a job. To provide for us, ___. You know that much so don’t go around acting dense, please.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the anger bubbling up inside you. “Oh, so now I’m acting dense? That’s how you see it?” The bitterness in your tone is impossible to conceal. “You can’t just use your job as an excuse every time it becomes convenient. Be fair, Jungkook, we wouldn’t even have this conversation if it wasn’t for your canceled meeting, so why make such a big deal out of this?”

His expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his face. “I do what I have to do for us,” he replies, voice tinged with frustration. “You’re right. I’m not always able to combine business and private matters the way I wish I’d be able to. But I try, and I work hard so we can live a comfortable life. Is that not important to you?”

Bitter laughter escapes you and echoes through the hall, watching as he reaches closer. “Of course it is, but I am not a second job to you. I refuse to be,” you’re quick to argue back. “We can have a talk, but it’s not going to be an easy one and we both know it. So if we’re talking, then it’s not going to be when you conveniently got a meeting that got canceled. You’re going to have to prioritize us and our issues if you really want it to work, Jungkook.”

“I’m ready to sit down and do exactly that, right now,” there is a fire that swims through his gaze as he says it, one that dares to tell you you’re in the wrong. The hesitation runs through yours, it’s all he can see the longer you lock eyes. “I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the day if that’s what it takes, ___.”

Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.

You can’t help it; his image flashes through your head without an ounce of control. Because right in this fleeting moment, the guilt chimes at your chest as Jungkook looks at you with expectant eyes.

Truth be told, the unfamiliar man had been on your mind ever since you talked to him at the event. It had much less to do with his good looks, his charming persona and much more to do with the topics you shared, the things he had to offer. Things you thought you had let go of a long time ago with a heavy heart and a hard pillow to swallow.

Modeling was no longer part of the game for you. It’s one thing you accepted a long time ago. The first night after the event took place, you managed to ignore that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, thinking that feeling would be gone in the morning, where all you had to worry about again was you and Jungkook, only to wake up and his offer being the first thing you could think of. You couldn’t get your mind off it even if you truly wanted to. Unable to help yourself, you couldn’t think of your meeting with Taehyung as much of a coincidence. Not when he was linked to your world of fame, to all the people you had let go of; the colleagues, the creative editors, the artists that you were once part of.

His card burnt the inner pockets of your handbag that night.

“Where are you heading off to that makes you want to say no?” Jungkook’s question pierces through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present as his voice brims with curiosity, his eyes searching for answers. Yet, you hesitate to respond, uncertain if revealing the truth would only complicate matters further.

“It’s nothing important, just personal matters.” You reply vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

The room descends into an uneasy silence, the tension thickening in the air. Jungkook senses your hesitation, his face contorted with frustration. “___, please,” he implores, voice tinged with hints of despair. “Personal matters? I’m your husband.”

Jungkook’s words strike a chord within you, the weight of his statement hanging heavily in the air. It’s not that you don’t want to tell Jungkook about Taehyung, about the session he promised you. It’s just that this is also something new to you. You don’t know what you want yet, you don’t know where this newfound opportunity with Taehyung might lead to. Discussing this with Jungkook only makes everything so much more official and binding.

“I met someone at the event—the photographer,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember him? His name is Taehyung,”

“Taehyung,” he repeats quietly, the question mark still visible at his forehead. His lips purse, searching your eyes for more clarity. “Yes, I remember him. What does this mean, ___?”

You can hear the impatience getting to him, the tension mounting between you both. “It means… we got to talking while you were networking with your coworkers,” you say, the statement leaving your lips a little saltier than you intended to. “So, the topic of modeling kind of came up in the conversation. Did you know he works with Minnie?”

“Minnie Chang? As in, your modeling agent?” His brows furrow, voice quiet enough for you to know this isn’t good news to him.

“Yes, her.” You nod along, unable to help the excitement growing at your chest. “Turns out Taehyung has been working with her on projects for some time. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, he still thinks I have some potential in the industry after all those years of neglecting it. He even gave me his card that night, says there’s no strings attached to it.”

“And now you’re off to a shoot with the guy himself,” he huffs as his arms fall limp to his sides, hands at his hips as he searches your eyes for something you can’t place. “I don’t get it, ___. I thought we agreed you were done modeling? You want to dive back into that world even though we got our own shit to sort out?”

“I know what we agreed on,” you argue back, taking a sharp breath. “It’s nothing big, Taehyung said so himself. It’s a one-time shoot and if I decide to do something with it, then I will.” His eyes tell you all you need to know, they’re sharp and dig into your skull. You drop your keys into your back with a sigh of disbelief. You can’t believe he’s doubting you right now. “But I know I won’t. It’s a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m looking for a fulltime job, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s frustration is palpable as he clenches his jaw, his voice tinged with bits of disappointment. “One-time thing or not, it’s about the principle, ___.’’ He says, more sternly than you’re used to when it comes to him. ‘’Seems like you’re ready to push our problems to the side this once. So why not twice? Or three or four times every time they'll call you in for another shoot?’’

You scoff, brow arching upon his daring words. Turning on your heel, you dart out of the door, beams of sun hit your face instantly. ‘‘You’re one to speak.’’ A humorless chuckle leaves your throat, the sour smile on your face still there even though it feels like it’s crumbling. ‘‘You’d finally know how that feels, then. When the person who is supposed to be there every step on the way just neglects you with a snap of the finger,’’ you angrily mumble, his own feet rushing after yours towards the car. You spin around once you reach it, feeling he’s hot on your tail. ‘‘It doesn’t feel good, I know, baby,’’ you say, voice laced with exasperation, ‘‘but you’re off on that trip in just a few days. Either of us are gonna have to get used to that feeling, whether we like it or not.’’

Jungkook’s footsteps slow down as he reaches to stand before you, towering over your smaller frame. ‘‘You can’t be serious,’’ he blurts, gesturing a hand towards his chest. ‘’Can’t you see that I’m making an effort? It’s not easy for me either, ___. I don’t want us to be apart any more than you do. So why push me away for some random shoot that just fell into your hands?’’

‘‘Because this,’’ a pointy finger swivels between your chests, emphasizing the growing divide. ‘‘This isn’t working.’’ The weight of your words press down on you, a heaviness settling in your chest. ‘‘It isn’t, and we’re still holding onto the last thread like it is. You and I need to come up with a new strategy or so help me God, we won’t last. Taehyung gave me an opportunity that night and I’m trying not to be miserable in this house, Kook. That’s all there is to it, I need distraction too.’’

You can tell he’s holding back. Can tell by the way he sucks in his tongue, jaw sharpening because of it as his lips turn into a tight line. ‘‘So this is it, then?’’ He asks, crossing his arms with a puffed chest. ‘‘Let’s stop trying and just hope for the best because you need a little something to distract yourself with. Correct?’’

“Don’t twist my words.” You snap, meeting his fierce gaze as the intensity of the moment grounds you both. “Fuck it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusing me of shit I didn’t even say,” you delve in your handbag, swearing you left your car keys somewhere in there.

You’re obviously hitting his last nerve. It’s clear, evident in the way he holds his index finger to his nose like he’s thinking. Frowned, sharp brows and a tight line of his lips as he weighs his weight to one leg. “We’re never gonna solve any of our shit if we keep running from it.” He says through gritted teeth, holding himself back from raising his voice at the driveway. “Do you want to make your point clear, is that it? Because I fucking got it. I’m a shit husband who puts zero time and effort into his relationship. I fucking got it. But I’m trying to get somewhere now,” he watches as you dig deeper into your bag, unable to focus on the task at hand with him fuming before you. “And now that I am, you’re feeding yourself into delusions because you want to be petty and are determined to make me feel the same way? Is that really what you’d rather do today, ___?”

“Please,” you repeat with a loud scoff, gaze burning into his. “Believe it or not, baby, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” you pinch his cheek in a mocking manner, not shocked when he’s quick to tear your touch off him. “Or at least, I’m trying not to make you my first priority, considering you’ve stopped doing that a while ago. If it taught me one thing over the years, it must be that it made me fucking miserable. Blame me all you want for not wanting to feel that way. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Baby,” he sings sweetly, a hand at your cheek as he makes sure your eyes stay locked together. He captures the fire blazing in your eyes, burning into his skull. “We can drop the big-girl act right now and head inside. I mean it,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Right now it’s your word against mine. I’ll pour us something to drink and we’ll sit down. Just you and me, that's all we need.”

You jerk away from his touch, the intensity of the moment still pulsing between you. Drop the act? You’re seething. Jeon Jungkook always finds a way to make the steam blow out of your ears. “I don’t need anything from you.” You snap without missing a beat, thankful for the way you’re magically able to find your car keys in one of the side pockets of your bag.

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, heavy with unresolved tension. You watch as his lips part, looking for words to argue with, but nothing comes out. It feels like a confirmation when it happens. You need to be anywhere but with him right now, and so does he.

Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.

It’s an obvious matter of fact which you can’t help but examine into detail. Taehyung’s fragrance fans you off in a refined way, a gentle and classy blend of notes that seems to match that charismatic, boxy smile he keeps sending your way. And while Jungkook usually dresses in formal designer attire, woody essence hanging in the crooks of his neck, Taehyung dresses not only to impress, but also to express his artistic soul. Loose button up tucked in black trousers that sway at his legs with each step, it comes to showcase his vibrant and flowy persona. The color palette, combined with that perfect set of teeth represents his chic, suave ways of working. It comes to contrast Jungkook entirely.

Maybe you notice it because you’ve nearly spent a decade with the man. By his side day in and day out with a commitment beautifully decorating your ring finger, straight to a point where you could no longer see through each other’s flaws. And maybe that is where Taehyung comes in as a fresh breath of air. Even now that you’ve only seen the man twice in a lifetime, you only seem to focus on all the ways he seems to differ from Jungkook.

Do you feel guilty about the fact you’re watching Taehyung like a hawk, the lens on him a little too focused to point out all the things Jungkook isn’t? Not really. Right now, you don’t really feel anything. You drove over to Taehyung’s studio with half a heart racing against your ribcage, all the things you and Jungkook told each other in the back of your mind even as you arrived. Fifteen minutes late and dissolved hair that seemed like a hand has been through it a couple times.

Taehyung didn’t question it and you’re thankful he kept quiet. The last thing you need to have on your mind is Jungkook. Not his angry words, not even yours. And the charming photographer did a great job at keeping your mind off him the first hour of the session, it’s not his fault.

“You hate them.” Taehyung declares at your side, the camera in his hands falling down to his lap in a defeated manner. He’s seated at the corner of the table, one leg dangling off it right next to your high chair.

“It’s not that I hate them,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the studio. Taehyung’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes holding onto a sense of curiosity. You feel the weight of his unwavering attention, and for a moment, Jungkook is all you can think of. “It’s more like I had forgotten how good this feels... all of this. Really, your shots are amazing. I guess I’m just kind of in shock.”

A tiny smile creeps up at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s only half the work with a model like you,” he snickers cutely, nudging at your side. “And I don’t want to make this an I-knew-it-better-moment, but... I kind of told you so from the start.”

You can’t help but return his smile. “I know, you’re a genius.”

“Your words, not mine.” Taehyung holds his hands up in defense, the smile that’s teasing at his lips enough to tell you he agrees. “So, what do you say? I’ve got a few empty portfolios in the back, we could print some of these photos out and make it yours.”

The wink he throws your way doesn’t go by unnoticed, his sneaky, encouraging grin filled with enthusiasm as he waits for you with a glimmer in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, lower belly piling with excitement at the idea of physically holding today’s shoot in your hands. Though the hesitation creeps at you, as if something stops you from letting that excitement flow out. “I don’t know, Taehyung…” You mumble, a toothy smile on your face even though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m gonna have to take that map home with me, and I’m gonna stare at those pictures for hours. It’ll drive me insane.”

Taehyung quirks a brow. “That’s the point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur quietly, and Taehyung is unable to pry his eyes off you, the grin from before now fading off and replaced with a concerned frown. “I know that’s the point. It’s just that... I don’t know. I’m going to want more.”

It takes a second before your words work through but the grin eventually works its way back onto his lips. Wide and closed-lipped with big effort, Taehyung fights hard to hold his toothy smile back, biting at his bottom lip to prevent it from happening. It’s cute how the little confession slips off your tongue and you’re so scared to see what the outcome could be. Taehyung shuffles at his seat at the corner of the table, shoulders relaxing. ‘‘I’ll give you more.’’ He says, and suddenly his cheeky demeanor is gone, looking at you like he’s closing down a deal.

You press your lips together but he can see the way you’re trying to hold your laughter back. ‘‘Taehyung, be serious.’’

‘‘I’m serious, ___.’’ He says, and it’s like he pronounces your name in slow motion. His pink lips pout a little as if he’s deep in thoughts, head tilting while your eyes lock. ‘‘I don’t see why not? You haven’t been on the job for years, the pictures obviously show that it comes to you like second nature… we’re a great team too, can’t deny that one.’’ He smiles charmingly, and it now results in you biting your bottom lips to prevent the cheeky smile from reappearing. ‘‘So, yes. I’d give you more if that’s what you wanted.’’

‘‘This is insane.’’ You nearly whisper, head shaking. ‘‘I mean, this is crazy, Taehyung. I’m not a model anymore. I can't just pick up where I left off, it’s been literal years and I probably just shouldn’t even think about it.’’

His shoulder leans into you, watching you ramble from beneath his black curls like he sees right through you. ‘‘Because of your marriage?” He asks, eyes shifting downward before he meets yours again and you’re uncertain where exactly they shifted towards, but it might be better if you don’t know.

You chuckle lightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. ‘‘I mean, sure. Jungkook’s my husband, he has some say about any of this.’’

‘‘Sure he does. But here’s a problem,’’ he says, a pointy finger in the air before it drops back to his lap. ‘‘You’re scared he won’t understand the purpose of it. Scared that he won’t be supporting you in all the ways you’ll need him. Right? Considering your husband is… sort of a prick. More or less.’’

You send him a scolding glare, one that’s not too hard on him looking at how you sketched Jungkook out to be that way in Taehyung’s eyes. ‘‘Tae,’’ you say quietly, ‘‘I know I mentioned some things about Jungkook back at the event, but really, he isn’t a jerk. Not a prick, or any of that sort. That’s only okay for me to say.’’ You add the lighthearted joke to keep the good atmosphere in the room. After all, you don’t blame him for thinking of Jungkook as a bad guy.

‘‘I get it, I’m overstepping my boundaries here.’’ He holds his hands up in the air, admitting defeat with that charming smile on his face. ‘‘But I’m just saying, ___. Relationships are important–marriage is important. But here’s the thing about you,’’ he pauses, voice lowering. ‘‘You have talent, undeniably so. I’ve captured it all today. And I truly believe that sometimes, you have to pursue your passions regardless of the risks. Regardless of anyone else if this is what feels right to you.’’ Taehyung holds his hands to his chest like he’s speaking from the heart and it makes you nervous how he says all these things like it’s so easy. So effortless to see the man you spend the last six years with as a risk.

Truth is, yes: Kim Taehyung sees right through you. He is right all along and you wouldn’t know how Jungkook would respond to making this whole ordeal a regular thing. Hell, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to react to it. With how shaky your relationship has become as of lately, how each one of your problems have circulated back to Jungkook’s office job some way or another, it’s hard to tell if the opportunity Taehyung offers you would truly work in your favor.

You take a deep breath, contemplating Taehyung’s words and the weight of them. The room falls into a brief silence though it isn’t pressuring, not trying to suffocate you for once. It’s not that you doubt the talent or passion that lingers within you, but you wonder if it’s worth anything if it means it would only dig your relationship deeper in the ground, especially when you and Jungkook are already trying so hard to climb out of that hole.  

‘‘It’s not something you have to figure out right now.’’ Taehyung shrugs, a reassuring smile at his lips when he catches him losing you. ‘‘I just want you to know you can always give me a call. I’d be down for anything going forward, ___.’’

You can hear the hope in Taehyung’s voice and you wonder why he tries so hard to make you understand. You appreciate it, though you wonder. You just figure he’s a good guy with a good heart.

‘‘You know, you can print those photos out.’’ You say, back straightening as you catch how it throws the guy off guard a bit, his brows rising. ‘‘I had these crazy ideas for the cover of my portfolio, anyway. Might as well put them to good use and take it home with me.’’

You even surprise yourself as the words spill from your lips, though you have no intention to take them back. You suppose this is what you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. Taehyung’s eyes almost seem to lighten up. ‘‘I knew you were a smart one.’’

And that’s how you’re ushering Taehyung towards the printer in the corner of his minimal studio before he can make any more smart comments. He reassures you some more time, sensing your absence as silence falls over you once more, insecurities still nagging at you even when you convince yourself this small step could lead to something good. Something bigger. At one point, it’s just the sound of the printer rapidly inking the paper as the both of you stand there on the side in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. But you’d say it’s rather an unfamiliar one. Taehyung never does anything to make you feel like a fish out of the water, he makes sure of it and you’re grateful for that.

Joy swells at your chest, leading to butterflies filling up your lower belly. Not because of Taehyung; even as you see right through his charming looks or flirtatious brown eyes, but because he saw something in you that night of the event that made a spark of inspiration flow. Thinking back at how easy it’s been with him, how you haven’t even met the man a week ago and how you’re now here, in his studio working on things you once called passion for—it drives you crazy.

‘‘You know what? We should celebrate,” he calls and the sound of his voice throws you off guard. “With some wine, I mean. You like red?’’

And that’s how you and Taehyung end up popping a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco in the middle of his studio. The curly haired man says he always has some sort of beverage stored in the back in case of celebration, and you believe him. His character is like a breath of fresh air. He goes with the flow, you can tell, that being all you’ve been doing in the past days you introduced yourselves to one another. One hand dug deep in the pocket of his voguish trousers and the next thing you know, you’ve finished up a shoot and are setting up your portfolio together.

You like Taehyung.

You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.

Conversation flows well, even after only a couple sips of the wine he poured you. Conversation has been flowing well since the start of today’s shoot, but now that you get to sit down, look him in the eye and get to know him better, you can tell you’ve got that chemistry. The air in Taehyung’s studio feels lighter, almost ethereal, as you sit comfortably at the foldable, rusted party table and squeaky chairs he pulled from the back. Only after apologizing a handful of times, his nearly empty studio only holding onto lightning and his required equipment as you sit in the middle of it. It’s not his day to day workplace, he told you, though you keep telling him there’s something to it. The minimal yet intimate air lingers and it makes you feel good on the inside.

There’s an effortless ease to your interactions, you’re not sure what it is that he does, but he does it. Taehyung’s laughter resonates in the room, infectious and sincere whenever he talks. You find yourself opening up to him, discussing your ambitions, as well as your fears. There’s a certain comfort in his presence, as if he intuitively grasps the struggles you’ve been facing and offers you a safe space to let it out.  

‘‘This is one of my favorites,’’ Taehyung leans back in his chair, one leg over the other as he brings his glass back to his lips. Your portfolio is sprawled out over the entire surface of the tiny table, resulting in you to lean over with your own glass in one hand. You follow his gaze, falling on the picture of you that’s taken from an upper angle, open palms directed to the camera and glued to your cheeks. ‘‘This one makes it seem like you never quit modeling–it’s probably something in the eyes. They’re captivating.’’

You feel your cheeks heat up as you peer at the photograph. It’s true, the image captures a certain intensity in your eyes, a spark that evokes passion. It reminds you of the days where modeling was your world, where it was your only ambition and when you were fully immersed.

‘‘I mean it.’’ He says when he notices the curl of your lips, unknown what to do or say next. ‘‘You’ve got the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in, don’t you know?’’ He enjoys seeing you so flustered, enjoys seeing how you turn in somebody new, so different from the woman he first got to know at the event. He almost feels proud for bringing this side out of you.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, Taehyung’s compliment leaving a cute flutter in your chest. You glance at the photo again, studying the intensity in your eyes like he described. ‘‘Thank you, Taehyung.’’ You reply sincerely, ‘‘I guess all of this is still kind of surreal to me. Didn’t think I’d find myself in a studio ever again, you know? It’s kind of a big deal to me.’’

‘‘I get that.’’ He says slowly, and you swear his voice drops a few octaves because of it. Leaning over the tiny table with folded arms, wine glass before you. Your eyes lock and neither of you care to say anything for another moment.

The afternoon carries on and shifts into an evening where the sun has already set before you can comprehend it. Taehyung’s squeaky party chair leaves an uncomfortable sting at your ass but you don’t mind, barely notice the feel when the nearly empty wine bottle sits there to stare at you both. A little liquid layer of red wine left over and waiting for you to finish as you hang onto Taehyung’s every word. Hang onto his tongue as he speaks of his experiences within the industry, speaks of everything you’ve been missing out on the past few years. You feel like that girl in highschool again, reading through Vogue magazines in between classes and cutting your favorite models out to stick it on to your moodboard when you were supposed to work on your homework.

Yes, you look up to Taehyung. It was inevitable from the beginning. You believe so, because Kim Taehyung’s the only connection you have right now who dives right back to that world. That world you’ve been dreaming of for so long and once made true. And not only that, but he was also the first person in a long time who saw you for anybody else than the wife of. Say you’re being dramatic, but it’s no more than the truth. Taehyung gave you an opportunity within the first ten minutes of truly knowing who you were. It says something about him. Something good that makes you feel like you can handle a lot more than you think.

You at 9.38 PM | Hi, I had a lil wine and I’m jus a little tipsy, but I probably shouldn’t be driving

You at 9.40 PM | do you think you can come over and pick me up?

Read at 9:40 PM.

You lay your phone flat on the table as you lean back into your seat with a loud huff. Copying you, his head tilts slightly. “I could just drive you home, you know that right? No need for him to drive all the way over here.”

“There’s that, but you’ve already done so much for me today.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “Really, there’s nothing you could do right now that would make me any happier.”

It’s true. Kim Taehyung made you the happiest woman alive today. 

It doesn’t take very long before you hear the shut of a car door right outside, followed by impatient knocks at the front.

“The one and only.” Taehyung murmurs with a teasing smile your way, lazily getting up from his seat before he moves to the door.

The door flies wide open and revealed behind it is your husband, hands at both his hips as his dress shirt stretches across his chest at the movement. He leans his weight onto one leg, analyzing the man before him. “Right here, sir,” Taehyung comes to stand beside him, stepping outside and pointing to something that’s out of your view. “I’ve got a doorbell. For future references.”

You catch the playful smile that’s tugging onto the corners of Taehyung’s lips and so does Jungkook. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly as he steps inside the small studio, fast to catch your eye from your seat at the table. “But I’m just here to pick up my wife.”

Jungkook’s steps sound heavy in the nearly empty space, leather designer shoes tapping against the flooring with a slight echo at each stride. He ends up in front of you by the table but doesn’t say anything, though you see his lips are pursed and cheeks are sucked in. Hands hiding in the pockets of his dress pants, you notice how his aura comes with a change of atmosphere. Let that be his body language, the strict look on his face, or maybe even the way you react to his presence—you know the change didn’t just come falling out of the sky.

You snap out of it when Taehyung closes the door behind him with a soft thud, followed by awkward silence. Your chair screeching against the floor comes next. “Taehyung,” you move around the table, coming to stand next to your husband and locking arms. “This is my husband, Jungkook.” The man on your side doesn’t care to return your touch. No arm at the small of your back, barely another look your way when he’d rather look anywhere else with pulled brows. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung. The photographer I told you about. He’s been doing such an amazing job at running today’s shoot.”

Being the bigger person in the room, Taehyung steps in to stretch out a hand, back curving slightly. “It’s good to meet you, I’ve only heard so much.”

Jungkook only provides him a nod of acknowledgment with each childish nerve that still runs through his body, ignoring eye contact like he’s still sixteen and his mama taught him no manners. You watch as Taehyung’s hand dissolves into a loose fist and falls to his side in defeat, you send him an apologetic smile to make up for it but he brushes it aside with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Alright, I guess we should leave.” You break through the ice, hand falling at your side as you roam around to search for your bag. You reach for the curly haired man once everything’s settled, and even though Jungkook didn’t care enough to return your touch before, you catch him tonguing his cheek when you reach out for Taehyung. “Thanks again. Really, I had a blast.”

“No more than I did.” He gives you his signature smile, the one that would leave many weak in the knees.

You bid your goodbyes, telling each other to get home safely as Jungkook watches from the side. You hug Taehyung tightly before you leave, an embrace where your arms are secured around his neck and his hands appropriately rest at your back.

It’s when you and Jungkook step out when you halt in the middle of the doorway, your portfolio that was secured beneath your arm now pushed into his chest. “Oh, Taehyung!” You turn around, hair sweeping against Jungkook with the sharp turn you take. Taehyung watches you with curious, slightly widened eyes. “Is it okay for me to give you a call later this week? I’d really love to repeat what we did today some time soon.”

His features relax, familiar grin returning. “You can always give me a call.” He smiles cutely. “Hit my line, I’ll have time for you, ___.”

Insecurity is not something Jungkook has had to worry about in the past, and certainly not now. Not when it came to you, not when you were entirely his, and he was entirely yours without any second thoughts. And he still trusts you completely, trust isn’t the issue. Insecurities aren’t the issue, either. And maybe, Kim fucking Taehyung isn’t what bothers him. Maybe it’s the way you seem to admire him, remembering that twinkle in your eyes from a long time ago. Remembering that smile you rarely save for Jungkook to see these days.

So, yes. Jungkook feels a weird tingle in the pit of his stomach like he’s being teased. Like it’s your first month of dating and he’s back in college again. Standing on the side like this, waiting for you to finish the conversation, the bitterness can only creep up on him at this point.

Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.

The drive back home is worse than when Jungkook came to pick you up. He isn’t saying a word and neither are you, but he seems to be the only one bothered by it. With one hand at the steering wheel, he catches a glance at you on his side. Your nose digs into the map Taehyung gave you to bring home and your focus holds so much, you don’t even notice him staring. He can’t see much of what’s on the inside, not with the sun that has already set and the darkness that has consumed his sight.

Once you arrive home, Jungkook makes a beeline to the bedroom and you don’t put in much effort to run after the man. You store the portfolio someplace safe, where you’re sure nothing could spill or damage it in any way. It’s undeniable how today’s events made you feel like an absolute doll. Maybe it’s the after effects, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re running your entire skincare routine with droplets of water from your shower still dripping from your wet hair. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve been feeling like a pretty girl all day and you want to continue feeling that way.

It’s evident in the way you choose to wear the prettiest slip dress you can find hanging in your closet, the satin material cutting off just beneath the swell of your ass. It’s a piece Jungkook bought you a while ago during one of his first trips away, coming home with a Dior bow wrapped around the luxury packaging and a boyish smile dragging up the edges of his lips. It’s been his favorite ever since. Always loved how the fabric hugged your every curve, the way your nipples seemed to pinch right through. The way his eyes were unable to rip his gaze off you.

It’s when you enter the bedroom as Jungkook’s broad back meets you, seated at the edge of the queen sized bed with his elbows resting atop his thighs. He doesn’t bat an eye as he feels the bed dip behind him. Your knees dig into the fluffed sheets as you reach closer, heaving a loud sigh like you’re calling out for him.

“You don’t like him, do you?” you hum sweetly, pausing when your front is pressed against his back, heat radiating between you. It’s obvious who you’re referring to, hands travel at his both sides before you embrace him from beneath his arms. “Taehyung is a talented guy, don’t be so hard on him.” You chuckle at his ear, leaving a single, soft peck at his cheek. “Maybe you should flip through the portfolio we put together. You’ll really see him in a different light then, trust me.”

Manicured fingers fumble around until they reach the lowest button of his blouse. Starting from the bottom, you undo it, and you can hear the subtle sigh coming from his nose, jaw set tight as his teeth grind together. You press a trail of wet kisses to his warm skin rather than commenting on it, right below his earlobe reaching lower towards the sweet spots in his velvety neck, nails teasing at his stomach as you continue to unbutton his shirt. Jungkook is holding back, you can tell by the way his head tilts your way and eyes close at the feel of your lips buried deep in his neck, tits pressing at his backside as your hands are all over him, eagerly fumbling with his shirt–not giving into your touch. Not yet.

‘‘You’re still in your work clothes,’’ you hum in his neck, as if it isn’t already obvious. His dress pants tighten around his thick thighs each time he sits down and it’s your favorite thing in the world, the outline of his hardening crotch a little more visible with each gentle nip of your teeth against his skin.

“Yeah,” he sighs. ‘’Just in case my tipsy wife couldn’t drive her way back home again and I’d end up changing clothes anyway,’’ Jungkook simply says, even if the bitter edge to his statement doesn’t go missed by you.

You chuckle cutely, the sweet sound roaming at his ear. Is that why he’s upset? ‘‘Okay, alright.’’ You breathe lightly, sliding the light fabric of his shirt off his broad shoulders, his hot and inked almond skin on full display when you settle for less, throwing the piece to the side. Playful pecks follow at his shoulder blade, tender and deliberate. You trail your fingers lightly along the curves of his muscular back until you decide you had enough, rounding him until you straddle him, both legs on his either side. Cupping his face, you make him lock eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry for the late night drive. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,’’ you confess softly, voice laced with a hint of mischief, hips carefully beginning to roll against his. ‘‘But I promise to behave next time, okay?’’

With his face cupped in your hands, you press your lips against his to pull him in a longing kiss, lingering a little longer than usual. You can tell he’s tired, that he doesn’t have much energy left over to deal with you, though your lips dance in unison anyway. Sweetly sucking onto your bottom lip like he’s hungry and you’re a free buffet. You watch as you detach from him, his eyes fluttering open after. “You’re in a good mood.” Jungkook hums with heavy lidded eyes on yours.

‘‘That’s because I had a good day.’’ You sing gently. Your wide, toothy smile would usually be one thing that he believes could halt anyone in their tracks. Though he beats you to it as you reach for another peck at the lips.

‘‘Hm, yeah?’’ He asks, head tilting. And even though his thumbs start caressing sweet circles at your exposed thigh, disappearing beneath the rich satin of your nightdress, all you can focus on is the tight line of his lips. The slight pinch between his brows. ‘‘My day was less fun, baby.’’

Your playful demeanor shifts at the seriousness of his tone, the straight face he gives you as he examines your every move unable to go unnoticed by you. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about the argument you had earlier today. It’s just that you’ve been in a position where you came as a second option to him all the time, so when the roles were reversed this morning, you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. Still, with a sympathetic expression, you lean in closer, a gentle whisper against his lips. ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ you ask, fully prepared to hear about all the ways he felt when you left the house like you haven’t been through it yourself.

He keeps his eyes on you for a minute longer and you can’t seem to figure out what is going through his head. Neither of you say anything and he keeps you in the dark for a moment, staring at you with those heavy lidded eyes that don’t bring you much further. “I’d drive around town to pick you up in the middle of the night, ___. You could call me at 3 in the fucking morning and I’d be there without another word.” Jungkook’s fingers tighten at your hips, gaze flickering to your lips. His voice is stern, like he’s preaching. You merely stare back at him with those big eyes of yours, like you wouldn’t have an idea where he’s going with this. “Late night drives don’t bother me at all.”

“Okay,” you pause carefully, head tilting to indicate you’re listening. “Then what does?” Two hands go through his black locks, pushing the hair out of his face as you begin to massage his scalp. The feel of your nails against his scalp is always so reassuring to him, even though not a hint of reassurance paints his face right now.

His lips press together. Why does he have to chew it out for you? You can’t seem to figure it out yourself and Jungkook’s patience is running on thin ice. It’s not a combination either of you like to see. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to keep employees on the job so long after business hours? It’s unprofessional, ___.” He drops the bomb, causing the fingers that are running through his hair to slow down. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t working, Jungkook.” You laugh, though his mood doesn’t lighten up. “Taehyung and I were celebrating–it’s my first modeling job in years. We kind of had to.”

“With wine?”

You halt at the shift in his tone, at his voice that’s laced with accusation. The single brow that arches up his forehead as if he’s searching for a reason to be angry, to find fault in your actions. ‘‘Yes, with wine,’’ you reply, maintaining your composure. ‘‘What’s the issue? You drink wine with your colleagues all the time.’’

The air in the room becomes tense as he continues to scrutinize you, eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. ‘‘At social gatherings, yes. Not one-on-one in a room the size of my kitchen cabinet, ___, come on. What are you even on?’’

‘‘What am I on?’’ You repeat and pull away from him, back straightening as your hands fall to your lap. ‘‘Jungkook, I'm not on anything. I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I was simply celebrating a milestone with a very professional guy. You do that all the time. Is that so wrong when I do it?’’

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression hardened. ‘‘It’s not about right or wrong,’’ he retorts, his voice sharper than it has been all night. ‘‘I’m just saying this guy is not your colleague, he’s not your coworker. He’s just some guy you met a couple days ago. I would have appreciated it if you had considered our relationship before indulging in a late-night celebration with another man.’’

Your eyes widen at his words, blood starting to boil when you cross your arms, jaw locked tightly. ‘‘Either you’re being very jealous and fucking possessive right now, or you’re making me feel like you don’t trust me.’’ You say, tone firm. ‘‘And it better not be the latter, Jungkook. Because we’ve been together for way too long to be worrying about this type of shit.’’

You watch him with anticipation but he doesn’t give you an answer right away. Just stares at you with those stern, dark eyes and raises a single eyebrow like you’ll have to figure it out yourself. ‘‘Oh my God,’’ you mumble in disbelief, flying off his lap and ripping his touch off you.

‘‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’’ he heaves a sigh, arms resting atop his knees as his hands intertwine. ‘‘I trust you, I always have trusted you. But him? I don’t know that guy, ___.’’ He points at the door with a flat hand. ‘‘And I’m not an insecure guy, you know that. I got nothing against him, but when you chose that guy to go to earlier this morning even after I told you I was ready to sit down and talk things through, then yes, it hurt my fucking pride. You just turned your back on me.’’

His words hang in the air as you stand there, his frustration and vulnerability obvious. ‘‘I’ve been in a position where I came as a second option to you before. Multiple times, Jungkook, don’t you forget that.’’ You scold him, keeping your voice calm. ‘‘You’re always scheduling meetings, saying yes to promotions and extra hours. Taking on additional responsibilities when you know our relationship can’t afford it right now… I’ve been ready to fix us for a long time, and I’d be the first one in line to give us all the closure we’re reaching out for.’’

You hover over him with the way he’s still seated, continuing. ‘‘But I’m not a puppet. You can’t just pull me out of the closet whenever it comes in handy, and you suddenly feel like talking things out. Like, you leave for that trip in four days and you feel like now is the time to talk things through?’’

He pauses, not uttering a single word for what feels like an eternity. His palms rub together like he’s in deep thought. And for a moment, you imagine what it would be like if your words finally seemed to work through, if they finally made an impact on him. You give him the time to process in silence, watching over him like a hawk, crossed arms over your chest.

‘‘Are you still going to see him while I’m away?’’ He finally asks, voice barely audible. His gaze fixates on a certain spot in the room, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

‘‘I don’t know, probably.’’ You huff, arms falling to your sides and losing all the hope you gathered before. ‘‘Are we still talking about Taehyung? I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation we’re having.’’

‘‘It’s important to me,’’ Jungkook asserts, standing up from his seat and sauntering up to you with deliberate, measured steps. He takes you by the hand, guiding you a few steps further into the bedroom until you both stand in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and continues to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘I need to know your answer before I give you your gift.’’

You blink slowly. A sense of weariness washes over you. ‘‘My what?’’

Jungkook holds you tightly, his front glued to your back like you’ll shrug him off anytime soon. His chest holds onto the same warmth it always has, radiating it to you and you’re instantly warming up at the feel. ‘‘You smell so good,’’ he digs his nose into a sweet spot at your neck, ignoring your confused state when he sniffs at your skin. Vanilla sugar scrub. The one he included in your valentine’s gift only a few years back, before you had gotten married. You had told him you loved it back then. And at first he thought you said it just to say it, up until the moment you started to swim in vanilla, only lasting a week or two with the product. Your brand new, shared bathroom permanently smelling like sweet vanilla and sugar, smelling like you.

You asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn’t tell. Don’t be such a guy, you told him. You had enough time in the world to run to the store and get it yourself. But he wouldn’t budge. Jungkook wanted to be the one to keep buying it for you. He wanted to be your guy; the one who bought you your vanilla sugar body scrub. And he has done it ever since he promised himself to become that guy. The one who made sure there’s a refilled bottle at your bathroom counter every month.

Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your collarbone. ‘‘It’d make me feel so good to have you on the trip, in my suite… smelling like this.’’ He says softly, veiny hands traveling over the thin, silky material of your dress until they get to slip underneath. Drawing gentle circles over your skin as you can only see the top of his head through the mirror with the way he buries his face in your neck. ‘‘I would be exhausted after working all day, but it’d be worth it. Don’t you think?’’

‘‘Jungkook…’’ He doesn’t give you much time to continue when his lips press against your skin. Wet, loud and lewd pecks left in an unfamiliar pattern down your neck.

Jungkook hums in the crook of your neck. ‘‘Maybe a change in environment would do us good.’’ His fingertips tickle you when they continue to feel you up, curling around the thin lace of your thong as he tugs at it. You’re unable to prevent the sweet gasp from coming out when it moves between your ass cheeks. “We’d get to be away from the house for a little while. To take all the time in the world to make up, to make sure we’re okay and ready to move on.”

You don’t stop him when his fingers carefully dip beneath the lace of your underwear, and you’re sure your brain has altered you from pushing him away. Altered you from standing your ground with two firm feet planted to the ground. Instead, you melt into him with the back of your own head prompted to his shoulder this time, bare neck on full display for him. You feel your knees getting weaker when he presses two fingers to your sensitive bud with a bit more pressure than you’re used to, his other hand holding onto you tightly to keep you standing.

It usually starts like this. One moment you’re arguing with him, pouring your heart out and laying yourself bare before him, and the next, you fall into him, forgetting what you were about to say next as you reach out for a breath of air. It doesn’t take long before you’re completely losing yourself in his arms, against his chest, two of his inked fingers dipping into your heat even as your walls begin to tighten around them. You don’t stop him, you love each drag of his thick fingers in your cunt as you stand on your tippy toes, tightly holding onto him at the nape of his neck while he fingerfucks you into another world. Jungkook sneaks a glance at you through the mirror every now and then. Once now, twice when he can feel his dick erect in his pants at the sight of your pinched eyes, your heavy breaths and your hardened nipples through your dress.

Jungkook brings you out to the bed when you nearly tip over without the heels of your feet supporting your weight. He lays you down carefully like you’re fragile, like you’ll break down any minute. Spreading your legs with your panties shoved to the side, he curses to himself when he laps at your sweet juices, coating his tongue as he sucks it up without a complaint as your fingers curl in his hair and back arches off the mattress. Pride is what he feels. Pride is what he feels when you tell him he’s wearing too much, when you tell him he could lose some and you wouldn’t mind. He does as you desire, taking off his dress pants as well as his already stained boxers to reveal the hard-on he’s been hiding. Red and swollen dick that’s so erect, it bounces back to his stomach. He watches as you eye fuck him, as your mouth waters only at the sight. At the ideas that swim through your head. It’s a tit for a tat, he tells you. A give and a take. You want him just as much as he wants you. It’s only fair you both get what you want.

It’s when you disregard your flimsy dress over the top of your head, tits bouncing back and hair splayed out over the bed when he feels like he starts to lose control. Fisting his cock in your warm, slick hand in between your bodies, you pump him up and down as he reaches for another kiss that leaves you breathless beneath him. He doesn’t mind you gasping for air every now and then, enjoying the feel of your chest rising up and down against his own. Hips thrust into your hand when your grip becomes a little tighter, a little more precise and a little more skilled, thumb reaching to tease at his tip. But he stops himself before he shoots his load right onto your stomach. If he’s coming anywhere tonight, it’s going to be inside you.

You know that’s exactly what he wants when you get to all fours for him. Knees digging into the made sheets, your face buried in the soft satin with your ass high up in the air just the way he likes. Jungkook’s hands are at your hips without hesitation, gripping onto your hips as he lines up to your sweet cunt. The first stroke is the one most careful. Even after being together for a total of 7 years, each and every time, you need some time getting used to his size. It doesn’t matter, whatever feels best for you, is what he has said from the beginning. After all, it’s all worth it when he gets to pound deep into you mere minutes later, skin slapping against skin as he watches your ass cheeks bounce back and forth.

He can’t take it. He needs to see all of you from each angle available. You’re not surprised when he gently tugs you up by the arm, though you nearly melt into him again and all your weight shifts onto him to carry back to the full length mirror leaned up against the wall. He pumps into your pussy there, making you watch as you get fucked from behind with a hand wrapped around your throat and an arm hunched around your waist to keep you glued to him. Your heavy breaths melt together the faster his pace increases, hitting your sweet spot with every pound of his hips into yours, with dirty thoughts slipping his tongue, with every drag of his cock into your dripping cunt while he consumes each plea coming from your lips. Begging him to fuck you until you lose it. Begging him to feel his cum inside you as you feel his every inch, feel his everything.

He does as you plead in the end. Jungkook comes undone inside you, your ass pressed against him while pretty whimpers leave your pretty mouth and he ignores his own panting to get the best out of you. His hips stutter when warm spurts of cum fill you up, leaving you like a mess hanging onto him with all the energy you have left over.

But he takes care of you after, like he always does. Jungkook lays you back onto the bed carefully, returning from the bathroom with a damp, warm towel as he cleans you up and hoists you back into your dress and beneath the slick sheets. He pushes your hair out of your face, pushes strands and pieces behind your ear and makes sure the sheets are pulled up to your shoulders. You lay on his side of the bed, eyes heavy lidded and ready to drift off. But he doesn’t mind. You’re exhausted, and for good reason.

‘‘Before you fall asleep, princess,’’ he begins softly, fingers gently brushing at your forehead to push off imaginary strands of hair, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly. ‘‘I need to give you my gift.’’

You had forgotten all about the gift.

Jungkook hovers over you, reaching for the envelope at his nightstand that has your name on it in that awful handwriting of his. He hands it to you and you take the piece of paper in your hands, fiddling with the corners of it as your eyes meet his again. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is that runs through your head, but your brows slightly furrow like you’re afraid to open it up.

‘‘It’s yours.’’ He nudges at your side, fist supporting the weight of his head next to you as he leans in closer. His voice is gentle, almost comforting, as if he wants to ease any worries you’ve been keeping from him.

You open it up, revealing another piece of paper inside of it.

First class passenger’s boarding pass.

He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction with those big eyes. ‘‘So, what do you say?’’ He asks impatiently. ‘‘Are you coming with me on that trip?’’

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please send me an ask to be added to the taglist. 

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[abbyshands]

abby drabbles for vday <3

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a/n; hey, all, happy valentine’s :) i was originally gonna have a fic for this but i was only able to do a few drabbles today &&& i don’t like any of them but it’s fine. also, woeeefully i have carpal tunnel, so with that and me needing to focus more on speaking out on palestine, fics will be more inconsistent (dw btw i am very much fine, just need to rest my hands <3 [which i obv did not do when i wrote all of these so quickly!])

♡ INCLUDES: sub!cam girl!abby bench pressing w/a vibe between her legs, dom!rival prosecutor!abby fucking you in her office, sub!football abby x dom!nerdy!reader

P.S.; please keep in mind that palestine is very much still bleeding. please look at the below links to learn of ways that you can help the people in gaza, and how you can learn more about this ongoing issue overall. please don't stay in the dark about this: like each post, reblog them, etc. if you like my work, then i am asking, demanding you to take the side that i'm on. free 🇵🇸, always.

LINKS: ways you can help | 🇵🇸 masterpost | MORE ways you can help I places to boycott, and families you can help escape | learn more

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a/n; ib by this post! <3

♡ imagine cam girl!abby, 185 pound barbell in her veiny hands as she pumps the load up and down, muscles flexing under the pressure. her face is red, body slick with sweat as her figure caves. you’re looking at her from the end of the bench, poised between her legs as you watch her workout. you crank the setting of the vibrator up for a third time, feeling your own heat build up as you listen to her whine and whimper. “come on, baby. just a few more reps for me, you got it,” you coo, knowing how close she is, hands weakening as the pleasure bubbling up in her core battles to take control. her filming camera’s in your hands, the one she used to go live and make videos with on a daily basis. you pan it to the wet spot that’s visible on her gym shorts, the smirk on your lips widening as the view nearly makes you drool. “look at her. so pretty like this, such a desperate girl,” you whisper more to yourself than to abby, earning a whorish whine from her lips as she pushes the bar above her head again and again. “mmm, s’that feel good, baby?” you coo as you bring a finger up to rub her over her soaked bottoms. abby’s face scrunches as she throws you a bit of an attitude. “y- you know it does,” she nearly snapped at you, and you can’t help but laugh. “hear that? she’s getting bratty with me,” you say, making sure to zoom in on her shaking legs as you give her thigh a small slap, earning a yelp from abby. you know full well her fans are going to go wild for this video, perhaps even more than you. when abby finishes her reps, body too weak to go on, you prop the camera up beside yourselves and place your hands on the sides of abby’s thighs. “good girl. did so well for me, didn’t you?” you ask, the only other noise being the buzzing of the vibe and the sound of abby’s little whimpers. “y- yes, ma’am, i did. n- now please let me cum,” she begs, and you feel merciful. you crank the vibe to the highest setting, and apply more pressure to her pussy with your fingers. you thumb her clit in circles, and watch as abby’s abdomen begins to tense. you push her shorts out of the way for better access, and remove the vibe to pump your index and ring into her soaked pussy, fingering her like a fucking pro. “f- fuck, so close, please, don’t stop,” she whines, and it’s not long before you’ve got the cam girl drenching your fingers in her cum, hips bucking for both you and the camera as it captures every little second <3

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♡ imagine rival prosecutor!abby, who you just won a huge case to, grabbing you by the wrist the second she could, and yanking you into her office. she was bending you over her desk at a rapid speed like she had so many times in the past, forcing you to take the seven inch strap that’s considerably a part of her at this point. “fucking whore. always fucking up my cases. let me show you how that, fuck,” she says as she thrust into you, deep, “fucking feels.” you only get to feel her when you make her lose a case, being the only way she can properly get her anger out. sometimes, you almost want to lose your cases on purpose. “well, maybe you should do your job better,” you challenge her, and, god, she does not like that. she grabs you by the neck as she pounds into you from behind, thick fingers digging marks into your skin. “don’t talk to me like that,” abby remarks as she pushes herself as deep inside you as she can possibly go. she’s so down and dirty with you, using your body like a toy, then discarding you until the next time she loses a case. “f- fuck, a- abby,” she’s got you stuttering soon enough, brain foggy with your own arousal. abby quickens her pace the second she can feel you getting closer to your high, chuckling. “yeah, you like that, huh? get so cockdrunk off this dick every time,” abby grunted. when your moans get too loud to the point where she thinks you’ll make the whole office hear, her large hand covers your lips, muffling those sweet, little noises. “shhh, shhh, baby. you’re my whore, mine alone. don’t want anyone else to hear those cute moans of yours,” she teases. soon enough, she’s got you soaking her cock in your cum, a whiny mewl of her name muffled by the hold she has on your lips. once you’re finished, she very briefly cleaned you up. but then, once she was done, negligence. “abby—“ you begin, ready to beg her for a little more of her attention. but she cuts you short. “none of that. you know this, sweetheart. i’ll fuck you when i lose.”

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a/n; very much inspired by this :3

♡ imagine sub!football!abby (x nerdy!reader) winning the last game of her season. there’s an after party, of course there is, but the buff girl who’s dominant in every aspect of her life, almost, can’t resist spending some time with her girlfriend first. “yeah, honey. played so well for me, didn’t you?” you coo as abby grinds her pussy desperately into your body, your hands digging into her hips. abby’s gorgeous nipples are bouncing up and down before you, perfect, and you make sure to take one of them into your mouth whenever one’s close enough to your face. “mmm, f- fuck, i did, baby, i did,” she moans, voice needy as she thrusts her naked body into your own. the friction she feels from the denim material of your jeans drives her crazy, rubbing up on her clit in the best way possible. your glasses fog up each time you pull her down for a sloppy, wet kiss, tongue dancing with hers as she grinds her pussy into you, desperate. “such a good girl. that’s it, reward yourself, baby,” you encourage her as she goes on, rutting herself into you. she moans as your pants brush up on her clit, burying her face into your neck to bite it, stifling the whiny moans falling from her lips. your hands grab her ass, gripping it as she pushes herself against you as hard as she could. “f- fuck, i love you so much, love you so much,” abby lets out in a whiny moan, easily making you smile. when you’ve got her on the brink, you take one of her breasts into your mouth, tongue swirling skillfully around her nipple. you give her a few small slaps on the ass as she chases her high, cumming all over your jeans in the end. you smile as you cup her reddened cheek, kissing the tip of her nose as she panted out heavily above you. “there’s my football star.”

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[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

I've also seen a lot of people asking for 6/7th year jily so I tried to include some. These fics explore how much they've grown in that period between the end of school and the rising tensions of war.

Of course, I've also included fics with marauders shenanigans. As always, these fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

Death and Other Inconveniences by @asteriaem

When James Potter disappeared for ten days in the middle of the spring term of their fifth year, the whole school noticed. He buried his parents in a quiet ceremony and returned to school amid outrageous rumours.

When Lily Evans disappeared for three days before the Christmas holidays in sixth year, two people noticed. She found the house packed, a nasty note from her sister, and spent the rest of the holidays sleeping rough. Both are left grieving and angry at Hogwarts over the summer, with no where else to go and war raging around them. Really, how else could it have gone?

God where do I even start? This fic is incredibly well written; everything from how well-rounded and dynamic all the characters are to the dialogue and descriptions. For everyone tired of character deformation and would like to read a long-form that explores the turbulence of adolescence coupled with grief and the uncertainties of war this fic is for you. When I say I miss old jily, I mean this exact era of characterisation.

Notes by @scriibble-fics

On an ordinary Tuesday in October of 1975, James Potter passes Lily Evans a note. She has no way of knowing it, of course, but it’s the first note of thousands that will pass between them in the years to come.

Head of House by SwissCheesePlant

The consequences of Sirius and James pretending to be boyfriends weren't supposed to come to a head during a convoluted and unnecessarily kinetic drinking game... but such is life.

As If By Magic by @annabtg

Lily Evans, Head Girl, is starting her seventh year at Hogwarts. Alongside her, Head Boy James Potter, who has always had a crush on her yet has given up all hope of winning her over. But between working together, sharing fun times with friends and getting through the darker moments that come with living in an era of war, things between them are bound to change...

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer (seventh Year jily).

Come Together by @thequibblah

It’s difficult to say when James and Lily took the first steps to love. Perhaps they had always been walking this road, unaware of the person they were walking towards until the mist cleared. They would fall in love eventually — but we would be remiss in ignoring the hiccups along the way.

Okay so confession, I haven’t read this but it's been on my TBR for ages and everyone's been recommending me to read it. Judging by other works by the same author that I have read, I can attest that Lily and James have always been well-written so I trust that this fic is no exception.

These next few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp because Abi's characterisations are perfect and there’s just something about her writing that transports me to the scene. This woman can make me laugh and cry and worry all in under three thousand words.

roots of memory

Lily frowns slightly, mulling it over. “I’m not really sure either,” she admits. “Honestly, don’t take this personally, but I don’t remember much about you in the first couple of years. I think I was too focused on trying to figure out school and magic and everything else.”

James clutches his chest in mock offence. “I’ll act like that didn’t just irreparably damage my soul.”

crafting chemistry

“Is there something that needs to be discussed between the three of us?” Minerva prompts, her eyes narrowing sharply.

Lily’s face betrays her first. A bright flush creeps slowly along her cheeks, blooming from her neck upward, as though her skin can’t hide the emotion simmering underneath. She keeps her eyes stubbornly trained on the far corner of the office, anywhere but James. Minerva notices James’s hand, the one that had been habitually running through his hair, freeze mid-motion, his fingers tightening slightly.

but we dream in the light (a continuation of one of my favourite fics)

“Lily Evans, we have got to stop meeting like this,” he grins.

She shakes her head, laughing. “Jesus Christ.”

James spins around dramatically. “Where?”

the dance of mischief and duty

Lily Evans is an infuriating mosaic of traits—beautiful and she knows it, captain of the House Quidditch team, and the loudest voice in nearly any room. She has this way of floating through the school, her laughter ringing out as she moves between corridors and classes, one arm usually slung around Sirius Black’s shoulder and the other gesticulating wildly as she spins tales of misadventure.

But she also sort of has a point, and that’s possibly the most infuriating part about her.

prompt: flip the script

my church offers no absolutes

She stares at him, her eyes the only ones open as the priest prays, but she can’t look away.

James Potter is here.

under the influence of loss

“Like what? You fancy me! Kiss me.”

Each time she says it, it’s like a new bruise blooms around his heart, her words pressing on all of them at once.

“I can’t!” he shouts, the frustration cracking through.

“Because I’ve been drinking?” she demands, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Your chivalry is duly noted, Potter, but I’m giving you a pass here. Just—”

“It’s not about that,” he interrupts.

You know what they say, you can tell who an author's favourite character is by how much they make them suffer

From the Edge by @maraudersftw

A three-hour-long detention. A barrage of unspilled words. A kiss that has remained unacknowledged. Until now.

That Summer by the_casual_author (on ao3)

In which James and Lily spend the summer in a house by the sea. (and fall in love in the process)

pleasant, poised, polite, professional by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans' journalism career is stagnating, and when Mumblemumps sweeps through the office, she couldn't be less pleased to be asked to cover the sports beat. James Potter, the captain of the Wimborne Wasps who is campaigning to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, only seems to confirm her worst fears about athletes. Until.

If you enjoyed James' characterisation in James Potter Won't Go Quietly then you'll enjoy this

Fantasise also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

When Lily ends up taking Veritaserum as part of one of Sirius' games, James finds that he really doesn't need to know any of the nitty-gritty details. Fate has other plans.

And James Potter also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

The most unfortunate part about being one of the best students in the year, if you ask Lily Evans, is being forced to work alongside James Potter. The most fortunate part about being one of the best students in the year, if you ask James Potter, is getting opportunities to annoy Lily Evans. The fact of the matter is, that despite their both being talented, intelligent students with bright futures and burning competitive streaks, Lily and James will never get along. No matter how much others think they ought to.

Braid also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

Sick and tired of revision, Lily gladly takes a distraction in the name of giving James Potter a helping hand.

Revenge Tastes Sweeter by @charmsandtealeaves

This by far had to be one of the more stupid things that Lily Evans had ever agreed to, and she’d gone along with a lot of her friends' bullshit ideas. She’d wanted to maintain her dignity in breaking up with her shit of an ex-boyfriend. However, fake dating James Potter hadn’t been in her grand plan of dignity. She’d merely been venting her frustrations to her dorm mates in the common room, she hadn’t expected advice and well… plotting. Though she should have expected better, these lot were always plotting something. Was it too late to just go with Dorcas’ “Stab him!” suggestion?

Simmer Until Ready by @kay-elle-cee

James Potter is not a healer. His is a potioneer—the Order of the Phoenix's lead potioneer, in fact. So when their top field fighter—Lily Evans—comes to him for treatment after a particularly rough mission, he helps the best way he knows how: a vial of freshly-brewed Skele-Gro and a dose of laughter.

Kels always writes the best order!jily

climb higher by penniesinthepool (on ao3)

It's been three (long) years since Lily and James have seen each other. Now, he's living out his dream playing Quidditch with Puddlemere United and she hers as an Auror.

They're happy. But fate (and annoying friends) works in funny ways, sometimes, and through a series of chance meetings, they begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they could be happier. My take on what would maybe happen in a universe where James wasn't Head Boy, taken to the extreme.

after O.W.L.s by @juniperpyre

a short snippet of James Potter's and Lily Evans' thoughts after their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., and before the altercation with Severus Snape changes everything.

It was so close to going a better way

Haley's characterisations are always on point

”Just” Partners by @petalsthefish

James asks Lily what they are after a series of long and hidden snogs in dark corridors.

tied to you by @jjameslily

Lily’s foot sank into the damp earth as she stepped closer to the water’s edge. The lake mirrored the starry sky above, but something else caught her eye – a shape in the reflection.

James my sweet summer child, thank you for looking after her

Love for the Summer by @missgryffin

It's the summer after sixth year, Lily Evans is realizing she fancies James Potter, and James has Sirius Black's motorbike to thank for getting Lily out of the friend zone.

of hearts and keys by the_crownless_queen (on ao3)

In a world where magic means everyone can see your soul, Lily Evans wonders what it would feel like for someone she loves to open her heart.

Seven Years and Seventy More by surlybobbies (on ao3)

When James walked into the 7th year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory a few moonstruck minutes later, he found Sirius lying in bed with his hands folded across his stomach. “Been with Evans, then?” he asked, without lifting his head. There was a distinct note of disapproval in his voice.

James froze in the act of unwinding the scarf from his neck. “Er, yeah.”

“She doing well?” Remus asked from his bed, the closest one to the door. He had a book open on his lap but had lifted his gaze when James came in. His stare was steady and pleasant, but there was a sharpness behind it that put James on the defensive.

(James has some news.)

This Town Is Fake But You're The Real Thing by @tedwardremus

Teen radio star Lily Evans works for a show on the wizarding wireless network called, The Marauders. The teen soap drama stars James Potter as an arrogant school jock and centers on the secret adventures of his friends in the forbidden forest as illegal animagus and a werewolf. The show's antagonist, played by Severus Snape, left after a scandal, and now Lily has a romantic storyline with James in the final season of the show. Basically, her life is a disaster.

Prophecy by Alohaemora (on ao3)

Faint rays of sunlight began to filter into the nursery from the pink-red sky outside, the morning song of robins and thrushes lilting as all of Sirius's worst fears manifested before him, devastating in their might.

"Fuck," he whispered. A horrible, painful lump swelled in his throat, clawing, stinging. "Fucking hell."

The corners of Lily's lips trembled. "James didn't know how to tell you."

Not quite a jily fic but I wanted to share

not as smart as you think you are (or how to fall in love in 7 months) by Squidge_06 (on ao3)

Lily Evans has spent the past 6 years excelling at school and hating James Potter. Both these facts converge suddenly at the beginning of her 7th year when she’s confronted with a less than perfect grade and a Transfiguration tutor who is the very last person she wants to see.

That same person might just turn out to be a whole lot more complicated and just a little more wonderful than she could ever have imagined.

Meeting the Potters by FloreatCastellum (on ao3)

It's always a risk, introducing your parents to your girlfriend. Most people don't have to worry about whether or not their mother is going to be in handcuffs, though.

Mistle-Wow by LiveLaughLoveToRead (on ao3)

Lily and James Potters’ love was fiery, filled with passion, tragedy, and love. It was not a fast ignition of a flame that proceeded to burn bright. No, it was a flame that was lit on the Hogwarts Express before anyone had joined the compartment. It burned brighter as their years progressed, and it was lit ablaze in their seventh year. It burned until the day they died.

Or an incident that would have had Madam Pince seething (if they were caught)

Simple Math by yallofthemwitches (on ao3)

Remus notices something is off about James and Lily at the Prefect's meeting.

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

Notes: Part one is linked here!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

The doors to the council room chamber finally shut, leaving only Alicent and her two sons by themselves. A tense air looms overhead, and Aemond Targaryen sits stiff in his chair, considering all that has just happened. 

I am to marry Jaenara Velaryon.

A funny feeling settled at the bottom of Aemond’s heart. Truth be told, marrying his niece was far from the worst possible marriage partner he could imagine. Aemond would never speak it aloud, but he had always found Jaenara strikingly beautiful. While she did not bear the signature Targaryen white hair, she shared their bewitching lavender eyes. Hers had always been an interesting shade, he had thought. And Jaenara had a remarkably Valyrian face. Many people amongst the court — even his mother Alicent — had stated that Jaenara was a spitting image of Rhaenyra in her younger years.

Aemond also admired his niece’s curious personality, which was an understatement. One second, she could be as cold as the winters of the north. A moment later, she would exhibit a kindness and warmth only read about in stories. She was a welcome challenge, Aemond thought. 

Jaenara, he remembered, is also a skilled dragonrider. She had a strong bond with her dragon, and had quickly honed many skills and tactics that many within their family — including her brothers, had struggled with. 

Perhaps there was more to admire about this match than he initially believed. 

Aemond finally raises his gaze to his mother and brother.

“I never thought you’d be one to play matchmaker, mother.” Aemond tells his mother, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. Amusement to mask his uncertainty. Alicent looks at him incredulously, wondering how her son could joke amidst such circumstances. 

“Oh you didn’t know?” Aegon scoffs, “Mother has already done this before. Can’t you see how happy Helaena and I are together? Surely you and your beloved bastard will also be a sight to behold.” 

Aemond opens his mouth to retort his brother's jabs but his mother beats him to it.

“Enough!” Alicent slams an open palm onto the table. Aegon scoffs once more and rolls his eyes. Their mother’s eyes hold sorrow. Guilt. She has nothing to say in rebuttal. What could be said in face of the cold truth?

Aemond is about to leave when his mother finally speaks: “You will speak to Jaenara with more respect from now on if you are expected to sit at her mother’s council…” she trails off, as if unsure of her own words.

“I seem to remember you spoke of her the same way not too long ago - what was it you called her? Plain-featured?,” Aegon says, “Though your criticism of Rhaenyra and her litter of bastards has lessened over these last few months. Has the Queen snuffed out your senses too?” 

“Aegon,” Alicent’s voice is heavy, “Aemond. Rhaenyra only has everyone’s best interest in mind. She is following her father’s dying wishes - your father’s dying wish. We were both with him in his last moments…” The woman before them clad in green closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“I know what has happened in the past. But this is our opportunity to put it at rest…”

Put it at rest? Aemond feels disgust at his mother’s sympathies. They took my eye. They made my childhood the nightmare it was. They chipped away at me bit by bit.  

“You say this about the same people who robbed me of an eye, mother,” Aemond responds coolly, “The same people who faced no consequences for this. I have seen how this has tormented you, even years later. As you have with me.”

The prince can see the conflict that bubbles below his mother’s surface. Alicent turns to her son and does something unexpected. She takes her hand in his. 

Aemond’s eye softens for the smallest moment.

“My son. There is no mending what has been left in the past. But there is still time to mend the future. I only wish to see you happy.”

He shakes out of his mother’s grasp. “She will do no such thing.”

Aemond stands and makes a brisk exit for the door. Leaving his mother and brother behind, and himself to his thoughts.

Someone will pay the price. And I will make him pay for it in blood.

The prince does not find sleep so easily that night. He challenges himself to imagine the look that would grace his niece’s face when her mother would have to break the news of their arrangement to her. He wondered if her lavender eyes would narrow in disgust, her lip curling in a snarl, anger palpable. Or perhaps she had looked to her mother with quiet surrender, making no reaction and solemnly accepting his hand. He decided she had done the former. Jaenara had always been a rather animated young woman - and that was putting it lightly. Even in their youth she had been this way.

In the quiet of his chambers, Aemond finds his mind enraptured by the princess. 

He is reminded of a time she had scolded him when she was a girl no older than six, and himself only seven, for pushing her twin to the ground and giving him a scraped elbow. The only person who managed to stop her tirade had been Rhaenyra. Aemond recalls the young mother scooping her twins into her arms, one flailing around still shouting at him whilst the other had tears streaming down his face. The prince smiles almost fondly from the memory, surprising himself.

The next memory that came to him happened a few years later. Aemond had more often found himself at the center of ridicule, frequently dealt by Jace and Luke. Oftentimes by Aegon too, though he chose to ignore that detail. The young prince had always felt distant to the rest of his family, as though he were different - lesser than the rest of them. And how could he not, as a dragon-less Targaryen. He was a dragon without wings. And his nephews had made sure he was aware of this. Aemond recalled how his blood boiled at the thought that bastards such as his nephews - such as Jaenara - had dragons. And yet, he did not. Was there something wrong with him? Had there been a reason his egg had not hatched alongside him in his cradle? Was he unworthy?

The taunting had reached a new level when Jaenara’s brothers had gifted Aemond a pig. Something he was much more worthy of rather than a dragon - they had said. He remembers when his nephews had revealed the creature to him in the training yard. Even Aegon laughed at him, so loudly it had caught the attention of Jaenara, who had been on the far end of the square speaking with Helaena. Aemond remembered how her gaze had turned to him - how he waited for her to join in on the teasing and laughing. 

No such thing happened.

Jaenara bounded over to the group of boys, a quiet storm forming behind her lavender eyes. Helaena had opted to hang back from the debacle, watching the impending uproar with rapt attention. 

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Jaenara had asked aloud when she finally reached their group. 

Silence. 

Jaenara continued, “I seem to remember that you yourself Jacaerys - you have made very little progress in even mounting Vermax.” The young boy averted his attention to the ground, suddenly very interested in a mound of dirt near his feet. The reprimanding had not stopped there.

“And you-” She turned to Lucerys, “You on the other hand may be able to mount your dragon, though you find yourself on the ground within seconds.” She looks between her brothers, and then to Aemond. Each holds their gaze with the other for a few moments.

“Neither of you have any room to be acting as though you are real dragon riders yourselves.” She seems to have finished, turning on her heels and running back to Helaena.

“AND TAKE THAT PIG BACK!” She yells over her shoulder. Aemond watched as his sister and niece strode away, arm in arm. He returns his attention to Jace and Luke, whose faces are the same shade as their house colors. Aegon’s laughter fills the yard again.

This incident had shown Aemond a different side of his niece. For an instant, he was filled with an immense regret for all the times he had ever been cold to her. The times he had called her a bastard. The times he had joined in on Aegon’s belittling of her and her family. She had taken all of that - for years on end - and still defended him. He couldn’t really understand why.

He can do little to prevent his least favorite memory from entering his mind. Aemond takes in a breath and closes his eyes. He remembers the night at Driftmark. The night he had claimed Vhagar. The night he lost his eye. 

That time had been different. Jaenara had not been present when the fighting had broken out - not until Rhaena had frantically found her and told her of what was transpiring, unsure of what to do herself. When his niece entered the room, Aemond had been on top of her brother. The sight had sent the young girl into a frenzy and, without fully understanding the context of the situation, she had flung herself onto Aemond and wrenched the boy off of Lucerys. 

“Get off of him!” She had screeched. With her arm wrapped around Aemond’s neck, Jaenara threw herself back and they soon found themselves on the cold floor. “What do you think you-” Her question remained unanswered at this moment - this singular distraction turning Aemond’s attention towards his niece. He remembered the bewildered look on her face, her black hair coming loose from her braid. Her white night dress and the light purple robe that clung to her. A bead of blood on her bottom lip. She had always had a bad habit of biting it, Aemond had noticed. Hard enough to draw blood. The blood began to trickle down her chin.

It was the last thing his good eye had ever seen before Luke split open Aemond’s face, from his cheek to his forehead. His own blood splattered onto Jaenara’s powder white gown, staining the cloth forever.

Darkness. A scream.

Aemond sat up in bed, blinking away the rest of the memory. He opened and closed a fist. Yes, he was sure of her response now. Jaenara was not happy about the prospect of this union, and had surely let her mother - and the entirety of Dragonstone - know this. Where she lacked Velaryon parentage, Jaenara’s Targaryen fierceness made up for this tenfold. 

She will meet her match.

Aemond would swallow his pride - swallow his grudges against his niece, and become her husband. Though, he decided, she should not expect much from him. He held no love in his heart for her. Surely no romantic love. He would use her as he needed, to obtain what he wanted - power. That, and retribution for the slight that his family had suffered in having Rhaenyra as their Queen. Though some of the weaker members of his family would not see it his way.

He circles back to the dark thoughts that had crossed his mind earlier. He would be doing his soon-to-be wife a favor in getting rid of her twin. She would be made heir to the Seven Kingdoms. It was probably the closest act akin to love Aemond would find himself capable of accomplishing during their relationship. And he would help her to rule. He was nothing if not helpful.

He could make it look like an accident. He had previously considered poisoning Jacaerys. Aemond would not act until a comfortable time into his marriage, so as not to raise suspicion. Though he decided, suspicion would be raised regardless if the heir were to suddenly drop dead in the middle of dinner. He hardly thought that hands clenched around the throat, skin purple, and eyes bulging out of his head would seem inconspicuous.

Poison was out of the question.

Aemond Targaryen feels a sudden sense of dread in plotting his own nephew’s demise. The dread only grows when he truly pictures carrying the act out himself. If he were ever to be discovered, The Realm would christen him with the title of Kinslayer. 

To be a Kinslayer is to be despised by The Gods. To be damned to the Seven Hells. 

Aemond is unsure if he harbors enough hatred in him to carry out the act, though he certainly is no stranger to being on the receiving end of such hatred. 

He considers if he possesses enough complacency to suffer the consequences, should they be dealt. He wonders if his heart is as hard as everyone else believes it to be.

And yet…

Unable to find sleep, Aemond climbs out of bed once more. He dresses and finishes the outfit off with his long black cloak, throwing the hood over his head. 

The One Eyed Prince slips out of the Red Keep and ventures into the Streets of Silk, hoping to find some semblance of comfort. 

— — —

Candlelight illuminates the face of the young princess as her eyes scan the pages of a rather large, rather dusty book. In the days before their inevitable departure, Dragonstone had become a whirlwind of busy servants and flustered royals. All of Jaenara’s possessions had been packed away and taken to King’s Landing ahead of time with the family’s servants, save for the text seated in her lap. In such a tumultuous time, the young woman found solace in its pages. 

Jaenara had read the story of Rhaenys Targaryen, one of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives, so many times she felt she could recite the text backwards. Visenya had been a sister more remembered and revered by history for her valor and fierceness as a warrior; though Jaenara found herself drawn to the gentler sister. Rhaenys was more of a revered politician than a feared warrior. To Jaenara, she was just as formidable. She wanted to be like the Queen. Loved and feared. 

A knock upon the door turns her attention away from her histories. Jacaerys enters her chambers and lingers at the door for a moment, before resigning himself to sit next to her on the plush bed. 

“Jace,” Jaenara breathes, closing the text. 

Jacaerys looks over the book. 

“Again?” He attempts a small smile. 

Jaenara gets up from her place on the bed to create some distance between her and her brother. She places the book on her writing desk, taking mental note not to leave the book behind when she leaves tomorrow. “I find comfort through her in times such as these.” she responds shortly. 

Jace sighs, “You have been avoiding me.”

“You have made it easy.”

“Nara,” Jacaerys begins to sound annoyed, “You are not the only person who has had to…adapt to this change.”

Jaenara turns swiftly towards her brother, loose raven tresses swaying behind her wildly, “No, but I am the only person amongst us who had had their hand sold to a snake. You cannot understand my grief, Jace! You are betrothed to Baela - sweet Baela. You two actually like each other. But I am condemned to be the conciliatory sacrifice of this family.“

You are being unfair. Jaenara says to herself — she knows it to be true. You are being difficult. But she cannot help it. Her twin was afforded the luxury of being born a man. A man who did not have to face the same realities she currently found herself in.

Jace shifts on her bed, frame creaking under him. He seems to struggle finding his words, “I…you are right Jaenara,” He sighs, “I do not know what it is like. Just as you do not know what it is like to now be heir of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She glances at him and her twin continues.

“We both have the burdens of our parents to bear. We wear crowns too heavy for us.” Jace is solemn.

Jaenara bites her lip hard and lets out a shaky breath. A sickly sheen of guilt settled in her stomach. It was true that she had not considered what the rest of her family had been feeling of late. She seats herself beside Jacaerys and the bed groans under their weight once more. 

“I am sorry Jace.” Is all she can muster up.

Jace places a reassuring hand over her own. “You may yet make some use out of your upcoming marriage.”

Confused, Jaenara looks to her brother.

“Aemond is a fierce fighter. He is well versed in the histories and philosophies. I hear he has become a knowledgeable strategist. He rides the largest and oldest dragon, who is no stranger to battle.” Copper eyes meet lilac eyes. “And with you as his wife, he will be in our pocket.”

“He would be a formidable ally to have. But Aegon holds a seat on mother’s council - not Aemond.” Jaenara asserts.

“I as heir and you as his wife could sway this decision.”

“Mother has not even been crowned and you are already scheming.” Jaenara’s words are not so chiding as they are playful.

“Not scheming. I only hold our best interests in mind.” Jace tells his sister.

She looks him over once more. When had they become so…grown-up?

“You tell me you are fearful of wearing the crown one day…I think you will come to wear it well.” Jaenara softly smiles as Jacaerys scoffs and rises to his feet. 

“Just think it over, Nara,” He turns to the door, “You must rest. We rise early in the morning and depart for King’s Landing.” 

Before he leaves, he throws a glance at his sister over his shoulder. “I won’t let any harm come to you…from him.”

Jaenara does not let on how much the words mean to her. She has always disguised her true feelings under a cover of dripping sarcasm. “You need not worry about me, brother. Perhaps you should protect him from me.”

Jacaerys laughs and leaves again.

As Jaenara climbs into bed, she considers her brother's words.

Where he may prove to fail as a husband, he could make up for as an advisor. A weapon.

The princess blows out the candle and dreams.

In her slumber, Jaenara is face to face with Aemond Targaryen. He stands opposite to her, in front of a throng of people. She looks down and sees herself clad in an ornate dress of scarlet, white, and gold. Her black hair is pinned up in several twisting braids. The One Eyed Prince looks to his beautiful bride, eye full of admiration. For a moment, she thinks he might love her.

She thinks she may like that.

Suddenly, gasps are heard around the crowd. The gasps morph into shouts, scattered all over the Great Hall. A sharp pain. Jaenara feels a sticky warmth envelop her cheek, and feels something dribble onto her wedding gown. She reaches a trembling hand up to her face, pulls it back, and watches blood soak her palm, dripping below her wrist and all the way down the length of her arm. The wails echoing throughout the hall only grow around her. It is maddening. A sickening pop makes her blood run cold and she watches as one of her eyes rolls onto the floor below. 

Her husband’s mouth moves yet his voice comes out delayed, a haunting chorus.

An eye for an eye.

Jaenara wakes to another knock at her door. 

“My lady, may I help you dress?”

The princess wills her breath steady and wipes the sweat from her brow.

“Come…come in!” She calls out to her handmaiden. 

There was no time to dwell on the meaning of dreams.

— — — 

Prince Aemond sits across from Helaena as her children busy themselves with their toys. A handmaiden hands Jahaerys a toy dragon, which the boy launches at his brother. 

“I think I will be glad to see them today,” Helaena says suddenly, looking up from her embroidery, “In truth, I have missed Jaenara.”

Aemond continues to watch his niece and nephews play as he answers his sister, “You may be the only one amongst us who feels that way,” He mutters, “Though I do remember how close you and Jaenara were as children.”

Helaena had been an even lonelier child than she was now, as a lonely young woman. Always murmuring words that his family could not understand, and did little in trying to understand. Aemond had always felt sorry for her. But Jaenara did not seem to mind her aunt’s off putting nature. He recalls them as young girls, running throughout the castle gardens together, trying to catch butterflies. He remembers as they grew older, a few young ladies in court had taken to calling his sister, Helaena The Hysterical.

Before Aemond could put an end to the name calling, Jaenara had done it herself. The girls in court would not so much as look at either of them wrong.

And most of all, Jaenara listened to Helaena. Something nobody in his family seemed to do. Not even him, in truth. 

“I would hope you two can become close as well,” She gives her brother a wistful look, “You are to be married.”

“I think us siblings are doomed to hold strained relationships - at best - with their marriage partners.” Aemond replies. 

Helaena looks down at her sewing. Maelor and Jaehaerys fight over a wooden horse. Aemond’s sister remains in front of him, though she looks as though she is worlds away.

“Those child led astray finds solace in the embrace of the sea.” she whispers.

Aemond’s attention is redirected from children to mother. A silence passes over him and his sister’s handmaids.

More innocuous ramblings, he thinks.

A servant enters the door to inform the sibling’s of The-Queen-To-Be’s arrival.

“Come, sister,” Aemond begins, “Alicent will be waiting for us. She wishes to receive our family in the Great Hall.”

Helaena sets down her embroidery and looks up at her brother, “A dragon’s ambition foretells his own undoing.” 

Aemond chooses not to hear her words.

— — —

Jaenara and her family’s reception in the Great Hall could not have felt more strained. Guarded expressions and tight lipped smiles adorned Alicent and her children - though Aemond and Aegon had not smiled at all. Helaena seemed blissfully unaware of the anxious energy surrounding her. Jaenara had sent a secret smile her way - a genuine one. And though she felt her uncle’s eyes boring into her, she refused to meet his gaze. 

Rhaenyra had been displeased by the whole ordeal, hoping to ease tensions at dinner. Jaenara found herself remembering the last dinner she had shared with her entire family and thought it to be an impossible task.

Jaenara had spent the time before dinner settling into her new chambers, though all her belongings had already been settled into place before her arrival. The room felt more inviting than her chamber’s in Dragonstone, which were drab and dreary. Though, this was the only silver lining she could find about her circumstances thus far.

When the time had come to prepare for the evening, the princess disrobed from her riding leathers, the smell of dragon peeling off along with them. Her handmaidens help her to dress in a gown that Rhaenyra had picked out for her.

I do not even have the agency to dress myself now?

Jaenara stepped into a dress of crushed velvet, a dark teal in color. The neckline was embroidered with pearls, illuminating her collarbones. The sleeves of the gown hang loosely and open at her wrists, revealing a pale cream color which lines the teal. A belt of silver bangles mixed with pearls hangs around her waist, crested above the teal, cream, and aquamarine shades of fabric that pool to the floor. The attire bore the unmistakable air of Velaryon fashion. The wearer, not so much.

Portions of Jaenara’s dark silky hair were re-braided into a ring, as if it were a crown sitting atop her head, while the rest of her hair remained loose. Black waves ran down her back like a waterfall. 

Her ladies had been told to do this, to help her into a fine gown. To adorn her ears and wrists with bangles. To fix her hair in a way that flattered her face.

To impress him.

She almost laughs out loud at the thought. Jaenara figured that Aemond would find her as charming as he had found that pig he’d been gifted all those years ago.

She decides to regard him similarly, despite her thoughts drifting to long platinum hair that she envied so much. 

Her maids had finally finished with their work. 

Jaenara is sitting around a great wooden table in the dining hall, with the entirety of her family. Servants have begun to deposit plates filled with meats and vegetables and pies and cakes all around. The clanking of plates and silverware fills an otherwise quiet room. Jaenara is begrudgingly sitting next to her uncle, and Jace and Luke shoot her looks of pity from across the table. She picks up her glass and takes a swig.

Suddenly, Rhaenyra Targaryen speaks, “I wish to clear the air,” She begins and everyone looks up from their plates. Alicent Hightower seems especially stiff. 

“I do not wish for this to be a time of tension and formalities - though I do thank you,” She looks at Alicent directly, “for your welcoming reception earlier today. I want us to speak freely amongst each other. I want only what our father, Viserys, wanted.” She makes a gesture towards her siblings at the end of her sentence. Aegon clears his throat.

“There is much to discuss in the coming days, but I want this to be a night of camaraderie and celebration.” Her mother stands, drink in hand, “Let us raise our glasses-”

Jaenara feels herself melting into her chair.

“-To the union between my cherished daughter, Jaenara Velaryon, and the prince Aemond Targaryen. May their union bring strength and prosperity to our noble houses, and may it be blessed by the gods." Her voice held a hint of cautious optimism, echoing the hopes and dreams of a realm poised on the brink of new alliances.

Jaenara lifts her glass, as well as her attention to the man next to her. Aemond is already looking at his niece, a smirk on his face. 

To everyone’s surprise, Alicent Hightower rises from her seat. She looks less burdened from the words of Rhaenyra.

“Thank you, Your Grace…for your unflinching understanding.” The two women share a look, “And to Jaenara and Aemond. A lovely match indeed.”

Helaena begins to clap, though no one else around the table shares her sentiments.

Aegon lets out an audible laugh at the toastings, “Apologies,” he adds quickly, “I am just so - overjoyed by this…marriage.” His voice drips with sarcasm. 

Jaenara forces a smile, though her eyes shine with a different expression, “I am happy this match pleases you, uncle.” 

However, Aemond does not let the jab pass unanswered. "I hope your joy does not swell too greatly, brother," he retorts, "for dragons have been known to breathe fire when overshadowed." 

Jaenara sits up straighter when she sees Aegon roll his eyes and throw back his cup. She regards Aemond with a quizzical gaze. The princess regarded Aemond’s retort as nothing more than a brotherly spat. Before any more slights can be passed around, the servants finish bringing out the rest of the food. The family begins their dinner and small conversations break out amongst those resigned to sit next to each other.

The princess watches her brothers laugh with Baela and Rhaena. Sees her mother and step-father speak with one another. She pushes her food around her plate.

The sudden sound of Aemond’s voice makes her jump, “The cooking of the castle staff does not please you?” he asks, amused.

Jaenara stops playing with her food and her eyes cut away to her uncle.

“The first conversation you wish to have with me - in years - is whether or not I like our meal?” her voice drips with condescending skepticism, “As if the fate of the realm hinges on my opinion of pigeon pie?”

He tsks at her, “Always so difficult niece. I am only attempting to make conversation. An endeavor that seems beneath you - a pursuit you avoid at all costs if it is with me.”

“You are just…quite bad at it.” Jaenara remarks.

It is Aemond’s turn to take a sip of his drink to hide his annoyance.

“I do enjoy that…costume you’re wearing. But you are more a Targaryen than a Velaryon - don’t you agree?” Aemond says lowly.

Jaenara knows his remarks are meant to be demeaning, though she tries to take it in stride. She was a Targaryen after all. And she was pleased that she acted so much like one that people took notice, even if it was Aemond. But an insult was an insult all the same. 

Exasperated, Jaenara turns to the prince fully, “Is this what I can expect when married to you? Insults thrown at me for all my days to come? You should know I can deal them out as well, twice as hard.”

Aemond chuckles, “You are too easy and quick to provoke, Jaenara. You are too tense.” She sees something flicker beneath his eye.

Aemond took pleasure in goading his niece, reveling in the predictability of her fiery responses. More silence passes between them. The prince watches Jaenara force a few bites of food into her mouth and continues to eavesdrop on conversations around her. Daemon whispers something to Rhaenyra, and her mother takes a glance at her daughter and half-brother. Jaenara winces. 

“You asked what you can expect being my…wife,” Aemond’s surprisingly soft gaze is already fixed upon her, “You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love. But one founded on mutual…respect. Understanding. We shall navigate this pact with the grace and duty befitting of our situation if you would only allow it.” His words somehow put her at ease.

Jaenara is perplexed. Maybe her mother had been right in saying that Aemond had changed. Though she was skeptical of his remarks. It was yet uncertain whether they could truly let go of all that had transpired in the past. 

Although, the princess felt ever the faintest tinge of disappointment at his words.

“Well…” She begins, though her words do not come out as strong as she would like them to under her uncle’s intense stare, “I am…pleased to hear that. We do not have to feign ignorance then. I expected nothing more from us.”

To Jaenara’s dismay, Aemond seems amused. It is not so often she stumbles over her words. His gaze lingers over her. He takes notice of the pearl that sits prettily below her collarbones. He watches her eyes fall to her hands, which she wrings in her lap. Jaenara finds that she does not like how being at a loss for words makes her feel, and decides to throw back her drink, trying to find comfort in the bottom of the chalice.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au idea! This story was actually supposed to be a part of my fic "What to do When an Eldritch God Decides That You're Friend-Shaped", but I decided that this idea didn't really mesh well with the rest of that fic and would probably be better off as its own separate story.

And I will say, in my opinion, that this is probably one of my best au ideas yet. I had so much fun just writing this! Also, heads up, this post is going to be very long because I really love this idea! So, I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this au, which is set post-Camlann, Morgana wasn't able to take Merlin's magic away before the battle, so Merlin was able to save Arthur and defeat both Mordred and Morgana without revealing his magic. He was also able to prevent Gwaine's death since he kept Morgana preoccupied in the battle. So, Camelot is saved, and everything is great!

Except, Arthur has some questions. He knows from Morgana's furious screams during the battle that she was killed by a sorcerer named "Emrys", but Arthur never saw him. And Arthur recognized that name from when Morgana taunted him years ago by saying "Not even Emrys can save you now."

Arthur knows that he owes his kingdom and perhaps his life to this Emrys guy, but he knows nothing about him other than that he's a very powerful sorcerer, more powerful than Morgana. This frightens Arthur, as he doesn't know what Emrys wants or why he helps Arthur. For all Arthur knows, Emrys could be just biding his time to take over Camelot and was simply doing away with his competition by killing Morgana.

After things calmed down after the battle of Camlann, Arthur decides that he needs more information on Emrys. Who he is, what are his motives, how can they find him, and a million other details that Arthur needs to ensure his people's safety. He first goes to Gaius for information, but Gaius can tells him that, according to the myths of the Old Religion, Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and is held in high regard by the druids.

Gaius's answer only heightens Arthur's alarm, as the prospect of having to fight to most powerful sorcerer ever is terrifying to him. However, he still doesn't have any good information on Emrys, so he goes to the next best source: the druids.

Thanks to Arthur making peace with the druids after promising the ghost of the young druid boy and permitting them to use their magic for peaceful purposes only, there were a couple druid camps not far from Camelot. Arthur picked the closer one and took a day to travel there alongside Merlin and a few knights in the hopes of finally getting some answers.

When they arrive at the camp, they're met with worried glances and panicked faces, but the druid elders welcome them into the camp nonetheless, offering them all a seat by their campfire and warm meal. Once they got settled and Arthur exchanged some pleasantries with Iseldir, the druid chieftain, Arthur was finally able to ask what had been plaguing him for weeks.

"Iseldir, I know that your people hold a sorcerer named Emrys in high regard, and it's come to my attention that he was responsible for Morgana's defeat at Camlann and possibly on other occasions. Please, I need to know more about him and why he's chosen to help me."

Several people froze and tensed at Arthur's questions, including Merlin. Arthur sighed internally at Merlin's usual panic. He knew that Merlin could become easily scared in the face of magic, so he should have knows that his friend wouldn't approve of Arthur actively seeking out a dangerous sorcerer.

After a short, tense pause, Iseldir clears his throat and responds.

"I'd be happy to answer some of your questions about the god of magic!"

Wait, did Arthur hear that correctly? God of magic?! Arthur, in his shock, blurted out,

"Emrys is a god?! I had heard that he was a powerful sorcerer, not some deity!"

Iseldir chuckled a bit before responding,

"Emrys is indeed the god of magic in the Old Religion, the son of the Triple Goddess herself! He is not simply the master of magic, but rather magic itself, its very incarnation!"

That... was a rather frightening prospect, and it confused Arthur even further. Why would magic itself fight against Morgana? Why take Arthur's side? And, perhaps more importantly, was Arthur going to have to fight a god in order to protect his kingdom?!

Iseldir continued before Arthur's hysterical thought could bubble up to the surface.

"As I said, I'm happy to answer your questions, but please know that there are some secrets that Emrys has entrusted our people with that we cannot divulge, and there are some truths that might be... difficult for you in particular."

Arthur frowned at Iseldir's answer, unsure of what to make of it.

"What do you mean it might be difficult for me in particular?"

Iseldir winced a bit, grimacing like he didn't know how to respond without warranting a negative response.

"Well, there are some elements of Emrys's story that intertwine with your own life in some ways that you might not expect or be ready to hear at this point. Your life and Emrys's are highly connected, King Arthur, even if you don't know the extent of it yet."

Arthur's eyes widened at this admission. His life was connected to this mysterious god of the old religion? How could that possibly be true? He had didn't even know that Emrys was a god until a few moments ago! However, as curious as he was about what Iseldir could be talking about, he had more pressing matters at hand.

"We can discuss how I am connected to Emrys later. For now, I need answers to more important questions. Why does Emrys help Camelot? What is he hoping to get out of it?"

Iseldir looked much happier to answer this question, speaking calmly with a serene smile on his face.

"Emrys had many reasons to stand against the witch. She frequently hunted down and killed more peaceful magic users who did not share her taste for vengeance and bloodshed, including our fellow druids and even the Catha, a small sect of priests of the Old Religion that followed Emrys's will. Emrys fought against Morgana to protect these followers of his from her wrath."

Arthur nodded at Iseldir's explanation. As odd as it felt to have something in common with a god of the Old Religion, he could understand very well the drive to protect his own people. If Emrys's people were also in danger because of Morgana, it made sense for him to join forces with Arthur, even if Arthur was unaware of that alliance. Seeing Arthur's understanding, Iseldir continued with his explanation.

"Emrys also fought against Morgana in order to punish her for her hubris and use of dark magic. There are certain dark arts that take the power that Emrys grants us and twist it into a horrible force, bound only by the will of its user. Such arts are expressly forbidden by Emrys, and he cannot control what sorcerers do with such magic after its been corrupted so thoroughly. Morgana frequently used such forbidden arts and claimed the title of high priestess while ignoring the will of the gods, even the one that she drew her power from. Emrys is normally slow to anger, but for such transgressions, he became furious with Morgana and sought to punish her for treason against magic itself."

Arthur understood that a little bit less, but he could also relate to Emrys's reasoning as a king who had also had to punish some of his own citizens for treason.

"I can see that Emrys stood opposed to Morgana, but does Camelot have anything to fear from him? I can understand why he might not be very forgiving towards us considering my father's actions during his reign."

To Arthur's immense relief, Iseldir shook his head slightly before providing an explanation.

"No, Camelot has nothing to fear from Emrys. He knows that not everyone in Camelot agreed with your father's actions, and he can see progress that you've made since the end of your father's reign. In fact, Emrys has assisted Camelot many times even when Morgana wasn't involved!"

Arthur reeled backwards in shock at Iseldir words. The god of magic, helping Camelot freely? Despite everything his father had done?! Iseldir's explanation forced Arthur to re-evaluate what he knew of the Old Religion.

He had always seen the Old Religion and its gods as monstrous and barbaric. However, that wasn't the case, was it? Emrys had saved the kingdom that sought to destroy him. The Disir had shown Mordred mercy, even though Arthur had rejected their offer. The White Goddess had restored Guinevere's soul at the Cauldron of Arianrhod and healed her of Morgana's curse. Were all of the gods and goddesses of the Old Religion so benevolent and kind? Had Arthur misunderstood the Old Religion for his entire life?

However, Arthur was still shocked at Emrys in particular choosing to help Camelot, supposedly with no ulterior motives besides a common enemy in Morgana. That was how Camelot had survived against such odds? How could it be that magic itself was on their side?!

As Arthur looked at Iseldir again however, he noticed that the druid chieftain's face had pulled into a grimace again. Arthur certainly knew that look, he had seen it on the faces of his council members frequently.

"There's something that you aren't telling me, isn't there? I know that there are some things that you may be hesitant to divulge, but please, I must know everything I can about Emrys, for the safety of my kingdom."

Iseldir paused again, sighing deeply. He sat still for a moment, as if pondering how to proceed.

"Truthfully, there is another reason why Emrys assisted you, but it involves what I spoke of earlier, wen I said that your life and Emrys's are connected in ways that you may not expect. I am willing to tell you such things, but these truths might be hard for you to hear."

Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity piqued again.

"I have learned many uncomfortable truths about my own life through the years, so I will ask you: how could my life be connected to the god of magic?"

Iseldir nodded at Arthur's words and began speaking with a serious, nearly grim, voice.

"I assume that you are familiar with how life is exchanged in the practice of the Old Religion? For any life give, a life must be taken."

Arthur flinched backwards at Iseldir's words, already recognizing what topic was about to be brought up. He had come to terms with the truth of his birth years ago, but hearing it again didn't make it any easier. Blinking back tears, Arthur responded.

"Yes, I... I know. I'm aware that my father made a deal with the priestess Nimueh to secure an heir, and I know that my mother was the one who paid the price in the end."

Arthur heard quiet gasps coming from the knights around him, while Merlin silently put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder. Iseldir, after a moment, continued with his explanation.

"You are correct in your understanding, however, there is one part of the story that you are unaware of."

Arthur jolted in shock at Iseldir's words. There was more to the story of his birth? Frantically, Arthur started asking questions.

"What do you mean? What haven't I been told?"

Iseldir patiently and softly answered Arthur's questions, trying to soften the crushing revelation that he was about to tell Arthur.

"The balance of life and death is at the very core of the Old Religion. However, it is not the power of creation. The power over life and death was used by the high priestesses to resurrect and bring life to someone who has already passed. To magically create a new life, a new soul, from nothing is an act of creation, something that takes far more power than manipulating the balance of life and death. An act of creation takes the power of a god."

"I... I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am sorry that you had to find out this way, King Arthur. But in order to successfully ensure that your mother and father had an heir, Nimueh called upon the power of her patron god: Emrys."

This time, it was Arthur was gasped in shock at this information, hysteria rising in him once again.

"Are you telling me that Emrys was responsible for my very creation?! That it was his power that created me?!"

"More than that, I'm afraid. To create your soul, Emrys did more than just weave his own power into a life. He cut out a shard of his own soul and breathed life into it, thus creating you. While we don't know his reasons for doing so, Emrys created you from a part of his own being."

Arthur felt like his breath had just been punched out of him. What... what did this mean?!

Iseldir must have seen his panic, and further clarified.

"In the eyes of the gods, this made Emrys your true creator and, in the eyes of the magical world, your father."

At those words, Arthur stopped breathing entirely. Unbeknownst to Iseldir, who kept going with his explanation, Arthur entire worldview was collapsing in on itself.

Magic itself was his father?! What did that even mean?!

And oh god was he even a Pendragon? Did he even have a legitimate claim to the throne of Camelot?!

Arthur's panic was so strong that he could barely feel how Merlin's supportive hand on his shoulder was now clenching hard enough to bruise.

(Meanwhile, inside Merlin's panicking mind: WTF??! Oh shit I owed HOW MUCH to Uther Pendragon in child support?! Am I a deadbeat dad to my own best friend??)

"This is why you triumphed over any foe, magical or otherwise. Emrys forbade any magic from truly harming you, and he rose to protect you when you needed him. He will always fight by your side, as you are, in many ways, a part of him."

Iseldir paused, now noticing Arthur's hyperventilating.

"I assume that you have many questions following this news. Please, feel free to ask anything, there's no need to be scared by this!"

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to keep from laugh hysterically. No need to be scared?! His entire life had just been turned on its head!

"If... if Emrys is my true father, what about Uther? Do I even have a claim to my throne?"

"Ah, there's no need to worried about that. While Emrys might be your father in terms of your soul, Uther is still your father in terms of blood. Do not fret, King Arthur, you are still of Pendragon blood and have every rightful claim to your throne."

Arthur calmed down a bit at Iseldir's words, breathing much easier now. This explained so many things about Arthur's life, how he had survived in situations that he by all means shouldn't have. Still, he had many questions for Iseldir.

"If I am truly the son of magic itself, am I even human, or am I some sort of demigod?"

At this question, Iseldir shook his head.

"That, I truly do not know. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone knows the answer to that question except for Emrys himself."

Finally, an idea occurred to Arthur. He stiffened as he blurted out,

"Can I speak with him then? Is there any way to summon him?"

As soon as the idea took root in Arthur's mind, he couldn't get it out. Emrys had to have been looking out for Arthur for many years now, using his power to protect him. This notion of having a secret father who had been caring for him for years almost felt like having a second chance.

Arthur never had the relationship with Uther that he wanted. There was no affection, no bonding, and no comfort to be found there. Only expectations and demands.

But Emrys had apparently been helping Arthur for years with no expectations and no demands. Arthur had fantasized as a young boy about what it would have been like to have a kind, caring father, the kind he saw doting on their children in the marketplace. Now, it almost seemed like he had another chance of having a father, one who truly cared about him!

So naturally, Arthur wanted to meet him! Both the druids and the knights look slightly confused at Arthur's excited outburst about wanting to meet Emrys, but the druids tell him that they have everything that they need to perform a summoning ritual, but they'd need some time to set it up.

Arthur asks if they can set it up for him, and they nod and walk away to begin preparations. Meanwhile, Merlin and the knights ask Arthur if he's just lost his mind. They know that this must be shocking for him, but does he need to summon a god?!

Merlin shows the most vocal opposition to Arthur's plan, saying that they still don't even know if they can trust Emrys. All they have to go on is the word of the druids, and they seem pretty biased in Emrys's favor.

Arthur smiles and tells Merlin that he appreciates his protectiveness, but this is something that Arthur needs to do. He needs this closure, this chance to connect with his last living parent.

Arthur does take Merlin's concerns into consideration though, and orders for his men to leave the camp and take Merlin with them, so they're far away and protected if Emrys turns out to be untrustworthy.

(As the knights drag a struggling Merlin away, Merlin is frantically talking with Iseldir in his mind about what the summoning ritual entails and what it looks like. If he magically pops up next to Arthur right as Arthur does a ritual to summon Emrys, even Arthur would be able to put two and two together!

Luckily, Iseldir informs him that the summoning ritual will summon his soul, not his body, and Arthur wouldn't be able to recognize him. Still, Merlin tried to talk the druids out of the ritual, because Merlin doesn't want his soul to get yanked out of his body! But there was little that the druids could do with Arthur insisting on the ritual.)

After preparing the materials for the ritual, the druids take Arthur back into a tent to get him ready. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with both excitement and fear as the druids walked him through what he had to do.

First, they gave him some plain but comfortable robes to change in to. They explained that Emrys preferred his followers to come to him in the garments of peace, not war, so his armor, chainmail, and weapons would have to be left in the tent.

After changing into the robes, Arthur felt strangely both vulnerable and comforted. As the druids rubbed some flowery smelling oil into his arms and then led him to a small wooden altar, Arthur couldn't help comparing this experience to approaching Uther.

Whenever he was meeting with his father, Arthur was expected to show no weakness, no flaws. He had to look the part of the warrior prince, trained since birth and hardened by battle. However, here with Emrys, Arthur was dressed in comfortable clothes and told to simply ask for Emrys's presence before the altar. He didn't need a sacrifice or penance or any sort of challenge to summon Emrys. All that the druids told him was to "call for him, and Emrys will answer."

Placing one hand gently on the wooden surface of the intricately carved altar, Arthur cleared his throat wetly before saying aloud to the empty space in front of him,

"Emrys, I'm... I'm not sure if you're here, but I'm your- your son, Arthur. You probably know me already, though, since you've been helping me and protecting me for a long time now. I- I wanted to thank you for your help. So, I would appreciate it if you could appear, so I could meet you and thank you in person."

There, Arthur thought that was a pretty good introduction! This was his first time meeting his new father, so he needed to make a good first impression!

Arthur stood, awkwardly shifting on his feet as he tried to push down his disappointment with each passing moment that Emrys did not appear. Maybe Arthur did it wrong? Maybe Emrys hadn't heard him? Or maybe Emrys had heard him, but was disappointed in Arthur and deemed him a weak son, just like Uther had?

As Arthur tried to swallow down his hurt, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light above the altar. It was so bright that Arthur had to throw his hand in front of his eyes and turn away, but his heart leapt at the sight.

Was this it?! Was he about to meet his creator and have another chance at having a father?

As soon as he could, Arthur lowered his hand and opened his eyes, anxiously awaiting his first glimpse at Emrys! As the light died down, Arthur was able to make out the outline of something...

As the light slowly dwindled, Arthur could see a bright, glowing ball of golden light, very similar to the one that had saved him from that cave so many years ago, floating above the altar. His eyes widened as he realized what, or more likely who, this light must be.

Emrys was a god after all, Arthur really shouldn't have assumed that he'd look like a human. The god of magic taking a human form, what a crazy idea!

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Arthur called out to the light.

"Emrys? Is that you?"

At his words, the light floated down from the altar until it was hovering right in front of Arthur, an arm's reach away. Arthur fought the urge to reach out and touch the light, just to see if it was real and not just a product of his own wishful thinking.

After a couple seconds, the ball of light flashed, and Arthur heard what sounded like multiple voices coming from it, speaking in unison.

"Hello Arthur. I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you. I am Emrys."

(Elsewhere, Merlin mentally patted himself on the back for making his soul-self sound sufficiently inhuman and speak in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. Arthur couldn't possibly figure his identity out now!)

Arthur let out a sound that was something between a joyful laugh and a sob. Emrys actually came! Clearing his throat, Arthur tried to calm down his excitement and nerves and put on his best diplomat voice. He needed to start off strong here!

"I'm glad that we could meet as well. It's come to my attention that I have many things to thank you for, including Camelot's victory over Morgana in our latest battle. You might have saved all of Camelot, and I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Emrys silently floated in place for a moment, making Arthur sweat with nervousness. Had he already blown his one chance of having a caring parent?

Finally, Emrys's... orb body (what else was Arthur supposed to call it?!) glowed again and spoke with his multiple voices overlapping in harmony.

"You do not owe me anything, Arthur. There are no debts between us. We are family, tied together by our very souls. You never have to feel indebted to me for protecting you and Camelot. I do it not for a reward or recognition, but because I care for you."

Arthur's eyes misted over as he took in Emrys's words. How many times had he wished to hear anything like that from Uther? How many nights had he lied awake wondering what unconditional love from a parent would feel like?

As tears started silently rolling down Arthur's face, Emrys drifted closer to him. Arthur was startled by this move and didn't really know how to respond. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to ball of light, unsure of what to do.

Slowly, the light moved towards Arthur's outreached hands. Arthur almost expected to flinch back upon contact, but instead, when his hands finally touched the ball of light itself, he was only met with a warm, comforting sensation, and he instantly relaxed and leaned into it. The only thing he could compare it to were those warm hugs that Merlin gave him whenever he felt down, which he would never admit to Merlin that he enjoyed.

Arthur gently guided the light closer, until he was hugging it against his chest and that wonderful warm fuzzy feeling was spreading through his entire body. Arthur wondered if this counted as getting a hug from his father, and then immediately decided that the answer was yes. And his new father apparently gave very good hugs.

Arthur stayed with Emrys for several more minutes, until the sun was setting. From there, Emrys told him that he had spent too much time in the mortal realm and couldn't hold his form for much longer without taking time to rest. Panicking, Arthur asked if he would be able to see Emrys again, he couldn't lose his new father so soon after meeting him!

Emrys reassured him that they'd see each other again soon and that he'd be by Arthur's side the whole time, even if Arthur couldn't see him. Comforted by this news, Arthur bid his new father farewell, and the ball of light slowly dissipated.

Arthur then returned to Merlin and his knights, who had a million questions for Arthur. Arthur answered their burning questions as best he could, and they were relieved to see that Arthur was safe and not scarred by the experience of talking to the god of magic.

The next day, they returned to Camelot, and Arthur soon realized that even if he couldn't see Emrys himself, he could certainly the effects that Emrys had on the world around him.

Arthur never fell sick, his rooms were never too hot or too cold, his muscles were never sore from training, his attackers that snuck into the castle never managed to land a hit on him, his kingdom's crops prospered, and a million other things went right in Arthur's life, and for the very first time, Arthur understood.

Magic loved him. And, more importantly, his father loved him.

And it didn't escape other people's notice either. He had told the knights that he had brought with him to the druid camp to not discuss the revelation of his relationship to Emrys, but one knight got drunk at the tavern and told his friend, and someone overheard, and now everyone in the kingdom had heard the news that King Arthur was apparently the son of a god.

The fact that Arthur had secretly prayed for Emrys's help when Gaius reported about a deadly plague in the lower town, only for Emrys to immediately appear again as a ball of light in the middle of a council meeting in front of dozens of witnesses didn't help Arthur keep it a secret either.

(Meanwhile, Merlin hears all of Arthur's prayers for Emrys. He's able to take care of most of Arthur's concerns just as Merlin, but a very powerful/emotional prayer from Arthur actually summons him in his "Emrys" form, leading to some awkward moments, but he makes it work for Arthur's sake.)

On the bright side of Arthur's heritage being revealed, other kingdoms were now much more open to peaceful negotiations and trade deals.

And on one occasion where a very foolish king tried to declare war on Arthur, the enemy king's army only made it a hundred yards of Camelot's forces before the earth itself broke open into a wide chasm that started swallowing the leaders of the enemy army whole. No one was stupid enough to attempt an attack on Camelot after that.

Life goes on like this for about a year, until Arthur catches Merlin using magic for some mundane purpose. Arthur is shocked of course, but magic has been legal for a while now. When he questions Merlin on where he learned magic from, Merlin stammers and says "Well... uh, Emrys..."

Arthur cut Merlin off, yelling because apparently his father was teaching Merlin magic behind his back?! What was that about!

Merlin then decides to take this misunderstanding and roll with it, because there's no way in hell that he's looking Arthur in the eyes and telling him that he's actually Arthur's magical father.

Merlin spins a story about how Emrys had been slowly teaching Merlin magic so Merlin could help Arthur out and always have someone nearby with magic to protect him! Arthur accepts this story, but is secretly a little bit jealous. How come Emrys chose to teach Merlin magic and not his own son?

After Arthur asks Emrys about this, Emrys apologizes to Arthur, saying that he didn't know if Arthur would be interested. He then starts trying to teach Arthur magic (to pretty much no success). To further apologize to Arthur, Emrys gives him a gift! Emrys had apparently heard about how Uther had forbidden Arthur from having a pet as a child despite Arthur begging for one, so Emrys decided to remedy this by giving Arthur a baby dragon to take care of and to train to protect Camelot.

Everyone else is alarmed by this, but Arthur is almost moved to tears because he loves the little dragon so much already!

And this au is already wayyyy too long, so I'll cut it off there! I'm tempted to call this the "Arthur gets catfished into a healthy parental relationship" au lol!

I hope you all enjoyed this au! Sorry about it being longer than usual, but I had a lot that I wanted to write about this au idea! And if you want to see even more of this au, feel free to let me know if you'd like a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my (very long) ramblings! :D

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 24

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: hey hey.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Before you get too far, Bryce appears from the shadows. You don't know if he was listening or if he's only stumbled on you but it hardly matters. He offers only a sullen look, too meek to mention the tension that stands between you. He left you first to King Geralt, then Lord Vesemir; he's more their ally than your own. But what can a maid expect? 

"I am to return to the queen's service," you state matter-of-fact. 

"So I've been informed," he says grimly. "Perhaps you might quell her restlessness." 

You stop along the corridor as your surroundings grow familiar. You’re halt and sway as the soldier scuffs to a stop a few steps ahead of you. He turns to face you as you unclasp the cloak from around your shoulders. You drag it away from your form. 

“Sir, will you hold this for me,” you fold it over your arm and offer it to him, “I shouldn’t require it during my work.” 

He looks at it and takes it with a frown. He pets the soft fur around the neck as you catch a peek of the wolf’s badge sewn into the lining. You lift your head and look past him. 

“I will make sure it is not lost,” he promises. 

Your dread mounts with each step. You’re weighed down by the last day and all that’s come to light. You cannot shake the shackles newly clasped around your wrists and the links only draw tighter and tighter. For now, the danger has calmed but it will not dissipate entirely. There is only doom ahead, even if now, it remains obscure. 

You will have no safety, not even in the familiar; not even in your duty. How can you keep on in serving when you are at the same deceiving? 

Jazlene, once Lady, now Queen, has rarely been easy to calm. You've come to expect her virulent behaviour, never once forsaking her the habits inherited from her mother. Now, you fear her fiery emotions and what wrath she may rain upon you should your betrayal be discovered. It almost seems wiser to confess and be done with it all, yet your fear restrains your guilt. 

As you come upon the queen's chamber doors, you give pause, as does the soldier at your side. You share a curious look between you. There are no guards at her door.  

"Gods, I beg, do not tell me she has escaped once more," Bryce mutters. 

You step ahead of him and go to the door. You turn your ear to it and lean in, dragging your palms along the wood. You ball your hand and rap upon it, certain you hear some sound from within. There is scuffling and the queen's trite voice. She is within. 

You peer back over your shoulder at your escort as he squints. The door opens from within and you spin back. It's that orange-haired guard; Gilles. It’s odd and the noise that escapes Bryce’s throat says as much. 

“Queen having another tantrum?” The soldier behind you scoffs. 

“Eh, she is your queen too,” Gilles accuses, “it is treason to mock your liege.” 

“Mocking? No, merely the truth,” Bryce chirps, “let the maid in. She’ll do better work of serving our admirable queen, eh? Tend to her lady needs with a softer hand.” 

Gilles grabs your arm and shoves you through the door, “do not worry her--” 

“Eh!” You feel another tug and you’re turned back as Bryce tears the guard away from you, “unhand her. She is but a maid. If you need feel big, you might go squash insects in the stables, yea?” 

“Be wary of crossing me, king’s pet,” Gilles pushes away the other soldier, “I do not fear any old man, no matter his name.” 

“Young twerp like you, I’ve known many,” Bryce stands unflinching, “my name comes from tossing fools like you in the dirt. Don’t think the years have taken that much.” 

“The maid is a maid, as you say. She hardly needs a guard herself,” the carrot-headed man rebukes. 

“And you hardly need the witness, eh,” the soldier sneers and chortles, “heed your own warning, man, you dance in a pit of snakes.” 

“I am the snake,” Gilles makes himself as big as he can but pales against the taller soldier. 

Bryce pokes his tongue in his cheek and smirks. He doesn’t reply, instead looking past the younger man, “maid, attend your duty and I’ll attend my own.” 

“Sir Bryce,” you utter tremulously. 

“Don’t worry for me,” he assures as his gaze returns to the man before him. “I’ve sworn never to draw steel against a man of the crown, and I shan’t, so long as the man in question does not offer doubt to that title. We are allies,” he slaps Gilles’ arm, his other hand on his pommel, “aren’t we, loyal guard?” 

Gilles’ gauntlet flinches towards his own sword but does not finish its path. He raises his chin and backs up against the wall. 

“In the name of the king and the queen,” the guard proclaims. 

Bryce’s eyes linger on the man and he shoos you with a flick of his fingers, “go on, maid. You needn’t worry for the matters of men.” 

You quickly flit inside, your heart fraught and your veins flooding with ice. That look in the soldier’s eyes worries you. He is a man of war and the mere scent of conflict seems to enliven him. Certainly, you know, if the guard gives the merest of reasons, there will be blood. 

Jazlene is within, abed beneath layers of fur. She lays with a hand against her forehead in a constant state of dismay. The door closes behind you and she sighs. 

“I called for a bath ages ago!” She decries, “if I must be imprisoned in this horrid place, I will at least be warm!” 

The mention of a bath disarms you. You waver on your feet before you can reclaim your wits. You ignore the memories stirring in the base of your skull. The king’s heat creeps up your back as the sensation of his touch tickles in your sides. You could sob for the way your chest rents. 

“Your highness, I will fetch the water,” you acquiesce in a brittle voice. 

“Oh, and where have you been?” She bawls, “here I am, with child and miserable and cold, and you are off, a maid, without a care? Abandoning her queen, as my very husband does the same?” 

You lower your chin at the mention of the king, “my apologies, I was bid to... other duties.” 

The lie is like poison in your mouth. You could gag at your own deceit. You keep your head low. You wish she would rise and pinch or lash or kick you. 

“All I wanted was wine,” she babbles at the canopy as she throws her hands up, “and company. He will not allow my own father to see me. He chased him out like some stray dog. The only family I have close and he keeps us apart. I want to play cards and I have no one to win against.” She thumps her fists down on the mattress and kicks her foot, “how can a queen have no power?” 

She sits up, her eyes fiery as her curls puff out wildly from her head. Her eyes are sparkling from her tears and pretty features twisted. The blankets fall away from her torso. She mops her face with the sleeves of her gown; they are wrinkled and her bodice is crooked. 

“And that Lord Ves... whoever he is, he is a nasty old troll,” she blusters, “I hate him. I hate them all, these winter pests. These animals. Beasts!” She snarls, “how can they live like this? I swear, when we reach the king’s castle, this will not go on. I must have my court. I am a queen and I should be crowned!” 

She sneers and shakes her head, closing her eyes as she presses her long fingers to her nose, “why are you just standing there?” She hisses. “I want a bath!” 

She pushes the blankets off of her and like a storm, she blows out of bed and towards you. You flinch but do not shield herself. She grabs your shoulders and shakes you. She shoves you away from her and you stagger. 

“I will fetch the wat--” 

You cannot finish your words as she strikes you across the cheek. You taste blood. The punishment you longed for is not so freeing as you expect. The sear across your face cannot assuage the flames of your guilt. 

“Go before I knock your teeth from your stupid head,” she snarls.  

You retreat and pull the door inward, letting yourself out. Gilles remains and does not look or comment at you. You rush away, your mouth pooling with blood. You swallow it down as you get to the kitchens, a pair of servants in gray working in the light of the stove. 

“Water,” you murmur as you rub your jaw, “please, can I have a pot to boil?” 

A woman, slender and silent, moves to fetch the large vessel. She hands it to you and you thank her. She clings to the other handle. 

“You will need help,” she declares. 

“Yes, thank you,” you flutter your lashes as the sting sticks in your skin. 

You know her. She is the same who welcomed in the king’s party to the castle. She helps you carry the pot down a corridor. You feel cold creeping through the air and your teeth chatter. She doesn’t react to the chill and leads you out a door into the frigid outdoors. She stops at a cistern pump and angles the pot beneath it. 

She takes a small mallet from next to the spout and beats the lever until it dips, ice falling away from it. She pumps without a word as you watch. You offer to take over but she shakes her head. You linger close by, feeling useless. 

“Lift,” she orders as she stills the pump and you grab the handle as she takes the other. You carry the pot together back into the castle. 

The act reminds you of another time. The night you and Merinda carried water to the king’s chamber in Debray. The woman across from you is a stranger and as cold as the winds. You raise the vessel over the flames and leave it to boil. 

She turns to you and nods, “hard work serving strong men. Best us maids work as one.” 

Her words are kind though her tone remains as hard as iron. Your cheeks tense and your lips tremble, “yes, thank you, miss.” 

“Same as you,” she dismisses the title you give her, “let me know when it steams.” 

You agree and turn to face the pot as it sits above a brazier. You are comforted in knowing that not all is changed in the Hinterlands. That camaraderie among servants has not frozen over like everything else. 

As you carry up the first pot of steaming water, the servant offers a name. Ezme. You return your own before you reach the queen’s chamber. You make several trips up and down, between the boil, and fill the large tub nearly to the brim, adding a pot of cool water to mellow the heat. 

Ezme leaves with the empty pot as you remain to attend the queen’s bath. As Gilles pulls the door shut, you notice how his eyes search past you. You turn and go to Jazlene as she tugs at her dress. You help unlace the piece of her gown, then her corset, and lift her shift over her head.  

She lowers herself into the tub, her dark skin flawless and her figure still as sculpted and firm as ever. She must be early in her state as she has yet to show the effect of her condition. She reclines with her arms over the lip of the wooden tub. 

“And what do you suppose the king is about?” She speaks with her eyes closed, frightening you as you stand quietly by the wall. “Hm? Why does he keep my people from me? Not only my father, but those other summer nobles who have accompanied us?” 

You don’t speak or move. It’s best to act as if you aren’t there. She speaks to herself; for herself. 

“First, he forbade my mother to come. Kept her from seeing me conceive her first grandchild,” she sneers, "and now he has banned my father from my chambers. All because he thought to provide me with a bottle of wine.” 

She is back to that. The wine. She is childish in how she latches onto that one grievance and will not let it go. 

“Because he would defend his daughter,” she snivels, “well, who else will keep me company as my husband remains errant? Oh, how bound he is to his kingliness. Oh, the hero he is. He has brought his wintry misery to the summer people and cursed us all to his wretched ways.” 

You stare at the floor, scalded by the dangerous inference of her complaints. She treads close to those things even a queen should not voice. She might be unhappy but she cannot be so unwise. It is like the game with the dice; she does not think of the turns to come, only what she holds in the moment. 

“He must plot against us. It’s what we all believe,” she sits up the water swishing around her.  

You try not to react, especially as the king’s command returns to you. ‘...you will watch and you will listen...’ 

“He has baited us all into his lands, into his snare, and he means to close it on us. He must,” she puts her hands up as if what she says is only the truth. Without a doubt, she must be right, “he speaks of uniting us and yet he means to extinguish us. He will do away with the summer’s blood and invade our lands as he always meant to.” She scoffs and drags her fingertip over the water’s surface, “he gives to all the same empty vows he gave me...” 

Silence, the sort where you can hear your own heart beating. You hold your breath. She needs to stop speaking. You want to stop hearing. 

“We are not as foolish as he thinks. We will be ready,” she smirks and tilts her head, “and he would not hurt his own prince, would he?” She plunges her hand under the water and rubs her stomach. “Even he cannot deprive his people of their future.” 

She hums and the water swishes around her as she lays back again. She snickers and sighs. You tuck your chin down and clutch your hands tightly. In this war of winter and summer, of king and queen, of husband and wife, you will surely be lost. 

[brucewaynehater101]

do NOT kill Tim

stop being mean to tim in your fics when Bruce is right there to be mean to

let Tim run off and get into shenanigans with his friends while Gotham burns

maybe give tim amnesia and somehow gets reported as dead on a yj mission and his friends help him recover and accidentally on purpose don't mention anything about Gotham except Cass who is his sister and their friend so she's allowed and she sees Tim happy for the first time in so long that she goes along with letting Tim remember, or not, in his own time

and maybe he does remember, when they're in space and too far from Gotham for Tim to immediately rush back and try to fix things because fixing things, trying to help, has always been his first impulse, and he's convinced to wait, to see if anyone tries reaching out to him instead

and he becomes resigned as only cass reaches out, as the rest of the bats just accept that he's dead, without even a body, with just one line in a mission report, a mission report that they didn't even read, the bat computer just noted key words and updated red robin's profile accordingly in its system and no one noticed until someone mentioned that red robin had no patrol routes assigned for awhile and then the profile is brought up

and in the meantime space shenanigans for yj, including the retired ones, and cass who wants her brother to be happy

I mean... you're 100% fair in that I should emotionally beat up Bruce instead in my fics. I do have one where Tim leaves the Bats/Gotham. He has a goodbye conversation with Dick, Jason, and Damian, tries to have one with Bruce, and leaves a video/note for Alfred and Babs. I'd love to chat more about what he does afterwards if anyone wants to know more.

So... I have one fic where he leaves the Bats. There :)

As far as the rest of your ask, I'm so vibing with the amnesia. Let Tim get into wild adventures with his friends (family) and have Cass stop by to say hello. Maybe Tim goes to see her a bunch since he's no longer stuck in Gotham (if Cass is still based in Hong Kong).

I also absolutely love the idea where he gets his memories back in space and spends the entire trip back to Earth processing his thoughts. Should he go back? It's all he's known, but should he try to help out the Waynes some more? Tim is still doing good. He's still helping people. He's just no longer helping specifically Gotham and the Bats.

The part where the Bats don't notice he's dead is cruel and so delicious. Very tasty angst.

I'd also kill for Cass's POV in this (maybe a few chapters), where she discovers Tim is amnesiac, starts to realize the other Bats don't notice or seem to care about Tim (it's hard to understand the way you or a family member is being treated is wrong if that's "normal"), has her own growth and realizations about the Bats, and has complicated feelings about loving the people who are usually good to her but usually bad to Tim (in this AU).

I don't know as much about Cass's canon, but I would be interested to hear more about how her canon could or could not apply to this.

Then let the Bats have a meltdown that Tim is "dead" including their own warped perceptions of how they DO care/love Tim. Maybe they blame Tim for being distant, blame themselves, and try to hunt down who killed Tim. Let them remember certain interactions with Tim that RR remembers differently. Let the Bats be grey in their relationship with Tim because they never did mean to hurt him [they never realized that they did].

Just fun complexities of dysfunctional families :)

Moving on, let Tim be free from the Bats as they all collapse and chat about him. He can have his space adventures far from the chaos as they implode (perhaps the Bats try to take Gotham with them, and the JL has to get involved).

[chishiyasleftnut]

Oh my god this took longer than I expected, I am so sorry (｡•́︿•̀｡)

As requested by a few people in the comments on PART 3, here is part 4 to the phase 2 Chishiya fic I've been working on!

It includes everything from angst to fluff to smut at the end. What's not to like? (•̀ᴗ•́ )و I hope you'll all enjoy it!

Stuck With You (part 4)

(Read part 1, part 2, and part 3 here)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Genre: Smut, angst AND fluff. (look at me go)

Warnings: smut and gun violence. Includes penetration (female receiving), unprotected sex.

Pairing: Chishiya x fem!reader

Plot: After sleeping together twice, Chishiya began ignoring fem!reader, making her mad with worry. Does he hate her? Did she do someting wrong? Or perhaps something else was going on, something she had completely missed?

3349 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The discussion of what you were never came. Out of fear of making your cramped living conditions more awkward than necessary, you decided not to push it and just live in the unknown. You didn’t need to define the relationship, you told yourself. You were soooo cool with keeping it casual and undefined.

With that mindset, you both continued your life at the camp as if nothing had happened. A part of you had expected there to be more touching but no, Chishiya’s behaviour seemingly completely reverted back to how he was before that fateful stormy night, never letting down his guard and showing even a sliver of vulnerability.

Every night you went to bed next to each other, crammed into a two-man-tent and your bodies somehow not connecting anywhere at all. Every morning you woke up to the tent empty as Chishiya would leave the shared space as soon as his eyes were open.

You rarely spoke much either, which wouldn’t have affected you if you hadn’t slept together twice. Although you had no intentions of confronting Chishiya with this, it did hurt you that he by all appearances felt as if nothing special happened - as if you were just a sex doll he could use when he needed to get off.

A part of you tried to defend Chishiya. Maybe he had little experience with romance - or even friendship? You had never seen him interact deeply with anyone before so that could be an explanation. He didn’t exactly seem like the lovey-dovey type either. Yeah, it wasn’t personal, you said to yourself to calm your anxiety. This was just how he was.

Although your little camp at the outskirts of Tokyo seemed like a perfect, isolated place right after the Beach’ end, the two of you had noticed more and more people in the vicinity of your tent over the past week. It started off with the occasional sound of rustling bushes and glimpses of people appearing far away, but lately you had had actual run-ins with strangers. To your luck, none of them were an immediate threat. Still, the camp didn’t feel safe anymore.

“Come with me,” Chishiya one day said during breakfast.

His words took you by surprise, mostly because you were embarrassingly deep into your thoughts about your relationship (or lack thereof) and had completely zoned him out. You quickly began chewing the big bite of protein bar that you seconds prior had mindlessly stuffed into your mouth so you could reply, but Chishiya continued before you had a chance to clear your mouth.

“Come on. We’re doing a supply run.”

The request was unusual, as Chishiya always did supply runs on his own. His usual reasoning was that you were too slow and that it would be safer if he could quickly be in and out of the city instead of having to wait around for you.

“I thought you liked doing that on your own?” you questioned once you had finally swallowed the lump of chocolatey protein bar.

“I do,” he said while gathering his things. “But not today. Hurry up, I don’t want to wait all day.”

You wanted to pry for an actual answer, but knew it was fruitless. Instead, you quickly finished your breakfast and picked up your bag so you could accompany him into Tokyo.

As expected, your walk to the nearest convenience store was both silent and uneventful. Even though you had a million questions running through your mind, you had no way of articulating them in a way that wouldn’t make you seem desperate. As much as you craved closure, you also didn’t want to scare him away. Hence, you decided silence was best.

When you arrived at the rundown and almost empty 7/11, Chishiya held the door open for you. As you walked in you paused in the doorway with wide eyes. Instantly, you felt bad for complaining about the type of supplies he brought back. In your mind, convenience stores were always filled to the brim with food 24/7, but it seemed as if the situation in the borderlands were way different than in normal life. This convenience store looked at if it had been raided consistently for months, the shelves nearly empty and the floor covered in broken glass.

“Is there even any food left?” you asked while staying in the door-opening, completely overwhelmed by the chaotic emptiness of it all - an oxymoron you until now had never experienced before.

Chishiya pushed past you with a gentle hand on your lower back, ushering you inside. The sudden physical contact sent goosebumps all over your body, making every single small hair on your arms and legs stand up straight. God, you had missed being touched more than you knew.

“I’m sure there’s some left. Help me look.”

Once you recovered, you assisted Chishiya in finding any food that wasn’t rotten. To protect your sensitive nose, you decided to completely avoid the open refrigerator section that in the normal world housed delicious tuna-mayo onigiris and microwave-heatable freshly made meals, all of which you knew wouldn’t have lasted even a week without spoiling.

With quiet steps, you walked up and down the aisles, looking for anything edible. The little, orange shopping basket that you were carrying slowly got filled with various types of instant noodles. Once you were very dead-set on which brands and flavours were worth eating, but you had to throw that all to the side now. The selection was limited, and it was not time to be picky.

With the basket now housing a decent selection of instant noodles in all shapes, colours, and sizes, you turned the corner and stumbled into the candy aisle where Chishiya’s eyes were expertly scanning over the sparse selection. He never brought back too much food out of fear of attracting the wildlife that had slowly taken over Tokyo together with the greenery.

You watched as his hand reached out for a pack of strawberry gummies - his favourite, as you had come to learn from the many times that he had exclusively brought back strawberry flavoured candy instead of the superior tasting grape. However, instead of grabbing the strawberry flavour, he instead picked up two packs of the remaining neighbouring grape variant, quickly putting it into his own shopping basket. As he went to walk away, presumably to find food that wasn’t just candy, he turned in your direction and caught you looking.

“Is something wrong?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. You gestured down to the grape flavoured candy in his basket.

“I thought you liked strawberry,” you pointed out. “Why get grape?”

“I wanted to try something new,” he eventually said in a casual manner, causing you to roll your eyes out of annoyance.

“I’ve complained about the lack of grape candy for weeks and suddenly you’re willing to try it?”

Chishiya had just opened his mouth to presumably give a flippant reply, when he was interrupted by the deafening sound of gunshots from the street outside the store. Instinctively, Chishiya put an arm in front of you, using his own body to shield you from the far-away shooter. You both stood still as statues, using every sense to figure out how close you were to danger. As the gunshots came to a halt, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Okay, I think that- AHH!”

A loud, high-pitched scream left your mouth before you had a chance to stop it, as a much closer round of shots completely took you by surprise. Chishiya quickly pulled you with him on the floor behind the cash register, hugging your back tightly against his front and covering your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet.

“Shhh,” he hushed lowly into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. “Be quiet.”

The next few minutes were tense, as neither of you had any visuals of the shooter due to your sheltering behind the cash register. You therefore used the only sense available to you to find any auditory signs that would indicate the location of the shooter. Much to your dismay, you before long heard the store bell chime as the door got opened. The shrill of the bell was followed by the sound of a pair of hefty military boots crushing the many glass shards scattered on the floor.

You were shaking in Chishiya’s arm, trembling with fear as you inaudibly prayed that whoever was now in the store with you would just leave you alone. Chishiya hugged you so tightly against him that you were almost suffocating, his hand surely leaving a red imprint on your face. Despite the physical discomfort, his firm embrace also worked to ground you, calming you down and keeping you quiet.

It didn’t take long for the stranger to leave the store again, possibly disappointed by the lack of victims to shoot down. You both waited a few extra minutes just to be safe, before Chishiya finally let his hand fall away from your mouth, allowing you to take a deep breath, fully filling up your oxygen deprived lungs.

“I should never have taken you with me,” he mumbled while standing up, visibly distraught in a way you hadn’t seen before. Long gone was his usual nonchalant demeanour, his normal indifference replaced by panicky eyes and shallow breaths.

Still sitting on the floor, your shaken mind attempted to connect the many jumbled up puzzle pieces. Chishiya was scared. You had never seen him scared before, so that alone was adding to the confusion. It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even know if he cared about his life. And then it finally clicked: He wasn’t scared for his own safety; he was scared for yours.

“Wait, you asked me to join you to protect me?” you asked while he with a strong hand helped you up on your feet.

“I thought it would be safer than leaving you at the camp, but clearly it was not.” Chishiya walked back around the counter and picked up the dropped shopping baskets with food, neatly packing the content into his bag with uncharacteristically shaky hands. “The camp didn’t feel safe anymore. Too many people around. What if the wrong person saw you all alone? I couldn’t risk it.”

You were in shock, unsure of how to take that in. You had spent the past week worrying over Chishiya’s sudden indifference to you, and here he was admitting he cared? No scratch that, he didn’t just care, he was worried about you. This changed everything.

“I thought you hated me,” you stuttered out, still completely overwhelmed by this new revelation. “I thought I had done something wrong and that you hated me for it.”

“I could never hate you.”

Your eyes met in what felt like a tender embrace, Chishiya’s deep brown orbs showing softness and sincerity in a way you had never could have imagined. He meant it, you were absolutely sure of it.

Calmed by his newfound gentleness, you slowly helped him pack up the supplies gathered from the convenience store, your mind gradually making sense of the past week. You were pulled back to reality when your hands picked up the little plastic bag of grape flavoured candy.

“You got these for me, didn’t you?” you asked, feeling the final puzzle piece clicking into place.

“I did. I should have gotten them earlier.”

“You should have,” you declared amusedly, suddenly finding humour in his previous stubbornness. “I’ve been begging for a while, you know.”

Your remark made Chishiya smile, but for once it didn’t seem like he was laughing at your expense. Instead, he seemed fondly entertained by you, a dynamic switch you hadn’t seen coming.

Together, you walked back to the camp. The walk was silent, but this time it wasn’t an awkward silence. Instead, you both enjoyed the other’s company, using the quiet time to mentally and physically decompress from the intense past 30 minutes you had shared. Eventually you reached the camp again, flopping down in front of the unlit fireplace and immediately going in on the treasured grape candy. Chishiya didn’t comment on it, but just observed how you practically swallowed one purple gummy after the other.

As day turned to night, you both climbed back into the tent with your bellies full of a variety of instant noodles, ready for the best sleep of your life after an emotionally exhausting day. You followed Chishiya, as he laid down on the sleeping mat, sighing when you finally allowed yourself to feel the body aches that were a near constant lately. Chishiya noticed your little sigh, and gently pulled you in closer to him in an attempt to soothe you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah. Just tired,” you replied, matching his low tone. It felt like the right volume to speak at in the darkness of the tent.

Chishiya ran his hand up and down your arm, attempting to lull you to sleep. It was tempting to allow yourself to drift off, and yet you stayed awake, not wanting to miss out on this side of Chishiya. 

“I haven’t done this before,” Chishiya finally said, turning his head to look at you. His words confused you.

“We’ve cuddled before.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” you asked, the confusion apparent in your voice.

Chishiya gestured broadly to the two of you. “This.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, finally understanding his vague remark. You had been right in assuming that he had little experience with anything deeper than sex.

“Do you like it?” you finally asked, holding your breath as you awaited the answer.

Chishiya took his sweet time to reply, leaving you suddenly feeling worried that you had somehow managed to completely misinterpret everything that had happened that day. Luckily, he eventually opened his mouth again.

“I do.”

And with that, you let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. Without thinking, you placed your lips firmly against his and initiated a kiss. He reciprocated, although somewhat hesitantly at first.

“I thought you were tired?” he asked in between kisses, his hands slowly gaining courage as they began exploring your body.

“Not that tired,” you said as you rolled on top of him, straddling him and pushing his body firmly down on the sleeping mat without your lips leaving his.

Chishiya didn’t need any more convincing. He quickly flipped you back around, your body thumping hard against the mat as he forcibly pinned you down under him. His hands got rougher as they ventured all over your body, exploring every curve and soft patch of skin that he could reach.

A moan slipped out of your mouth and into his when his right hand snaked down your body and into your pants, his fingers connecting with your already sensitive clit. He didn’t slow down, instead creating a consistent rhythm as he circled around the needy bud. Your hips instinctively moved against his hand, only further prompting him to continue.

“You like that?” he mumbled possessively into your ear, his fingers pressing harder down on you. “D’you like how I make you feel?”

Unable to use your words, you instead moaned louder. Quickly, Chishiya used his left hand to cover your mouth, suppressing any sound that came from you.

“So eager already?” he asked smugly. “I need you to quiet down, princess. We don’t want the entire forest to hear us, no?”

Once you were subdued, his hand left your mouth and instead journeyed down south to assist his other hand in freeing you of your pants. Once unzipped and unbuttoned, you helped him slide your jeans off by lifting your hips off from the floor, watching as he threw the pants to the side before sitting in between your spread legs.

His fingers traced teasingly along the trim of your panties, carefully avoiding the places that were desperate to be touched. After minutes that felt like hours, he finally trailed down from your belly button to your core, noticing how wet the fabric was.

“Desperate, are we?” he asked amusedly.

“Hurry up,” you mewed, closing your eyes to focus on the faint sensation of Chishiya’s fingers tickling your most sensitive area.

“Desperate and commanding. I better get going, huh?”

To your luck, Chishiya promptly helped you out of your underwear, throwing them over to your pants before immediately delving his long, slender fingers into your core. You moaned, quickly covering your own mouth as you remembered his warning minutes prior.

In a manner that was simultaneously careful and eager, he made sure you were adequately warmed up and stretched out, before pulling off his own sweatpants and boxer briefs in one go. Your eyes connected with his hard length, your mouth almost salivating at what was to come.

Chishiya didn’t waste any more time, his collectiveness wavering as carnal desires took over his mind. He climbed on top of you, spreading your legs to each side of him before lining his hardness up at your entrance and pushing himself in right away.

You both gasped as you got used to the sudden change of sensation. Your walls tightened up around his dick, hugging it tightly in a hungry embrace. Chishiya buried his face in your neck, fighting against his animalistic urges to remain at least somewhat in control. Once at least moderately grounded, his hips began moving against yours, his cock pumping in and out of you rhythmically and filling you both up with continuously building layers of pleasure.

Without realising it, your legs tightened around his body as you slowly but steadily felt yourself get closer to the edge - closer to the release you so desperately needed after the rather hectic day you had just experienced.

You didn’t even notice when Chishiya bit down on your shoulder in an attempt to keep himself from finishing, his body continuing working towards its goal of getting you closer, and closer, and….

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you eventually moaned, your vision fading to black as you felt pleasure rushing through your body, all your senses focused elsewhere leaving you completely oblivious to what was going on in the real world.

As the wonderful sensation sadly came to an end, you felt Chishiya collapse down on top of you, his deep voice grunting into your ear as he too came, filling your core up with his cum. For a while, you stayed in this position, both recovering from the short but intense escapade you had just shared. Eventually, Chishiya rolled off you, landing on the hard mat with a thud.

A part of you feared what would happen next. The last time you slept together, Chishiya spent the entire week after on ignoring you. You weren’t sure if you could survive that treatment again. However, to your delight, Chishiya gently pulled you back in close to him, hugging your tired body firmly against his.

“I needed that,” he mumbled, his voice already sounding calm and sleepy. You chuckled a bit, but nonetheless nodded to show agreement.

“Me too.”

Chishiya yawned and pulled you even tighter against him, hugging you like a child would hug its favourite plushie. Just as he was about to fall asleep, you decided to ask the question that was weighing heavily on your mind.

“You won’t ignore me again, right?”

He opened his eyes, looking a bit confused before he understood where you came from.

“No,” he said, grazing your forehead with his lips before closing his eyes again. “I’ll never ignore you again.”

That were the last words you remembered before you gently lulled to sleep, his reassuring words calming the last few anxious thoughts running through your mind and finally allowing you to succumb to your exhaustion.

I’ll never ignore you again.

The phrase played over and over again in your mind as you slept, even appearing in your dream. And you believed him. You really did. This was the start of something new.

[daizymax]

be that guy | bc (m)

summary: running into you at a club months after the breakup could just be a stroke of pure, dumb luck. or maybe it's the push he needs to try and reconcile with you. whatever happens, chan is up for anything you want tonight.

pairing: bang chan x fem reader

genre: angst, smut

word count: 7k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: ex-boyfriend!chan; profanity; alcohol consumption; graphic sexual content; some angst-y/emotional moments in the smut; pet names; dirty talk including some degradation and praising; vaginal fingering; mentions of squirting; breast & nipple play; clothed sex; protected sex; oral (f receiving); finger sucking; some hair pulling; multiple orgasms; aftercare; no definitive ending oops

author's note: i started to take a fic from my old blog and just rewrite chan into it, but i ended up only keeping the base premise of two exes hooking up again and rewriting the entire thing from scratch. it turned into this. hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

“Isn’t that Y/N?”

Chan’s head snaps in the direction Minho nods, and his heart skips a beat when he sees you. When did you get here? How could he have possibly missed you? There might as well be a spotlight shining down for the way his attention locks onto you now.

“She looks great,” Minho goes on, lips on the rim of his vodka soda.

Of all the people to run into tonight.

Of all the fucking people.

He sounds accusatory, but Chan has to know: “Did you know she was going to be here?”

Minho shakes his head innocently. He’s right, though. You look great. As gorgeous as ever. The smile on your face is large and radiant, but deep down, Chan knows it will drop like a lead balloon if you spot him.

And of course you do. Of course you fucking do.

One minute you’re laughing with your friend; the next minute, it’s as if you can sense his heavy stare halfway across the club. Your eyebrows tighten and you turn your head to look straight at him.

The spark is instant, the same as the very first time he saw you years ago. A smile blooms across his face before he even knows it’s happening - it’s just an automatic reaction to you. Subconsciously, he’s still happy to see you.

But then reality comes crashing down, and he remembers he’s not living in that wonderful world where you smile back at him every day anymore. He’s living in the aftermath of breaking your heart. So he waits for your lip to curl in disgust, or for you to roll your eyes and look away, but you do neither. He can’t read your expression, but at least you maintain eye contact with him.

Minho looks to Chan as well, then pats him on the shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything; his support is felt all the same.

Chan downs the rest of his whiskey, takes a deep breath, and starts pushing through the crowd. By the time he reaches you at the bar, your friend is gone.

“I didn’t mean to scare your friend off,” he says, then winces internally. His first words to you in months and he couldn’t start with a simple ‘hello’ or an honest ‘you look amazing’? Or perhaps a heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’ down on his knees would have been the most appropriate greeting. What the fuck is wrong with him?

A smile returns to your lips, tiny this time. “You give yourself too much credit. I told her to give me a few minutes.”

A few minutes is probably more than he deserves. He has to make the most of them. No more stupid statements.

“I’m-” he starts, but the rest of his words are suffocated. He gulps through the sudden tightness in his throat and tries again. “You’re- You look… so beautiful, Y/N.”

You tilt your head in a gesture he can’t decipher and set your empty glass down on the bar counter.

“Chan…”

When you look at him again, his eyes lock back onto yours. It’s clear you’re also struggling to find words. It’s been months of heartbreak between now and the last time you saw each other, but before that, there were years of laughs, sweet words, daily routines, and gentle touches. He wonders if you’re remembering those times right now, too.

You purse your lips and reach out for his bicep. He unconsciously flexes it under your touch.

“You look great, too.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Want to get out of here?”

---

Getting into his apartment is a messy affair of feet stumbling over each other’s, hands tangled in hair, and lips and teeth clashing repeatedly.

Chan has half a mind to tear your dress apart at the seams to get it off your body, but that train of thought is entirely derailed when you reach beneath it yourself to slip your panties off. When the skimpy fabric drops to your feet, you sling it across his kitchen floor with the toe of your shoe.

He helps you up onto the counter, then slips his hand between your legs to check how wet you are. Surprisingly, your outer lips feel pretty soaked already, but he’s not going to rush to stick his dick inside you and risk hurting you. You seem eager enough to take him right now, but he wants you properly prepped.

If this is truly the last time he gets to be with you like this, he wants everything to go perfectly.

Your walls immediately clamp around the finger he pushes through them. You’re so fucking warm and silky inside, he just has to add another finger right away. You gasp as the intrusion thickens, lips falling apart ever so slightly. Chan slots his mouth over yours to catch the incoming moan. You taste like sugary cocktails. You smell delicious. You sound so fucking horny.

His wrist flexes as he searches for that spot he mapped out inside you long ago. He’s going straight for it because he has no intention of teasing you to an orgasm tonight. He wants you to come just as many times as you want tonight. Anything you want tonight, he’ll do it for you.

G-spot easily located, he rubs fast against it. You’re starting to drip all over his hand and down to the counter below, but he’s not upset about the sticky mess; he’s hard beyond belief over it. His zipper is scraping against his dick, but he ignores the discomfort. It’s tolerable when you’re moaning between his lips like this.

“Chan, please,” you whimper, finally speaking.

He pauses a moment because it’s been a while since he’s done this and his hand is already cramping. It would be a grave mistake to stop like this if you were close to coming, but he still has some time for now.

“I know, Y/N, I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your lips, withdrawing his tongue from your mouth only long enough to get the words out.

He stretches his thumb to flick it across your swollen clit. Your knees twitch at the contact, closing inward for a split second before opening wider, your dress riding higher up your thighs with the motion.

The way you’re giving him such open access to your body is making Chan’s head spin. Maybe his whole world has been turned upside down tonight. The feeling of your cunt around his fingers is keeping him grounded in the lewdest possible way.

He should be grateful to have this much, but he wants to get greedy and pull your tits out over the top of your dress so he can nip and suck on your nipples. The entire garment would probably have to come off first, though, and he’s not about to ruin your current positions to do that yet. Maybe he can give your breasts some due attention during round two. God he hopes you’ll stay for round two.

You’re barely focused on kissing him back anymore, too caught up with your imminent climax. Chan pulls his face away from yours to examine the state of you: shivering, spread open, starting to sweat, panting.

You’re gorgeous, and tonight, he’s all yours again.

“Chan,” you breathe again, hips bucking off the counter, bare skin squeaking on the surface. “Please keep going- fuck…”

“I’m not stopping ‘til you come on my fingers, angel,” he promises. The old pet name slips out before he knows it.

You must really be lost in your pleasure because you don’t call him on it and remind him he lost his right to call you that or any pet name anymore.

Tossing your head back, you moan, “More, please… f-faster…”

He wouldn’t dream of denying you, so he leans in and releases a ball of spit onto your clit. It quickly seeps down around his thumb, over your slit and over the fingers he has inside you, making his work more slippery. He wants you nice and wet and fucked open for his cock, so he drives his fingers faster, just as you asked.

It’s difficult to keep his thumb rotating in steady circles, so he vibrates it back and forth as best he can instead. He’s sure it will work - it has before, at least. He just has to keep his pace consistent. Keep the pressure just right. Maybe you’ll even squirt for him and really soak his hand, for old times’ sake.

Even if he couldn’t feel your pussy constricting tighter and tighter, the way you suddenly grab his flexing wrist is another telltale sign that you’re close to the edge. Your head is still tipped backward, throat exposed and gleaming with sweat.

Chan braces his unoccupied hand against your back, then leans forward and licks a stripe up the column of your neck. The taste of your sweat and the perfume you applied is an addicting mix of salty and sweet on his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” you cry out. “Right there, right there… so fucking close…shit, shit!”

“I know, I know, I can feel it,” he whispers, trailing his words up from your neck and into your ear. He licks the shell of it with the tip of his tongue, and you shiver in his arms. “Let go for me.”

Not only does your pussy close in tighter, but your fingers on his wrist do, too. Your chest is heaving, tits still begging him for attention. He finally gives in and bites one of the mounds through your dress. The fabric probably dulls the sensation a little, but he’s still gentle with his teeth.

When you moan louder, he sucks as much of your clothed breast into his mouth as he can. He can just barely feel your nipple raised against the fabric, but it’s still noticeable enough for him to know where to start flicking his tongue. The sensation seems to trigger your orgasm. Or maybe it’s the desperate act itself that does it for you.

“Oh my god, Chan, fuck!”

Your entire body tenses against the intense shockwave that detonates within you, rendering you motionless for just a few seconds before you start trembling hard from the outburst of pleasure.

“Shit, that’s it, Y/N,” Chan coos, drawing back again to take in your orgasm. A string of spit bridges the distance between your dress and his bottom lip. “Holy fuck, you’re coming so hard for me, I love it.”

Chan can barely continue pumping his fingers through your cunt’s vise grip, so he settles for keeping his fingertips kissed against your g-spot, gently easing the pressure as your intense orgasm wanes.

When your knees start wobbling from the overstimulation, he removes his hand from between your slippery walls, and you let go of him, too. His fingers are glistening, a clear testament to how good he just made you feel. Something nasty in him wants to whip his aching cock out right now and slather it in your juices, but his first instinct is to not let the treat go to waste. So instead, he runs his tongue up the length of his sticky middle finger, letting the salty liquid rest on his tastebuds for a few seconds before swallowing it down.

“Jesus fuck,” you pant, watching the erotic scene unfold before your eyes.

Chan smirks, pleased that you’re pleased, and repeats the action with his index finger, a little obsessed with making sure he doesn’t miss a drop. His entire kitchen smells like sex already and he fucking loves it.

More importantly, you look like sex incarnate, propped up on one hand on his counter, still breathless, still spread open. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life - no offense to all your previous escapades together.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rumbles straight from his chest, lying his palms flat on the counter to cage you between his arms. “Missed this sweet pussy so much.”

Is the confession too much? If so, you don’t call him out on that, either. He’s not sure how he’s getting away with crossing all these lines tonight, but he’s not going to question it.

“Want to fuck it?” you ask. The deeply seductive look in your eyes makes him gulp.

“Y-Yeah? You’d let me fuck you?”

“If you have a condom, yes,” you clarify.

Chan nods a little too eagerly, but it’s nothing compared to the way his dick jumps in his jeans. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his ticket to fucking you. Honestly, he didn’t expect to actually use the condom with anyone tonight - least of all you - but now he’s glad he chose to be prepared.

You raise an eyebrow at how he practically conjured one out of thin air, then lean forward and put your hands on his chest to get him to step back a little. Slipping off the counter, you step over to his kitchen table - still in your heels - and bend over it.

Only when you look over your shoulder and jerk your head does Chan fully get the picture.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, hurrying to follow.

You giggle as he fumbles with his belt and pants. The way you shake your ass side-to-side in front of him is probably supposed to entice him, but he loses focus and drops the condom packet.

“Where’s the dirty talking monster who used to fuck me dumb?” you tease, still giggling.

Chan laughs back and scoops the packet off the floor. “Can’t be that guy right now,” he says, shoving his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. The open air feels cool on the wet tip of his dick. “The beautiful girl bent over my kitchen table kind of makes me lose my fucking mind, you know.”

You hum and bite your lip, eyes cast down to his thick erection. He opens the foil, gives his cock a few quick pumps, rolls the condom onto it.

As he takes another step to position himself close behind you, you turn to face forward. Your hands reach back to help him bunch your dress over your ass, though, and he gets the overwhelming urge to twine his fingers with yours. The moment is soon gone when you bring your hands forward again to brace them on the table.

Eyes down, Chan takes the base of his cock and steers the tip between your legs. He rubs it up and down through your slit a few times until it catches on your opening and pokes in shallowly. Slowly, he pushes in another inch, then two more, then all the way to the hilt until his balls are pressed against you.

“Fuck,” you groan, knuckles tightening around the edge of the table. “Forgot how well you stretch me out.”

He can’t help but feel proud of that. “Big enough for you?”

“Mhm.” Your walls clench tighter, and he figures you did it on purpose. “Hard enough, too. Shit you’re hard.”

“So fucking hard for you,” he agrees, eyes rolling back in his head. His hands roam aimlessly over your ass while he gives you both a moment to adjust.

Evidently he stalls for too long, though, because you take it upon yourself to start moving your ass back and forth in the limited space between his hips and the table.

“Come on, baby,” you say. “If you missed this pussy so much, fucking take it.”

He wants to give you everything when you talk like that, so without another second to spare, he draws his cock back until the tip is at the very edge of your opening, then pushes forward to split your walls around it again.

It’s a blessing and a curse, but he can still remember how incredible your wet heat used to feel around his raw cock, back when the two of you had love and trust. It’s been a very long time since he’s had to wear a condom with you - or anyone, for that matter - but he won’t complain. He’s all too aware he’s lucky to be inside you at all.

Besides, you still feel incredible. Your pussy sucks him back in when he pulls back too far, gives way easily when he sinks in deep. The more he pumps himself in and out at this slow, steady pace, the harder he finds it to hold back.

Luckily, you’re of the same mindset. “Harder, baby. Please.”

Using the pet name again is a sure-fire way to get what you want. He may have been the one to break up with you, but before that, he could probably count the number of times he denied you on one hand. You were always irresistible, especially when you asked him so nicely for things.

Chan snaps his hips harder, driving his cock as deep as he can get it with every stroke. He only pulls back a few inches at a time, keeping most of himself sheathed inside your warmth at all times, not willing to part from you any more than he has to.

“Like this?” he asks.

You nod and pant, “Yes. S-So fucking good, Chan.”

“Just want your tight little pussy pounded, don’t you?” Chan goes on, gripping your hips for leverage. He practically yanks you back into him with his next thrust, and you cry out in sheer ecstasy. “Just want a nice, thick cock to stretch your little hole open real good, huh? Fuck you open good and proper?”

“Fuck, yes, baby, yes, yes! Oh my god, Chan…”

That dirty talking monster you always loved is starting to rear its head, but Chan’s pleasure threshold is rapidly reaching its limit. Between the moans pouring out of your mouth, the wet smacking of his balls against your cunt, and the intense friction rubbing across his length, he comes much sooner than expected.

“Oh god, fuck- shit, angel, holy shit, I’m gonna- mmmf- fffuck!”

His cock pulses hard as streams of cum jet up its length, shot after shot unloading into the condom.

The guilt is instant. Apologies and excuses start tumbling from his mouth. “I’m s-so sorry, Y/N,” he mutters, struggling to catch his breath because cum is still squirting out of him. “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to come that fast, you just felt so fucking- I mean, you sounded so-”

“It’s fine, Chan,” you laugh, wiggling your ass again. “Consider me flattered.”

He tilts his head and huffs out a breath of laughter himself, then eases his hips backward to pull his cock out of you before it goes too soft. After he’s thrown away the condom, he turns back to you. Part of him fears to find you pulling your panties back on to leave, but he’s excited to find you facing him with your dress still gathered around your hips.

“I can keep going,” he offers straight away, crossing the distance to put his hands on your bare hips. “Let me go down on you, or- or finger you again. Please.”

Instead of answering him right away, you grin and kiss him. When your tongue pokes across the seam of his lips, he happily grants it entry to lick against his own. You can probably taste the remnants of your arousal in his mouth, but you’re not put off by it. In fact, you wind your arms tight around him.

Pulling your face back, you ask, “You want to make me come again, baby?”

Chan nods, eyes flicking up and down between your eyes and lips. He’s more drunk on the taste of you than the whiskey in the club could have ever hoped to achieve.

“You want to eat me out?” you press, studying his face just as intently. “Stick your fingers back inside my pussy?”

He licks his lips. His wilted cock heaves valiantly but isn’t quite ready to rise again.

“Please. Anything.”

He’s prepared to start begging, but you have mercy on him.

Slipping a hand into one of his, you ask him to take you to the bedroom. You start giggling again when he has to practically waddle his way there with his pants falling around his knees. Chan laughs, too, and starts stripping his clothes.

After he yanks his shirt over his head to toss it on the pile on his floor, he catches you checking him out. He resists the urge to make a trite ‘like what you see?’ joke. He made plenty of those when you were together - he knows you like what you see, and he’s flattered it’s still true.

When you peel your eyes off his chest to look at his face again, you cock an eyebrow and smirk. Then, you spin around and ask him to help unzip you. He does so happily, getting just as much of an eyeful of your body after your dress spills to a heap at your feet. You kick it away just like you’d done with your panties earlier, then off go the heels, one after the other. Once you’re entirely nude, you step wordlessly over to his bed and settle yourself on top of it.

“Come here,” you beckon, voice soft.

Chan obeys, coming over to drape his naked body over yours. You pull him into another kiss, and he tries to keep most of his weight off you, but the feeling of your warm, bare skin against his is something he’s missed desperately.

He tilts his face the other way and moans into your mouth. His hand comes up to cup your cheek at almost the same moment you do the same to him. You’re smiling into the kisses now, and his heart aches with the knowledge that this isn’t a daily occurrence anymore.

“Y/N…” he whispers, but he isn’t sure what he wants to say exactly.

Your smile fades, and he knows you can tell there is something more than lust in his head right now; he can see it in your eyes that you understand him. Even so, you refuse to let your walls down, and he can’t say he blames you. He’s probably the reason they’re there to begin with.

“You’re so fucking hot, Chan,” you say out of the blue, steering the conversation to more comfortable territory. “Touch me again.”

He can’t deny you.

If this is all he’s good for tonight, he’s grateful.

Swallowing hard, Chan slides down your body to bring his face level with your chest. One hand goes to pinch your left nipple, the other to cup your right tit and bring that nipple into his wet mouth. You gasp at the first flick of his tongue, so he repeats the motion about a dozen more times before dragging his face tongue-first across to your other tit. When he bites down on the pebbled bud, your back arches off the bed.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, twisting a hand into his hair.

He reciprocates the gesture by slipping an arm behind your back and holding your skin tight. You’re so warm and soft, so sweet-smelling and beautiful…

Focus. Just make her come, as many times as she wants.

Be that guy again.

Even if it's just for tonight.

Do it just for her.

With his mind refocused and his dick beginning to fill out again, he looks up at your face and mutters, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Y/N.” He goes back to your other nipple, traps it between his teeth and chews it with careful nips, enough for you to feel it, but not cause you any pain. “Want to come on my tongue or my cock?”

“Cock, please,” you answer without hesitation.

He’s surprised with your choice given his poor performance earlier. He’s also surprised by how sweetly you say please this time. So sweet and beautiful, truly worthy of your favorite pet name…

Stop it. Get to it already.

“You sure you don’t want both, angel?”

Not waiting for an answer, he scoots further down your body until he’s faced with your sweet pussy. You’re still soaking wet - he can see your arousal shining all along your folds. Reaching down, he gathers your legs and pushes them up, knees toward your chest.

“Chan,” you whine. He can feel your eyes watching him move his face closer between your hips. “Not your mouth.”

He takes the heady scent of your arousal deep into his lungs with a long inhale.

“Why not? You know I could make you come so hard with my tongue. Suck on your clit real slow, take my time licking you clean, hm? Maybe pump my fingers carefully enough to make you squirt?”

Dipping his face even closer, he glides his tongue up the length of your slit. Your arousal tastes even better when he’s licking it straight from your center, so he flattens his tongue to get a wider lick, greedy to smother his tastebuds in your essence.

Total, there are probably entire days of his life that were spent with his face between your legs, learning your ins and outs, all the things that make you shiver uncontrollably and scream his name. He learned how to get you to come twice in a row, and when to ease off to bring your orgasm to a satisfying finish without building too far into another one.

You gave it all back in kind. So often eager to get on your knees for him, swallowing his entire cock down your throat, heeding his advice when he said you could tug his balls even harder, him trusting you to put your hands on his neck and squeeze just tight enough to peak his climax that little bit higher.

Presently, you writhe against his mattress under the torment of his tongue. He’s still taking his time licking through your folds, swiping half-handedly over your clit, not giving it nearly enough attention to take your next orgasm seriously.

Straightening his back, Chan gazes down at your naked form, once again admiring the sight. You gaze back steadily.

“Still want my cock?” he asks, reaching to take the throbbing appendage in his fist and stroke a few dewy drops of precum out. “Just my cock? You sure?”

You don’t answer him right away. Instead, you push backward out of his hold, get to your knees directly in front of him, and press your palms flat against the wide planes of his chest. He can feel his own heartbeat reverberate from behind his chest plate, off your hand, back to his burning skin.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?” you say, not answering him at all.

Chan gulps. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just want to hear you say it again.”

He’s met with a smirk and a gentle nudge from you this time. Only once he’s sitting flat, legs extended in front of him on his mattress with you straddled across his lap, do you speak again.

“Want your cock, baby,” you say, already reaching for his bedside drawer to fish out another condom. It’s open and on him in no time. “Just your cock.”

“It’s yours,” Chan whispers back.

There’s a split second of hesitation as you’re shifting to guide him back inside you. Perhaps the words crossed another line. He meant them, though.

If you’re bothered by his honesty, you don’t voice it.

With a slight drop of your hips, his cockhead slips smoothly back into your wet warmth, then the rest of his thick length, until your lap is pressed flush against his, pelvises locked tight.

Chan walks his fingertips up your spine until his palms come to rest firmly against your shoulder blades. You oblige his body language and lean in closer. Again, you hesitate for a short moment, letting something unspoken and unfinished hang suspended in the small space between your face and his for just a few broken heartbeats before closing the distance.

Gasps on both sides come when you make that first ascent back up his rigid length only to slam right back down. Running his tongue along yours becomes an afterthought to keeping your hips moving against him.

“That’s it, angel,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Ride it- mmph, fuck- ride it just like that.”

“Chan…”

Two of his fingers come to rest against your lips, dip past your teeth.

“Keep fucking me, Y/N. Don’t stop fucking me,” he urges.

Your lips close around his fingers, tongue swirling a little looser than your hips. Once they’re well lubricated with your spit, Chan draws them back to stuff them down below where he’s joined with you. With a little prodding, he finds your engorged clit and gets to work unraveling you again.

However, you seem to have other plans. Smacking his fingers away, your other hand takes his chin.

“I said I want your cock, not your fingers,” you say, the low pitch of your voice insanely sexy.

You take the offending fingers and watch as he watches you bring them back into your mouth to suck on them more earnestly than before. His jaw drops as much as your grip will allow, and his dick twitches hard between your walls.

“Need to make you come. Can’t do it with just my dick,” Chan reasons.

Your movements are already getting the better of him. The way you’re bouncing in his lap is knocking the breath from his lungs, coiling his muscles into springs. But he can’t tip over the edge without you again. He won’t, god damn it.

Hand closed around his wrist, you drag his fingers off your tongue and out of your mouth.

“Can’t you?” you taunt, eyebrow quirked.

You know damn well he can’t. He never could. Sure, he’s been inside you for plenty of your orgasms, but he always had to enlist the help of his fingers or a vibrator to stimulate your clit at the same time. Grinding your clit into his pelvic bone never yielded the same results, and he couldn’t fuck your g-spot for long enough or consistently enough to get you to come that way, either. Not without coming first.

Chan whimpers and fixes you with a helpless stare which you must find amusing because you chuckle.

“Sorry, baby,” you say, not sounding particularly apologetic. “Didn’t mean to hurt your pride.”

A blush bleeds from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.

“Y/N, please…”

Smiling gently, you stop your bouncing and let go of both his wrist and his face to wind your arms behind his neck. His hands instinctively settle on your waist in turn.

“Feel like I could come just looking at you right now.” Your eyes shake back and forth, looking between each of his. “No one has ever made me come the way you always did.”

He starts to respond to your flattery, but his thought evaporates when you lift all the way off his aching cock then sit back down on one of his thighs, instantly smearing it with your arousal.

“You were always a selfless lover, Chan,” you continue, cupping the nape of his neck in both hands, thumbs resting against his throat. Surely you can feel the spike in his heartbeat. “I adored that about you. You always made my pleasure yours. But I’ve told you, my pleasure doesn’t always involve orgasming. Sometimes I just wanted to see you get lost in your own pleasure. Get a little selfish.”

Chastely, you kiss his cheek, then pull back to fix him in your stare again.

“So fuck me again, baby,” you purr. “And don’t worry if you come fast this time.”

With that invitation extended, you turn over onto your hands and knees.

Chan gravitates to you, getting in position behind you within seconds, hands on your hips to yank them a little higher. You hum in approval of his assertive action and spread your knees a little further apart.

Without warning, he takes his cock - the condom thoroughly coated in your juices - in hand and shoves it back into your cunt, all the way up to his balls.

“Always want you to come when you’re with me,” he rasps, not bothering to use past tense. “Want to show you a good time every time. But if you say that means you want me to get a bit selfish, so be it.”

Grip tight on your body, he draws his hips back until his tip nearly falls from your pussy, then yanks you back onto him as he pushes forward again. He must hit the right spot on the first stroke because your back trembles and bows inward.

“Yes, Chan, fuck! Right there- please-”

He smirks. “God, you really do just want my cock, don’t you, sweetheart? It’s right here.” He drags it back, slots it in deep.

Your fingers tighten in his sheets. “Keep fucking me, baby. And k-keep talking.”

He picks up the pace, abandoning his full strokes in favor of shorter, deeper ones again. “Since you want me to be selfish, does that mean you just want me to use you tonight? Want to pretend you’re just my tight little fleshlight? Huh?”

The dirty-talking monster is yawning back to life. The flesh of your ass ripples against the onslaught of his smacking hips. He’d be driving you face-first up his mattress if he wasn’t pulling you back onto him.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan, pussy closing in ever tighter around his pistoning dick.

Chan swears under his breath and licks his lips, eyes fixed to where his rock hard cock disappears just below the jiggling globes of your ass. He can’t believe you’re letting him use you this way. Talk to you this way. It was only because you trusted him so much that you ever let him do something like this in the first place. Evidently you still do. It’s oddly touching.

He wants to assure you you’re way more to him than just a pretty cock sleeve, even now, in the ‘after’ part of your relationship, but that’s not what the dirty talking monster would say.

Still, he has to know you’ll tell him if he goes too far.

“Want to give me a safe word, Y/N?” Chan asks, reaching out to give your shoulder a tender squeeze.

“Shoelace,” you respond quicker than expected.

He hums in approval over your answer, brings his veiny hand to caress your cheek for a fleeting moment, circles that arm under your tits to lift your back into his chest. His cock is still stuffed tight inside you; the pause in his thrusts is only temporary.

Lips to your ear, he whispers, “Okay, angel. Here you go,” and slams himself hard into your cunt. “Just want to sit here on your knees while I drill my fat cock into you over and over? That’s fine. Want me to call you a fucking slut for it? I’ll do that for you.”

Because I fucking love you.

You whimper and writhe in his arms, face swiveling until your nose brushes across his. He gladly lets you recapture his lips, lets your tongue swarm back into his mouth.

He rebuilds his pace, still opting for quick, short ruts into your pussy to keep himself stuffed as deep as possible. Your panting breaths mingle with his as he works up the pleasure. Before long, you’re moaning too loudly on the end of his pumping dick to focus on kissing him anymore, but that just gives him the opportunity to continue talking.

“Do you like the way I’m f-fucking you?” Chan whispers, deep voice cracking. He drags his hand from below your tits and latches onto one, getting a rough handful. When he pinches your nipple, your body responds instantly. “Like the way I’m touching you? Mmm, I think you do, angel. This pussy is clenching me so goddamn tight. You’re such a good little cock sleeve for me.”

He’s not sure if you can hear everything he’s saying over the loud slaps of his pelvis hitting your backside, but you whine in response, head lolling to the side. His eyes rake from your bare neck down to your sweaty cleavage. He twists your nipple one way, then the other, and moves on to the other one.

“Can’t believe you didn’t want me to eat you out.” Chan trails wet kisses along your shoulder, squeezes your breast tight, keeps fucking up into you. “Would’ve treated this sweet pussy so well. Instead, you want me to be selfish. Want me to come without you. But that’s fine. Toys don’t get to come, anyway. Isn’t that right?”

You hiss when he bites down on your shoulder. Some motion below draws his attention - your hand dipping between your legs. He feels your fingertips brush against his moving shaft, the only inch or so of it pushing in and out. When your fingers move away from his cock but your arm remains in place, he figures you’re playing with your clit instead.

“Tsk, tsk.” He smiles. “So you do want to come.”

You groan but don’t say anything. You've told him what you’ll say if he goes too far with his dirty talk, but the word doesn’t leave your lips.

“That’s fine, angel. You can come whenever you want. Just make sure you squeeze my cock extra tight when you do it.”

One hand still clutching your tit, he hugs his other strong arm around your hips, redistributes his weight on his knees, and goes in even faster. Your body rattles in his hold from how hard and fast he’s pounding you, practically vibrating. The sweat on his chest smears against your back.

The fingers not playing with your clit come up to curl in the hair at the nape of Chan’s neck. “Oh my god, I’m so f-fucking close,” you huff, tugging his hair.

“Already?”

No sooner does your head jerk in a shaky nod than your cunt clamps hard on his dick. Chan gasps, the sensation catching him totally off guard for a second, but when he fully registers what’s happening, he chuckles wickedly. Your tense body twitches and shakes in his hold as your orgasm rips through it. He embraces you tighter to keep you steady.

“Shit, baby, where the fuck did that come from, huh?” he laughs, utterly delighted. “Just love this dick so much, don’t you? Couldn’t help but come on it, could you, you little slut? Does it feel good?”

You hum. Or maybe it’s a grunt. Your voice is pinched and strained when you say, “So so fucking good. Please c-come with me, baby, come with me now…”

“Keep squeezing me and I will, angel. Squeeze my cum out, come on.”

As your orgasm drops off, the pulsing of your pussy weakens, but it’s more than enough to draw out Chan’s own orgasm.

“That’s it- oh fuck, angel, that’s it, please- please, please, fuck-fuck-fuck- ungh!”

Only a few more resounding claps of his hips against your ass before he comes hard, groaning loudly at the moment of his brutal second release. The condom catches shot after shot of the translucent cum his throbbing cock is ejaculating. He can vaguely hear you murmuring sweet nothings, your lips ghosting over his cheek, but his heartbeat is so damn loud in his eardrums, his orgasm feels too fucking good.

As soon as his senses return to him, he pulls his cock from your over-sensitive pussy. Your spent body slumps forward against the mattress, too exhausted to remain upright without the help of his arms.

Chan is off the bed to trash the condom and back at your side in mere seconds, gathering your warm, sweaty body against his as he lies beside you, facing you.

“That was so good, Y/N,” he murmurs, fussing over the hair sticking to your face. Your eyes are a bit glazed. He tries not to panic. “Hey, you did so well, sweet angel. Stay with me, baby, please don’t fall asleep. I’m right here. Look at me.”

He takes your hand and places it on his cheek, and to his relief, it doesn’t slip away; you hold his face with your own strength.

“I’m fine, Chan,” you say, a smile dawning over your entire face, eyes already refocused.

He starts reiterating that you’re not just a cock sleeve to him, not a toy, not a slut, at least not in a negative way, but you giggle and silence him with a kiss.

“I know, baby, I know,” you assure him. Your other arm is trapped somewhere between your bodies and the mattress, but you manage to free it so you can cup his face with both hands. “You did great, too. You were perfect. I felt safe with you, don’t worry. I feel safe.”

It’s been so long since he’s had you in his bed recovering from a round of intense sex, he’s not sure what to do next. The ensuing silence doesn’t feel awkward, though. He lets you gently rake your fingernails across his scalp, and he returns the gentle gesture with slow swipes of his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

Eventually, the tranquil moment is broken when you draw in a deep breath and haul yourself to a sitting position at the foot of his bed.

Chan isn’t sure he can stand a goodbye from you right now, temporary or permanent. The thought that he made a mistake by breaking up with you is blaring in neon lights in his head. If there’s anything he can do to at least convince you to stay the night with him, he will.

And if, in the morning, there’s anything he can do to convince you how much of a fool he was for ending a good thing, he’ll do his damnedest.

Worst case scenario, his life will return to the way it was just a few hours ago.

Best case scenario, he could be on his way to being your boyfriend again.

First, he sits up beside you.

Second, he looks into your eyes.

Finally, he opens his mouth.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

copyright © 2023 by daizymax. all rights reserved. back to masterlist

[slvt4felix]

♡ I See the Light ♡

Pairing -> lostprince!felix x thief!reader WC -> ~6,700 words Includes -> tangled!au, violence? (frying pan incident), reader is a criminal, fem!reader, lowkey abusive and manipulative "mother", kidnapping, magic, Bbokari as Pascal Summary -> After stealing a particularly precious item from the King and Queen, the royal guards push you deep into the woods during an exhilarating chase. You stumble across an interesting tower and start to climb, unaware of what you will come across once you reach the inside. Or rather, who you will come across and how this unique person will completely change the trajectory of your life. Author's Note -> I am like the biggest fan of Tangled. It's my all time favorite Disney movie. And when I think of Felix the first thing that comes to mind is sunshine and I feel like he is so Rapunzel coded. So yeah... don't mind that this fic is literally just all my favorite things combined. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also this was only supposed to be one part, but I'm slowly starting to realize I'm really bad at writing short stories... so this story will definitely be multiple parts!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

You pant, desperately trying to catch your breath as your legs move faster than they ever have before. They are starting to ache, along with your feet, your lungs, and just about everywhere else. But you can't stop, not right now. Not with the heavy footsteps just a few feet behind you and horses loud in the distance.

You stole something. Well, technically you have stolen many things, but what can you say? You were an orphan and never given the chance to make money more nobly. And this time, the object was just something you couldn't pass up.

You keep running, eyes trained directly in front of you. You desperately want to look behind you to see how much time you have, see just how much danger you're in, but the adrenaline and fear have you locked in. You won't stop, won't glance back at the angry guards until you manage to get some headway.

Your boot-clad feet heavily trample the ground underneath you, damaging the delicate blades of grass and petals of flowers that seem to multiply by the second. If only you were able to look down, you would notice the nature changing subtly underneath you. The rocky area you were previously in changed into a thick forest, covered in clover and wildflower.

If you weren't in this situation, perhaps you would've taken the moment to admire it. To take in your surroundings, breathing in the beauty of nature. But again, now's not the time. Maybe one day you will have the ability to stop and smell the flowers, but today there are more important matters at hand.

You hear a twig snap behind you and an unsettling crash. You instantly realize it to be a branch in the path that you had just jumped over. Luckily enough, after years of training, running, and stealing you can navigate your way through many terrains if needed. However, it seems like the guards behind you weren't so lucky. You swiftly turn your head and find exactly what you expect. The two burly men who had been hot on your trail now lay on a pile on the grass as the distance grows between you and them. You chuckle a bit to yourself upon realizing they must have dropped like dominos, one tripping with the other landing right on top. At this point, you were thankful for anything that could make you laugh.

Looking back ahead of you, you zone back into your mission. Your body aching to take a breather. You take a sharp turn, long used to getting out of these situations. This route change leads you down a steep hill. You almost tumble all the way down, but thankfully your dark brown boots have enough traction on them to help you safely make your way down. You jump off the last little way because what's escaping without a little extra adventure.

Now being back on the soft flat grass, you take in your surroundings, analyzing to try to make the best choice. The guys weren't likely to stay down for too long, so you have to make a decision and fast. You don't have time to try to get ahead, they would catch up in no time.

You realize you have been running for a while to try to escape the men. You weren't keeping track, but this is about as far as you have ever made it outside the kingdom. Everything looks untouched, giving off the vibes that maybe you shouldn't be here. It's ethereal looking, yet a bit unsettling at how everything seems to be in perfect harmony. The branches on the trees sway harshly in the wind and feels as if you were the one to disturb the peace, your presence entirely unwelcome.

You shake off the thoughts and roll your shoulders a bit. This was not the time for superstitions or paranoia.

'Maybe if those stupid guards hadn't chased me for so long,' you think bitterly. But in reality, you know you can't hold it against them. It's just their job, just like this is yours. It's just the way it is.

Typically you would have everything completely planned out. Especially the escape route. But, there was really no way to prepare for this. You usually don't get caught soon enough to actually get chased.

Panic floods your body as you begin to hear angry voices again. You're running out of time. The goal today was not to go to prison. You sigh angrily realizing there really isn't any simple escape route this time around. Before your brain even processes it, your feet are moving on their own accord, simply in fight or flight mode. But, today seems to be your lucky day and nature seems to be on your side.

You glance behind you after a few steps noticing that the men still hadn't caught up enough for you to be in their vision. In this slight hesitation, your foot catches on a branch growing from the ground likely belonging to one of the beautiful weeping willow trees surrounding you. It appears that the trees have inhabited this place for ages, their roots buried deep into the group and long wispy branches that hide practically everything behind them.

You stumble forward, your arms unable to find anything to grasp. You land harshly on your knees, making you hiss out in pain. You were definitely going to be covered in grass stains after this.

You quickly gather yourself, standing to your feet taking in your new surroundings. You falter a bit, unsteady due to the weight of your backpack making you a bit unbalanced. You must have fallen through into a small cave. The willow's long branches came down to hang in the entrance, blocking anyone from seeing the small hideaway. You're surrounded by rough, cool stone. There's a noticeable temperature difference that provides relief to your damp skin. The sun was beating on you aggressively the whole run, but hey at least it was bright enough out to see in front of you. It was the only reason you were brave enough to do this in broad daylight. Although it was easier to slip away in the dark, sometimes the paths of the kingdom and the forest surrounding can get pretty difficult to navigate after dark.

You hear heavy footsteps coming from the area you had just narrowly managed to escape. They sound pretty scattered, your mind providing you with the image of multiple royal guards rushing into the serene environment. You almost giggle at the thought of them all dressed head to toe in golden armor. A large sun engrained in their chest plate.

You peek slightly through the covering, seeing exactly what you had imagined. They are searching the area hastily in hopes of finding any clues as to which way you went. They look like children playing dress up, some of their spartan-like helmets falling over their eyes when they turn their heads obviously not fitting them properly.

One stalks past the opening, startling you backward. You hold your breath in fear. They may look silly, but that doesn't diminish the fact that they could positively ruin your life if they manage to capture you. You make your way farther into the cave, expecting to run into a rock wall blocking you in. You had planned to just hide it out in here until it was safe to leave, but soon you realize there may be another way to go about it. It seems to not really be a cave like you had initially thought. Rather, it appeared to be a tunnel of some sort. As you continue to walk the light grows dim. Before you know it, you can no longer see more than 2 steps in front of you. You put your arms out trying to feel in front of you. It would suck to run face-first into solid rock.

You bite your lip gently, starting to grow a little nervous at the lack of light and ability to see what's ahead. But you just have to deal with it at this point, anything to put more distance between you and the angry guards.

Soon you spy a light at the end of the tunnel, opposite from where you entered. You no longer hear any yelling or stomping and it gives you hope that maybe on the other side, there would be no one searching for you. They surely would have made it there by now if they could find it, right?

You emerge from the tunnel, eyes squinting as the sun's bright rays abuse your eyes again. When you finally adjust to the new lighting, you look around in amazement. You were somehow in a completely new area, large mountains and hills blocking the place in. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You had thought where you had just come from looked untouched, but this right here was actual nature at its finest.

It wouldn't be hard to believe you were the first human to step foot here in ages, the area completely overgrown with plants and animals. Yet, there was one unavoidable thing that proved that theory wrong. Standing high amid the greenery was a tall tower. It appeared nearly ancient, the stone crumbling a bit with vines wrapping their way up the walls.

It's honestly mystical with a stunning waterfall coming from one of the mountains just beyond the tower, painting the scene with a light mist. You notice that as the sun hits the vapor just right it creates little mini rainbows.

"Woah" you whisper. You aren't usually the type of person to talk to yourself, mostly preferring to keep your thoughts in your mind, but at this moment it felt perfectly justified. You spin in a circle, trying to take everything in. You had never really seen anything like this, despite the beautiful architecture the kingdom was made up of. This felt like something out of a fairy tale. Which you were so not used to. You aren't typically the main character. More likely the shady best friend or the villain who never really lives up to their name.

For a minute, you feel like someone else. Like one of the beautiful girls in the books you read who end up with the loves of their lives. Or even the protagonist in a high fantasy novel. At this point, you honestly wouldn't be that surprised if a fairy with sparkling wings flew out in front of you. It didn't even really feel like real life.

You approach the tower, eager to explore what you have found. You make sure to carefully walk across the wood that appears to have been thrown over the stream haphazardly in an attempt at a bridge. It doesn't exactly look stable and you weren't looking to get wet. But it was the only way across and you just had to get a closer look.

Surprisingly, you make it across with no damage and you sigh in relief. The material of your outfit does not feel nice wet. You had learned that the hard way last time you had stolen something.

You scan the perimeter of the tower, shocked at the realization that there is no door. You double-check, a little put-off at the idea, and again find no door. Not even an opening or one that had been covered by the overgrown bushes and flowers that had taken over the landscape.

'Who makes a tower with no entrance?' you question, your stomach turning slightly beginning to get an eerie feeling. It was just a little… odd. But who were you to say how something should be built? You aren't exactly an architect. And maybe things were just built differently back then.

You knew it was ridiculous to try and justify something as weird as this, but you couldn't help your brain trying to connect the dots. But it just doesn't make sense. You take a few steps back, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. The lack of an entrance is disheartening as you were beginning to think maybe you could've stayed here for a while. There was no way you could go back to the villages of the kingdom right now. They would definitely be searching for you. And if you could find an easy way into this place, it would be a nice spot to hide out until everything cools down.

You spot windows near the top of the tower and suddenly you realize, the window directly above you is wide open. That is your chance. You feel around the stone bricks that make up the base of the building hoping you can catch your fingers in the cracks. You manage to get a little bit of a grip, but not much. There's no way you could make it all the way up there by just climbing. None of the rocks jut out enough.

You gasp out, an idea rushing into your head. You reach down where a leather sheath is strapped to your thigh. You carefully grab your dagger out. it was only one, but it could definitely help. You didn't like carrying a knife on you, but it did become really useful sometimes. You didn't use it much, especially not to hurt people. It's more of a just-in-case option. You bring the metal up to your eyes admiring how the afternoon sunlight reflects off it, the handle carefully engrained with beautiful roses.

You would be lying if you said it didn't kind of make you feel like a badass.

You lodge the dagger into the cracks and use it to try and pull yourself up a bit. It was definitely helpful as you thought. You kick your feet against the stone, hoping to find a decent push-off spot. With the traction on your shoes and your leather gloves protecting your hands both providing a bit of grip, this might actually be possible. And at this point, what exactly did you have to lose? It would be such a nice shelter to rest in for the night.

You carefully, make your way up the tower, thankful for the wood that occasionally wraps the bricks giving you a place to catch your breath.

Finally, you manage to make it to the top, your chest heaving slightly and your fingers burning from the pressure. In your haste to pull yourself up the last little bit of the wall and slide through the window, you fail to notice the soft noises coming from inside. There's some shuffling, but you brush it off assuming it's some animal that had also decided to make this place its shelter.

You throw your leg through the window taking a second to sit there and catch your breath. You're straddling the bit of wood framing the window, it's delicately carved and decorated with light purple flowers on the ledge. You take a mental note of them, hoping to admire them later once you're settled.

Deeming yourself steady enough, you pull your other leg through standing up in the large room. As much as you want to take everything in, you first slip your backpack off. Nervous that things had gotten jostled on the way up. You open the buckle and slip the top open. You set the bag gently on the ground, squatting next to it as you pull out a sparkling crown.

You sigh in relief that it was still there, it hadn't fallen out. There wasn't even a singular scratch on it. The feeling of the cool metal weighing heavy in your hands punches a sigh of relief from your lungs.

"Thank God," you whisper to yourself, breaking the gentle silence of the room you entered. You had stolen the crown. It’s why the royal guards were after you. You had entered the castle through the ceiling and stolen the crown, the guards just barely noticing as you were exiting. It was the most valued object in the whole kingdom. The importance of the crown is in how it is associated with the lost prince.

It was the most well-known story in the country and maybe even the whole world. Everyone had been so ecstatic. The Queen and King were having a baby. An heir to take over the throne when they grew old and gray. But, the Queen had grown increasingly sick as the pregnancy progressed. You had been just a baby when all this was happening, but over the years you have heard of the story many times. It was hard not to. It was everywhere you went.

Thankfully, the Queen recovered. They had found a magical flower that had the power to heal her. The baby came soon after and the whole kingdom rejoiced. They had a beautiful baby boy, with golden locks and soft skin. They released a bright lantern into the indigo sky in celebration.

However, everything went wrong that night. The new parents had heard their baby cry in the early hours of the morning but when they got there he was already gone. Never to be seen again. They still hold hope that maybe one day their baby will return home. Even going as far as to hold an annual festival for him and releasing hundreds of floating lanterns into the sky on his birthday. It was honestly a gorgeous sight.

You go to put the crown back into your bag, still nervous to get scratches or fingerprints on it. It was worth a lot of money. A deal you couldn’t pass up. Just as your fingers leave the smooth metal you hear a shuffling noise coming from your side. Your head shoots up looking to discover where the noise is coming from.

You're shocked at the sight that greets you. You stand up, nearly stumbling back at the surprise. There in front of you was… another human? How in the world had he gotten up here? You didn't hear anyone else climb up after you and it's hard to believe someone could do that silently. Did that mean they had already been here when you arrived? Why were they here?

So many questions flood your head that you barely have time to react as an object comes flying toward your head. You quickly duck down, just barely missing the dark metal by an inch. You pop back up, thankfully agile from all your years as a criminal. Once you regain your footing, your eyes take in the sight of a young man standing in front of you. He has probably the lightest blonde hair you have ever seen in your life paired with deep brown eyes. The sun shines on him, making him look as if he was the sun lighting up the room. You're a little taken aback at the sight of him. Typically you are pretty good at reading people, but it seems like you aren't exactly making the best choices today. He doesn't exactly look like the type to try to hit somebody over the head with a heavy frying pan, but here he is sanding with the weapon of choice in his right hand.

He stares back at you while standing in a nervous, defensive stance. But to be fair, you would also be feeling quite uncomfortable if you had tried to take someone's head off and somehow managed to miss.

The stare lasts longer than most people would deem necessary, silence yet again filling the large stone room. Yet, neither of you break it. You're still reeling in shock from the frying pan.

Finally, you gather yourself and question him. "Did you really just try to hit me with a frying pan?" you ask in disbelief. His eyes widen when you speak. He looks more shocked than you feel, which is really saying something. He looks as if he has never interacted with another human before. For a split second, you wonder if maybe you were being too harsh on him.

But before you can get another word in a call sounds from outside.

"Felix, my love, I'm home," a woman yells in the distance. The boy's, who you now assume to be Felix, head shoots to the window in a panic. He turns to you, now looking even more anxious than before.

"You have to go, you have to go like now. She will actually hurt you. Like with more than a frying pan," he whispers as he comes much closer, his voice a surprisingly gravelly tone. You can practically feel the vibrations of it on your skin and you're stunned for a moment, frozen in place. He grabs your wrist, not unkindly, and leads you to the back wall of the room. You watch him carefully as he proceeds to open the door to an armoire, making you wonder what exactly his plan is. He gestures inside and you simply stare at him struggling to comprehend the situation.

"I'm not hiding in your closet," you spit, slightly insulted he would even suggest that.

"Do you want to get killed?" He asks, his tone firmer this time. You can tell he's serious, and your hands start to shake upon realizing how urgent he sounds.

He continues on despite your silence, eager to get you to follow along. "Listen, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but this is really bad timing. I was going talk to her about something important and now... you're here," he starts sounding utterly defeated. He knows explaining the situation to a random stranger likely wasn't going to help, but he was still going to try.

"She doesn't normally listen to me and she definitely won't if she has to deal with you, so just please hide. Just until I can get her to leave. Then I guess I'll figure out what to do," he finishes with a sigh and stares back at you hopefully. You simply nod slowly a little stunned. Felix realizes this is the closest he'll probably get to agreeance and doesn't try to convince you any further.

He grabs your hand gently as you step into the closet, helping you stay stable in the crowded space. You're surrounded by clothes of every color, so many blues and pinks that if you squint hard enough you can practically imagine you're walking into cotton candy.

"Just stay quiet, I'll try to get her to go away," He states quietly. He nods at you reassuringly and it comforts you. You still feel very trapped, but you no longer feel as nervous, rather trusting the man to take care of it for you. You don't know why he hasn't freaked out at you yet, but if he was going to, it probably would've already happened. He shuts the door slowly, dimming the small space. You watch his figure until the last little bit of light can no longer slip through, shutting you off from the room you had just been in.

Thank God you're not claustrophobic.

Once the door is completely shut, you're unable to see anything aside from black for a while, your eyes refusing to adjust to the sudden darkness. However, you listen carefully to everything happening outside the armoire in hopes of getting a better read on everything happening.

You hear Felix shuffling around in the room, obviously cleaning things up and maybe even hiding things considering his fearful reaction to the women's yell. You can hear her shout again from outside, but you can no longer make out what she says. The wood is too thick to depict more than a murmur. But, Felix seems to have heard what she has said. The noises from the room get much louder and rushed. Before suddenly they stop.

You hold your breath in the quiet, anxiously waiting for what comes next.

Felix takes a deep breath, glancing around the room one last time to make sure everything is nice and clean. He had noticed your bag left by the window, the stolen crown peeking out. A little chick, whom Felix had named Bbokari had been poking around next to it making him laugh in adoration of the small creature. He must have hidden when you had broken in, scared of the stranger. But that was to be expected, considering every time mother arrived home, Felix would tell the small chick to hide, pushing him out of sight. Now, Mother wasn't mean or an animal abuser. She had never hurt Bbokari before, but Felix honestly did not want to take that chance. She wasn't exactly a fan of critters or any type of outsider making their way into her tower.

He gives the chick a tiny pat on the head with his index finger, the small bird tweeting happily, before curiously picking up the crown. It shined brightly, the sun catching on the metal as he picked it up.

What in the world? he thinks in confusion. Out of all the things Mother has brought home, this is definitely not something he's seen before. It does, however, remind him of the fairytales he had read as a kid before she had confiscated them in an angry fit. She didn't like when he read about that stuff. It had confused him greatly, as she had never really told him why. So, rather than reading about princesses he was often stuck with books about nature or fiction stories about romance.

The chick pecks at his foot, urgently, trying to remind him of the situation at hand. He snaps out of it quickly putting the crown back in the leather bag. He brings it over to the stairs in the corner. He peels back the one broken step, shoving the bag beneath it. Not even mother knew of this hiding spot. He had to hide the bag, she would ask way too many questions about where that came from. He knows that realistically he should be scared about a stranger practically breaking into the tower. But maybe there's a small part of him that wants to prove himself to his mother. Show her that he really can handle himself. He's turning 18 tomorrow and maybe just maybe now that he's old enough, she'll let him go.

He's had this dream since he was little, to see the floating lights. Every year, they appear on his birthday. Hundreds of bright yellow lights fill the sky, and he cannot seem to figure out why. Either way though, he can't help but feel like they're meant for him. And every year, without fail, he watches them. He looks forward to it all year round, waiting for the day he can see the floating lights gleam again. It's his dream to see them up close in person, but it's starting to seem like it may be simply that- just a dream. How silly of him to think it's something that could actually happen.

Mother becomes very angry anytime he asks to leave the tower, or simply mentions anything about the outside world, but he feels confident this time. She's definitely going to let him go; she has to right? It's his only hope.

"Darling, I'm not getting any younger down here," Mother Gothel yells, sounding exasperated. He quickly picks Bbokari up, hiding him on a ledge behind a curtain, giving him a loving smile before rushing to go help her up.

She had created this tower without a door, purposefully hoping to keep him as far away from the outside and other people as she could. And hell, he couldn't blame her. After all the stories she has told him, he's thankful he's never been exposed to the harshness of the world.

Felix jogs over the window, leaning over the edge, feeling the soft spring breeze blow through his hair.

"Coming Mother!" he yells, adding excitement to his voice. Despite his earlier nervousness, he can't help but be excited whenever she comes home. She often takes long trips, only coming home for days at a time. He'll take any sort of human interaction he can get.

Felix grabs the rope from the wall next to the window, swinging it over the hook hanging down. He throws the rope over, watching his Mother grab it harshly once it hits the ground. Since there is no door, they use a sort of pully system. There's a loop at the bottom of the rope that mother slips her foot into and she holds onto the rope as Felix pulls her the rest of the way up.

It was exhausting, but he's gotten used to it over the years. Luckily, he's gotten a lot stronger over the years. Especially since now that he's older she goes on her trips a lot more. Don't get him wrong, he's thankful, he really is as these trips usually involve getting food or gifts for Felix and her. However, the days can get lonely and fast. There's only so much cleaning, baking, painting, and singing a person can do. It's the reason the walls of the tower are completely covered in different paintings. Some have even been painted over multiple times; he ran out of space long ago. Being home alone for days on end without being able to go outside isn't exactly the dream life some people would think. But he gets it. There are reasons he can't go outside and he must abide to keep himself safe.

So, he pushes the anger and resentment deep inside, painting on his happiest face for her to come home to. He finishes pulling her up and wipes a bead of sweat from his face as she finally steps into the sun-lit room.

She walks over to his bed, placing down her basket and shawl before returning to him. She always looks a bit run down when she comes home, her hair a bit more grey, wrinkles on her forehead, and this haunted look in her eyes. Honestly, it's enough to make him never want to go outside.

The woman caresses Felix's cheek gently, looking into his eyes. He has always loved whenever she was gentle with him, providing love and care, but it's starting to becoming rarer with each passing day.

"Felix, I don't know how you manage to do that day after day, dear," She says softly with a bit of concern.

"It's nothing, Mother," he reassures her, despite how exhausting it truly is. She lets go of him, before he can even finish the sentence, her gaze scanning the rest of the room.

"You keep it so nice and clean in here, it's so nice for Mumsy to come home to," she says, always impressed by the things he manages to get done while she's away. Felix cringes a bit at the statement, knowing he had finished cleaning at barely 7:30 am. It truly was the easiest part of the day. Honestly, the hardest part is always the waiting. Waiting for someone, anyone, to talk to or really just anything to do.

Mother walks over to his mirror that stands near the wall. It's circular and nothing fancy, framed in wood, but she looks at it as if it holds all the answers to life, like it's the most important thing in the world. Sometimes Felix wonders if she loves the mirror more than she loves him, but he quickly pushes that thought down, not wanting it to sour his mood anymore than it already has.

He follows her over to the mirror watching in disdain as she examines her face. Lifting her eyebrows and wincing as the skin drops back down, wrinkled and droopy from her trip. She glances up at him, making eye contact through the reflective glass. In this moment, Felix decides he needs to ask her. He's been waiting all day, or really his whole life, and he really just needs to put it out there.

He opens his mouth ready to admit his dream to her, but he's quickly cut off.

"Felix, my love, would you sing for me?" she asks, and despite her trying to hide it, he can detect the desperation in her voice. He's learned to pick out even the slightest change of tone from her over the years.

Felix's eyes widen, almost comically. How could he have forgotten. It's always the first thing she asks for when she gets back. Of course, she would want him to sing for her. His plan is just going to have to wait for a few more minutes.

He nods repeatedly, rushing off again to grab all the necessary supplies. He places Mothers chair down in the center of the room, before grabbing his flimsy stool, setting it in front of the chair. He sits down quickly, trying to hurry the situation along despite knowing how mother likes to take her time during the process. Going too quickly can become a bit more shocking than refreshing, but today was not the time for relaxation.

Mother finally comes over and takes a seat in her usual chair. She grabs Felix's hands and he can only hope she doesn't feel how sweaty they are. He's so nervous about how the conversation is going to go.

His mind is racing as he opens his mouth to start singing. The words coming with ease, practically muscle memory now with how many times he has sang it for her.

"Flower gleam and glow," he starts, his low voice bouncing off the circular walls. He can see her instantly start to relax as his voice fills the room. It makes Felix feel a bit better, knowing how happy it makes her when he sings. As the song continues, he starts to speed up, again eager to get it over with. Mother's eyes open again in panic, wanting the feeling to last longer.

"Wait-" she starts to say, but Felix has already made it to the ending line. As the song comes to a close, Mother jolts forward practically turning into a new person. Her hair is back to it's usual shiny raven color, a new sense of life brimming from her eyes, and all the wrinkles immediately disappearing from her skin. She's young again, just like she likes to be. He can't blame her, who doesn't wish to be young again.

Normally at this time, Felix would compliment her or tell her how he finds her beautiful before and after, but this time there is something else weighing on his mind. He can only hope that the wood of the closet is thick enough and that he had managed to close the door all the way, knowing sometimes it wouldn't latch completely.

This is the last thing he wants you to find out about. He's terrified you'll turn out to be one of those ruffians and thugs Mother warns him about, wanting to steal him away and use him for his magic.

Oh yeah, Felix has this magical ability where he can heal people with just his touch and voice. He can easily make anyone young again and heal all kinds of wounds. It's why he's in this tower, locked away. It's to keep him safe. Mother doesn't want his power to end up in the wrong hands.

She looks down at Felix in disbelief, not understanding why he is acting this way. He stands up abruptly from the small stool, the same one he has sat in since he was a child, and starts to talk, unable to keep it in anymore.

"Mother, tomorrow is a very special day. Do you know what day it is?" he asks, mouth running a mile a minute. She stands up with him, grabbing his wrist lightly, trying to stop him from pacing around the room. All the energy is making her head spin.

He doesn't even wait a second to let her respond, before reminding her, "It's my birthday!"

"Ah ah ah," she starts, "I distinctly remember that your birthday was last year." Felix tries not to let himself physically deflate at this. She always loves to play games like this.

"That's the funny thing about birthdays, they happen every year," he says gently, not wanting to anger her.

"What is it you want this year? How about those muffins you really liked from that one bakery?" she says, figuring that's what this conversation was about.

"Actually, Mother I was thinking, maybe I could go see the floating lights?" he asks, "The one's that fill the sky every year on my birthday."

At this her gaze immediately darkens, and he realizes that he was right. It's only a dream. It's not something that could come true. He should have known better. She would never let him leave the tower. She's told him this so many times before.

Yet, he couldn't help but try. It's who he is. He's too hopeful and innocent for his own good.

"Felix, you know how I feel about you leaving the tower," she states, her voice a low tone. Felix suppresses a shiver, his body reacting anxiously.

"But Mother-" he starts, hoping to explain himself.

"No buts, they are just stars, Felix, nothing worth putting yourself in danger for," she says, using an argument he had thought of many times.

"They aren't though, I have charted every single star in that sky, and it just doesn't fit. I can't help but feel like they are meant for me."

"Felix, do not argue with me" she says, her volume rising drastically. He knows she can get worked up fast with sensitive topics, but he really wishes she would just listen to him.

"Don't ever ask to leave this tower again," she says sternly as her grip around his wrist tightens harshly. He winces, tears pooling in his eyes, but he doesn't let them fall.

'Don't cry,' he repeats desperately in his head. She would never take him seriously or believe he could handle himself if he cried in front of her.

"Yes, Mother" he says back quietly, knowing there is no use fighting with her. She pats him gently on the head, satisfied with his answer, before moving back over to her basket. She starts to put her things back in their rightful spots, unpacking after her trip.

"Mother-" Felix starts again only to stop as her head aggressively snaps towards him, anger evident on her face.

"Enough about the stars, Felix," she yells in disbelief. Felix shrinks back instinctually. That wasn't even what he was going to say.

"I was actually thinking maybe you could get me more of those special paints you got me a few years ago," he says timidly, trying to come up with something else that she would be more willing to comply with.

"That's a 3-day trip," she sighs out in annoyance.

"I just thought it would be a better idea than... you know," he explains.

"Alright, dear, are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I know I'm safe as long as I'm here," he says back knowing just what she wants to hear. Felix helps as she goes to repack up her stuff, preparing for the long trip ahead of her.

"I love you, my flower," Mother says before she leaves the tower again, climbing down the rope to the soft grass of the outside world.

"I love you more," he says back. It's his usual response, but this time the words feels heavy coming off his tongue, almost as if it doesn't really weigh as truthfully in his heart as it did this morning. Everything just feels wrong.

Bbokari steps out from behind the curtain, chirping at him loudly. It was surprising how loud such a tiny animal could be. Felix walks over to him, gently petting him.

"Everything's going to be okay," he says softly, unsure if he's truly assuring the chick or himself.

A loud snore startles him from the interaction. Bbokari turns his head cutely towards the closet where the noise came from.

Felix sighs bumping his head lightly on the wall above the ledge.

“I don’t want to handle that right,” he says with a chuckle. Bbokari just looks up at him adamantly and Felix knows exactly what the little bird is trying to say. He can’t just keep you in the closet.

Felix rolls his eyes playfully before heading over to the armoire to let you out. However, he does grab his frying pan on the way… just in case.

More parts coming soon!!

[biteofcherry]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must pick one CE fictional babe and share a hoe thought including the prompts: forest + “I can hear you breathing.” 😏 Go on and spread those shameless hoe vibes and your legs 😘❤️

The Sacred Hunt

Curtis Everett x reader

summary: Traditions were sacred. You were always vehement in seeing to that. But you never considered that at some point you may become a core part of one of your people's traditions.

warnings: sliiight dub-con (not really, but just to be sure); chase kink of sorts; arranged relationship (kinda); exp**cit se*ual content; loss of vir-g-i-n-ity;

Author's Note: This is a story of firsts - my first fic written on new laptop and my first time writing something for Curtis! @stargazingfangirl18 you kinda deflowered my Curtis virginity here with your prompt 🤣 I hope the wild mess of it will be a sufficient sacrifice to sate you.

Main Masterlist

Smoky scent of bonfires has dispersed into warmed aroma of pine and ferns the further you got into the forest. The wild beat of music and pounding of feet stomping to the rhythm, as people danced in celebration, completely died out. There was only the spooky hoot of owls hidden in the tree nooks.

And the echo of your heart, thundering rapidly in your chest.

You crossed the point of expected escape quite a while ago; stopping only for a second to look at the prepared bedding on the forest floor, before you bolted further.

You shouldn't have done that, you knew. But you couldn't make yourself to simply wait there for the champion to appear in his scary glory and seal your fate.

The Hunt was sacred.

While other seasonal celebrations were approached with variously eager engagement, all the villages in the area went beyond reason to organize this night. To show deepest kind of gratitude to the best hunter of past seasons.

The Hunt happened only once a decade, taking into consideration all of young and older hunters who provided for all the villages throughout the seasons. Elders chose the one most worthy of the title and bountiful benefits.

Each household provided a gift for the Hunter, from a barrel of mead, to a roll of silk.

The greatest prize, however, was a bride.

Each village appointed a female of age, ripe for the taking. It was considered an honor and, to be quite honest, was a position desired by many women.

Any of them could say no; they could decline the offer and wouldn't be forced to participate. They simply never wanted to say no.

You admitted you were one of those women, as well. To be wed to a husband who is strong, hard working and respected; to have your pantry and chests filled with gifts at the start of your married life.

Truly, you gasped in disbelief, then almost jumped in joy, when the elders picked you as one of the betrothed to choose from. Perhaps the honor of being chosen was enough, as it also put additional value to you as a wife for any other men who would be looking for a bride once The Hunter rejected you.

But then, as you stood in a semi circle with few other young women and The Hunter stepped into the light cast by the biggest bonfire, your elation skittered into fear.

The elders chose Curtis.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. He was the one who brought the biggest prey, who showed inhuman endurance during long, freezing winter hunts. He protected your villages from Wilford's raids and got rid of the tyrant permanently.

Yes, Curtis definitely deserved the title and the gratitude.

And a dutiful bride to share a life with him and ease his burdens.

But staring at him as he walked out of the shadows, you felt yourself cowering away. Curtis was big and intimidating. His naked chest bore scars, his corded muscles flexed as he clenched and unclenched his fists. Wolf pelt was thrown over his shoulders, the hollowed head of the animal resting atop Curtis' head, shiny animal teeth glinting right above Curtis' astonishingly blue eyes.

He was a quiet and brooding type, rarely smiling for anyone. You couldn't imagine sharing a warm, soft moment with him.

Though you certainly could imagine a rough and heated communication of bodies...

When Curtis stopped in front of you and offered you his hand, you felt like fleeing that very moment. Yet your trembling fingers slipped into his large hand; your world narrowing to the brutal shades dancing on Curtis' face, as everyone else disappeared from your peripheral vision.

A cup of mead was given to Curtis and he took a sip before lifting it to your lips. Without taking your eyes off of him, you swallowed the thick, sweet drink; felt it's heat fill your veins.

Then you were led to the edge of the clearing where a line of torches and flower garlands were forming an entrance into the woods.

For The Hunt to be complete, The Hunter had to chase his prey and claim victory.

It was mostly a formality nowadays: a joyful chase through the forest, until the couple reaches the prepared spot where they were supposed to consummate their bonding.

You followed the expected motions, running into the woods toward suggested direction. Lush greenery soothed you, for a moment you even felt a spark of excitement.

Then your feet stopped at the edge of the narrow clearing, where linens and pelts and adorning trinkets were splayed. You could imagine yourself there, naked and spread for your future husband. When your mind inserted the image of Curtis - a dark, rough shard in that fair, soft setting - you nearly squeaked.

"Will you lay down, or do you want me to help you?"

You jumped in place at his deep, low timbre resounding unexpectedly right behind you.

You didn't even sense him approach!

Not a snap of a twig, not a rustle of leaves. Not even your own instinct, which you considered to be quite good, warned you of the hunter's approach.

You turned around, nearly bumping your nose right into Curtis' naked chest. He smelled of sandalwood oil and earth.

You forced your eyes upward, meeting his gaze. He wasn't looking at you with anger; rather with curiosity. And a hungry gleam that caused your thighs to clench.

There wasn't a single logical though behind your action, but you simply bolted.

You ran through the woods blindly. Ferns licked the skin of your thighs, as your simple, short white shift lifted up. Moss made your feet slippery, the ground wasn't easing your moves either.

You slowed only for a split of a second, just to catch a breath and decide on direction. You forgot a single heartbeat was enough for a skilled hunter to strike. It was definitely enough for the best of hunters.

"I can hear you breathing."

Curtis' tone held a hint of amusement as he leaned against a tree trunk, opposite of the one you were braced against.

Before you made a single step to ran again, Curtis moved. He was so damn fast! Breath stuttered in your chest as he pinned you against the tree with his heavy mass.

"Was the chase for my benefit, doe?" He asked, tracing a single finger along your cheek.

"I-" you tried to regain steady breathing.

"I enjoyed it," though he didn't smile, somehow you sensed he was genuine, not mocking you. "Though to the mystic depths of the night forest, I'd rather enjoy sweet, moist caverns of my bride."

His other hand squeezed your thigh. Your pupils blew wide as Curtis slid it up, pushing it beneath your shift.

You clenched your legs, your hands landing on Curtis' bared chest. You didn't push him away; the heat seeping from him and the firm structure of his muscles made you pause.

The finger on your cheek disappeared. Curtis brushed the petals on the flower crown adorning your head.

"The other women," he spoke, "they looked excited and in bliss. But you-" he picked a single petal, then traced the delicate pad along your lips and down the column of your neck-

"You looked determined. So sure and ready for your future."

Curtis cocked his head, eyes holding yours as he dipped the petal into the valley of your breasts.

"What changed it?" He asked.

"I-" it was really hard to think of anything when Curtis' hands were touching you.

And he made the contrast between teasing tickle of a petal on your breasts and a massive hand pushing between your thighs maddening.

"I don't know," you sighed, spreading your legs a bit in defeat.

"I think I got a little scared." Your hands moved to Curtis' shoulders, your hold tightening.

"I can be scary." Curtis nodded. "But you have nothing to fear, doe. I will never hurt you."

He paused; his gaze dropping to the petal swaying on the swell of your breast as it rose and fell in quickened breath. Curtis bowed his head slightly, then blew the petal away.

"As long as you don't run from me," he lifted his head, stark blue irises sparking with mischief and lips curling into a wolfish grin.

Then his hand was tearing the top of your shift, exposing your breasts, while his other hand cupped your mound.

Calloused fingers squeezed your breast as Curtis' mouth claimed your lips in a hungry kiss. Oxygen seemed to stop flowing to your brain for a moment, your heart stopping in shock, when you felt the pressure of his power.

Was it how prey felt when a predator sank its teeth into their neck? A freezing shock that melted into surrender for the inevitable.

You tensed like a string, but your body quickly gave in. Lips parting obediently, you allowed Curtis' tongue to tease yours. Your hands pushed at the pelt on his shoulders, yanking the whole cover off of him, so your fingers were finally able to move to the back of his head.

A keen spilled from your throat into Curtis' mouth when a single, thick digit pushed into your core.

Curtis cooed softly, trailing wet kisses along your jaw. His teeth scraped your earlobe, drawing your attention to the sting of it as he rubbed a thumb against your clit.

"We have to sate the hunt, doe," Curtis rasped, pushing another finger in and thrusting them into you quicker.

You scraped at the back of his head, crying out at the intrusion. It was more, so much more, than your small fingers. He reached deeper, too; stretching you and touching spots that seemed to both hurt and be deliriously pleasant.

"A good hunt demands blood." His breathy growl made you shiver.

Curtis pulled his fingers out of you, suddenly; your wetness smeared on your skin when he gripped the back of your thigh.

The world twirled as he laid you down on the forest ground, quickly cutting off splashes of green of the tree crowns with the frame of his huge body hovering above you.

"Please!" You whined, hands clawing at Curtis' sides.

You weren't sure if you were pleading for mercy, or if your own need was so bloodthirsty.

He spread your legs wide, settling himself between them. Your shift was rolled up on your belly, your slick glistening on the thatch of curls around your folds.

Curtis' gaze was focused between your bodies and your own eyes shifted downwards too. You let out a strangled gasp at what you saw.

Curtis was palming his cock - big, like the rest of him. When he rested it over your mount, the tip of it reached almost your bellybutton.

He would be so deep...

Your fingernails pierced his skin as Curtis guided himself into your opening. He was barely in and it already stretched you impossibly.

Then he pushed more of his weight onto you, bracing himself on his forearms on both sides of your head. He looked down at you; drinking in the metamorphosis of grimaces on your beautiful face as he thrust into your virgin cunt.

Your cry echoed through the forest as the merciless slide split you in two. Every second felt like torment that dragged overwhelming pleasure along with the sting.

And he kept on driving in, even when you felt there's not an inch left inside you to fill.

"There you go, doe," Curtis moaned, rocking his hips and pushing his cock deeper and deeper. "That's a good girl. That's it."

When he finally stilled, buried so deep inside it felt nearly uncomfortable, your forehead was dewy with sweat and your thighs were shaking.

You felt so full. Wetter, too. Your arousal mixing with a dab of virginal blood.

"You're mine, doe," Curtis mouthed against your lips, nipping your bottom lip with his teeth.

"Yours," you mewled, feeling your walls fluttering.

Though Curtis didn't seem to mind you scratching his sides, as you tried to tame the tension and need bubbling inside of you, he yanked your hands off of him. He put your hands above your head, gripping your wrists with one of his hands.

And then he started moving.

The pace wasn't fast, but each thrust was rough and forceful, causing your body to jolt. Your untried pussy welcomed each stroke like the first one - resilient to the stretch and loving how Curtis made you take it anyway.

Curtis bent his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. Was it the sucking, or the way his hips shifted and the head of his cock bumped into a special spot, but your knees drew up and your back arched.

You screamed into the night as your first orgasm shook every bone in your body.

Trickle of your juices, pinked with your blood, dripped into the ground beneath you.

A long while later (when your voice grew hoarse and your brain stopped registering anything beyond the feeling of Curtis owning every part of your body), Curtis' cum soiled the forest floor too.

He spilled deep inside, groaning against your lips as his dick twitched. He kept rocking erratically, pushing excess of his cum out of you.

You were a boneless mess when Curtis picked you up a few heartbeats later.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he nestled you against his chest. His scent became headier, earth and musk overpowering the subtle sandalwood.

Curtis carried you back to the abandoned bedding. He laid you down on soft linens and you welcomed the clean, fresh fabrics.

"No rest yet, doe," Curtis rolled you onto your side and settled behind you.

He gripped beneath your knee and pulled your leg outward. He guided his cock between your folds, rubbing the head back and forth over your oversensitive clit.

He caught your hand when you tried patting him away in protest.

"Tradition of The Hunt is sacred," he said. "Evidence of the coupling is necessary for our betrothal to be officially binding."

In the back of your mind, you knew that. There were foggy memories of a hunt ten years earlier; a couple returning in the early morning from the depths of the woods and matrons of the elders going in to check upon the consummation evidence.

But you were sore and exhausted, your brain wasn't working in logical ways. You never imagined how draining sex would be.

And you happened to be chosen by the hunter known for limitless endurance.

"Besides," Curtis pushed into you, "I want you again."

"I will never stop wanting you, doe."

[nc-vb]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐙𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐬, oo. 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐳𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐫

Time is not prejudiced. It gives and takes as the ordinance of life sees fit. Time begets loss and fear, but it also spawns warmth. After centuries worth of time having passed for you, you learn that time also sires impatience, and does not wait for a lost soul to find their way. Time carries on, and flows likes the current of a river. Ironically, so, too, does blood.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • jing yuan x reader, blade x reader, dan heng & reader (no pronouns used this chapter)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • 18+ (mdni), no explicit smut but suggestive & insinuative; partially beta'ed.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 • can be read as a gn!stand-alone fic! • extended lifespan reader; reader is the records’ master for the Seat of Divine Foresight; allusions to ptsd. • this chapter is introductory and is meant to be vague toward the true plot... the real story begins in the official first chapter. • this originally had a different title, "it ain't the heat, it's the humility" before being reformatted for the series.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 • seat of divine foresight npcs, yanqing

𝐰𝐜 3.1k

zephyr -> a soft, gentle breeze.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬' 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

It didn’t matter where you’d tried taking refuge. Your apartment, or your friends’; the streets of the Luofu, or the various fountains littering them; the Exalting Sanctum’s new little dessert parlour with the delicious ice treats, or the sparse number of trees along the way to it. Shelter is far and few, you’d been quick to learn, and none of them with enough of the protection you’d been hoping to find since two days ago when the heatwave began.

It’s hot. Too hot. Too hot for your thoughts to thread themselves into proper sentences whilst on auto-pilot. No, it takes your entire conscious focus for you to even complain about the heat, and even that works up a sweat. It’s disgusting. I’m disgusting, you remind yourself as another thick bead of sweat rolls down your neck and into your shirt. So gross. No matter how many cool showers you’d taken that only had your water bill racking up in dues, no matter how popsicles you’d indulged in, or how many times you’d stared at one of the public fountains in longing and wished it could be a public pool, instead, there’d still been no means to an end when it’d came to such brutal weather.

In your many decades of life, you don’t recall it ever being this hot aboard the Xianzhou Luofu. Perhaps the Sky-Faring Commission might have a little historical insight on record temperatures, but putting your curiosity aside, looking into something like that to try and distract yourself from the current temperature? The thought exhausts you.

This only leaves you with one other option, one you’ve left as your absolute last resort, one you know will free you from the pain and suffering plaguing the Luofu and instead, tethering you to another kind of pain— returning to your post within the walls of the Seat of Divine Foresight, where the cooling system had shut down due to overheating. When it did, you conveniently disappeared without a word. Now that it’s fixed, really, you have no excuse to not return to your post.

It’s just unfortunate that it’d dawned on you two days later, the fact that you never told anyone there, including the Arbiter-General you worked directly alongside. You didn’t tell him, either, that you’d abruptly chosen to go absent without any official leave taken on account of the weather.

How does he do it? Those thick, tight clothes, that heavy armour, his thick, heavy hair— in this heat? He must have been suffering, too, you realize much too late. And I left my post and all of my work for him to… Crap.

Your pace quickens, your agility proving surprisingly capable today as you weave in and out and around the crowds littering the Exalting Sanctum until you’re finally able to break into a run. Why is it so busy today?! Why are they all out in the sun?! Are they insane?! Have they all collectively been struck by mara?! Go find shade or shelter! Maniacs! Get out of my way!!

“Chiyan!” you shout from the other end of the dock, not only startling the messenger of the Divine Foresight, but the patrons passing behind you.

Chiyan huffs, shaking his helmeted head at you as you approach.

“And here I thought you’d quit,” he dares to muse during your heat-inspired bad mood.

Nearly gasping now, you tug at the neck of your shirt to puff air down it. “I do not have the energy to tell you off right now, so move it.”

“Yeah, I bet I can guess why. You look…” He just shakes his head again. “Anyway. You’ve got great timing.”

“T-The cooling system is working again, right? That was true?”

“Should’ve placed money on that bet,” he grumbles. “That’s right. The Seat of Divine Foresight is back to its former, air-conditioned glory.” He steps aside. “Please, after you. Go on— go enjoy working in comfort, and out of this heat.”

You nod once, extremely curt with the gesture, and without guilt when you speak your farewell.

“Yeah. I will. See ya.”

For decades, you’ve said this, sworn this, but after the hell you’d gone through over the past fourty-eight hours, you now promise to never complain about the colder seasons, nor take for granted the refreshing chill they brought aboard the Luofu. You can simply throw more layers on then, but in the summer? Not like I can peel off my skin to cool down.

The noise of relief you make upon the doors of the Seat of Divine Foresight shutting behind you is loud, borderline obnoxious, and, if your coworkers were any kind of honest about it, downright pornographic. They quickly avert their eyes and return to their work and their conversations before you can catch their stares.

The difference between the temperature of this room versus even the hallway leading to it is painfully staggering. It seems like they’ve chosen to completely divert the path of the cooling system to the main chamber, you note, glancing up and around you. It’s probably only until they can fix the entire system, but it looks like even the employees of the smaller offices are working here today.

To your disappointment, so is the General. And it’s your bad fortune that it isn’t his usual hologram self.

Despite being on the complete other end of the room, he notices you right away, and the two of you lock gazes. His conversation with Qingzu ends with an abrupt raise of his hand and a brief apology— she bows away, descending the staircase to join Yong Hai and Yong Nian.

I suppose it’s time to play it on thick, you think, before clearing your throat with a harsh cough.

“General,” you call out in exasperation, voice echoing across the hall as you exaggeratedly stagger past the guards with a wave of greeting. “Generaaaaal.” They bow in return, a little too low to be considered a normal sign of respect for someone in your modest position, until you hear a snicker slip out from under one of their helmets and realize they’d been trying to hold in and hide their laughter. You pause, lips parting as if to speak, but you keep in character.

“General Jing Yuaaaaaan.”

From his spot atop the helm, Jing Yuan smiles small and sweet at your dramatic, child-like display put on just for him— the fact that the rest of the chamber gets to experience it for themselves today makes them lucky, as there are only two instances where you, the Divine Foresight’s - normally - dutiful records’ master would display yourself like this. The first instance is just this— you’ve done something wrong and at the very least, you know what it is and are now hoping that sucking up to the boss will help you work it out. The second instance? The circumstances aren’t so different. But it takes place in the privacy of your shared abode, instead of his office.

Your trudging across the floor of the massive strategy-slash-starchess board is squeaky, the soles of your shoes catching on the smooth tiling until you reach the General.

“General Jing Yuan,” you whine, still bothering to salute to him. “It’s hot.”

He chuckles, tucking his arms behind his back as he moves to descend the staircase closest to you to reach you.

“I figured that could be the only explanation behind your sudden disappearing act,” he says, still smiling. “Two whole days you were gone! Imagine my surprise when it’d been Qingzu to tell me of your absence and not you.”

You, you easily infer of him, My partner. Not just my subordinate.

You’ve heard from other outworlders and their testimonies that relationships between mortals in comparison to relationships between those with extended lifespans greatly differ. The flow of time is easily the heaviest hitter— average mortal lifespans range between eighty to one-hundred years old. As life expectancy goes for most those aboard the Xianzhou Luofu, each calendar days’ time differs, too— mortals, Foxians, and those native Xianzhou all have different clocks that tick within them.

Being on the "older" side of the spectrum of age immortality, you tend to fall into dissimilar habits, as opposed to the ones your aging friends do, such as forgetting to send a message back to someone, or informing them of an absence?

Unfortunately, this is why the Arbiter-General still smiles at you, why his response had been just barely teetering on passive aggressive. You know you haven’t heard anything bad from him yet, that the only reason you’ve yet to be chastised as a repeat offender is because the room remains full of other Divine Foresight employees. To the General, you aren’t just one of his most trusted allies. You’re also his lover. And to not know where and not hear from his lover even once within fourty-eight hours after existing together for so many years, you realize that you’d be agonizing over it, too.

Immediately, the act drops, your eyes widening down at your feet.

Oh, god. That’s definitely so much worse than me not saying anything as his subordinate.

“Jing Yuan.” Lip pinched between your teeth, you look to him and muster as much of an apologetic look as you can. “I’m sorry.”

A dark eyebrow raises at you inquisitively. “For?”

You bite back a huff—you already know what for. So, you decide to list everything but what he wants to hear.

“For disappearing without a word to anyone. For not requesting time off first. For not finishing my duties before leaving. For abandoning my post for two days.” To hide the smirk that’d begun to twitch onto your face at the sight of his expression growing more and more stolid, you bow your head, similar to the guards at the entrance to the chamber. “I’m sorry, General.”

He hums, and not thoughtfully. Strangely, you no longer feel his eyes on the back of your head, and by the time you raise it to find out why, you see him stalking back up to the helm.

His timing couldn’t be more perfect when a loud, mechanical groan suddenly sounds throughout the room.

“Ah!” Jing Yuan exclaims, seemingly agreeing with your wordless sentiment— he peers down at you where you stand steeping in your petulance. “The second stage of the cooling system must have kicked in. Friends,” he calls across the hall. “I do believe you should be able to return to your original chambers now; no need to linger and loiter around here any longer. In fact, how about you all take an extra break today? Starting now. A gift, on account of this weather, of course.”

Thanks and bows of appreciation are quick to be thrown to the helm where the Arbiter-General stands; unfortunately for you, your coworkers have never been ones to stare a gift horse in the mouth, and flee out the doors as quickly as they’d earlier arrived. Maybe you had no trouble playing with the General, but they’d wanted no part whatsoever in it— the look Qingzu throws over her should at you as the last person to leave confirms this.

Ah. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so petty, after all.

The sound finally settles into a dull hum, barely noticeable over the doors to the chamber slamming shut.

“Those were a lot of apologies,” Jing Yuan points out. Looking to the helm, you find him wearing a perfect poker face. “Are you sure you didn’t miss a couple?”

You sigh at him, hands on your hips now.

“You already know that I did, and you know that I did it on purpose, too.”

He matches your attitude with the crossing of his arms.

“And?”

“… and I’m sorry if I made you worry by not telling you where I’d gone,” you mumble.

“What was that, dear?”

Your cheeks burn. “I’m sorry if I made you worry. I didn’t mean to not tell you. I know that with this whole… Stellaron thing, you might’ve been busy. I didn’t want to distract you by telling you I wasn’t feeling well.”

“______. I’d want to know if you got even a paper cut.”

You can’t help yourself when a laugh bubbles up and out of your throat.

“We both agreed that we wouldn’t let things like this affect how we perform our duties, right? This is a perfect instance of that agreement; I asked you to set these boundaries with me for a reason.”

“Reporting on our well-being is much different than perhaps sending the other a picture of what we ate for lunch.” He scratches at his chin. “Although, I did want to send you what I had for mine today. I would have liked to have shared it with you.”

“Jing Yuan…” Quickly, you clamber up the steps to stand before him. “I love you with every fibre of my being. I promise not to do something so thoughtless like this again, but please… I need you to properly honour our agreement. I don’t want to have to afford anymore missteps in this lifetime. Not after… no… I-I can’t. Never again.”

To either side of your face, the General’s hands rise, claiming them in his cool palms. You sigh, your own coming up to hold them to you.

“You were on the front lines for a long time, ______,” Jing Yuan reminds you. “Even before the incident. And when we live as long as we do, the memories won’t simply fade away with time.

“I understand how you feel, exactly how you feel. And when I say to you what I am about to say, please know that I don’t wish to diminish or dismiss those feelings, either.” He thumbs your cheeks, pulling you closer into him, lips ghosting the crease between your brows and smoothing it down with his affection. “Even when I don’t hear from you, you are always on my mind. And for as long as we’ve been together, that has never changed. If you ever find yourself burdened by those feelings, I wish to share the load with you. Paper cuts and all.”

“Even over something as silly as my impromptu two day vacation…?”

“Fu Xuan did mention there’d been a nice breeze over at the Divination Commission, last I spoke to her. If only my love didn’t forget about me in their search for some shade… Surely, I could have invented some reason to send you over there…”

“Ah, so a guilt trip and not a work trip, then, huh?”

“No, not at all.” You shoot a playfully disapproving glance to the man. For a moment, he simply stares back, his one unshielded eye sparkling with obvious mischief. Little warning is given when he steps toward you again, hands reclaiming their rightful place at your waist. Fingers curl into the loops securing your belt and tug your hips to meet his.

Your cheeks instantly heat at the contact, at the knowing glance he dares to send you at such close range.

“You know,” he says, breath fanning your face. “We could always try building up a different kind of sweat— you know. To take your mind off the heat.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t give you a chance to answer, instead sliding his one hand from your side to curl beneath your right ass cheek and hoist you up into the air. Instinctively, you’d raised your legs to curl around his middle as he’d turned to carry you toward his seat. If this is my punishment, I accept it gratefully and gracefully, you think, almost dizzyingly.

“That break you sent the others on was more for you than it was for them, wasn’t it?” you ask him, hand curled around his neck as he lowers you onto the cushion. Without missing a beat and with a single hand, Jing Yuan’s fingers are deft to remove your belt and unbutton your trousers.

“Naturally, they assume their “dozing general” merely wants to take another nap…” He taps your thigh, encouraging the lift of your bottom. You shift your weight into your palms and rise, and he removes your pants to rest around your ankles. “… or that I’ll be reprimanding you.”

“I suppose it’s a relief that they’re aware you don’t pick favourites around here. Well, the exception being Yanqing. He’s everyone’s favourite, after all.”

“Not yours, I’d hope?”

“Definitely mine.”

“And why not me?” Still hovering above you, he bends over to nose at your throat— you shudder, unable to stop yourself. “Considering how I have you… and how I’m about to have you. Tell me that I’m not your favourite?”

You scoff lightly at him, even when he presses kisses deep into your throat, strong against your jawline, and gently against your lips.

“W-With how long you insist on teasing me like this…? W-Who likes a hot dinner served cold—” you’re cut off by his tongue prodding against your lips; you part them, eagerly, hungrily, the joke about eating somehow making the craving to have him have you even stronger, more obnoxious the more he makes you wait.

He is barely gentle now, showing little restraint in how his tongue plunders the inside of your mouth. Jing Yuan is a giver and a taker, of pleasure and of oxygen— your gasps are sharp, not being given a chance to breathe, a chance to win whatever battle he’d entered with you. “Jing Yu—” the butterflies that swim in the pit of your stomach are traitorous in his repetition; they know how good he makes you feel, strictly in the way he takes your breath away with each kiss, each suckle and swirl of his tongue around yours, each stroke of his calloused hands sliding to grip the fat of your thighs, and they make you weaker and weaker with each ministration.

With a final swipe of his wet muscle across your spit-soaked and kiss-numbed lips, he draws away, eyes lidded and panting.

“G-General Jing Yuan,” you rasp almost chidingly. Your hand is quick to brace him away from you; he chuckles at your weak attempt, instead returning it to where it once kept you entirely upright. You huff, every inch of your skin flaming and dewy with a thin layer of sweat. I just finally cooled down, too…

“You’re going to need that there,” he tells you, rising to his full height. He tugs on his own trousers to give them a generous amount of slack before kneeling down before you, nestled between your already shaking thighs. “We still have twenty minutes, after all. You’d better get comfortable.”

© nc-vb 2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.