#so can't wait to share the next few parts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muniimyg · 3 months ago

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♡ 04: how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means and i'm obsessed

series m.list // taglist

note: a wild ride…. good luck y’all ,, THANKS FOR 1K 😻 my kitty is happy !!! hauwhahahahaa this part is lengthy so pls take a mfking SEAT. pls lmk what y’all think ,, send in asks 🫵 we’re headed towards the finale 💛 much wuv !!

warnings: tension/tampo vibes (whats that in english? lol) ,, male masturbation (jk gets himself off as he recalls oc slapping him) ,, jealousy (lots of it. like 90% of this part is filled with it) ,, oc has a hickey ,, angst ,, and a little mwaamwaaaa moment :')

life sucks.

for jungkook, at least.

it’s been almost a month since the incident, and you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him.

the memory of the fight—the words exchanged, the way he said your name—still lingers in the air between you like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

at first, jungkook tried.

he texted you the next day and every day after that. his messages were hesitant and apologetic... and each one was left unanswered.

nerd [11:11PM]: ___, can we talk? sent nerd [11:28PM]: please? sent nerd [12:01AM]: i’m sorry. i mean it. sent nerd [12:03AM]: it wasn’t even like that. not with her. sent nerd [1:09AM]: ik i’m gonna sound like a total douche no matter what so let me do it please sent nerd [1:15AM]: let me say sorry, let me fuck up, let me make it up to u sent nerd [2:01AM]: i really hate begging sent nerd [2:01AM]: but i really hate u not wanting me even more seen

he did try to call though.

just once.

the ringtone barely lasted before he hung up, realizing how futile it was.

at one point, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop one afternoon. he sat alone by the window with an untouched drink, waiting.

his eyes flicked to the door every time it opened, a glimmer of hope lighting his expression for a split second before fading when it wasn’t you.

after two hours, he left.

but now, almost four weeks later, jungkook has stopped trying (so hard).

it wasn’t a sudden decision, more of a gradual acceptance that whatever connection you’d shared—whatever you’d been to each other—was slipping through his fingers.

he told himself you needed time, that maybe this space was what you wanted, what you deserved. and so, he gave it to you.

he told himself it wasn’t the end.

it couldn’t be.

he refuses for it to be.

this is just… complicated.

he gets that.

he's a smart guy after all!

but late at night, when the world was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressed against his chest like an ache he couldn’t soothe. it... burns? it throbs in this aching rhythm that he can't quite figure the melody to.

jungkook thinks about the way you banter with him and how much it makes his day. how closely you sit next to him. how effortlessly you mesmerize him…

how you flirted with him for a few days and now he's malfunctioning. how he spent the last month memorizing every detail of those days and can't get over it. he has convinced himself you're into him...

like, remember how your fingers would brush his when you handed him something? that meant something, right? or how about the way you looked at him and tilted your head? shit, yeah.

that meant something.

fuck, the way you laugh and throw your head back and he gets a glance at your perfect neck—how he wants to leave kisses on it. how he…

how he had you.

for a moment, he really had you.

under him, tangled, and messy.

how he was so close to your lips.

he should’ve kissed you.

he should’ve locked the fucking door.

he should’ve ran after you even more.

but he didn’t…

and now?

now you aren’t even around.

he recalls what taehyung said to him night at the arcade. taehyung's words rub into his wound like salt. it stings. it makes him feel sick to his stomach and he just... get can't stomach it.

“she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull…”

there are no words to describe how incredibly helpless he feels.

if anything, he goes through circles in his mind; completely in disbelief he could fuck up this bad with you.

he hates that he can't think straight. he hates that he can't study properly. he hates that he stopped tutoring and even got in trouble with his profs for letting them down (they really counted on jungkook to help other students out).

he hates that he can't fucking breathe lately.

he can't sleep.

he can't eat.

jungkook hates the growing distance, but more than that, he hates how much it hurts.

he hates how much he wants to fix things even when he doesn’t know how. he just knows he wants to. god, fuck it—

fine.

he hates how much he misses you.

but most of all, he hates that he was wrong.

it was entirely his fault.

jungkook hates it all.

by chance, you and jungkook run into each other.

the scene is perfect.

it's the perfect set up to cry over when you get home—that is.

the rain starts just as you’re leaving the library, soft at first but quickly turning heavier. you don’t expect to see him—not here, not now—but there he is, standing under the awning of the café across the street, shaking out his umbrella. the door chimes as you step outside, and he looks up.

for a moment, neither of you move, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment.

jungkook freezes when he sees you.

his eyes widen briefly, then soften into something cautious, hesitant. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing nervously against the fabric as he steps forward.

“hey,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s offering a truce.

the sound of him makes your heart clench, the warmth in his tone threatening to undo you. but you don’t let it show. you nod once, lips pressed into a thin line, and move to step around him.

“wait—” his hand shoots out, not to grab you, just to stop you. his fingers hover midair, unsure if he even has the right to reach for you anymore. “___, please?”

the rain is falling harder now, pooling on the sidewalk and soaking into the edges of your shoes. you glance at him, taking in the way his hair clings to his forehead, the way his hoodie looks just a little too big on him, like he hasn’t been sleeping well or eating much.

“can you not pretend like this is a coincidence?” you ask quietly, refusing to meet his gaze.

he stays silent.

it wasn’t.

truth be told, he’s been waiting outside for almost 45 minutes. he didn’t even know if you were at the library today… he just had to wait and find out for himself.

"do you have an umbrella?" he asks, breaking the silence.

"what—"

"here."

he cuts you off, pushing the umbrella toward you.

you blink, startled, as he places the handle firmly in your hand. your fingers wrap around it instinctively, the metal cool against your palm.

"jungkook—" you start, your voice faltering.

he shakes his head, stepping back into the rain without a word. the downpour hits him almost instantly, soaking through his hoodie as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.

you stand there, the umbrella trembling in your grip, watching him go. the rain comes down harder, cascading off the awning above you, but you barely notice. your gaze stays locked on him—on the way his shoulders hunch against the storm, on the slow but steady steps that carry him farther and farther away.

something tightens in your chest.

maybe it’s regret or maybe longing… but as his figure grows smaller and the storm swallows him—you feel it.

the warmth of his lingering presence and the chill of it all—

—of your favourite almost.

a few days later, jungkook finds his umbrella in his bedroom.

he takes out his phone to send you a text, prepared to humiliate himself and to beg for a second of your attention. he’d trade all tonight’s focus for a moment of you.

just as he picks the umbrella up, he finds a note.

___ told me to give it back to you. she says thanks (whore). ps: she said don’t text her. — taehyung

jungkook sighs.

does he listen?

obviously not.

nerd [6:19PM]: don’t tell me what to do nerd [6:20PM]: i hate this nerd [6:21PM]: u should’ve jus kept the umbrella. giving it back to taehyung and telling him to tell me not to text u is sick. seen. nerd [6:22PM]: reply pls seen. nerd [6:26PM]: fine. i’ll jus talk to myself nerd [6:31PM]: i miss u sm i jerked off the other night thinking abt the way u slapped me seen nerd [6:33PM]: come on, kitty nerd [6:34PM]: promise to think abt me tn :( nerd [6:35PM]: cos i’m gonna think abt u tn nerd [6:36PM]: ignore me if u want proof typing… nerd [6:37PM]: kitty? seen nerd [6:40PM]: fuck. nerd [6:41PM]: how do u get me so fucking hard thru text? maybe i jus miss u too much nerd [6:42PM]: excited for my proof? seen nerd [6:45PM]: ft? seen nerd [6:46PM]: keep seenzoning me and i’ll cum typing... seen ___ has notifications silenced

but it's too late.

jungkook meant it.

he's sat on his gaming chair, cock heavy.

his phone is out with that group picture from the arcade (zoomed into you) as lewd thoughts of you fill his mind. jungkook runs his thumb across his tip, hissing at the way it feels over his slit.

he flicks his wrists, gripping his dick with just enough pressure to grow the hardness. it’s already stiff and he can feel the need to cum—but he just can’t.

he can’t without thinking of you.

so, his eyes flutter shut as his memories of you replay in his mind.

from the way your lips winced when he ate you out—to the way that mini skirt looked on you that day. he thinks about the way you say his name; in any and every way. angry, teasingly, and desperately… he thinks about how pretty it sounds rolling off your tongue.

how pretty you looked under him.

how good you smelt when he kissed your neck.

how close you sat next to him—fingertips lingering... god, what he would do to be close to you again.

jungkook thinks about the slap.

how hard your palms hit his cheek and how angry you looked at him. despite the negativity surrounding the situation—he can’t help it.

you looked so hot.

it just… gets to him.

before he knows it, his hand is covered in his sticky cum.

he’s a loser—a nerd in your words.

he always has been… and here he is; jerking himself off to the pretty girl he lost his chance with.

the night is supposed to be nothing special.

for jungkook, it’s just another event for his precious marine conservation club—a fundraiser, a schmooze-fest for potential investors, and a chance to hand out awards to appease the donors. sure, he’s getting an award, but it doesn’t feel like much.

the room buzzes with polite conversation and clinking glasses. jungkook adjusts his tie for the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the speeches and presentations. he stands off to the side with the other club members, blending into the background until his name is called.

“jeon jungkook, for outstanding contributions to marine conservation and innovation. mr. jeon has been working towards innovative chemical solutions for marine conservation, focusing on sustainable practices to protect endangered species like dolphins, and developing eco-friendly alternatives to reduce their environmental impact.”

the applause is polite but hearty.

jungkook steps onto the stage, the spotlight hitting him square in the face. as he accepts the plaque, his gaze instinctively sweeps over the audience—and then it stops.

you’re here.

sitting with the guys, casually chatting like you belong there, like you haven’t been avoiding him for a month and a half (at this point).

his heart trips over itself.

he’s not even sure if it’s relief or panic or something else entirely, but it rattles him. he forces his attention back to the microphone, holding the plaque in his slightly sweaty hands.

“uh, thank you,” he begins, his voice steady enough, though his pulse is anything but. “our club’s mission has always been to protect and preserve marine life through education, community projects, and outreach. with this award…”

his eyes flick back to you.

you’re laughing at something taehyung just said, your smile bright, your whole demeanor light and carefree.

“…we want to focus on…”

he falters, the words slipping from his mind as his gaze lingers on you.

“…we want to focus on… f-focus…”

a ripple of laughter spreads through the audience. someone whistles playfully. he blinks, startled back into the moment.

“…focus on sustainable practices and expanding our projects,” he finishes, clearing his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

you’re laughing too, your head tilted slightly as you join the others. it should make him feel worse, but somehow, seeing you like that—smiling, present—grounds him.

he powers through the rest of the speech, keeping his gaze firmly away from where you’re sitting. when it’s over, he accepts the handshake from the host and makes his way offstage, barely registering the applause.

as soon as the ceremony ends, jungkook doesn’t even think.

he weaves through the crowd, ignoring congratulatory pats on the back and comments from investors, his eyes scanning for you.

how did you know about tonight?

wait.

shit.

he’s been texting you every day with random ass updates. of course you know. he’s yapped about it… but why? why did you come? don’t you hate his guts?

you're here so... maybe you don't hate him as much as he has convinced himself you do.

jungkook finds you near the back with the friend group, holding a glass of champagne and listening to hoseok animatedly retell a story.

“congratulations,” you say lightly, lifting your glass in a mock toast. your words are casual, but there's an edge to them, a distance you've kept between the two of you for far too long.

his chest tightens at the awkwardness of your tone, but he nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. the space between you feels impossibly wide now, though only a few feet separate you.

“thanks,” he says, his voice quieter than he intended. “... thanks for coming.”

his gaze flickers to yours for a second before dropping to the floor, and he shifts, a little uncertain, taking a half-step closer.

hesitantly, you inch back.

his presence is suddenly overwhelming, more than you’re ready for.

“yeah… of course,” you murmur, unsure how to navigate the new dynamic between you two. the tension is thick, but there's something else there too. an unspoken history. “what are friends for, you know?”

he hates that.

friends.

yeah fucking right.

jungkook tries to break the tension.

he takes a risk.

he takes a small step forward, hoping you don’t move. this is the closest he’s gotten to you in over a month—he needs this. it’s like euphoria in his veins—being with you again.

he needs this.

“how have you been?” he asks, the question coming out softer than he anticipated. jungkook scratches the back of his neck and continues. “a-are you coming to the afterparty?”

your lips part, a pause hanging between you.

you don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this. how much you’ve missed him.

but the words slip out, more natural than you expect.

“yeah,” you say, giving him a brief but warm look. “i’ll be there.”

for a moment, your eyes lock, and something shifts.

it’s like you’ve both forgotten all the walls, the space between you collapsing. he can feel his heart rate quicken, like his knees might give out, but he forces himself to stay grounded, to act nonchalant.

“cool,” he says, trying to brush off the sudden rush of emotions. “i’ll.. i’ll be there too.” he smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not yet, anyway.

“i sure hope so,” you laugh. “it’s your party, nerd.”

nerd.

holy shit.

never has he ever felt so relieved to hear you call him that.

as he’s about to say more, taehyung appears out of nowhere, slapping his arm and giving him a congratulatory squeeze.

“hey, man, nice speech. well deserved,” taehyung says, grinning like an idiot. “what did you want to focus on, again?”

you laugh while jungkook rolls his eyes. he shoves taehyung playfully.

suddenly, you can’t help but feel the awkwardness settle back in, like something’s shifted again. you feel a pang in your chest as you turn toward the other people nearby, the ones you've been socializing with before jungkook showed up. the buzz of the conversation pulls you away, and you focus on the group, hoping to escape the overwhelming emotions that jungkook’s presence stirs.

jungkook watches you go, his eyes lingering as you slip away from the conversation.

he can’t help it.

you’re in his head again.

he looks over at taehyung, catching his eye.

“hyung, is she coming to the dinner before the afterparty?” he asks, trying to sound casual. his voice betrays him, cracking with just the faintest hint of hope.

taehyung raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink.

“yeah. excited?”

“no.”

taehyung scoffs. “say that again but take away the lying.”

“fuck off.”

“___’s a good friend, man,” taehyung chuckles, redirecting the conversation. “you’re lucky. you just might be back in her good graces.”

jungkook’s heart skips a beat.

“really?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

taehyung grins, leaning in a little.

“yeah, but... she’s bringing her little boyfriend with her.”

you’re doing what?

jungkook feels the need to rub his eyes or something.

was taehyung shitting on him? boyfriend? when did this happen? no fucking way.

jungkook refuses to believe it.

… yet, the words hit jungkook like a punch to the gut. his breath catches, and his stomach tightens.

"what?" his voice is barely a whisper, the weight of it settling in.

"she didn't tell you?"

"we haven't been talking."

"rightfully so."

fuck.

no.

he doesn’t want to believe it, but the hurt is already seeping through.

taehyung shrugs, oblivious to the internal storm brewing in jungkook.

“shit, well... yeah, she’s been seeing him for a while. dunno if they’re officially together, but… guess she’s really moving on. good for her, right? i mean, now you can really focus on just being her friend.”

the air stills.

the reality of it all comes crashing down. jungkook’s heart sinks, his chest tightening in that all-too-familiar ache.

that's why you’ve been busy...

you’ve been moving on.

his fingers curl into fists, the anger bubbling up before he can suppress it. but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his emotions spill out in front of taehyung, even though every part of him is screaming.

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i guess.”

as the night goes on, jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something he can’t get back. something that’s slipping further away with every step you take, every laugh you share with someone else. and no matter how much he wants to fight for it, he’s afraid it’s already too late.

jungkook doesn’t want to go to dinner anymore.

he has no appetite.

jungkook is already at the dinner when you arrive.

his mood is off, grumpy but with an undercurrent of sadness that he can’t quite shake. he’s forcing a smile when people congratulate him for the award, but it’s clear it’s not reaching his eyes. the night’s just been a blur of congratulations and polite smiles, but all he can think about who will walk in with you.

does he know him?

is he gonna be some super cool prince charming?

does he know that jungkook was eating you out just a month ago?

all valid questions…

however, you arrive a little late, and immediately his gaze searches for you in the crowd. when he sees you, his heart lurches. he spots you talking to someone, and the knot in his stomach tightens.

you make your way to the table, your eyes scanning it before you stop. for a moment, you aren’t sure where to sit. usually, you sit next to jungkook… but the spot is occupied by jimin.

not by choice.

jungkook had saved the spot for you… you just came too late and he didn’t have it in him to tell jimin to move. but, jimin catches the milli-second exchanged look you have with jungkook and immediately shifts.

“oh,” jimin begins. “shit, i forgot… didn’t know you were gonna show up so late—”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “it’s fine we’re gonna sit on the other side! by the way,” you pause and push the guy you came with forward. “this is do-hwan. he’s a biochem major and we have a few electives together… um, what else?”

biochem?

serisouly?

do you have a thing for nerds or something? bro doesn't even look the part. he should be majoring in physics or something even more lame.

jungkook's thoughts cut short when he hears you giggling.

“hi,” do-hwan says with a grins at everyone. then, he turns and extends his hand to jungkook. “jungkook? shit, man. congrats on the award.”

he chuckles, giving jungkook a playful look. “organic chem, huh? i guess someone has to study the pretty side of chemistry.”

what the fuck does that mean?

jungkook’s ears turn red.

“yeah,” he grumbles under his breath. “nice to meet you too.”

with that, you and do-hwan make your way to the other side of the table. jungkook watches, his gaze hardening as you take a seat beside him.

he’s trying his best to stay calm and to not show it—not show how absolutely fucking mad this entire thing is.

this is ridiculous!

his chest tightens painfully at the sight of you sitting with him. his fingers curl into his glass as he watches you laugh and chat with others, inserting do-hwan like you’re some proud girlfriend.

you've probably known do-hwan like 10 seconds.

and jungkook can’t help it! every word you exchange with do-hwan makes him feel like he’s being crushed from the inside out.

he’s trying to focus on the conversation happening around him, but his mind keeps wandering, drifting to you.

he watches as you lean in to talk to do-hwan, the way your eyes light up when you laugh at something he says. it’s the same laugh, the same warmth in your smile, but somehow it feels so much farther away from him now—like a memory that he’s trying to hold onto but can’t quite grasp.

he forces himself to look at the group again, but his gaze keeps slipping back to you. every word you exchange with do-hwan makes his chest tighten.

it's like he’s suffocating, and he can’t tear his eyes away. the way he moves so casually, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for his drink.

it’s too much.

it’s too familiar.

and then, as you turn your head to respond to someone else, he sees it.

just a flash of it—right there on your neck.

a small hickey, barely visible, but it might as well be a brand. his heart stops for a beat. the sight burns in his chest, and before he can stop himself, his breath catches in his throat.

his stomach churns violently, a rush of heat flooding his veins. everything feels like it’s collapsing inward. the noise around him fades, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. the world shrinks, and the weight of the jealousy hits him like a truck.

he can’t stay here.

not like this.

not with this tightness in his chest, not with the ache in his stomach. the room feels like it’s closing in on him, and he knows—he knows he has to get out.

without a word, he stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. his heart races as he excuses himself from the table, slipping away into the hallway outside the main dining area.

the rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice his sudden departure, but your friends quickly start murmuring, and one of them nudges you.

"you should probably go check on him," taehyung says, giving you an almost knowing look. “i told you not to bring him.”

you hesitate for a second, then stand, glancing at do-hwan.

“it’s not do-hwan's fault.”

taehyung rolls his eyes at you.

“you’re playing it kinda mean tonight though,” he tells you. “jungkook’s been miserable. sure he deserves to be dragged through mud for whatever happened and for whatever he said, but this? on his night? i don’t know ___…”

you gulp.

maybe taehyung is right.

but you didn’t intend for it to be like this. you genuinely brought a friend you’ve been spending time with! and, sure… yeah. you’ve been kissing him for a few weeks now, but so what? jungkook has probably been fucking every student he’s been tutoring so why the fuck does this matter?

“___…” taehyung urges you.

“yeah, yeah… i’m going.”

you wave taehyung off as you get up from your seat. you excuse yourself and let do-hwan know you’ll be right back.

you find jungkook outside.

he stands with his back pressed against the cool metal of his car, arms crossed loosely over his chest. you notice that his posture is stiff... like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, but his shoulders still carry the weight of what he’s just seen.

his jaw clenches every so often, like he’s holding something back, but when his muscles tense, it’s almost as if the anger or hurt inside him is too much to contain.

as you walk towards him and he notices you. he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, clearly agitated. he lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes cast down toward the ground as if trying to collect his thoughts. he shakes his head slightly, as if to shake off the frustration that has settled in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to help.

then, he looks up at the sky, his gaze distant, unfocused, lost in the swirl of thoughts that seem to chase him in circles. his arms drop to his sides for a moment, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he’s trying to release the tension that has built up in his body.

after a long pause, he lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair again, this time pushing it back as he exhales sharply.

his whole stance is restless.

it’s like he can’t quite settle his thoughts or his body, caught between what he feels and the reality of what’s happening.

he’s trapped in his own head, unable to escape the weight of the situation.

by now, you’re next to him.

are you here to set him free?

“so… have the dolphins ever thanked you for your hard work?” you ask, trying to break both the silence and tension with your light tone. “you do so much for them… ungrateful little brats—you know they’re psychos right? they bully—”

he doesn’t turn around.

“what’s on your neck?” he asks. “did your boyfriend do that?”

your chest hurts at his words. “he’s not... he’s not my boyfriend.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “he’s just a friend.”

there’s a long pause, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are a mixture of frustration and hurt.

“the same kind of friend i am to you?”

he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a tremor in his voice.

you shake your head, not knowing how to explain, not knowing how to make him understand.

“you know what? i didn’t come here to make you feel like this…” your voice cracks slightly. “i didn’t... i don’t want to hurt you. i didn’t want to come.”

he scoffs bitterly.

“maybe you shouldn’t have.”

his words sting, but you can’t back down.

“what do you want me to do?” you ask, frustrated. “if i didn’t show up, you’d be upset and blow up my phone. now that i’m here, you’re still upset—”

“and this is how you chose to show up?” jungkook raises his voice, turning to you. he steps forward, towering over you. he brings his hands to your hair, pushing it back and leaning in to look at your hickey properly.

he squints.

“are you proud of this?” he hisses. “fucking bug bite bullshit.”

“stop—” you snap, cutting him off now. “don’t—”

“okay. sorry, fuck..."

a beat.

"___, i miss you,” he breathes. “i just… shit. can you stay still for a second?”

there’s a long silence between you two, the air thick with things unsaid. jungkook looks like he’s about to say something, but his mouth closes, his frustration evident in the way he grits his teeth.

instead, he just breathes you in.

for the first time in a month and a half; jungkook can breathe.

then, he steps away and sighs.

“think i’m gonna head home first. i… i need some space or something,” jungkook tells you. “let them know for me?”

“y-yeah. sure.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you.”

for the first time in a while, jungkook offers you a smile and you return it.

short and sweet—he takes it.

he leaves and thinks about it the entire drive home.

when you arrive at the party, you’re still reeling from the brief exchange with jungkook.

your thoughts are completely a tangled mess.

from the words he didn’t say to the way his eyes held that edge of something unspoken—it all lingers in your mind like an unsolved puzzle. you thought you had it all figured out…

that you could be fine.

that you could move on—but now, after that moment, you’re not so sure anymore.

your heart races in a way that you can’t explain. why does it feel like you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something scary—and yet, you're not sure if you want to fall or pull back?

your mind keeps returning to the way he looked at you, like he was caught between wanting to say everything and nothing at all. it’s not a feeling you can shake off easily.

it’s heavier than you thought it would be.

at the party, you try your best to focus on the people around you. do-hwan is by your side, chatting casually with a few people, most of them strangers to you. some faces are familiar—people from jungkook’s marine conservation club, and others... just people.

you make your rounds, greeting them politely, exchanging pleasantries, but your thoughts are still drifting back to him. to jungkook. the air is thick with anticipation, and no matter how much you try to focus on the conversations happening around you, your mind keeps wandering.

and then, there he is.

jungkook is standing by the drink table, his posture relaxed but not at ease.

his gaze flicks to you for a moment, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something more—before he meets your eyes. there’s a tense, palpable moment of silence.

he’s holding a red cup in one hand, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. his other hand rests in his pocket, but his stance is still too rigid... too guarded.

it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, for you to do something.

he doesn’t smile.

he just nods at you.

a small, deliberate movement that somehow feels too formal, too distant.

no words.

just acknowledgment.

you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, the nervous energy in your chest quickening. it’s the simplest thing, but it feels loaded with so much more.

you can’t look away.

something inside you is aching to go over, to close the space between you, to ask if everything’s okay, to say something—but you're frozen. the tension in the air between you is thick enough to suffocate.

you swallow hard, trying to calm the unease building in your chest, but it's no use.

the silence stretches out, heavy and thick, as you stand there, caught between the desire to run or to take a step closer, not sure if you're brave enough for either.

you take a step back, trying to break eye contact, when suddenly, someone bumps into you from behind. you stumble forward, your feet catching on the edge of a rug, and you let out a startled breath as you lose your balance.

before you can fully fall, a strong hand grips your wrist, pulling you back against something solid. your breath catches as you feel the warmth of someone’s body close to you.

it’s jungkook.

without a word, his other hand slides around your waist, steadying you, his fingers briefly pressing against the fabric of your shirt. the contact is brief but grounding, like the world, slows for a moment, just the two of you, suspended in time.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer the usual reassuring words.

his grip is firm, and steady, but he doesn’t linger. as quickly as it happens, he pulls away, his hand leaving your waist just as the tension between you starts to build.

you open your mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, but before the words leave your lips, he’s already moving away, stepping back with that familiar, unreadable expression.

you stand there.

you’re frozen for a beat longer than necessary. your chest tight as you try to catch your breath… his sudden departure stings more than you care to admit. there’s no time for you to process what just happened, what that touch meant—or didn't mean—before he vanishes back into the crowd.

fuck.

the night only gets louder as more people flood into the house.

the music thrums through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless, blending with the clatter of cups and the hum of overlapping conversations.

you weave through the crowd, the heat of so many bodies pressed together almost suffocating. your heart races—not from the chaos around you but from the weight of the unspoken tension that’s followed you since you walked in.

you couldn’t bring yourself to drink, though do-hwan had handed you a cup earlier.

it’s long forgotten somewhere, left behind on a table. you’re too afraid of what a single drink might loosen in you—afraid of saying or doing something you’re not ready for.

you don’t want to make worse what already feels so broken.

“hey.” do-hwan’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand resting lightly on your arm. he pulls you aside to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crush of people. “you okay?”

you nod, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

he watches you closely, his expression softening as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine, really.”

“you don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s the way he says it—gentle, almost understanding—that makes you crack a real smile. “pretty sure jungkook hates me. pretty sure he’s killed me 10 times in his head in the past hour or so… and he knows all the organic chem shit to make it a really clean murder, you know? “

you let out a weak laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

he grins at the sight, his confidence blooming as he leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“there it is,” he says playfully. “i was starting to think you didn’t know how to smile anymore.”

you laugh softly despite yourself, and his grin widens.

do-hwan then dips his head lower as he talks, his voice dropping slightly, as if the two of you are sharing a secret. it’s intimate in a way that makes your cheeks flush, his proximity unnerving. his eyes flick to yours, and he leans in just a little more.

across the room, jungkook sees everything.

is it hot in here?

because fuck, he’s burning up.

actually, the entire house is on fire in his mind.

he’s been watching you for most of the night, though he pretends not to be.

the way do-hwan hovers near you, the way you laugh at something he says—it feels like a punch to the chest. every small interaction between you two is a reminder of what he’s lost, of what he could’ve had if he’d been braver, better.

his grip on his cup tightens, his knuckles white against the red plastic. he can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. the way do-hwan leans closer, the way his hand brushes your arm—it’s enough to make jealousy coil hot and bitter in jungkook’s stomach. it burns through him, unbearable, as he watches do-hwan dip his head lower, his lips so close to yours.

and then something inside him snaps.

fuck it.

before he knows it, he’s moving through the crowd, his feet carrying him faster than his mind can keep up. his hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist just as do-hwan’s face nears yours. you barely have time to process the sudden motion before you’re being yanked back, stumbling slightly into jungkook’s chest.

“what the hell?” do-hwan says, his tone sharp, but jungkook doesn’t even look at him. his focus is entirely on you, his jaw tight and eyes dark with something unreadable.

your breath catches, your heart hammering in your chest as you look up at him, startled.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you away. his grip is steady but not rough, a silent insistence that leaves no room for argument.

“jungkook, wait—” you try again, glancing back at do-hwan, whose confused expression barely registers in the rush of your heartbeat.

jungkook doesn’t look back, his jaw tight and his steps purposeful as he weaves through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. the air around you feels heavy, the muffled music and chatter blurring into white noise as he leads you up the stairs.

your pulse thrums in your ears as he pushes open a door and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a quiet but final click. the sudden silence of the room contrasts sharply with the chaos outside, and for a moment, you can only stare at him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

he finally lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a split second longer than necessary before he steps back. his gaze is dark, unreadable, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. the weight of the moment presses down on you, thick and suffocating, as you wait for him to speak.

a moment passes.

then, another.

and another.

and then—

“dump him.”

you clearly your throat.

“can’t dump him. he’s not my boyfriend—“

“you and your fucking situationships.”

you gulp.

you hate the way he says it.

situationship… fuck him.

the room feels smaller than it is, the air thick with the weight of the moment. jungkook’s jaw ticks as he stares at you, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence.

“you’re… fucking with me, right?” he spits out, his tone teetering between disbelief and frustration. “you can’t be fucking real right now. you were just—”

“i was just what?” you snap, your glare matching his. “no fair, jungkook. i got to hear you fuck some girl, but you don’t want to watch me kiss—”

“did i ask you to?” he cuts in, his voice rising.

“no,” you huff, crossing your arms. “but what are you asking from me right now? huh? jungkook… i don’t understand you—”

“what do you think i’m asking?” his voice lowers, but the intensity behind it doesn’t waver. he steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “you’re always trying to act like this doesn’t matter. like i don’t matter.”

“maybe it doesn’t,” you challenge, even though the words taste bitter on your tongue.

jungkook laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp.

“yeah, sure. that’s why you still give a fuck about me fucking—”

you snap. “don’t tell me her name.”

“what?” jungkook grumbles. “is that it? you get to parade around, yelling his fucking name and announcing it to the entire fucking world but i don’t get to tell you about the girl that came onto me for months? do-hwan biochem this, do-hwan that—do-hwan kiss me! is that it?"

"jungkook—"

"fuck, ___... listen to me, okay? let me tell you what i've been rehearsing for the past month and a half.... the girl i declined over and over again and fucked a total of 3 times because i was thinking with my dick is done. okay? if you’re trying to tell me that i fucked up—fine. yeah. i fucked up. but i meant it when i said it’s not what it looked like. ___, it wasn't like that. she spread shit about me being a good tutor and twisted it. how the fuck do you think i feel about myself? how the fuck do you think i feel about you seeing it differently—seeing me differently?”

your throat tightens, and you look away, desperate for a moment to compose yourself.

“jungkook—”

“tell me how to fix it,” he cries, his frustration spilling over. “tell me what you want, because i’ll do it. i’ll stop tutoring if that’s what you want. fuck, i already did to be honest with you.”

you glance up at him, startled.

“why? that’s not going to change anything.”

“but i have to try…” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “i’ll give up anything—whatever it takes. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. want me to stop wearing ugly ass shirts? fine. want me to stop saving the dolphins you hate so much—”

“i don’t hate dolphins—”

“you’re scared of them.”

your eyes soften.

“how’d you know—”

“it’s obvious,” jungkook breathes. “the same way it’s obvious you’re scared of this.”

this...

what even is this?

the silence that follows is deafening. you don’t say anything, and the tension between you stretches taut, threatening to snap. his chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you’re not sure you can give him.

he takes another step closer, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

“say something,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper now.

but you can’t.

you don’t trust your voice, don’t trust yourself not to break under the weight of it all. so you stay quiet, the space between you charged with everything unsaid.

the weight of unsaid words and unresolved feelings pressing down on both of you. you take a step back, trying to create some space to breathe, but jungkook mirrors you, closing the distance effortlessly.

then, you look around his room for some kind of break… but it backfires as your eyes meet a plushie, laying on his bed.

hello kitty.

“what’s that?” you ask a little shyly.

jungkook turns his head, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’ve seen.

“what do you think it is?” jungkook asks gently. "___... i... i can't do it. i'm sorry, i can't..."

"can't what?"

"i can't want you," he confesses. "i can't want you when i need you that bad."

he points at the plushie and sighs. "fuck, do you know how stupid that fucking claw machine made me feel? i spent like 1 or 2—"

"hours?" your eyes widen.

he shakes his head. "hundred."

hundred.

you stay silent.

"i'm sorry, ___... for everything. i'm a shithead. i'm mean and inconsiderate. i'm a waste of time—i know... but i want you to know that... everything about my life feels so weird without you in it. the past month and half has been absolute hell. it's like... if you're not around, all i do is think about you and it fucks with me. i wonder what you're eating, who you're with, and what you're going to do next... i get excited when you seenzone me. i feel like i can finally breathe when you're near. i don't know what you did and what fucking pavlov doggy shit experiment you did on me—but fuck. woof woof. whatever you want, ___. seriously."

then, you do what you fear.

you give in.

“how am i supposed to trust you,” you start, your voice shaky but firm, “when you’re not even a good friend? you’re always so mean to me, jungkook. think about it… when have we ever been good friends?”

he scoffs, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile.

“maybe it’s because i don’t want to be your friend.”

the words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat.

“what if i want you to be?”

his eyes search yours, as if trying to figure out if you’re serious.

“really?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer.

“really.”

his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and his voice drops even lower, a dangerous edge creeping into it.

you can feel it… you can feel it about to happen.

“even when i’m about to do this?”

before you can process his words, his hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

his lips find yours in a kiss that’s as sudden as it is inevitable.

it’s not gentle—it’s firm, deliberate, and entirely consuming. his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. your hands instinctively reach for his shoulders, gripping him as if to steady yourself against the storm he’s unleashing.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. the air between you feels different now—heavier, laden with something you can’t quite name but can’t deny.

his hand slides up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and he looks at you softly, his dark eyes searching yours. the tender gesture sends a fresh wave of confusion—and longing—coursing through you.

“bad friend,” you scold him in a whisper.

his lips twitch, a soft laugh escaping him as his thumb grazes your cheek.

“don’t do that,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading.

you raise a brow at him. "do what?"

"don’t friendzone me.”

“why not?”

“i just kissed you.”

“so?”

“so?” he mimics, his tone teasing, but there’s a sharpness in his voice that makes you squirm. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“kitty,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “i’m gonna be impossible to get rid of now."

#jk fic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x yn #jk x reader #bts jk fic #bts fic rec #jk fic rec

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favefandomimagines · 3 months ago

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loml (r.c)

SEASON 4 PART 2 SPOILERS!!!!

Request: @motherlanaenthusiast “So what if we do a Rafe x Maybank!reader where like maybe she was in morocco but she wasn’t with JJ when he died cuz she was doing smthn else so like they all have to break the news and that happens and then when like after when they’re back at Kildare Rafe like gets deja vu from s1&2 him because he sees reader going kinda crazy”

Summary: Rafe is the only person to save Y/N from a downward spiral.

AN: I will NEVER forgive the writers for this lol I went on a tangent with this one

The sun was blistering and casting a golden hue over the winding alleyways in Morocco. Rafe Cameron and Y/N Maybank moved through the maze of alleyways, their steps quick and purposeful, yet filled with a tension that spoke of something much deeper than their immediate surroundings.

Y/N was JJ Maybank’s twin sister, a spitfire with a wild heart who had once been the center of Rafe’s secret world. The two had shared a tumultuous fling, a secret affair that had started four years ago under the cover of darkness and ended just as abruptly. It was a relationship neither had ever fully acknowledged. Rafe was a Kook, while Y/N, like her brother JJ, was a Pogue, tale as old as time.

The shop was quiet, the group off to Charleston to follow the next clue. Y/N stayed behind to wait for her brother after he had wandered off “running errands.” The bell above the door jingled, and the soft sound broke through the silence.

Y/N was leaning against the counter, staring at her phone screen, scrolling through all the unread text messages to her brother.

"How can I help you?" she asked absently, not looking up from her phone.

She looked up and her breath got caught in her throat, the smile on Rafe Cameron's face grating against the air. He stood at the entrance, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her tone even, though the familiar tension in her chest began to build. She’d never been able to shake the feeling of unease around him. Not since everything went down with Pope, the fight that ended whatever it was they had.

"Can't I just stop by and visit my local surf and bait shop?" Rafe said, taking a step inside, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You looking for Sarah?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, yeah. I'm looking for Sarah."

She shook her head, setting the phone down with a soft click. "She doesn’t want to talk to you."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "I think I can have a chat with my sister whenever I want."

"Not if she doesn't want to talk to you." Her words were firm, but there was a slight quiver in her voice that betrayed her more complicated feelings.

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter as he took a few more steps forward, closing the distance between them. He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning in closer, the sudden proximity catching her off guard.

"I'm sorry about the drama at the beach the other day," he said, his voice lowering in an almost sincere tone. "With Ruthie and the turtles."

She didn’t respond right away, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel the weight of his words, but it didn’t change anything. Rafe was sorry—sorry for the mess he had created, maybe, but never for the things that had truly mattered.

"Don’t act like you care, Rafe," she replied, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach. "You only care about how things affect you. And I guess now Sofia."

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze growing intense. The years of tension between them seemed to hang in the air, unresolved and unspoken. Then he said, his tone soft but firm, "We used to be so close, Y/N. What happened?"

She sucked in a breath, trying to push down the anger, the hurt, the past. "The drugs happened," she said slowly, her voice low. "Ward happened. Your anger happened."

His eyes darkened for a second, his jaw tightening. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly. After a long, weighted silence, he took a half step back, his expression softening, just a little.

"I’m on your side, you know," he said quietly, the words almost a whisper, as though they were too important to rush. "I always have been."

The words hung between them, charged and heavy with meaning. She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t known what to say to Rafe since the day he’d walked away, leaving everything torn apart in his wake.

Before she could respond, Rafe straightened, brushing his hand across his forehead as if clearing his thoughts. He turned toward the door, his back to her now. "I’ll be seeing you around," he muttered over his shoulder, the door swinging open as he left without another word.

Now, as they weaved through the ancient Moroccan city, they were older, scarred by the years of treasure hunts, betrayals, and broken friendships.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Y/N said, stopping suddenly, her dark eyes scanning the shadowed alleyways. She had always been the one with the sixth sense, the one who could feel trouble like a storm on the horizon.

Rafe turned to her, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

But before she could answer, they heard Kiara’s voice, shrill and desperate, cutting through the noise of the bustling market.

“Y/N! John B! Pope!”

Y/N’s heart seized in her chest, and without another word, she took off in the direction of Kiara's cries, Rafe hot on her heels. They rounded a corner and found Kiara kneeling on the cobblestones, her face pale and streaked with tears. And lying there, motionless, was JJ.

“No, no, no,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside her brother. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch JJ’s face, his skin already growing cold under her fingertips.

“JJ, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t leave me. You promised.” She cried.

But there was no response, no flicker of life in those familiar blue eyes. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, like the ground had opened up to swallow her whole. Rafe stood behind her, his face pale, his fists clenched at his sides.

The group stood stunned, no one wanting to be the one to move. But they were in a busy, bustling city with a dead body. People would ask questions. “W-We have to get him out of here.” John B stammered. He moved to reach for Y/N, attempting to pry her off of her brother’s body.

Y/N fought against him, muttering things like ‘I’m not leaving him’ or ‘he can’t be alone.’ Rafe takes over for John B and has to use his strength to pull her up to her feet. He held her in his arms, close to his chest to avoid having to see her two best friends moving her brother.

At that moment, all he could really do was hold her.

Months had passed since that horrible day in Morocco, but for Y/N, time had ceased to exist. She was back in Kildare, but it was as if she was still stuck in that dark alleyway, kneeling beside her brother’s lifeless body.

Sarah Cameron was heavily pregnant, as she prepared for the birth of her first child with John B. It was supposed to be a time of joy and new beginnings, but the shadow of JJ’s death loomed over them all.

Y/N had fallen into a downward spiral, her grief consuming her. She drank herself into oblivion every night, stumbling through the streets of Kildare like a ghost. She would disappear for days, only to be found passed out on the beach or in the hammock outside her house. The Pogues tried to help her, but she pushed them all away, lost in her own pain.

Sarah had told Rafe about Y/N, how she was drowning in guilt for not being there when JJ had died. The words had hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, reminding him of his own spiral years ago, before his father had dragged him into the hunt for the Royal Merchant’s gold.

He couldn’t let that happen to Y/N. He wouldn’t. He loved her even if he couldn’t admit it.

So he found himself standing on the porch of the Maybank house, staring at the peeling paint on the front door. John B’s van was parked out front, and Rafe assumed he was there trying to talk some sense into Y/N.

A part of him thought ‘oh John B is here, I can come back later.’ But he couldn’t walk away, not this time.He’s walked away from her too many times.

He knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness of the early afternoon. John B opened the door, his face drawn and tired. “Sarah’s not here.” He told Rafe. “I’m not here for Sarah. I’m here for Y/N.” Rafe answered.

“She’s not doing well, man,” John B said, his voice low. “We don’t know what else to do. I think... I think she feels guilty for not being with JJ when it happened.”

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “Let me talk to her.”

John B hesitated but finally stepped aside, letting Rafe through. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had always surrounded JJ.

Rafe walked down the hall to Y/N’s bedroom, the same room he used to sneak into all those years ago. All of the memories came flooding back as he stopped in front of the door. Nights that ended tangled up in her sheets. Other nights where she just wanted to be held after a fight with her dad.

Rafe pushed the door open to find her cocooned under the comforter, a bottle of vodka sitting on her nightstand.

“JB, please go away,” she mumbled, her voice raw and hoarse. Rafe assumed from a mixture of alcohol and crying.

“Not John B,” Rafe said softly.

Y/N stiffened, slowly emerging from under the covers, moving to sit up against her headboard. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and gaunt. She looked like a shadow of the girl he once knew.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m worried about you,” Rafe said, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Apparently everyone is,” she muttered, her eyes flicking away from him.

There was a heavy silence, the kind that was filled with all the things they had left unsaid for so many years. Rafe took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“Y/N... I know what it’s like to lose yourself,” he began, his voice steady. “I know what it’s like to drown. I was there once, you know that. Hell, I’m still trying to crawl my way out.”

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “He was always afraid to be alone, and I left him alone,” she choked out. “I should have been there. I should have protected him.”

Rafe’s heart broke at the raw pain in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Y/N. JJ wouldn’t want that.”

“How would you know?” she snapped, her voice rising. “You never cared about him. About me.”

The words were like a slap in the face, but Rafe took it, knowing she was lashing out from a place of deep hurt. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I didn’t care about JJ, and I pushed everyone away. But I always cared about you. And I don’t want to lose you to this, Y/N. I can’t.”

“I’m not your responsibility, Rafe.” Y/N muttered. “No but you’re the person I love.” Rafe replied. “You can’t say things like that.” She practically snapped. “Why not? You used to beg me to tell you how I felt and I finally am. I’m sorry it came so late and it’s happening because of this but I’ll be damned if another person I love gets hurt because I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Rafe told her.

She stared at him, the anger draining from her eyes, leaving only exhaustion. “I don’t know how to come back from this,” she whispered.

“Let me help you,” Rafe said, his voice breaking. “Please. Let me be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

There was a long pause, and then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’ll try to get better.”

“And I’ll be here,” Rafe promised, reaching out to take her hand. “Through it all. I’m not going anywhere.”

A year had passed since that day in Morocco. The sun was shining over the Outer Banks, the salty breeze carrying the sound of laughter and the distant crash of waves. The Pogues had gathered for a special occasion, a day of celebration and new beginnings.

Sarah and John B’s son, Jackson, was turning one today, and they were throwing a beach party in his honor. Y/N stood on the edge of the gathering, watching as Sarah bounced her son on her hip, his tiny hands reaching for the birthday cake.

Y/N was sober, clear-eyed, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again. She had fought her way out of the darkness with Rafe by her side, and though the pain of losing her brother would never fully fade, she was learning to live with it.

Rafe approached her, a soft smile on his lips. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, turning to look at him. “Yeah, I think I am.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She leaned into him, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering shadows. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

Rafe smiled down at her before she moved up on her toes and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Rafe.” She spoke quietly. “I love you too.” He replied.

They stood there together, watching as their friends celebrated a new chapter of their lives, a chapter filled with hope and healing.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N believed that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

#imagine #imagines #outer banks #jj maybank #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #kiara carrera #john b routledge #rudy pankow #sarah cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks

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skzdarlings · 6 months ago

Text

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

For a few moments, Felix is yours. There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship.

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder. The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses. He doesn’t think and neither do you. You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group. He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms.

You’ve missed this smile. You’ve missed these arms.

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far. The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse.

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different.

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed. You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers. His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise.

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly. Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars. He’s your best friend again. All yours for a few precious moments.

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body. Or maybe I just never noticed before.

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body. It feels like he is everywhere. Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer. You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable.

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell. Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty. So very Felix. You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him. You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home.

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance. One song pours into the next. You lose track of time. In forgetting the world, you forget yourself. You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him.

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months. Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable. The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix. So you have followed his lead. Every time he accidentally pulls a face – a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself. He’s more sensitive now, that’s all.

He still hugs the others. The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different. Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist. He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat. His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek. The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other.

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair. You feel the shudder move through his whole body. It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him. It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason. He cannot possibly be cold. The club is packed and, besides, he is not human. He runs hot.

So hot. He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together. Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat. You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him.

The real world soon returns. It’s getting late so your friends call it a night.

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you. Felix lives with him and the other wolves now. They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise. You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging.

“I don’t mind walking,” you say.

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable. He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away.

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves. He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face. You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers. You want to lift his face and see his smile.

But he doesn’t look at you. Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable.

“What?” Chan says. He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this. “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy. Come on.”

The pack leader does not take no for an answer. Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car.

Jeongin is in the front seat. Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too.

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you. Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him. If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.

“I can walk,” you say to him.

“What?” He shakes his head. When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real. You know the difference. His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink. “Of course not,�� he says. “C’mon. It’s late. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.

You take the middle seat. Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it. His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face.

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent. Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed. And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you.

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent. You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply. You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help. It must be something natural to your human body. Humans do not smell like werewolves in general. Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics. That includes romance. Werewolves mate for life. You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses. They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses.

You are not a werewolf. You can never be his true mate. In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you.

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated. He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers. Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all. Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers. A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once.

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same. He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time. You ended a bad relationship a year earlier. It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you. When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you. You had never seen your best friend so emotional. He became even more protective in the aftermath.

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be. It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small. He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed. He would make you laugh and let you cry.

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen.

At least, you thought so. After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you. You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed. The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated. Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon. When he came home, he was different. Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you.

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building.

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste. He holds the door for you but averts his gaze.

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car. Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street.

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled. You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up. Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches. It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes.

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment. You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free. The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands.

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship. He was immediately understanding. It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you. He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting. It is agonizing to be without him. He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now.

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable. When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this. You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome. You refuse to do it again.

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix. This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating. If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself.

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed. You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone. Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him. You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed.

So much of Felix is in your apartment. Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more. Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back. It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space. You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there.

You fill a cardboard box. Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation. You are not sure what to say. Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity. After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple.

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse.

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box. It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks. Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor.

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips. You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this. You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once. It’s time to heal.

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch. You reach the elevator and press the call button. You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside.

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him. He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside. It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him.

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.”

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him.

Changbin is a werewolf as well. There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby. The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around.

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say. “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away. Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength. Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement. He doesn’t even break a sweat. The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise. You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily. You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent. It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed.

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer. You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting. Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer.

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead. He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along. Chan agrees, of course.

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.

Chan buzzes you into the building. Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down. You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help.

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck. In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale. The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home. You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice.

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care. You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now. You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions.

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor. Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor. You turn towards the sound.

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see.

Felix is home. He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more. His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it.

Someone. He is talking to a young woman. You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack. She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home. You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.

She belongs. You do not.

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse. So close. They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain. The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible.

Your scent reaches Felix first. He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances.

Nothing is funny right now. You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all. He has already moved on. You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.

“I better go,” the woman says. She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear. She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave. She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her. You can only wave back pathetically.

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment. You and Felix look at each other.

He looks guilty. Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed. It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing. The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea. There is no pleasure in it at all.

You are completely mortified.

“Hey,” Felix says. His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge. He clears his throat. “Um,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more. He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again. “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it. You can’t hear it. You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated. Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf? It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire. Honesty would have hurt but not like this. Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation.

It is too late to talk.

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say. All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind. Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation. “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box. His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing. “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan. He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?” He looks from the box to you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears. Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency. “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much. The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t have you in my life like this. Thank you for your friendship. The memories will always be important to me. But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before. Now you need to leave. If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart.

“Good luck with everything,” you say.

You turn to leave but he says your name. You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around.

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion. His mouth is moving but no words are coming out. Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair.

“Hold on,” he says. “Hold on, I – what are you talking about? You – you don’t want to be friends? How can – You can’t—” That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion.

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words. Another part of you is too heartbroken to care.

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound. “Really.”

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again. He has not looked at you so intensely for so long. “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first. His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it. A hand flies up, covering his eyes. He shakes his head rapidly.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“For the best?” he repeats. He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath.

You avert your gaze. You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt.

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you. “Was it – was it me? You said – the werewolf thing – Did I do something? Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you. He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been. Maybe he thought he was being subtle. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life. Maybe that is all your fault after all.

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings. You would have been happy for him. If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner.

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say.

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks. “Where is this coming from? Please, I don’t understand. You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can. “I just can’t do this anymore. Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go. I want to go. Please.”

You have known Felix all your life. You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood.

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face.

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.

You nod. After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering. A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes. He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths. “Go. I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button. You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.”

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob. You name is lost in the sound.

The door closes.

The regret is instantaneous. You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing.

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure. It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship.

How could this have happened? You and Felix have always been open with each other. He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it. But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship. You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way.

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak. It plays on a loop in your mind.

It is the middle of the night when you get a text. He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way. If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best.

This message is more. You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes.

Tell me this isn’t real. Please.

You feel sick. You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel. You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely. Mostly, you are just sad.

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes. I’ll never stop being sorry. I’ll fix it. I’ll keep my distance. Just don’t say I can never see you again.

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent. It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles. You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek. He used to touch you like you were precious to him. Now he flinches from your touch.

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. You are not sure if it is better or worse.

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has.

You stare at your phone. You take a breath. You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed. It is still sore to the touch.

You write, I miss you too.

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message. It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply. You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness. It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again.

You do not reply. He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know?

I know, is all you say. I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment. Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory. He helped you move into this place after the break-up. He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet. Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him. This was just a room before he made it a home. Without him, it is just a room again.

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you. You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that. They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while. But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again. His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while. But – I thought we had a nice conversation. Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat. It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human. Surely nothing serious can come of it. You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile. “You and me. My treat. No pressure. I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.”

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue. You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now. But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway. A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human. Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there.

“Sure,” you say. “I’d like that.”

Changbin takes you out a few days later. You actually do enjoy yourself. He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun. He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later. “I’m strong! Those games were rigged.”

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you. You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek. It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic. Does he expect to be invited into your apartment? Does he expect… more? The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way. Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable. Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship.

You don’t need Felix.

But you still want him.

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible. A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection. There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else.

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously. He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise. “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say. “We’ve known each other forever, you see. He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known. He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm. I have truly never known a better man. He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it. You would like him, I think. Everyone does. He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year. Since then…” You sniffle. “Things have been different. Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word. He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow. “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know? It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary. Love is complicated.”

That does give you pause for a moment. A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept. If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped. But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably. “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says. “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot. If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.”

“I’m not in love with him…” The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence. Changbin just gives you an amused look. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” you say. “He doesn’t feel the same way. Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away. I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be. It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says. “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right. And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles. A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“Ah, it’s been fun. But give me back my jacket,” he teases. “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you. I’m cold.”

“I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing. You shrug off the coat and hand it to him.

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans. But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement. He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered.

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month. It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them. It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it.

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered. You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else. Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car. Felix, though, was radiating heat. Was he starting a rut cycle? Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation.

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor. Your heart sinks again. Was she helping him through his rut? Then again, she left the second you arrived. Why were they even in the hallway? If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway...

“You look worried,” Changbin says.

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day. At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “I’m just confused about so many things right now.”

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.”

“Ugh.” You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head. “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?”

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket. “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again. With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug. He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside.

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor. Changbin is right. Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him. Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him. It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure. That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering.

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator.

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop.

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door. He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that. A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour. It disappears at the morose look on his face.

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head. He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side.

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you.

He really looks at you.

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing. It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides. It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out.

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him. His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual. It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells.

“Where were you?” he asks.

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor. It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you. It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately.

“Out,” you say. You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”

That softens the slash of his gaze. He shakes his head.

“No,” he says softly. “Of course not. I’m sorry.”

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface. You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you. So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did. It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had. But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face. A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips.

He says your name. It feels like a touch. You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer. Your scent is affecting him. It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety. It is blatant, searching. For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs. Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow.

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face. Your knees knock. That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing. It darkens his whole face.

Of course. He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been. You cannot give into hopeful delusions.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence.

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys.

“I wanted to talk,” he says.

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets. You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head. You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off. You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate.

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head. He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes. His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door. Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck.

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want. You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting.

Until you remember he hates the scent. So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat.

You expect him to flinch and move away. You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it.

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?”

“What?” you say. “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath. “It’s all over you. Who is he?”

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour. You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf. To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it. You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice.

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before. He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you. The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start. It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it.

Now it overrides his good sense. His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit.

“He’s just a friend,” you say.

“A friend,” he repeats. “He doesn’t smell like a friend.”

“Well, he is,” you say. All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling. With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?”

You look into his eyes. He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you. It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back. There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest.

One hand leaves the door. He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command. It makes another firework burst inside you. You gasp.

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss.

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow. You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing. You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want.

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too. You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you. He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist. His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt. No, Felix would never hurt you. Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would.

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places. The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy.

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door. He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer. You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours.

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door. The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right. Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall. He will always fix what hurts. He will always take care of you.

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him. It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all. You are not thinking when you start to rock against him.

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage. It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath. Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him.

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly. It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you. It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor. You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment. You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off.

It doesn’t matter. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it. You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you.

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm. It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender. Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments. You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together. You can feel his heart beating hard and fast. It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below.

So much for conversation. Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all.

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization. You push at him and he goes obediently.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically.

Your heart is still pounding. You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down.

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look.

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust. Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all. It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him.

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need.

“Oh my god,” you say again. You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world. You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind. “I just—” You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze. “Just give me some time,” you say. “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you. He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult. Sweat breaks out on his hairline. “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side. He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone.

You can hear him bounding down the stairs. You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear.

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys. You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees.

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

You realize you have been wrong about so many things. You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago. You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them. It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse. It makes you hesitate.

A day goes by. Felix respects your space. On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes.

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan.

Hey, he writes. I need to talk to you right now. It’s about Felix.

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write. What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes. Felix is in rut. You know what that is?

Yes, you say.

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane. Then you are flustered as you recall the other night. You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it. Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you.

Right, Chan says. Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something. I wouldn’t do that. You have no responsibility for anything. But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right? Like… insane in love. Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one.

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word. The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask. I saw her at his apartment.

What??? Chan answers quickly. No. I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you. I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen. You know he thinks he’s a monster right?

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation. He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her. You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain. You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could. You assumed he just wanted to reject you.

Chan says Felix is in love you. Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again?

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.

A monster? you write. What do you mean?

That doesn’t even make sense. Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know. Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way.

Yeah, Chan says. Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult. He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly. He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen.

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too. I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that. I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak. The last month of drama attests to that.

What do you want me to do? you ask. You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more.

Can you just talk to him please? Chan says. He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in. He stopped answering my messages too. Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones. They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t. I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone.

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow. Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay. He listened. He let you go because he thought you wanted that. He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you.

Tears blur your vision. You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan.

I’ll go to him, you write. I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says. You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says. He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it. Give the guy a smack for me, hey?

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet. You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second. You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what. You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him. This time, you will make him understand.

The two city blocks pass in a blur. You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street.

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath. You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach.

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize. They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock. You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock. Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.

It does not look any different from the last time you were here. Even your slippers are still by the door. You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter.

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar. The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows.

You finally hear a sound. You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room.

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling. Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans. It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night. Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh. You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt. You wondered if it got on him.

You certainly have an answer now.

Felix is touching himself. He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart. His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly. His hand is wrapped around his cock. One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand. He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose. He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax. You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material. His eyes are closed, head thrown back.

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name.

His reply is a startled yelp as well. You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions. He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down.

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers.

“Um, me too,” you say.

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside. He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair.

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath. You slowly lower your fingers from your face.

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled. After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile. You tentatively return it.

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek. He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together. It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension.

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks.

“Um, Chan texted,” you say.

“Oh, for the love of—” He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily.

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget.

“Um, he told me… he told me…” You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his. You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes. You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions. You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity.

“I—” You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice. You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them. “I thought my scent disgusted you.”

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle. Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head. A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back.

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks. “Dis—disgusted me? You thought—” He looks back at the couch too. He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red. “Um. No.” He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes. “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again. You rock a little on the balls of your feet. “Yes. I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath. His eyes drop from your face down your body. You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful. “No, I’m not disgusted. Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say. It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there. “And you’ve been so distant, Felix. I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”

His face scrunches up with bewilderment.

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up. It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display. He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face. “I could never feel that way,” he says. “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that. You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly. “I wish you would have told me how you felt. I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all. You’re my person too, you know.”

He exhales, shoulders deflating. He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say. Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says. “You’ve been through so much. I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion. You take a step closer as well. “Felix, you’re not a burden. I wanted so badly to take care of you. I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder. It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath.

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible. “As a – as a friend – or?” He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again.

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily. You hold his gaze. When you smile, it is honest and affectionate.

“I love you, Felix,” you say. “As more than a friend. As everything.”

“Oh,” he says. His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again. His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers. He blinks at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh.

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding. “Because you thought I didn’t want you. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step. He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes. Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating.

“Look,” he says. “I – I can’t just say I love you.” Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough. I do, I do love you. The werewolf gene activated for you. The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no. They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself. That’s what happened to me. Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself. I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks. “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting. I wanted to protect you. I never wanted to see you suffering again. I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate. My wolf, it’s like my heart. It’s just an animal, you know? And it only understands loyalty and love. And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same. They could barely keep me contained in that hospital. I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst. “Oh, Felix, me too.”

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour. You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you.

“I wish you would have told me,” you say. “But it’s my fault too. I know I’m still recovering in some ways. I’m quick to think little of myself. But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head. I’m sorry too. So, so sorry.”

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice.

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine. You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes. He swallows hard, staring back.

“It was silly,” you say. “I even thought you were seeing someone else. That werewolf lady in your pack. I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.”

“That’s crazy,” he says. “You’re my everything.”

“And you’re mine,” you say.

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips. His skin is so hot it makes you gasp. Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips.

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed. “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in— I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer. You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out.

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck. It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open. He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.

“You want me,” he says. When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief. “Ruts are… intense,” he says.

“Mm,” is your gentle reply. Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch. You meet his gaze. “But it’s you, right?”

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze. Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours. You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second. You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery. There is so much of him.

But that is what you love. You can never have enough.

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper. His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday. Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him.

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape. In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate. A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.

You do, utterly. You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger.

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat.

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says. “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say. Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers.

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back. He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides. He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core. Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl.

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress. “I’m yours.”

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening. In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him.

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front. The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase.

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck. You tip your head, offering more skin. It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin. He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip. He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor.

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra. You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor. You rock back against him when he touches you. He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says. “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck. It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking.

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights.

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp. “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck. “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.” You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing. “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.”

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it. He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back.

“At first, I was just sad,” he says.

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table. You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.

You meet his gaze when he comes back. He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face. He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed.

“Then I really thought about it,” he says. “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.” He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head. “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.” He leans down, kissing along your jaw. “With me. Under me. Moaning my name. Forgetting about everything else.”

“Did you—” You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking. You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body. “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What? Did I get off to your scent?” he asks. “Yes.” His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights. “I told myself I shouldn’t. The last few ruts I managed. It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by. But – you weren’t coming back, were you? You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright. He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights.

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says. “Soft, like you. Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.”

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh.

“Put it on my face,” he says. “Tasted it. Like I wanted to taste you.”

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy. He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through. You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up.

“Mmm.” He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips. He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down.

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips. He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him. You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder.

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way.

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue. “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…” He slips two fingers inside you. Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in.

“Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you. He grins when you clench around him. “Show you we were meant to be,” he says. “Just like this.” He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels. “Wolf or not. Knew you were mine. Was gonna make sure you know too.”

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you. “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?”

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. “Right… here…”

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue. You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers.

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs.

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you. He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable. Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings. You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you. You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks. You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream.

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut. Maybe because of it. His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly. He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you.

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster.

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks. “Impossible.”

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back. He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me. Right now.”

You do, blinking your eyes open. His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth. You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze.

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly. With Felix, it feels right, it feels good.

“It’s you and me,” he says. “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb. It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more. You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try.

“You’re my mate,” he says. “Just you. It’s always – always been you.” He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer.

“Gonna be mine,” he says. “That’s right, yeah?” You nod frantically. “Yeah. Gonna put a ring on your finger. You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you? Gonna let me take care of you. Gonna be my mate. Gonna have my children. You and me. Home. Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children. It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why. You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought. Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth. He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other.

“Look at me,” he whispers.

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him. It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you. You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely. You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue. “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says. He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust. “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you. “Yeah. Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway. It can’t stop me.”

He holds your hips, keeps you in place. He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you.

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human. That difference is exacerbated on a rut. You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases. Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question.

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down. Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you. The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others. It ripples through you, makes you moan.

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself.

You look up at Felix. His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh. You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you. That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it.

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body. He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness. Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you. The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today.

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him.

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders. You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes. He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again.

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck.

“Good,” you say.

“Not too much?” he checks.

“Mm, no,” you say. You give him a teasing smile. “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?” He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity. “Should I growl and bite more?” He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica.

It makes you laugh. You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too. “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?”

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily. He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you. He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens.

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him.

“Oh shit,” he says. “I see.”

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front. Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you. It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips. You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim.

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet. “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?”

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure. You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you. You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up.

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second. “I got you. I’ll give you a baby. So good for me. Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?”

You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand. Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too.

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming. Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily. You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you.

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers. It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle.

He rolls you over and cups your face. You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck. He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here.

“Wow,” he says. The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life. He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue. “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth. And my mouth. You’re gonna sit on my face for hours. I’m gonna take care of you. Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest. He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head.

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse.

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys. His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane. He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can. He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace.

“My turn,” you say, smiling. “I want to take care of you too.”

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them. He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.

You make him come twice that way. After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break.

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you. You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it. You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest.

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back.

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you. “I want everything with you.”

“Me too,” you say. You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently. “I love you, Felix. Everything about you, wolf and all.”

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead.

There is a long moment of content silence. He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state. It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again.

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know. As my mate. That makes you one of us.”

“Does it?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“Sounds good,” you say. “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…”

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all. You giggle together and kiss again.

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape. You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there. “It can wait,” you say, smiling. “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.”

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need. He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him.

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz x you #yongbbokkie #valentinesdaystories

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jellyfishsthings · 3 months ago

Text

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

requests are open

part 2

The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.

As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.

"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.

"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.

But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on her. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat

The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.

As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.

“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.

She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.

“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.

In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.

The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.

She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.

“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.

“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.

But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.

She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.

“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.

As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”

"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."

Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.

In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.

With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.

Then the darkness came.

The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”

“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”

“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”

Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”

“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”

The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.

Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.

Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”

Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.

Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.

He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.

“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.

“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.

“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.

Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.

And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.

Once.

Twice.

He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.

But no.

It was true. She was breathing.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #criminal minds

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kookooluvr · 26 days ago

Text

Teach Me How To Love - Part 5

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

summary: jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

word count: 16k

warnings: the gang all head off to jeju, jk and oc have a little moment on the plane, jk's secret playlist for oc, jk and oc share a room thanks to tae, he gets hard from a few smoochies, oc finds out what jk said about her back when they met, some jealousy, she takes a step back before taking a step forward, some wholesome vibes, lots of yearning, cuddles, oc has a few realisations, volleyball on the beach, HANA AGAIN (she's a warning all on her own), very minor ankle injury, mentions of oc's past heartbreak, some angst + fluff on the beach, explicit sexual content; making out, shower sex, fingering (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex (oc's on the pill you know the drill), a brief description of fluffy morning sex, nipple play, oral (f. receiving), sleepy missionary sex, overall fluffy ending.

author's note: i just want to thank you all for all the love and support this story has gotten so far, i love and appreciate you all so so much !!! i really hope you enjoy part 5 (this is a lengthy one ladies and gentlemen so be prepared) and please don't be shy to share your thoughts because i love hearing them okay bye 🫶🏼🫶🏼

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @chxiosworld @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni @matryoshka-poetry @almatiarau @ambiee3 @gukkie7

find tmhtl masterlist here

Today is just not your day. No, there wasn't an earthquake or a massive flood (it's far less dramatic than that) but more so minor inconveniences continuously piling up. For starters, Miso threw up on your bed, which was a fantastic start to the morning. You checked to make sure it wasn't anything serious, but it turns out she just had a hairball. Typical. Then there was an accident on the road around 10am, so you were stuck in traffic while taking Miso over to Jihyo's place where she'll be staying for the next few days. On top of that, you can't find your phone charger or your headphones and Jungkook is currently on his way to your apartment to pick you up to go to the airport, giving you very little time to get your shit together.

Mai and Namjoon and the rest of Jungkook's friends are all at the airport already, waiting for the flight which is set to leave at 2pm to take you all from Seoul to Jeju. Mai has been texting you nonstop to confirm that you're still going, and at one point you weren't sure if you should follow through, but you just couldn't disappoint her. The two of you are already becoming fast friends, and she seems pretty excited to have you come along with all of them. What's the harm in joining Jungkook and his friends on a three-day trip?

You're frantically checking to make sure you haven't forgotten to pack anything important, when your phone buzzes, signalling a text from Jungkook letting you know he's on his way up to your apartment. Well...fuck it. If you forgot anything, it's too late to stress about it now.

You scurry to make sure you have all your skincare products and toiletries before quickly zipping up your luggage. Minutes later there's a knock on your door, so you roll your suitcase to the living room and open the front door, feeling your stomach flip at the sight of him. He ditched his usual button-up shirt and slacks for a casual golfer and jeans, the denim hugging his thighs just right, the shirt's short sleeves showing off his thick biceps. His hair is styled a little messily, paired with his favourite black sunglasses. He looks like the lead role out of a rom-com, and that's not just because you're ovulating. Damn, maybe today is your day after all.

"Hey," he smiles, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head to push back his hair. "You all set?"

"Yeah, let me just get my suitcase-"

"Lemme get that for you."

You reach for the handle of your suitcase, but he stops you and quickly gets it before you do. You have no problem carrying your own bags or rolling around a heavy suitcase, but Jungkook wouldn't be Jungkook if he wasn't a true gentleman, so you let him do it because you know he's just going to insist anyway.

"Oh, uhm, thanks," you murmur, watching his arm flex as he carries your suitcase out the apartment, giving you a chance to lock the door.

"It's no problem," he shrugs, flashing you a smile. The two of you walk to the elevators, going downstairs to his car in the parking lot. He unlocks the car and puts your suitcase next to his in the trunk, opening your door for you before making his way over to the driver's seat, the engine roaring to life.

The drive to the airport is a short one, but you use your time wisely, stealing little glances while he's not looking, taking in the way his muscles flex under his skin, the way his hair blows in the light breeze of the air conditioner, the way his skin glows under the summer sun. He's a gorgeous man, and you could stare at him for hours, but you mentally remind yourself to look away every time your thoughts get a little too carried away or the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings just a little too hard. He's not your boyfriend, and a three-day trip with him and his friends won't change that, even if your brain and your heart have been having a few disagreements about that lately.

"So...you ready for Jeju?" He asks, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yeah, the weather should be nice," you murmur, looking out the window as the other cars pass by.

"I hope you didn't feel obligated to come, y'know. I know Mai can be a bit pushy at times but she means well," he mutters, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him as he drives.

"No, no, I'm happy to come," you murmur. "I mean...I was pretty drunk when she initially invited me, so obviously I wasn't going to say no, but it's a free vacation. What type of person would I be to complain about that?"

You had insisted on paying for your own plane ticket to Jeju, but Mai just wasn't having any of that. She graciously offered to pay for your ticket because she invited you a bit last minute. You could have managed, but as Jungkook says, Mai can be a bit pushy. Not that you mind, you've actually started growing quite fond of her since you met that night at the club.

He glances over at you for a moment, then reluctantly looks away. He wishes he wasn't driving so that he could just keep staring. A few moments pass in comfortable silence before he speaks, his voice soft and contemplative. "I really am glad you decided to join."

You look over at him, a faint smile gracing your face. "Why? Because otherwise you'd have to use your hand instead of me?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "No," he mutters, trying to sound annoyed but failing as a hint of amusement creeps onto his face. "Because I really enjoy your company, ___."

You try to remind yourself why you set so many rules and boundaries between the two of you, but you can barely hear your brain over the loud chattering of your heart. "Yeah...me too," you murmur softly, looking back out the window for the rest of the drive. This trip is surely going to be a test of your self-restraint, that's for sure.

At the airport, the two of you meet the rest of his friends, getting a tight hug from an excited Mai, hearing Namjoon chuckle at his fiancée's enthusiasm.

"Mai, c'mon, you're suffocating her," Jungkook jokes, greeting the rest of his friends with a pat on their back. Everyone is excited to get to Jeju, a few of them already talking about going down to the beach once they land. It'll be a nice get-away from the concrete jungle that is Seoul.

"Oh, I'm sorry, ___," she chuckles, pulling away to go and stand next to Namjoon, looking like a puppy being taken on a walk. "I'm just so happy we're all together."

"It's okay," you murmur with a smile. "Thank you again for inviting me, Mai."

"Of course! You're Jungkook's friend, so you're our friend now too."

Her words bring a strange, warm feeling to your chest. You've only ever had a handful of friends in your life, Jihyo being your right-hand woman. You're so used to keeping people at arm's length, so to have his friends be so willing to accept you into their friend group is new, and just slightly intimidating.

Everyone hangs out in the waiting area until it's time for the flight. Jisoo and Seokjin have a little argument about whether he turned the stove off before they left the house, Namjoon and Mai discuss everything they want the group to do in Jeju, while Hoseok, Yoongi, Taehyung and Jimin are already thinking about what's for dinner tonight.

Much to Jungkook's dismay, Hana is here as well, so he quickly goes to sit with you before she can start up a conversation with him. She watches the way he not so subtly flirts with you, the way you try to act indifferent, despite the occasional chuckle you let out at one of his dumb jokes. It makes her blood boil.

Hana's not an idiot. She knows something is going on between the two of you, but she also knows that Jungkook would be showing you off if you were his girlfriend. She can't figure out exactly what it is you two have going on, but she doesn't like it. On the plane, she finds it annoying that he insists on putting your suitcase up in the overhead compartment for you, and she mentally rolls her eyes when he sits next to you, leaving her to sit next to Hoseok and Yoongi.

Jungkook on the other hand is quite happy to be seated next to you, after subtly shoving Taehyung out of that seat, leaving his friend to sit in the next row. Not that Taehyung minds, he'll anyway just end up texting a certain friend of yours throughout the flight, which he spent all of last night doing as well.

"I made this new playlist on Spotify," Jungkook quips as he gets his phone out, putting one of his earphones in before holding the other one out for you. "Wanna hear?"

You move closer and place the earphone in your ear with a smile, looking down at his phone to see the title ___'s playlist on the screen. That was definitely not meant for your eyes. At least not yet.

"Hey, what's that?" you ask, but he quickly scrolls past it before you can get a proper look at it.

"Hm? Oh no, that's nothing. Here it is," he mutters quickly, his movements a bit panicked as he clicks on a playlist called Jeju Summer. You'll have to ask him about that other playlist another time. He hits play and the first song is by Beabadoobee, causing your eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"I didn't know you listened to Beabadoobee," you chuckle.

"What, are you making fun of me?" he asks with an amused smile and a raised eyebrow.

"No, of course not. I love her, I just wouldn't have pegged you to listen to this sorta music, that's all."

"Well...maybe you have a few more things to learn about me, Professor," he teases, looking over at you with a soft smile, the catchy melody playing through his earphones.

The songs play one by one, some a bit slower than others, causing your eyes to slowly fall closed, your head lowering to rest on his shoulder. The weight of your head on his shoulder brings a smile to his face, his head resting against yours for the remainder of the flight. He scrolls back to the playlist he made for you and hits play, letting out a soft sigh as 'The Only Exception' by Paramore starts to play. The playlist isn't finished yet, but he hopes to gain the courage to show it to you some day.

Hana watches the exchange from her seat, mentally cursing you. She has no claim over Jungkook, but that doesn't make it sting any less, and if her eyes were daggers, you'd be dead by now. She has to force herself to look away from the two of you, her face growing hot with jealousy. She can't quite remember why she even wanted to come on this trip in the first place.

Once the group arrives in Jeju, everyone splits into separate groups to go over to Mai's family's beach house. Seokjin, Jisoo, Namjoon and Mai share a car, while Yoongi, Hoseok, Hana and Jimin all drive together, leaving you, Jungkook and Taehyung to drive together in the third car.

Jungkook packs everyone's luggage in the trunk of the rental car and gets the engine running. You sit in the passenger seat, leaving Taehyung to sit on the back seat. It's a beautiful day in Jeju, the waves crashing as you all drive down the scenic route. Jungkook occasionally steals glances at you while he drives, causing Taehyung to stifle a big grin. He can't tell if you're oblivious to his friend's obvious affection toward you, or if you're just choosing to ignore it. Either way, it's quite amusing for him to witness first hand.

"I wonder how many rooms there are at this house," Taehyung mumbles, looking out at the view. "I'm sure a few people will have to share, huh?"

"Well, obviously each couple will share a room," Jungkook murmurs.

"Right...Joon and Mai, Jin and Jisoo, you and-"

"Wow! Look at that view!" Jungkook interjects before he can go any further, shooting his friend a narrow-eyed look in the rear-view mirror, Taehyung pretending to seal his lips. The rest of the drive is filled with the soft sounds of the radio playing, paired with the sounds and smell of the ocean outside.

It's a thirty-minute drive before you all get to the beach house. Jungkook pulls up into the driveway and gets out, going around to open your door for you. Once you get out the car, your eyes widen in awe of the stunning house. It's a big two-story home with six bedrooms, large windows and the beach right at its feet. Some of the others are already there, Jisoo and Mai already setting up and unpacking the groceries in the kitchen.

You, Jungkook and Taehyung get your luggage from the trunk and make your way inside. Mai makes sure to give you a little tour of the house while the others chat in the kitchen, showing you around the bottom and top floor to make sure you know where everything is. Once everyone has arrived at the house, the group gathers in the living room, getting comfortable to decide who's taking what room.

"We hope you all don't mind but Mai and I will be taking the master bedroom," Namjoon grins, already heading upstairs to take their luggage to their room, the one with a king-sized bed and a gorgeous view of the beach, leaving everyone else to decide on their rooms. Seokjin and Jisoo get the second biggest bedroom, the one upstairs with a queen-sized bed and a big tub in the en-suite. Hoseok suggests him and Yoongi share one of the bedrooms with two single beds, and he accepts, mainly because he could care less where he sleeps.

As everyone begins to pair off for the remainder of the rooms, the reality of the situation slowly starts to sink in. There are five people left, and only three more rooms.

"Jimin and I will share a room," Taehyung calls out, shooting Jungkook a look, subtly gesturing over to you with his eyes. He knows his friend wants to share a room with you, better yet, he knows his friend does not want to share a room with Hana.

"___, you're new to the group. You should get your own room," Mai suggests.

Dammit Mai.

Jungkook looks over at you, swallowing thickly at the thought of having to share the last room with Hana, who happens to be visibly pleased.

"I think that's a great idea!" Hana quips with a sly grin. "Kookie and I can share, and his friend can have her own room. I mean, who doesn't want their own room, right, ___?"

"Oh, uhhh..." You don't quite know what to say. You glance over at Jungkook, his eyes boring a hole through you, practically begging you to decline. You're a guest in Mai's family's home, so you should probably just take what you get, even if the thought of Jungkook and Hana sleeping in a bed together makes your stomach turn.

"Hana, why don't you take the single room instead?" Taehyung blurts out with a sickeningly sweet smile, causing Hana to whip her head in his direction. "___ is Jungkook's friend so I think it would only make sense for them to share a room. You said it yourself; who doesn't want their own room...right?"

Hana's eyes dart between you and Jungkook, her jaw clenching. She had clearly hoped to get a room with Jungkook in hopes of getting closer to him, but with everyone's expectant eyes on her, Taehyung leaves her no choice. She forces a smile and pretends to be thrilled about having her own room for these next three days.

"Yeah, perfect," she mutters through gritted teeth.

Jungkook keeps his expression schooled, even as his heart bangs against his ribcage. The two of you will be sharing a room. He shoots Taehyung a grateful smile, silently thanking his friend for doing what he couldn't do. Internally, he's ecstatic, but externally he remains nonchalant. He knows you still have your boundaries and your rules and all that, so he leans over to whisper in your ear from his seat on the arm of the couch, making sure no one else can hear. "Are you okay with this?"

You turn your head to look up at him, your heart racing at the thought of sharing a room with him for three days. You're not sure if it's nerves or excitement, but you nod and give him a faint smile. Some rules are meant to be broken on vacation anyway.

He mirrors your smile, his eyes having a hard time looking away from your face. "It's fine with us," he announces, standing up to grab your luggage and take it to the room.

You follow him to your room and gently close the door behind you, your eyes trailing over the double bed you'll be sharing. The room itself is quite spacious with a big window, allowing the late afternoon sea breeze to travel inside. There is an en-suite bathroom and a waterfall shower, but all you can think about is that bed and what might happen in it in the nights to come.

You both start unpacking, the room slowly starting to feel like your own, your skincare products placed neatly on the bathroom counter, your clothing hanging in the shared closet. You hang up the last of your clothing while Jungkook goes to sit at the edge of the bed, watching you with a faint smile on his face.

"You sure you're okay with us sharing a room? Because I can sleep on the couch in the living room if you-"

"Don't be ridiculous," you chuckle, walking over to stand between his thighs, your hands on your hips. "I'm not letting you sleep on the couch on vacation. You'd probably just end up complaining about a crick in your neck and I don't wanna have that on my conscience."

He lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head in amusement. "I guess you're right, yeah."

His laughter dies down, his face softening into a smile, his big brown eyes staring up at you, his hands reaching out to trail up your thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your leggings. "Seriously though, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Jungkook, I'm okay."

"Can I get a kiss to prove it?" he whispers, staring up at you like he's been dying to ask since he picked you up from your apartment.

You let out a soft scoff and lean down to cup his face in your hands, leaning in to press a soft peck to his lips.

"Another one please," he whispers, his lips just millimetres from yours, his big brown eyes pleading as he stares up at you. You smile and close the gap, pressing another kiss to his lips, this one lasting slightly longer.

"One more."

"You're greedy."

"For you, yes."

You're about to respond, when there's a knock at the door, causing you to jolt up straight, backing away from him to avoid getting caught by any of his friends. "Come in!"

Jisoo peeks her head in, completely oblivious to the moment you had going on. "Hey, we're getting started on dinner, okay? It shouldn't be long."

"Thanks, Soo," Jungkook murmurs, standing up to subtly adjust his jeans, his back turned to her.

As soon as Jisoo leaves and the door closes, your eyes trail down to see Jungkook's situation, a little chuckle bubbling up your throat.

"Are you seriously hard from a few kisses?"

"Shut up, your kisses feel good, okay?" he mumbles, a faint pout on his lips.

You bite your lip to hold back the smile spreading across your face, his words sending a rush of pride through your chest. You glance over at the bathroom door before grabbing some underwear and a flowy dress from the closet to wear to dinner. "I'm gonna go take a shower before dinner, okay?"

"Yeah," he nods, his eyes growing wide as you turn around and press one last kiss to his lips before disappearing into the en-suite, the bathroom door shutting behind you.

Jungkook plops down onto the bed with his arms splayed out, a big grin spread across his face as he stares up at the ceiling. A few kisses and he's putty in your hands.

The smell of food fills your nose as you leave the room for dinner, the others coming in and out of the kitchen. Jisoo sets the table while Seokjin and Yoongi finish up on dinner, with the others hanging out in the living room. You want to make yourself useful in any way that you can, so you go to the kitchen to check if anyone needs any help.

"___, can you help me set the table?" Jisoo asks, handing you a few plates.

You get to work, placing a plate at each place setting while she adds the utensils and the glasses. She doesn't seem to talk much, which is quite the opposite of Mai, which is probably why they're best friends. They balance each other out. That seems to be the case for Jungkook's entire friend group. Each person has their person who seems to balance out their personality. Yoongi has Hoseok, Jisoo has Mai and Mai has Namjoon, and so on. This leaves you questioning who your person is. Maybe it's the man who can't seem to keep his big brown eyes off of you for more than a few seconds at a time as he attempts to stay focused on his conversation with Hoseok and Namjoon.

"You know," Jisoo murmurs, keeping her eyes down as she gently places the utensils next to each plate. "You must be really special for Jungkook to bring you around."

Her words puzzle you. "How so?"

She looks over at you, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You're the first woman Jungkook's ever introduced us to. Even if you are just his friend...you must be a very special friend."

You look down at the stack of plates in your hands, her words ringing through your head. "I suppose so..."

As if on cue, Jungkook walks into the dining room, slowly rounding the table to get to you, placing a gentle hand on your lower back. "Need any help?"

"I think we can manage," you murmur softly, looking up into his eyes.

Jisoo looks between the two of you with a knowing smile, leaving to get the salads from the kitchen. She knows that look, the way you look at him. It's the same look she used to give Seokjin in university, the look she still gives him even after three kids. She doesn't know you that well yet, but she has a sneaky suspicion she'll be seeing a lot more of you.

Everyone eventually sits down for dinner, Jungkook sitting on your left and Mai on your right. The atmosphere around the table is bubbly, everyone chatting and discussing their plans for the next two days in Jeju.

"We're so playing volleyball tomorrow," Hoseok announces. "Everyone in?"

"Soo and I will be sitting this one out," Seokjin murmurs with an apologetic smile.

"Boooo!" Jimin teases, rolling his eyes. "Hyung, c'mon!"

"Sorry, we're going for a walk," he shrugs.

"A walk?" Namjoon scoffs. "Is that code for sex?"

Seokjin lets out a hearty laugh, giving Namjoon an exasperated look. "You try having three kids. Cut us some slack!"

"Okay, so Jin and Jisoo are out," Hoseok says, rolling his eyes at the couple who don't seem to care, Jisoo placing a soft kiss on her husband's cheek.

"Me too," Yoongi murmurs, chewing on some of the samgyeopsal. "I wanna catch up on some reading."

Hoseok scoffs, muttering a teasing, "Get a load of Stephen Hawking over here".

"I'm in," Jimin calls out. "I still have to kick your ass for the last volleyball game."

"Yeah, me too. I can't believe we lost to Hobi," Taehyung sighs, shaking his head. "Kook?"

"I'm still deciding," Jungkook murmurs with a faint grin, taking a sip of his beer. His response is mostly just to tease Hoseok.

You look over at him, then over at Hoseok, who seems to be waiting for your verdict. "I'm in."

"See, I knew I liked you, ___," Hoseok smiles. "Kook, why didn't you bring her around sooner? I'm already starting to like her more than you."

Jungkook doesn't protest. He simply glances over at you with a soft smile on his face, watching as you talk to his friends. It feels so natural to have you here, like you're a puzzle piece that's been missing all this time. You just fit.

All throughout dinner, he finds little ways to maintain contact with you. He touches your thigh under the table, he rests his arm over the back of your chair, he lazily plays with the ends of your hair while you make conversation with Taehyung about work. It's his subtle way of showing his affection without outright saying what he feels.

After dinner, his friends decide to sit around the patio and roast some marshmallows on the fire that Seokjin lit. Hana chose to go to her room with the excuse of not feeling too well so that she doesn't have to tell the truth, which is that she would rather bang her head against a wall than sit and watch Jungkook make heart eyes at you for another second.

Everyone else gets cozy outside. The sun has already set, the moon and stars illuminating the seaside while the waves crash in the distance. You sit next to Jungkook on one of the patio loveseats, the fire crackling as he holds out a charred marshmallow on a skewer.

"Mai, is everything finalised for the wedding?" Jisoo asks, snuggling up to Seokjin under a thick blanket on one of the other loveseats.

"I have my final dress fitting next week and the venue is stunning! We can't wait for you guys to see it," Mai gushes, her eyes sparkling as she talks about her wedding. "We're really excited."

"Damn, the second couple in our friend group is getting married," Yoongi sighs. "We're getting old."

"Speak for yourself," Taehyung scoffs, playfully elbowing his friend.

"Weddings are always so exciting," Jisoo sighs blissfully. "I remember how happy I was at our wedding. I think that was honestly the happiest day of my life...and when the boys were born of course," she chuckles.

You stare down at the fire burning away, your eyes slightly glossy as you zone in on the low flames. Wedding-talk always gets you a bit choked up, but the last thing you want to do is take away from Mai and Namjoon's moment, so you blink away the moisture building in your eyes and swallow the lump in your throat.

Of course Jungkook notices. He can sense something is wrong by the way your shoulders tense up, the way your eyes remain fixed on the fire. He doesn't want to draw any attention to you, so he leans closer, keeping his voice down. "Hey, everything okay?" he whispers, gently snaking an arm around your waist.

You snap out of your daze to look at him, inhaling sharply, the cool evening breeze working fast to dry your eyes. "Mhm," you nod, looking out at the ocean in the distance. "I'm fine, just...a bit tired."

"You wanna head inside?"

"No, I'm fine."

He doesn't push. He takes your word for it, even though he knows you're anything but fine. He knows you won't tell him what's on your mind, so he lets it go and gently squeezes your waist through the fabric of your dress, a simple way of saying that he's here for you through whatever it is that seems to be bothering you.

"Hey, she was hot!" Jimin exclaims exasperatedly.

"She threatened to hit you with her car," Namjoon laughs.

The conversation seems to have taken a different turn while you and Jungkook got distracted, his friends reminiscing about their failed relationships. Namjoon and Mai's upcoming wedding has them all thinking about their own love lives, some a bit less significant than others.

"What can I say, I like my girls with a touch of psycho," Jimin laughs, earning an amused snort from Taehyung.

"Hey, remember that woman Kook told us about a few years ago who was apparently sooo gorgeous," Hoseok chuckles. "What ever happened to her, man?"

"Yeah, you never told us her name," Yoongi chimes in, giving Jungkook a puzzled look. "You went on and on about how smart and-"

Jungkook clears his throat loudly, subtly signaling for them to 'zip it', his eyes briefly flickering over to you before you even catch it. "She died," he deadpans, earning a loud laugh from Hoseok.

"You're so full of bullshit," he laughs, shaking his head. He would never laugh at something so tragic, but come on. It's so obvious Jungkook just wants this topic to end.

You glance over at him, seeing the way he looks down at the wooden patio floor, his cheeks flushed. You wonder who they're talking about and why you've never heard him talk about this "gorgeous" woman before. You don't want to ask him about it. You don't want to know. Or do you? You feel weird. It's like you're...jealous or something. You're not jealous, that's ridiculous. It's just curiosity. And possibly acid reflux. Well, good for her, whoever she is.

Jungkook lets out a silent sigh of relief when the guys don't question him any further, the topic changing to something else, something you don't really take notice of because you're still too busy wondering who this woman is, or was. Maybe another professor at work? Or maybe she was a neighbour, or even just someone in passing, like a cashier at the grocery store or a waitress at a restaurant.

You're so busy wondering who it could be, you don't even realize you're shivering until he mentions it. "Are you cold?"

"A little," you murmur, rubbing your arms, feeling the goosebumps that have risen.

"I'll go get you a blanket. I'll be right back."

You watch as he gets up and goes inside the house to get you a blanket, your eyes following behind him even when he's out of your line of sight. Mai notices and scoots closer.

"Are you thinking about what Hobi said? About the woman Jungkook wouldn't stop talking about?"

"What?" Your eyebrows raise in faux surprise. "No, why would I be thinking about that?"

Mai smiles, seeing right through your lie. "Okay, well...just so you know...if Hobi actually paid enough attention, he'd remember that Jungkook went on and on about the gorgeous political science professor he met at work...but you didn't hear that from me," she whispers, playfully zipping her lips.

Mai's words make you freeze in your spot, your lips parting, the lightbulb going off in your brain. You know he finds you attractive. Obviously, he's having sex with you, for God's sake. But hearing that he spoke to his friends about you all those years ago when you first met...it feels different. It has a different connotation. You don't speak about a friend like that, do you? Well, you're not just friends, but you're not his either. Being his is a concept you've noticed reoccurring in your head a lot lately, but one you have yet to acknowledge. It's scary to think about. Being his doesn't feel scary, but the thought of being vulnerable enough to lay yourself out there to be hurt is scary.

You're snapped back to reality when Jungkook returns and sits down next to you, gently draping a warm blanket around your shoulders, an even warmer smile on his face.

"Better?" he whispers.

"Better," you whisper.

That look on his face. It makes everything feel less scary. It makes your heart beat faster and your stomach feel all tingly. It's a look you've grown accustomed to. It's a feeling you've started growing accustomed to.

The evening slowly draws to a close and everyone starts saying their goodnights, going off to their rooms. Jungkook goes to your room and you're about to join him but you're stopped by Mai in the hallway.

"Hey," she whispers. "Please don't tell Jungkook I told you about the whole 'gorgeous professor' thing. He'd probably kill me."

You chuckle, storing the information in a locked safe in your brain. "I won't say anything."

"Okay. I just don't want him to think I'm meddling, y'know."

"There's nothing to meddle in, Mai. We're just-"

"Friends...right," she chuckles, nodding in understanding, even though her facial expression tells you she still doesn't believe you. She knows there's more to the story. The chemistry between you and Jungkook is too strong to be just friends.

"Don't give me that look."

"What look? There's no look," she laughs.

"There so is a look," you chuckle, shaking your head.

"I'm just saying...I'm not trying to pry, I just...l kinda have a feeling there's more going on. There's a whole vibe between you two."

"The 'vibe' is called friendship," you deadpan.

At this point you aren't sure if you're trying to convince Mai or yourself, but it's a habit at this point to deny any romantic connection between you and Jungkook. It saves you from answering a million questions.

"Okay, okay. If you say so, I believe you," she chuckles, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'll let you go before your 'friend' starts looking for you," she teases, biding you goodnight before going upstairs to join Namjoon in the master bedroom.

You make your way into your room and close the door behind you, finding Jungkook sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," he murmurs with a soft smile, holding his arms out as you make your way over to him, his hands sliding up to hold onto your waist, his eyes looking up at you. There isn't too much light in the room except for the bedside light and the moonlight streaming in through the large window.

"What were you and Mai talking about out there?"

"Girl stuff, I can't tell you," you tease, you lips curling into a grin.

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. "Oh, girl stuff, huh? So secret and exclusive," he murmurs with a mock pout.

"Yeah, it's confidential. Sorry," you chuckle, reaching out to gently run your fingers through his hair.

"Not even a hint? C'mon, baby..."

"My lips are sealed, Jeon."

Jungkook tilts his head back to look up at you properly, a hint of yearning in his gaze. He can barely focus on your words when you look so pretty standing before him. He can't wait to break in the bed with you, but he'll remain patient for now.

"Yeah?" he grins, biting his bottom lip. "Maybe I could get you to open them, hm?"

"Behave yourself," you whisper, your eyes slowly trailing down to his lips and back up. "Your friends are just down the hall."

"So? Let them hear us, I don't care."

You have to mentally remind yourself that you're not alone and that you don't want his friends hearing the things the two of you get up to behind closed doors. You muster up your strength to pull away from him, feeling like a magnet resisting his pull.

"You're crazy. I'm gonna go get ready for bed." You go to get your pyjamas from the closet and make your way to the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

Jungkook waits for you while you change, chewing on his bottom lip as he stares at the bathroom door. He slowly removes his shirt and his shoes, leaning back on his hands. He looks up as you emerge from the bathroom, standing in the open doorframe, your face glowing from the serum you used, your toothbrush in your mouth. He sees the way your eyes trail down his bare chest, the way your pupils dilate ever so subtly.

"You look cute," he murmurs with a lazy grin, his head tilted to the side as he watches you from the bed.

"Don't I always?" you tease, spitting the toothpaste foam into the sink before rinsing your mouth and walking out of the bathroom.

"Yes, but...I like you like this, in your cute pyjamas, your hair up, bare-faced," he murmurs, getting up from the bed to make his way over to you. He stands behind you at the sink, his hands trailing around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"You gonna let me take these cute pyjamas off you?" he whispers. "I'll do that thing you like with my tongue."

His words go straight to your core, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks. You turn around to face him, your hands resting upon his bare chest as you look up into his eyes.

"What do you say? You wanna break in the bed?"

You look up into his eyes, your heart telling you to give in and let him do whatever he wants with you, your brain telling you that the walls are thin, that it's risky. Taehyung and Jimin's room is right next door, and if you can hear their muffled conversation, they'll be able to hear all the things Jungkook so badly wants to do to you.

"Maybe we should...wait...until we get back home..."

His brows furrow in confusion. That's not what he was expecting.

"Wait, what? Why?"

"Your friends could hear us."

"___, I meant what I said. I don't care if they hear us."

"But I care," you whisper, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. "I just...I don't think we should risk it."

He sighs, but he understands why you're hesitant. He already let it slip to Taehyung that you're hooking up, breaking his promise of keeping it between the two of you. He doesn't want the rest of his friends finding out, especially not by hearing the two of you have sex. It would just bring about a million questions that he himself does not have the answers to.

"Okay. I understand," he sighs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "I'll just take a quick shower and get ready for bed."

He closes the bathroom door once you leave, but he doesn't lock it. A part of him wants you to walk back in and tell him that you changed your mind. He wants you to stop worrying so much and just let him love you the way he wants to. When he stands under the hot stream of water and lathers himself in his body wash, he wishes you were in there with him, letting him lather your body as well. He wishes you'd allow yourself to be taken care of. Sure he takes care of your sexual needs, but who runs you a nice warm bath after you've had a stressful day at work? Who makes you soup when you're sick or holds you in the middle of the night when you're having a bad dream? He could be that person for you if you'd just let him.

He wants to say 'fuck it' and change your mind, convince you to just let loose of the reins for a bit, but when he opens the bathroom door and finds you laying on your back in bed, with tired eyes and a soft smile on your face, all he really wants is to just lay by your side. He doesn't need the sex. A simple touch of your hand on his cheek is enough for him if it means he gets to be close to you.

He gets in bed, propping his head up on his hand, his eyes looking down at you. His hand snakes around to the side of your waist, keeping his grip gentle. "Those eyes look heavy. I thought people are supposed to stay up late on vacation."

"Yeah, when you're twenty-one. I'm not twenty-one anymore," you mumble through a soft chuckle, your sleepy eyes gazing up at him.

"Right, I forgot you're sixty-three with a hip replacement."

You let out a huff of laughter, the sound bringing a wide grin to his face. As your laughter dies down, you notice the way he looks at you, as if he's hypnotised by you.

"What?"

Jungkook's lips curl into a little smile when he realises he's been caught staring. "What?" he echoes, playing coy. "Can't I just admire a good-looking view?" he quips, his tone light and playful.

"I suppose I can't blame you," you murmur, your grin turning a bit more playful. "I'd stare too if I were you."

"Oh, you're so modest, aren't you?" He scoffs.

You chuckle, your eyes fluttering closed, and Jungkook's heart swells in his chest. Your smile is so soft, so genuine, it's infectious. He can't tear his eyes away from you, the way your lashes lay gently against your cheeks, the way your lips curve up at the edges. He reaches out without thinking, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, his touch light and tentative.

"___," he whispers.

"Yeah?"

There's a moment of utter silence before he speaks, his voice soft and delicate.

"You're an incredibly beautiful woman."

Suddenly, words are lost on you. You can't seem to find a response that would appropriately correlate with the way his words make you feel, so you show him instead. You lean in and press a gentle, tender kiss to his lips, your hand reaching up to cup the side of his jaw. It's slow and soft, and it steals his breath for a second. When you pull away, his eyes look slightly dreamy and his smile looks a bit dazed.

"Can we make that a regular thing?"

"What?"

"I mean...can we forget about the whole no kissing outside of sex thing? I just wanna kiss you...whenever it feels right..."

You pause, contemplating his words. You can't lie and say that you don't want that, because lord knows you do.

"We'll see," you whisper, smiling as you lean in for another kiss, and then another.

He knows what that smile means. It means you want it too, you're just too damn stubborn to outright admit it, as if him kissing you is so scandalous. He doesn't care, your unclear answer doesn't upset him. The way your lips can't seem to stray from his for longer than a few seconds tells him everything he needs to know.

"We'll see, huh?" He smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, rolling onto his back with your body halfway on top of him. He enjoys the simple intimacy of just having your head on his chest, his fingers languidly running through your hair.

"Yeah, we'll see," you whisper, laying your head down on his chest, where it remains for the rest of the night.

You're very cautious about cuddling. You don't cuddle after sex, and don't usually cuddle outside of sex either. Your heart is far too weak for that and you know that one good cuddle from the right man will have you throwing all your rules out the window, so when you wake up and that man isn't cuddling you like you had secretly hoped he would, you're met with disappointment.

You slowly open your eyes, blinking in the bright morning light that streams through the large window, the sea air drifting through your nose. As you come to, you notice that the other side of the bed is empty. Your thoughts linger on the person who is supposed to be on the other side of the bed, and you find yourself missing him, yearning to see his face, his fluffy hair, his pretty eyes. You slowly push yourself up into a sitting position, contemplating getting out of bed to find him.

Just as you're about to get up, however, the door to the bedroom opens and Jungkook walks in, carrying two mugs of coffee. As soon as his eyes land on you in bed, his face lights up with a smile.

"You're awake," he murmurs, his voice still a little groggy from sleep. He walks over to the bed and hands you one of the mugs.

"You went to get me coffee?" You still feel a bit groggy as you look down at the mug in your hand, smelling the delicious aroma.

"Of course," he smiles, sliding onto the edge of the bed beside you. "I figured you might need some caffeine to fully wake up."

Jungkook watches as you take a tentative sip of the coffee, enjoying the feeling of seeing you this early in the morning, still so sleepy, your hair a little messy, your lips slightly swollen, your cheeks flushed. He cherishes these moments, seeing you so vulnerable and unguarded in the morning. It's a side of you that he rarely gets to see, and he'll never take it for granted.

"Once you finish that, you have to get up because we're heading down to the beach around 9:30-ish."

"Damn...Hoseok really takes his volleyball seriously, huh?"

"He does," he chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm gonna go get ready while you have your coffee."

He rounds the bed to get to his suitcase, pulling out his swimming shorts before making his way to the bathroom to change, giving you a moment to yourself.

You find yourself missing his presence as soon as the bathroom door closes, which is odd. You're not a clingy person. You like your space. You don't like spending every minute of every day with someone. Yet, here you are, impatiently waiting for his return after a simple trip to the bathroom to change. Maybe it's because you know that when he walks out of that bathroom, he'll be wearing half the amount of clothing he wore going in, or maybe your impatience is your body going through withdrawals after asking him to withold sex until you get home, which you think you're starting to regret.

You don't know what's going on with you lately. First, last night's jealousy at the thought of Jungkook finding another woman attractive (and the immediate relief when said woman turned out to be you), then the cuddling in bed, and then the disappointment of not waking up in his arms this morning.

It's not long before the bathroom door opens and he walks out in all his glory, his torso bare and toned, his shorts adorning his hips. A fresh cup of coffee and a nice view of a very attractive, half-naked man all within twenty minutes of waking up is surely a good way to start the day.

His presence alone is confirmation that you definitely regret asking him to withhold sex until you get home. It's confirmation that you were jealous last night, and that you were disappointed when he wasn't in bed with you when you woke up this morning.

"Actually, uh..." He stops in his tracks, his attention back on you. "You guys go and I'll meet you at the beach in a little bit."

"Are you sure?" He tilts his head in confusion.

"Yeah, you go, I'll be down in a bit."

He's hesitant to leave, having planned on going together, but he assumes you just want to catch up on a few more minutes of rest. "Okay...I'll see you down there," he murmurs with a smile before making his way out to join the others.

You set your coffee down on the nightstand and plop back down on the bed, your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You have so much going on in your head and your heart, and the two won't stop butting heads. You know this feeling. You know what love feels like. You've been there before, and you didn't like how it ended, which is exactly why you locked the big padlock on your heart and threw away the key. Yet, when you close your eyes and Jungkook's face pops up in your head, and his voice rings through your ears, a soft smile works its way onto your face.

When you're with him, you just want to kiss his cheek and listen to him ramble on and on about international trade and supply and demand. You want to suck his dick, then hold his hand and tell him how smart, and kind, and pretty he is. Oh how pretty he is. You want to partake in all of his nerdy interests with him and ask him questions about it just to see him get excited.

You threw that damn key away and you thought you'd never need it again, but somehow, Jungkook must have stumbled upon it and picked it up because it seems to be in his possession.

You can't stay here and let your thoughts run wild any longer. You have to get out of this room and get down to that beach.

It's still quite early yet the sun is already scorching, the sand warm and toasty beneath your feet. The smell of salty air and sunscreen fills your senses, a perfect combination for a summer day. You spot Mai in her cute bikini, tanning on the sand, so you make your way over to her while some of the others set up a volleyball net, Hoseok and Namjoon's excited chattering echoing in the distance.

"Wooow, hot mama," Mai hoots, her chin resting in her palm while she tans her back, her sunglasses pushed up to the top of her head. The 'hotness' she's referring to might be the red bikini adorning your body, the red bikini you picked out with Jungkook's reaction in mind...but who knows for sure?

"Speak for yourself," you chuckle, laying down beside her, the sun beating down on your back. "I bet Namjoon loves that bikini, huh?"

"Honey, he'll be taking this bikini off of me later," she cackles, shooting a flirty wave over to her fiancé in the distance.

Namjoon's eyes aren't the only ones occupied. Jungkook can't help but stare, his eyes hungrily raking over your form. He's supposed to be partaking in a conversation with Taehyung and Jimin, but he's so distracted, his thoughts consumed by the sight of you in that bikini, his gaze firmly planted to your smooth skin, the roundness of your ass, those legs. It hasn't even been a full 24 hours yet and the lack of sex is already proving to be rather difficult.

"What're you guys talking about?" There's that damn nagging voice, Hana joining their conversation, the conversation Jungkook couldn't care less about right now.

"Jimin and I were talking about what we'd do if we were the only people left on earth," Taehyung quips. "And Jungkook appears to no longer be with us."

Jungkook lets out a scoff, shaking his head in amusement, his eyes still glued to you while you converse with Mai in the distance.

Hana follows his line of sight and subtly rolls her eyes, letting out a soft sigh of frustration. "Kookie, what would you do if you and I were the only people left on earth?"

"Probably buy a gun," he mutters under his breath before walking off in your direction, leaving behind two highly amused friends and an offended Hana.

He makes his way over, sitting down next to you without a word, both of your faces turning into a grin at the mere proximity. "Hey ladies," he murmurs, getting comfortable while a few of the guys play a practice round of volleyball.

"Kook," Mai nods in acknowledgement, her eyes shifting to the water ahead. "I was just saying how hot your friend is."

"Mm, she's okay, I guess," he shrugs with a teasing grin, leaning back on his hands.

"I'm right here you know," you scoff.

"Trust me, I see you."

You're lucky Mai's eyes are on the water a few feet away, because if she were to turn her head and look at Jungkook, she'd see his hand trailing up your thigh, giving your asscheek a quick squeeze before you silently swat it away, a bashful smile on your face. You turn your head to him to mouth a silent 'stop' but he simply shoots you a mischievous wink.

That face paired with that wink gets you, and you might have let him continue if Hoseok hadn't called everyone to start the game of volleyball.

Everyone gathers and divides into two teams on opposite sides of the net, the air already filled with playful bickering and competitive banter. Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and you are on one side, while Namjoon, Mai, Hoseok and Hana are on the other.

The game begins and the competitive spirit sparks, everyone focused on their team winning. When you agreed to play, you didn't expect the game to be so intense, full of spikes, blocks and a few dives. You especially didn't expect to bond this well with his friends, the group making you feel like you've known them for years. You share high-fives and amusing words with his friends every time something exciting happens, feeling the synergy in the air.

Jungkook watches you as you run across the sand to get to the ball, admiring your agility. You certainly make a good team, sharing a bit of a competitive streak. The two of you work together to score against the other team in a tough back and forth, your excitement too much to contain when Namjoon fumbles the ball on their side of the net.

The point given to your team is shoved to the back of your mind when Jungkook rushes over to wrap his arms around your waist, spinning you off your feet. The adrenaline mixed with the contact of his skin on yours sends a dizzying, electrifying feeling through your body. The two of you laugh and cheer while Taehyung and Jimin shout taunts at the other team, the others playfully 'boo'ing and rolling their eyes.

Hana feels her face heat up in a simmering rage of jealousy and frustration, her eyes narrowing as she watches the two of you, the flirty undertones, his winks every time you score, the bashful smiles all starting to grate at her.

"Not fair, ___'s good! I want her on our team," Hana calls out, clearly up to something.

"But-" Jimin is about to protest but she's already made up her mind.

"___, why don't you swap with Hobi for the rest of the game."

"Wha- hey! I thought I was good," Hoseok laughs.

Hana's tone is just a little too sweet. You can feel the shift in her demeanour, and you know it's not just about the game anymore. You glance over at Jungkook, seeing the crease between his eyebrows, the tension in his jaw. It's clear that he is not happy.

"No way, ___'s our star player," Taehyung calls out, playfully nudging your arm, oblivious to the underlying tension.

Hana doesn't back down, her smile turning sly. "Oh whatever, don't be so greedy," she chides, her voice sickly sweet. "Come on, ___."

You don't want to reject her in front of everyone, so you offer her a weak smile, feeling put on the spot. "Sure," you mutter, reluctantly swapping places with Hoseok. You shoot Jungkook a confused look, his expression mirroring yours.

The game starts back up, but Jungkook is still suspicious of her intentions. He knows what she's like, and he can practically see the gears turning in her head.

The game goes on, everyone playing as normal, the vibes more or less okay, until they aren't. Jimin hits the ball in your direction and you run a few quick steps to reach it, when suddenly there's a foot blocking your way, sending you tumbling to the ground, your body landing in the sand, your ankle taking a bit of a beating.

"Oh shit, ___, I'm sorry," Hana gasps, the emotion in her voice not reaching her face. Everyone looks concerned, worried looks crossing their faces.

Jungkook reacts within seconds, sprinting over to you as soon as you hit the sand, his heart racing in his chest, his eyes wide with worry. He crouches down to check on you, his hands gentle as he inspects you for any injuries. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"

You look up at his face, seeing the genuine worry in his eyes. "My ankle hurts a bit but-"

Before you can get your sentence out, he's already checking your ankle, looking like a first aider who desperately wants a raise.

"It's fine, really, it's nothing to worry about."

He looks into your eyes, his movements coming to a halt, his chest rising and falling from rushing over to you. He doesn't care that his friends are watching, he doesn't care that his feelings are as clear as day. All he cares about right now is you and your ankle.

"You're sure?"

You nod, slowly getting up. You take a step, but your ankle is tender, causing you to hiss and stumble. Jungkook reaches out to steady you, his hands holding onto your waist, his grip firm.

"___, I think you should rest your ankle, honey," Mai murmurs with a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, maybe put some ice on it," Namjoon nods, looking concerned.

"I'm sorry. It was an accident," Hana pipes up, a faint, apologetic smile on her face. The apology is almost as fake as her nose.

Jungkook's eyes narrow when he looks over at her, his anger showing clearly on his face. A muscle in his jaw twitches as he bites back a response. As much as he wants to lash out at her for purposefully hurting you, he holds his tongue, not giving her the attention she wants.

"I'm gonna go take her back to the house to get some ice on her ankle," he says, his tone brokering no argument. "You all can continue playing." The rest of the group nods in agreement, their faces filled with sympathy and concern. Hana stays silent.

Your injury really isn't that serious for you to not be able to walk, just causing a little limp, but when Jungkook decides you need to be carried bridal style, you don't protest. You actually have to hold back a giggle when his arm muscles flex as he carries you, quickly composing yourself.

He cradles you against his chest as he takes you back to the house, his grip on you firm but gentle. Once you reach the house, he sets you down on the couch, propping up your ankle with a pillow. He disappears into the kitchen, returning moments later with an ice pack, which he gently applies to your ankle. He takes a seat on the edge of the couch, his eyes fixed on your face, studying your expression for any signs of pain or discomfort.

He notices the small hiss that escapes your lips, his gaze softening as he looks at you, his hand resting on the ice pack, keeping it in place. "Does it hurt?"

"It's just really cold," you chuckle, looking down at the ice pack.

"Cold is better than pain, right?"

"Yeah, cold is better than pain," you smile.

You feel him remove the ice pack, watching him inspect your ankle with so much care, so much tenderness. Seeing him run over as soon as you got hurt, having him take care of you like this...it's a glimpse of the care you haven't allowed yourself to indulge in for a long time.

"Thank you," you whisper as you look up into his eyes, your body language a bit more vulnerable.

His gaze is soft, his expression filled with a tenderness that matches his touch. "Of course."

There's a moment, just a brief one, where time seems to still, his eyes holding yours, the space between you feeling almost electrified with a quiet intimacy.

"You got over there pretty fast," you murmur softly.

"Of course, I was worried about you."

He leans in, his face inching closer to yours, his fingers gently brushing some of your hair out of your face before he cups your cheek in his palm. "I don't ever want to see you hurt...no matter how minor..."

"I'm okay," you whisper, a faint smile on your lips, your nose just barely brushing against his.

"How's the pain?"

"What pain?"

He rolls his eyes, a small huff of amusement leaving his lips. "I'm serious," he whispers, a hint of a smile on his face, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You're sure it's okay?"

"I'm sure." You voice is soft, and the kiss he presses to your lips is even softer, your mouths moving in sync. Your lips might not be able to say everything you're feeling, but the kiss sure does. It's a silent confession that he cares for you and you care for him, more deeply than either of you can put into words.

He pulls back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes still closed after that kiss, but the sound of the guys returning from the beach is like a cold shower, both of you suddenly pulled back into reality, the moment between you interrupted.

He holds the ice pack firmly against your ankle but his eyes are on your face, trying to read your expression, trying to find even a hint of what you're thinking or feeling. His heart is racing, but he forces himself to appear calm, to mask the flurry of emotions he's going through.

The guys burst through the door, their voices loud and full of laughter, a stark contrast to the quiet and charged atmosphere between you and Jungkook. They're blissfully oblivious to what they've interrupted, their brains still on the beach. They all make sure to check if you're okay, the attention thankfully on your ankle and not on Jungkook's and your flushed cheeks and flustered faces.

It's around 7pm when you find yourself on the patio, curled up on one of the loveseats, listening to Mai and Jisoo discuss wedding preparations. The sun is halfway set along the horizon, casting pretty pink and orange hues across the sky.

Some of the others have already retired to their rooms, probably knocked out after eating the mountain of dumplings Yoongi made for dinner. You had contemplated speaking to Hana about what happened on the beach, but you ultimately decided against it. You know that her intention was to hurt you, but you're an adult and you refuse to indulge in her petty games.

"Are you stressed out? I know I was when I was getting married," Jisoo chuckles, taking a sip of her tea as she curls up one of the patio sofas.

"Big time," Mai sighs. "Don't get me wrong, I'm so excited to finally marry Joon, but wedding planning is a lot more stressful than I thought it would be."

You listen as Mai vents, going on about the caterers, and the venue, and the dress. You're a part of the conversation, but you shift in and out of being emotionally present. Your eyes drift off into the distance, staring out at the water with a distant look on your face, the pain in your ankle long forgotten.

"Joon and I even got into an argument last month because we went over budget...or, well, I went over budget," she scoffs.

"That's normal," Jisoo shrugs, giving her a reassuring smile. "Jin and I had a few arguments throughout the planning. I get it. As long as you don't let the stress come between you."

You might be here physically, but mentally, you've checked out. It's as if your thoughts have grown legs and ran off on their own, taunting you with Jisoo's words.

As long as you don't let the stress come between you.

Jisoo's words take you back to that time in your life, when you thought your life was perfect. It was perfect. You had the man of your dreams, a ring, and the promise of a long life together. Then you 'let the stress come between you'. At least that was Sunghoon's excuse for having sex with a friend of yours. He told you he was stressed out and the wedding planning just became too much for him, and you were always studying for your masters, never giving him the attention he deserved.

It's a strange thing, grieving. To grieve, not a person, but rather a bond that you spent years building with a person, is a feeling you can't quite explain. Grieving the loss of a relationship is not linear. The sadness and the anger come and go. Some days you're completely fine, laughing and going out, feeling like yourself again. Some days you're on your bedroom floor, crying as you clutch onto the wedding dress you never got the wear. You grieve Sunghoon, not because he died, but because that boy you fell for at sixteen no longer exists.

You envy Mai and Namjoon's relationship. It's clear how much they love each other, how much he loves her. It's clear how much he values and respects her, how his eyes don't prioritize anything that isn't her, how kind and gentle he is with her. It's a reminder of the love you once had. The love that was crumpled up and thrown in your face on a random Tuesday evening.

You have to excuse yourself when the feeling starts to get a bit too much, all this wedding-talk making your eyes sting. You go down to the beach, the sand feeling rough beneath your feet, the air much colder now that the sun is fully set. You sit down with your knees held to your chest, your eyes looking out at the water, the waves crashing loudly. It's what your brain sounds like. So, so loud. It's overwhelming and the lump in your throat is starting to hurt.

Then there's a voice behind you and it's like everything goes still, your thoughts finally quieting down.

"There you are," he murmurs, his voice soft and gentle, the sound enough to warm you up in the cold breeze. "Mai and Jisoo said you were out here."

You don't respond, your heart feeling a little lighter when he sits down next to you, his eyes trailing from the water to your face.

"Why are you out here alone, hm?"

"Just...needed some air."

"There's air in the house too, you know."

A faint smile flashes across your face before it fades, your eyes trained straight ahead of you. "It's better to think out here."

"I suppose that's true."

He looks over at you, sensing the sadness in your eyes, in your demeanour. He doesn't know what it is, but he wants to protect you from it. It might be greedy of him, but he wants to pick apart your brain and understand exactly what it is that's burdening you. He wants to know your past, your fears, your regrets. He doesn't want to push, but he wants to be let in.

"___, what's making you so sad?"

You scoff humourlessly. "What makes you think I'm sad?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't hide from me," he murmurs, looking at you with so much tenderness. "I can't force you to tell me what's bothering you...but I know it's not nothing."

"You think you've got me all figured out, huh?"

"Maybe."

He doesn't even know the half of it.

You stay silent, chewing on your bottom lip. You can't lie to him, and that kinda scares you. It scares you that you feel so strongly for him, strong enough to want to completely bare your soul for him.

"Listening to Mai and Jisoo talk about the wedding...it reminded me of..."

He doesn't rush you. He lets you take your time, holding his breath as he waits, sensing you want to open up about whatever it is that's weighing so heavily on your shoulders.

"It reminded me of a love I lost years ago..."

He isn't sure exactly what he feels. A part of him is relieved that you're finally letting him in, finally showing him this vulnerability. It's all he's ever wanted, yet the thought of a man hurting you, a man who once had the privilege of loving you (the privilege he so desperately longs for) and still throwing that away...it makes his head spin. This is the first time he's heard of you being with anyone in the past, and it reminds him of how little you've actually shared with him about yourself and your past.

"Do you...want to tell me about it?" He keeps his voice low, not wanting to speak too loudly in fear of scaring you away.

You take a deep breath before speaking.

"He was my first love...we met in high school. We were together for...a long time," you murmur, looking down at a vague spot in the sand. "And he cheated on me."

You don't tell him everything, just enough for him to get an understanding without sharing too much.

Your confession almost knocks the air out of his lungs, his brows furrowing, his eyes growing wide. He's angry. He's furious at the man who dared to betray you like that, he's confused why anyone would do something like that to a woman like you. He's sad, so terribly sad that you had to go through that. He can't imagine what that must have felt like, the pain you must have gone through. It pains him to think about you ever being hurt like that.

"___, I'm so sorry," he whispers, slowly inching closer to you.

"Don't be," you murmur, the faint smile on your lips not quite reaching your eyes. "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't change the fact that it was wrong. ___, you deserve...everything. You deserve someone who wakes up everyday and feels blessed to have you, who would go to the ends of the earth for you..."

There's a pause, the air feeling thick.

"You deserve a man who loves you with all his heart."

His words fade into a quiet whisper, as if he's just bared his deepest secrets. He looks at the side of your face, his heart pounding in his chest.

"___," he whispers, practically begging you to look at him.

Your gaze meets his, your eyes shining with a thin sheen of unshed tears. His words hold so much feeling, so much desperation.

"Yes?" It's almost too soft to reach his ears, your voice trembling.

He leans in, his face inching closer, his fingers gently brushing your hair behind your ear.

"If you were mine...really mine..." He takes a sharp inhale through his nose, his eyes boring into yours. "I'd never break your heart."

It's like a dam breaks.

You close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his, your eyes squeezing shut, a tear finally rolling down your cheek, quickly being brushed away by his thumb. You crawl into his lap, the kiss growing passionate, your fingers sliding up into his hair, gripping onto his strands to steady yourself. You feel everything and nothing and all that is in between.

You love him. You really do, and it took you four years of knowing him to admit it to yourself. It's scary and it's uncertain, but it's love and it's real and you can't keep running from it.

It makes you shiver, the overwhelming feeling mixed with the cold evening air.

"Are you cold?" He asks, pulling away to look into your eyes, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

"A little."

"Why don't we get you in a nice warm shower?"

You know what his suggestion implies, and you can't deny yourself of the pleasures of loving him and letting him love you.

"Okay."

You get up and make your way back to the house. It's completely still, everyone else already in their rooms. Jungkook leads you to your room and shuts the door, locking it for good measure. He looks over at you, the two of you silently communicating that you want this. He crosses the room and takes your face in his hands, crashing his lips into yours.

You walk backwards to the en-suite, pulling away only for him to open the shower door and turn the water on, the hot water slowly filling the room with steam. He turns back to you, searching your eyes for any hesitation.

"Are you coming in with me?" Your voice gives away your desires, your eyes begging him to give you what you want.

"Do you want me to?"

"I do," you murmur, leaning in to press a few quick pecks to his lips. You pull away and hold your arms up, a faint smile playing on your lips.

He gets the hint and reaches for the hem of your top, slowly pulling it up over your head, with big smiles spread across both of your faces. He reaches behind you to undo your bra, slowly sliding the material down your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground as he presses soft kisses to your collarbones. He kisses down your body until he is kneeling before you, his eyes trailing up to your face. "God, you're gorgeous," he mutters softly, hooking his fingers into the sides of your pants, pulling the fabric down your legs.

He presses a gentle peck to your lower stomach beneath your belly button, sending a shiver down your spine. He slowly pulls your panties down, tossing it aside with the rest of your clothes.

He stands up straight and smiles as you start undressing him, pulling his shirt over his head before moving onto his pants and boxers, letting the clothing pool at his feet.

He presses his lips to yours and leads you into the shower, the warm water cascading down your bodies. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the wet hair at the base of his neck. "I thought we were waiting until we got home," he whispers, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I'm tired of waiting," you whisper, moaning as he kisses down your neck.

His hands slide over your body, the water making everything slick, his fingers tracing along your curves. He pulls your body against his, his mouth moving up your neck to your ear, where he takes your earlobe into his mouth. "I'm gonna make you feel so good...gonna make you forget all about that other asshole."

He gently presses you up against the shower wall, kissing a line down the side of your neck. He holds onto your waist to steady you while his other hand finds its way between your legs, running his middle finger through your folds.

"So wet, baby," he mumbles into your neck, his voice a low rumble.

He gathers some of your slick on his fingers and starts rubbing slow circles over your clit. You moan softly and tilt your head back against the wall, your fingers gripping his biceps. He makes sure you're wet enough before sliding a finger into your pussy, slowly thrusting it in and out.

"F-fuck," you moan, your eyes fluttering shut.

"That feel good, baby?"

You nod.

"Want another?"

"Mhmm," you sigh blissfully, feeling him insert a second finger, his lips and tongue attached to your neck.

He groans at the sound of your slick, his fingers moving in a 'come here' motion, pulling soft moans and sighs from your lips. "You like that?" he mumbles, his voice a little deeper, his breathing a little ragged.

"Y-yeah," you manage to breathe out, your eyes squeezing shut and your eyebrows furrowing as the pleasure builds. Your nails dig into his biceps when his fingers pick up the pace, the knot in your stomach starting to tighten.

"Gonna...c-cum..."

He smiles against your neck as starts rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb, his middle and ring finger moving faster. "Cum for me, baby."

Your muscles tense up as the knot unravels, your orgasm washing over you with a loud moan. He slows his fingers, helping you through it by easing the pressure on your clit. "You did so good for me," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips, his tongue licking into your mouth.

You hand trails down his abdomen until it reaches its destination, wrapping your fingers around his semi-hard cock. He moans into the kiss, slipping his fingers out of your pussy to grip your hips, needing something to ground him while you stroke his cock.

"Wanna make you feel good," you whisper into the kiss, trailing your lips down his chin and neck, moving lower until you're down on your knees in front of him.

He looks down at you with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his stomach muscles tensing in anticipation. He slides his fingers through your wet hair, resting his free hand against the wall. He watches as you part your lips, his cock twitching in excitement.

"Gonna take it like a good girl?"

You nod up at him before pressing a teasing kiss to the tip, listening to the soft moan that falls from his lips. You start stroking the shaft, batting your eyelashes up at him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he sighs, taking hold of your chin, pushing his thumb into your mouth. He groans as you swirl your tongue around it, the way you would with his cock.

You suck on his thumb, making sure to hold eye contact while you stroke his cock, the tip already starting to leak a bit of pre-cum. Once you get him fully hard, you release his thumb from your mouth and replace it with his cock, feeling the delicious weight on your tongue.

He watches as you start sucking him, focusing your tongue on the head before taking him all the way to the back of your throat, pulling a deep groan from his throat. He fists his hand in your hair, letting out shaky breaths as the pleasure flows through him. You're a sight to see, with wet hair and a mouth full of cock.

He can't decide if he wants to cum down your throat or fuck you against the wall. He likes the sound of the latter.

"Baby...b-baby, stop," he mutters breathlessly, tugging at your hair to get you to release him from your mouth.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to be inside you," he breathes, helping you up before he slides his hands to the back of your thighs, lifting you up in one swift motion. "Need this pussy," he mutters, pressing you against the wall to grind his cock against your sopping folds.

You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning as he grinds into you, welcoming his lips against yours. He reaches down to align his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing into you with a guttural moan.

"F-fucking Christ, you feel so good," he groans, his fingers digging into your thighs as he starts thrusting into you, his cock filling you up like nothing and no one else can.

Having him inside you is something you'll never get tired of, his cock fitting in you like you were moulded just for him. You were made for him, and he was made for you. His thrusts make your head spin, the steam coming from the shower making everything feel more romantic, more intense.

"You're perfect," he sighs, his voice almost too quiet to hear if it weren't for the fact that his words are whispered directly into your ear. "So...so beautiful..."

All you can do in return is moan and whimper as his thrusts get deeper, the pleasure getting stronger. You lose all ability to form a coherent sentence, your eyes squeezing shut as he pounds into you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, gently digging his teeth into your bottom lip, giving it a little tug.

His thrusts start getting faster, sloppier, an indication of his impending high. Your own orgasm starts creeping closer, his cock hitting that special spot inside you that makes you turn to mush. "Oh my God, don't stop...so...so close..."

"Me too, baby...gonna cum s-so hard..."

He thrusts harder, hitting that same spot over and over again, his nails digging into your flesh. The coil in your stomach tightens, threatening to snap with each deep thrust. The air is thick with passion and desire, your body trembling in his hold, your moans bouncing off the wet bathroom walls.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he groans deeply, holding onto your thigh while his free arm wraps around your waist, holding onto you like you're his oxygen supply. "Oh f-fuck, ___!"

A few sloppy thrusts and your walls start spasming around his cock, triggering his orgasm. He paints your walls with thick white ropes of pleasure, his arms clutching your body like you might disappear into thin air.

"Holy sh-shit," he sighs, both of you slowly coming down from your high, giving you a few slow thrusts before pulling out, letting his cum leak out of you.

You're completely spent, smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, your cheeks flushed, your heart hammering in your chest. The warm water runs over your bodies, slowly bringing your brain back down to earth. "Let's just stay like this for a little while," you whisper, cupping his cheeks in your hands before pressing a light kiss to his swollen lips.

"Okay," he smiles, pressing soft pecks over your cheeks, your nose, your chin. He brushes some of your wet hair out of your face, looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

He slowly puts you down and reaches for your body wash, lathering some on your loofah. You're about to take it from him but he stops you. "Let me."

You look up into his eyes, seeing how much this means to him. Sex is one thing, but what you do after says everything. He doesn't just want the sex, and neither do you. He doesn't want this moment to end here, and neither do you, so you let him lather your body in the fragrant body wash because this is about so much more than sex.

He washes you with so much care, making sure the soap reaches every inch of your body. The last man you let wash you after sex was Sunghoon, but with Jungkook it somehow feels different. His hands are softer, he touches you more gently, and his gaze travels down your body like you're a work of art and he is lucky enough to get to lay his eyes upon you. It's difficult to just forget about the past and the heartbreak, but in this moment with Jungkook, you want to try to take the steps to move forward.

You rinse yourself off under the hot stream of water before taking his loofah from the shower hook and lathering it with your body wash, returning the favour. You run the soapy loofah over his body, running your free hand over his muscles, a soft smile settling onto both of your faces. You run your hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the firm flesh. You lean in and press a soft kiss to the area, kissing all the way up to his lips.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just kissing under the warm water, the steam surrounding your bodies, partially blurring your vision. This level of intimacy feels so different and new to the two of you, and yet it feels so right, like you were always meant to be with him like this, like you were born to be loved by him.

You love him, and it feels like too big of a mouthful to say in this moment, too heavy on your tongue, too frightening for your brain to comprehend, so you keep it stored away for the time being. Admitting it to yourself is enough for now.

You stand kissing under the water until it starts turning cold, so you turn it off and step out. He dries you off with a fresh towel before moving onto himself, letting you dry his hair with your hairdryer. The two of you get ready for bed together, which again, is new for you. You stand next to him and brush your teeth, stealing glances at him in the mirror every chance you get.

You change into a t-shirt and panties and slip into bed with him, facing him while he languidly rubs your back beneath your shirt, his body bare except for a fresh pair of boxers. He smells like your body wash, like his skin has been stained by you.

"___, about what I said on the beach," he murmurs, chewing on his bottom lip.

"What about it?" you ask nervously, seeking his eyes for any sign that he regrets it.

"I meant every word I said," he whispers, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours.

"I know, Jungkook," you murmur, your voice barely reaching his ears before your lips seek out his in the dark room.

He kisses you until you're too sleepy to kiss back anymore, and when you fall asleep in his arms without protesting, your face reflecting how peaceful you feel, he finally rests. He knows what you're too afraid to say out loud, and he doesn't need to hear it from your lips to know that it's real.

He will continue to love you in silence until you're ready to be loved out loud.

The next morning, you wake up to sound of the waves crashing, the birds chirping, and the feeling of the sun on your face and Jungkook's lips on your cheek. You have to admit it's a damn good way to wake up.

"Morning," he mumbles, his voice still laced with sleep, the deep rumble going straight through your body. You've never had a thing for the 'morning voice' guys tend to exaggerate to sound sexy, but damn. He could read your grocery list after waking up and you'd get down on your knees for him.

"Morning," you smile, your eyes still feeling too heavy to open fully.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Really good," you murmur softly, holding the side of his jaw in the palm of your hand, feeling his warm skin. "You?"

"I slept amazing last night," he grins, his hand slowly sliding down your thigh to hook it over his hip, letting you feel his bulge.

At that, your eyes open, letting out a sleepy chuckle. "Someone's up early," you tease. "Is 'little Jungkook' excited to see me?"

"Don't call him little, it'll hurt his feelings," he groans, pressing his face into your neck as he rolls you onto your back, laying his weight on you. He presses a few lazy kisses to your neck, slowly grinding his hips into you. "He's big and manly."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you murmur, sighing as the head of his cock rubs over your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. You loosely wrap your arms around his neck, letting your eyes flutter shut once more. "Maybe his lady friend can apologize for me."

"Yeah? Is she awake?"

"Mm...she's definitely awake."

"I should get her ready first," he whispers, pressing a final kiss to your neck before pulling away to pull your t-shirt over your head, tossing it aside.

"She's a little lower down, you know," you chuckle, biting your bottom lip as he starts kissing your breasts, enveloping a nipple in his warm, wet mouth.

"I know," he mumbles with your nipple in his mouth, giving it a suck and a little nibble before switching to the other side. "I just wanted to give my girls some attention too."

"Your...your girls?" You sigh in pleasure as he sucks on your nipple, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"Mm...my precious babies," he smiles, planting a kiss to your sternum before making his descent down your body, his head disappearing under the duvet.

He spreads your thighs to accommodate his shoulders, not bothering to remove your panties. He simply pulls them aside and starts pressing soft, feather-like kisses to your clit. He knows you're still sleepy, and he is too, so he takes his time, languidly licking and sucking on your clit before sliding his tongue through your slick folds, gathering some of your essence on his tongue.

"Fuck, you taste good in the morning." His voice is muffled against your pussy, the duvet drowning most of the sound, but it reaches your ears and it makes your walls clench.

He flicks and swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling moan after moan from your lips, your back arching off the mattress as he eats you out. You're not sure why, but cunnilingus feels even better when you're sleepy.

Soon enough, you're cumming on his tongue, lacking the energy to last any longer than necessary.

He crawls up to stick his head out from under the duvet, his tongue darting out to lick your slick off of his lips. "Love the taste of your pussy in the morning."

"Jesus Christ," you laugh, your cheeks still flushed from your orgasm and his filthy words. "Do you have to be so vulgar?"

"I absolutely have to be so vulgar, yes."

He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. It's early and neither one of you have gotten up yet to brush your teeth, but you don't care. You kinda like the way he tastes in the morning. It's natural, it's unfiltered and, you dare say; romantic. It makes your body heat up at the thought alone.

Morning sex is always a treat, a rarity for you and him. It's slower, and softer, and you don't have to think too much because your body just does what feels good. When Jungkook pushes his cock into you and presses his lips to yours to swallow your moans, you feel like you're on cloud nine.

"You're so pretty," he whispers into your ear, his voice deep and low, his hands sliding into yours to intertwine your fingers next to your head.

"You too," you sigh, your eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts, making sure to roll his hips slowly and deeply.

"You think I'm pretty?" he grins faintly, keeping the pace nice and languid.

"S-so pretty..."

Your words pull a soft groan from within his chest, his face smooshed against your neck.

It doesn't feel like he's fucking you, but rather making love. There's no rush, the house still completely quiet in the early hours of the morning, giving him over enough time to pleasure you. The sun shines through the window, heating the skin of his bare back. His hair stands up in all directions from sleep, making him look extra soft and fluffy. He's so much more than pretty when you open your eyes to look at him. He's magnificent.

He kisses your lips as his thrusts pick up momentum, his body chasing his high. He reaches a hand down to rub circles over your clit, wanting you to finish with him, and as good as you feel, and as close as you are to cumming, you don't even care about that right now. All you care about is getting to share this intimacy with him.

He presses your body into the mattress when he cums, his arms wrapping firmly around your waist, his cock throbbing inside you.

You slide your hands around him, rubbing the skin of his back to soothe him, feeling the way his muscles flex beneath your palms.

His chest rises and falls unevenly, his whole body trembling, the feeling of pure bliss coursing through his veins. "Damn," he mumbles, his voice rough from his ragged breaths. "I might have just ejaculated my soul out of my body."

"That good?"

"So good," he chuckles, still a little breathless. "Wanna go take a shower?"

"Together?"

He leans on his elbows, looking down at you with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Together."

You smile and push his frazzled hair out of his face, feeling your heart start to beat faster. "Okay."

The two of you take that shower together, sneaking in a few soft kisses and slow touches, trying your best not to get carried away. You kiss while you dry yourselves off and get dressed, and you kiss after brushing your teeth, and then before leaving your room to have breakfast with the rest of his friends, making sure to get in as many kisses before you have to be his "friend" again.

A part of you is sad to be leaving Jeju, but it's not the beach or the house you'll miss, although both of those things were quite nice. Instead, you'll miss opening your eyes in the morning and turning your head to see him next to you. You know that once you get home, you won't have any excuse to wake up next to him except for the fact that you're in love with him and you want to spend your mornings, your afternoons and your nights with him. That would just be insane to tell him that, so you won't, yet it's all you can think about on the plane ride back to Seoul.

He drives you home from the airport and carries your suitcase up to your apartment, handing it back to you at the door. You open the front door and walk in, expecting him to join you, but he doesn't.

"You coming in?"

"I want to but I should really get home to Bam," he sighs, giving you an apologetic smile.

That shouldn't disappoint you as much as it does. You understand, you love Bam and you know he needs his dad, even if you need his dad too.

"Right...yeah...I have to go get Miso from Jihyo's place anyway, so..."

He watches you as you try to hide your disappointment, an amused smile spreading across his face.

"Don't pout, baby," he teases.

"I'm not pouting," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "You should go, Bam-ie's waiting for you."

"Okay," he smiles, not making a move to leave just yet. "Can I get a kiss?"

"I don't know, can you?"

He scoffs and steps forward, cupping your face and pressing a few quick kisses to your mouth. "Before I leave," he murmurs against your lips. "I have a question I've been meaning to ask you."

"What is it?"

"Will you be my date to Joon and Mai's wedding?"

Your disappointment is replaced with surprise and an overwhelming heat that starts to spread throughout your chest, bringing a flush to your cheeks.

"O-okay," you murmur shyly, feeling your heart rate pick up.

"Yeah? Gonna wear a pretty dress for me?"

His smile and his words almost turn your knees to jello, but you manage to keep yourself composed, at least on the outside.

"Yeah."

"You gonna let me take the pretty dress off afterwards?"

"Yeah," you whisper, smiling as he presses another lingering kiss to your mouth, your hands holding onto his shirt to steady yourself.

"Good. I'll see you later, yeah?" He nudges your nose with his, his smile not faltering as he pulls away, sliding his hand down your arm until it reaches your hand, giving it a little squeeze before slowly releasing it.

"Yeah...see you later," you smile, watching him walk down the hall.

He walks until he reaches the elevator, pressing the button and stepping inside. He turns around to look at you down the hall, blowing you a quick kiss as the doors close. You have to wait until the elevator is fully closed before you let out a squeal, feeling like you're sixteen again.

< Part 4 || Part 6 >

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #jungkook series #bts series #bts jungkook #fic: tmhtl #kookooluvr

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thewritergx · 2 months ago

Text

Gentle Torture: Dbf!JoelxF!Reader Part 2

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Joel Miller has been losing his mind since your father's party. When he's forced to check on you, he can't hold back anymore. Pre-Outbreak.

Warnings: Smut: Age Gap (Joel in his late 30s, reader starts out at 18), Dbf!Joel, Kissing, Oral (F!Receiving), Fingering, unprotected PinV, slightly rough, some overstimulation, choking. Pet Names: Sweetheart, baby girl, good girl, little girl.

Word Count: 3.5K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

I have been obsessed with the dbf trope lately. This story is very much inspired by @pearlessance. Please go check her out.

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.

Days passed and you have not seen or heard from Joel once. You try to go on with your everyday tasks, but the memory of the shared kiss and Joel’s warm body pressed against you replays again and again in your head. You find yourself constantly looking for him, waiting to hear his echoed laughter as he makes dumb jokes with your father. You cannot help but overthink. Were you a bad kisser? Did you do something wrong? Did he hate you?

You tried to bury yourself in work. You scheduled as many hair and nail appointments as you could in the small town, even giving clients discounts. You knew Joel was avoiding you, all the same. That much was crystal clear.

Joel was a complete mess. Shame and anger guilted him. How could he have been so stupid? He was so possessive and desperate over you. Over his best friend’s daughter. It was pathetic. He could not get your little moans out of his head. Could not stop replaying the way you shivered at his light touches. Could not stop imagining what your little cunt would feel like wrapped around him as he plows into you. He could not sleep, could not eat. Jerking off was not even working anymore.

Joel hated that he had been ignoring you. He hated that he had to lie to your dad, telling him he was sick with the flu. He knew it was for the best, and again he started to question if there was any good in him at all. You were so young, so innocent. He knew it was wrong, so wrong. But you wanted him. Needed him, just as much as he needed you. Joel wished you hated him. Wish you had screamed at him and told him to get the fuck off you. Wish you did not let him cause those beautiful moans to leak out of you. He did not deserve it. Did not deserve you.

The days were dragging on and Joel missed you. Even missed hanging out with your dad. He was scared. He did not know if you ever wanted to see him again. Maybe it was just a one-time thing for you, something that just happened in the moment.

In the last few days, he left for work late, waiting until he heard your car pull out of the driveway next door before he even got out of bed. He came home late, an entire hour after he knew you would get home, just so he did not have to pass you outside as you walked into your house.

You were fucking his entire life up.

Joel sat idly at his kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot coffee and watching the news on TV. The sound of his cell phone ringing shakes him from the TV. He picks it up, annoyed to see a text from your dad.

‘Hey Joel, know you're not feeling too hot. I’ll be out of town this week on a work trip. I was wondering if you’d check on y/n while I’m gone?’

Joel's face darkens. Damn it. It's not like he has an excuse to say no.

‘Yeah, no problem. I’ll stop by when I get off later’ Joel responded, slamming his phone down on the table. Fucking great.

The day passes and you get home, excited for some alone time. You slip into a thin pair of shorts and a crop top, ditching your shoes in the doorway of your room. Your mind cannot help but wander to Joel. What was he doing? Where was he? You turn on the TV in the living room, curling up in a blanket, hoping it will distract you from him.

Joel drags his feet the entire day. He tries to stay at work as late as possible, but he knows it’s just slowing the inevitable. When he pulls up to his driveway, he can’t help but picture you inside your house, all alone. He knows he shouldn’t but his legs beckon him to your front door. He could just text you, and ask if you need anything. But instead, he was standing outside, hating himself.

A knock at the door startles you and you sit up straighter. You stand slowly pausing the movie as you step towards the door. You open it in shock, a tired Joel Miller in the doorway. He’s wearing jeans, boots, and a dusty work shirt. His forehead is slightly beaded with sweat from the hot Texas sun and fuck his skin is so golden. It is clear to you he has been working all day, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, my dad’s not here”, you mumble, hardly peeking out from behind the door.

“I know. He told me to check you,” Joel spoke calmly even though his skin was crawling to slam the door open, come inside, and have his way with you.

“I’m fine,” you responded with a roll of your eyes and a hint of fire in your tone.

Joel stands there, hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes locking onto yours. His gaze darkens at your tone, fist tightening into balls. “Text if you need anything. You know where I'll be.” His voice comes out with a low, gruff frustration.

“I’m not a child and I don’t need anything,” you scowl, closing the door harshly behind you before stumbling back towards the couch. Who did he think he was? He could be all sweet one second, kiss you like he was possessed, and then not talk to you for days? You were over it. Completely fucking over it.

Joel stands at the door for a moment, jaw clenched in anger, annoyance, and desire. Even when you were pissed at him, you were so fucking beautiful. So perfect. He thinks about knocking again but forces himself to turn around and walk home.

Joel lays in bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling in defeat. He cannot get you out of his mind. The way you looked at him so hurt earlier fucking killed him.

His mind thinks back to that night, your tiny frame and silky smooth skin. The way you came on his fingers, god the way you moaned his fucking name. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and before he processed what he was doing, he was getting dressed and walking back to your house.

The moon cast a silver glow over the street, each stride Joel took leaving his heart racing. He swore he could feel his blood pumping and his ears rang. He stood on the porch praying you were still awake. He had no idea what time it was, didn't even bother to check his phone when he left. His chest grew tight and he gently knocked on the door.

Of course, you were still up, tossing and turning with annoyance in your bed. Joel didn’t know it but you were just as exhausted as he was. Your heart pounded in your chest as a quiet knock stirred you out of your daydreams. You quickly walk to the front door, flipping on the living room light. You looked through the peephole, surprised to see Joel, his head down. You open the door, slightly smiling.

Joel looks up, surprised to see you standing in a pair of black panties and a loose-fitted t-shirt. The sight of you like this drove him crazy, his mind going blank for a moment.

He’s so lost in you, he doesn't even realize that he's walked inside the house. His eyes roam over your body and he tries to think of any words to say.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice soft and breathy. His name was a plea, a trembling surrender to him.

It causes Joel to snap back to reality. He takes a deep breath, his eyes wandering down to your exposed legs. It takes every ounce of restraint to not pull you into his arms and take you right here on the front door.

“Sorry, I-I came over here like this…Can’t sleep. I, fuck. I had to come see you,” Joel stands awkwardly, running a hand through his hair, his voice shy and sheepish. You had never heard him sound nervous before. Despite the obvious need he felt to touch you, he stayed locked in place, a few steps away from you.

“Me either” you muttered, nervously playing with your fingers.

Joel lets out a quiet sigh, his eyes scanning the room like he had never been here before. He’s completely unsure of what to say or do, his mind too drunk on how sexy you look in front of him.

The two of you stand in silence, both too nervous to move.

“Where have you been?” You ask, the environment of the room drying out your throat.

Joel shifts uncomfortably at your question, his gaze wandering to your eyes before landing on the floor below you. “Been busy,” is all he can force himself to respond with.

“Right, busy” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Joel knows you don't buy it. It was obvious to the both of you that he was ignoring you. What the fuck was he supposed to say? He feels so fucking guilty. Guilty for ignoring you. Guilty for leaving you in the kitchen like that. Guilty for not being able to fuck you properly that night.

“Fuck, I’m sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that. I just…You don’t know what it’s like, even standing and talking to you, I can't stop thinking about taking you in that room and fucking you until you beg me to stop.”

Your skin grows hot at his words and you take a step closer to him. Joel's heart races, your body close enough that he can feel your warmth. He’s trying his best to keep composure but it’s getting harder and harder with each passing second.

“What are you doing?” Joel asks, his voice low and stuck in his throat. An involuntary shiver escapes him.

“Just need to be close to you, need to feel you,” The sound of the subtle plea in your words nearly breaks Joel. A low growl escapes him and in a second he closes the gap between you. His eyes are locked on yours.

Joel's hand cups your face gently, his tough hands so tender on your soft skin. “You have no idea how much I want you”. His toned body towers over you, a shiver rushing down your spine as he leans his head down, lips hovering an inch above yours.

He groans, finally meeting your lips, and all his resolve breaks. His tongue seeks out yours, nipping at your bottom lip. He explores your mouth, mapping out every inch, filled with a hunger Joel can't seem to control. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him and his muscles quiver in an effort of restraint. He wants to take you right here, bend you over and fuck you from the back. But he knows he has to be gentle, has to give you as much pleasure as possible.

Joel’s arms wrap around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. He holds you tightly, placing your legs around his waist. His hands make a home on your ass and he carries you to your room, his steps slow and calculated in the dimly lit house.

He uses a hand to open the door and gently lays you on the bed. Your brain is all fucked out already. His eyes roam over your form, studying every inch of you like you might disappear.

Joel gently hovers over you, supporting his weight on his forearms as you resume kissing him. His lips explore your neck, making his mark on you with soft bites and sucks. You melt beneath him, moaning soft cries.

You lift your hips up, the thin material of your panties allowing you to feel the hard bulge in Joel’s sweatpants. He lets out a groan, allowing you to groan against him. He never wanted it to stop. Joel’s hands roamed down your body, leaving a line of fire in the wake of his fingers and he traveled from your neck to chest, to your waist.

“Such a good girl,” Joel praised, lifting himself onto his knees. He gently pulls at the soft fabric of your shirt. “May I?” Joel asks softly, meeting your eyes.

You nod your head, arching your back off the bed. Joel is practically crying when he lifts the t-shirt over your head, your perfect tits on display. Your nipples were the perfect shade of pink, erect in the cool air.

Joel swallowed hard, undoing the buttons of his flannel and throwing it off his shoulders. You had never really gotten a chance to see him without a shirt on. God, he was toned, his strong arms flexing with every movement.

Joel wrapped his lips around a perfect perky nipple, a sweet hint of vanilla to your skin. Little ‘ohs’ escaped you, your hand traveling down to Joel’s toned back. He licked at the soft bud, massaging the other gently. He didn't realize just how big your tits were til he was face deep inside them, leaving soft hot kisses on the fat.

He pitched your nipple, twisting it softly between two fingers. You relaxed into his touch, gently caressing his back and moaning his name over and over. Joel would never get tired of the way each letter spilled out of your mouth.

Joel released your swollen nipple with a pop, quickly swallowing the other. Your hips grinded against him more and you could only take so much teasing.

“Need more”, you pleaded, back arching and hips writhing.

Joel was quick to give you what you wanted, bringing a hand down to rub you through the thin fabric of your panties, dampness creating a dark circle at your entrance. Your eyes slowly move down, watching Joel’s hand gently massage the swollen outside of your pussy.

You whine at the view, Joel's large hand gently playing with your lips. He used a finger to hook the material, pulling your panties down in a swift motion. He tosses them somewhere, dragging his body until his knees are planted on the ground. He grabs your thighs, pulling you until your ass is just hanging off the bed.

“Bet you taste so fucking good. Gonna let me eat that pretty little pussy?”

“Please,” you whined, needing his touch more than air.

Joel placed soft, wet kisses on your thighs, wrapping his forearms around the back of your thighs, holding your legs apart. You stayed still, waiting as he blew cold air on your clit, gently separating your slippery lips when his fingers. His breath was a new sensation, your body craving more. His soft lips hovered above your pussy, licking a long thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Joel's tongue was soft and warm against your sensitive skin, licking small cat licks between your slit.

Joel brushed his tongue in a circle around your clit, your hand gently grabbing at his hair and the other pulling at the blanket below you. He flicked his tongue up and down, left and right, faster than you could have anticipated. Loud slurping sounds filled the room and you wondered how Joel was even breathing.

His nose brushes against your clit, lapping his tongue at the entrance of your cunt without warning. He pushed it in and out, tasting every drop of arousal your pussy could provide him.

“Better than I ever fucking imagined,” he vibrated against your core, sending a shock wave through you. He hummed, tracing your clit again.

Joel licked the sides of your entrance, gently sliding the tip of his middle finger inside you. You let out a gasp, moaning his name and tightening the grip on his hair. Joel quickly found the best pace, paying great detail to the way your mouth hung open and eyebrows furrowed. Your legs clenched around him in desperation as Joel sunk his finger further inside.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled to himself. Joel couldn't believe he was knuckle deep in his best friend's daughter, a girl half his age…again. Fuck, you weren't even 20 yet.

Joel brushed the thought away, pumping his finger in and out, swirling and curling them to open you up as much as he could. He searched for your sweet spot, hitting it over and over as he lapped his tongue in your slit.

You bucked your hips, so close to release. Joel knew it. He pumped his finger faster, sucked your clit more, and spit roughly on your pussy, his saliva running down the back of your ass cheek.

Your orgasm shot through you, wave after wave hitting you like lightning. Joel’s grip on you tightened, unwilling to let you slip out of his hands until he was sure you had ridden your orgasm all the way through. By the time he came up for air, his hair was a mess and his chest was rising and falling, leaving him all out of breath.

“That’s my good girl,” He groaned, hovering above you and kissing you deeply.

God, he was obsessed with how responsive you were.

Joel stood at the edge of the bed, carefully removing his shoes and pulling down the sweatpants that hung loosely from his waist. You watched as he undressed, the bulge in his boxers undeniable. Joel Miller could not believe all the choices he made in life had led him…here. Standing above you, your legs sprawled out, pussy wet and glistening for him.

You swallow your nervousness, eyes locked on his member as he kicks off his boxers. His cock sprung free, precum gathering at the top. He was bigger than you imagined, not huge but definitely more than the average. Joel's cock stopped just below his belly button, the tip a shade lighter than the rest. He looked delicious, his balls a perfect size to slap your clit.

Joel smirked as he met your eyes like he was reading your thoughts.

“You done this before?” Joel asked simply.

You nodded your head. “Just a couple, with my ex-boyfriend”.

Joel hummed, a slight smirk painted on his lips. “That’s good”. Joel felt himself ease a bit, no longer nervous he was the first man to be inside you. It made him feel less creepy, less like a piece of shit.

“It’s been, kinda a while and he wasn’t… as big as you.” You whispered, your voice coxed with fear and trembling.

“That’s okay, sweet girl. I’m gonna be so gentle with ya.” Joel responded tenderly, placing a light kiss on your neck.

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. He was so…new to you.

Joel stepped closer, hovering about you and bringing your legs up, bending them at the knees so your ankles hung next to his shoulders. He placed a soft kiss on your ankle, caressing his hand up and down your shin.

Joel lined his thick cock with your entrance, the tip teasing you. “You think you're ready for me, baby?” Joel asked, softly cupping your cheek.

You nodded in agreement, softly closing your eyes.

“Need to hear you say it, baby” Joel spoke, a serious tone hidden behind the layer of desire.

“I’m ready Joel. Please…put it in.”

Joel hummed in response, biting the inside of his cheek. He gently grabbed the base of his cock, pushing the tip just inside your tight hole. He was seeing stars already. God, how could you feel this good?

You inhale sharply, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders, and dragging your nails down with more force than you intended. You hoped it didn't hurt, but the thought of leaving a mark on him drove you crazy.

“Relax, baby. I got you. I got you.” Joel groaned into your neck, pushing himself further inside you. He placed a kiss on your lips, swallowing your cries of pleasure. Joel stayed in place as long as he could, his body screaming to push its way inside, fuck you until you were a mess of tears.

You have never been stretched out this much. Joel’s hard cock hit the back of you with a rough pressure, causing a yelp to escape you and your hands to reach out towards his stomach, pushing him out some. Joel tried to stay gentle but he knew you could take him. He grabbed your wrist, pushing it away from him and sinking back inside.

“Too big,” you cried, a single tear forming in your eyes as Joel pulled out of you, the tip crashing back down and hitting your soft walls. You were so fucking tight around him, you were practically sucking him in.

“You got it, baby girl. You can take it.” Joel growled, slamming gently into you with clenched teeth. “Take my cock, baby.”

The bed creaked below you, the frame hitting the wall with an audible thud. Joel pushed your thighs down, ankles bouncing with each thrust. He was completely fucked. He would crave you every night now. God, why was he doing this?

Your vision blurred, a jolt of electricity pooled in your stomach, a fire igniting so hot in you. “Fuck yes!” you screamed, creamy white arousal gathering at the bottom of Joel's cock. The sight sent him into hyperdrive, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Joel paid your orgasm no mind, continuing his thrust as you whined and wiggle under him, completely overstimulated by his touch, the way his cock was hitting you at that perfect angle. You were sure you’d never have sex like this with anyone other than him again.

“Fucking good slut, taking me so well,” Joel growled, his thrust too hard for you to handle. “Told you, you could” Joel laughed, wrapping a hand around your throat and giving it a light squeeze. You gasped, swallowing as air slowly escaped you. He knew he shouldn't be here and this was why. He was trying so hard to be gentle, but he still couldn't stop himself from making a complete mess of you. Before you knew it, you were screaming out his name again, tightening your walls around him and cumming harder than ever before. “Ah!”, you whined, feeling Joel crash into your cervix hard.

Your high-pitched moans reduced to soft cries, hips bucking, pleading for a break. You tried to wiggle out of his grip, tried to push him off a bit, but Joel was unmoveable. He grabbed your wrist, pushing them above your head and holding your hands in his. His finger intertwined with yours, engulfing you in his grasp. You clenched your walls around Joel, body almost rejecting his thick cock.

“Love this cunt, baby. Fucking love ya” Joel growled into your neck, his thrust becoming messy and uneven. “Fuck, gonna fucking cum baby. Where you want it?” Joel asked, sweat pulling at his forehead. He had hoped to last long, craved to have you cumming over and over again around him. But you were so warm, so fucking tight around him. He would have believed you if you told him you were a virgin.

“Oh fuck,” you cried Joel’s dick hitting you with so much force you thought you might be bruised.

Joel groaned, pulling his cock out and quickly cumming on your stomach before you got a chance to process what was happening.

“Goddamn, you were made for me,” Joel whispered, crashing on the bed next to you and pulling your shaky body on top of him. "My sweet little girl."

You stay like this for a while, Joel gently caressing your hair as your eyes get heavier and heavier. Finally, you both could rest.

#smut #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic

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mameillieureennemie · 16 days ago

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this was the idea i had. i had to write it, or else i'd lose my mind. so have some smut, freshly baked, and homemade. 👍🏾

mechanic!vi x afab!reader

cw: mechanic!vi, afab!reader, 18+, nsfw; minors don't you DARE interact with this

summary: vi's work takes her away sometimes. she misses you a lot.

work takes vi away sometimes, to different cities and, at times, countries that require her attention. she's good at what she does; there isn't anyone who can fix and restore cars like she can. it's a skill she's developed and built since she was old enough to hold a screwdriver, her interest in mechanics starting long before that, too.

she enjoys her career, adores that she gets to work with cars every day, and get paid quite handsomely for it. there are times, though, where she wishes she wasn't so damn good at her job because, like now, it whisks her away.

away from you.

she's currently attending to a client's urgent call; their car had been having engine trouble, and none of the surrounding mechanics could fix it. It's a luxury car, too, with a price tag that has too many zeros on it, so it requires delicate hands and patient.

both of which vi has.

when she's working, at least.

she's been away from you for the past week now, and it's driving her a bit insane. these jobs only take a few days, at most, but parts are a struggle to find sometimes. so she has to stay until they arrive so she can get the job done.

her cilents treat her nicely, have paid for her accommodation and feeding. she's being well-looked after, having her every whim be catered to.

but still.

she wishes you were here.

"it's only a few more days," you tell her one evening via video call. you're so gorgeous it hurts, your smile shining with your smile. you're lounging on your shared bed, curled up around the pillow against your chest. "didn't you say the order's coming in tomorrow?"

vi sighs, leaning back against the headboard of her hotel room's bed. which sucks because you're not in it with her. "yeah, but i'm kind of scared it's gonna get delayed because of the weather and shit," she grumbles. "if that happens, can you come? because if i go another two days without you, i'll lose my goddamn mind."

"aw," you coo teasingly, hiding behind your (her) pillow enough so only your beautiful eyes show. a coy move that has vi's blood roaring. "only two days?"

"i'd say one, but i don't want you to think i'm obsessed with you or something," vi replies, partly playfully because god knows how obsessed she is with you. "wouldn't want to chase you off, especially when i'm not there to catch you."

"ooh scary," you say, still a tease as you lift your head a little from behind the pillow. enough so she can see your lovely mouth, so sweet and waiting to be kissed. "and if i ran and you caught me, what would you do to me?"

heat starts to simmer beneath vi's skin, warming her up nicely from within. she roves her eyes over your pretty face, licks her lips when she thinks about all the things she could do to you.

all the things she's planning to do to you once she gets home.

"can't give away all my secrets," vi replies, her voice having gone a bit hoarse from her budding arousal. "you'll find it soon enough."

your breath hitches a little, at the implication, and your gaze darkens ever so slightly. it's enough to have both of you suddenly on edge, desperation raging violently in the both of you.

the order does come in the next day, thank god, and vi jumps into work. if she's able to finish this today, she can flight back home to you tomorrow. all her focus is thrown into doing an immaculate job, as always, so she can get paid and use that money to spoil you rotten.

she's on a short break when her phone chimes, notifying her of a message. she instantly knows it's you, judging by the jingle and how you personalised it on a drunken night. vi's never bothered to change it because it's yours, and anything of yours is perfect.

vi chugs her bottle of water while simultaneously unlocking her phone and tapping the notification. the chat opens, greeting her with a video that appears rather inconspicuous at first. vi doesn't think anything of it; in fact, she's smiling already, thinking it's one of those cute video messages you send her when she's away.

but when she taps play, and the first breathy note of your moan floats through the speaker, vi's world flips upside down. she quickly pauses the video, cheeks aflame, as she clutches her phone to her chest. her heartbeat is thundering loudly in her ears, sending through a message of panic and instant arousal.

vi blinks into the emptiness of the huge garage, swallows, draws in a shaky breath, and manages to look back down at her phone.

with a shaky thumb, she presses play again and...

there you are.

straddling her motorcycle, clad in a tiny skirt that rides high with every grind of your hips. your hands grip at the handlebars, quivering a little as you use them for balance, use them to pull yourself up and push down.

you're a vision, eyes tightly closed as you find your pleasure on the leather seat. soft whimpers fall from your parted lips, gradually increasing in volume as you grind your dripping cunt down harder.

vi watches, entranced and halfway soaked, as your head falls back with a whine of her name.

"violet,"

fuck.

she can't see the mess that you're leaving on her seat, but she knows it's drenched. knows that your slick is soaking into the fabric, making it easier and smoother for you to ride. making it better, so much better, and vi's vision grows hazy at the thought.

"please, ah, please, vi," you moan, needy, as your grinds turn into harsh bounces. "i...i need you, hah, w-wanna cum—"

vi's eyes flutter, her free hand shooting down to slip past the pants of her coveralls. she hisses when she feels how wet she is, releasing a keen as she starts to rub at her throbbing clit.

"vi, vi—" you gasp, one of your hands leaving the handlebars to slip under your skirt. you moan loudly, lips parting further as you nearly cry. "i'm gonna—"

"you're gonna cum, sweetheart?" vi pants, her own orgasm cresting already. "gonna, ah fuck, cum for me?"

as if you could hear her, you suddenly nod frantically and give a startled cry, eyes going wide and unseeing as you convulse with the strength of your orgasm. there's a faint splash that catches vi's attention and that, that has her biting back a scream as she makes a mess of herself. all wet and messy and so fucking good, it has her seeing stars.

it leaves her loose-limbed, has her leaning against a wall as she struggles to catch her breath. but she's barely given a chance when her phone rings and she answers it without checking the caller ID.

she already knows who it is.

"you're so evil, baby," vi says, still breathless, and you laugh for a full thirty seconds before saying,

"so i guess you don't want to see the other video then?"

"oh my god."

vi can't fucking wait to get home.

#vi x reader #vi x you #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane #18+ mdni #kismet writes ☆~#mechanic!vi

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princesssmars · 2 months ago

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she gon’ eat this pussy up cause it’s sweet!

yet another boxer!vi x reader

p.i - p.ii

wc : 3.310

contains : fxf. fem!reader. hair and skin tone not described. fluff. some jealousy made up by hotel sex. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). they both want that cookie so bad.

a/n : they keep getting longer help me. i already have kind of an idea of the next part in my brain because the day after i started this i had the horniest dream ever so i'll just write that out. here's the position if you can't get the logistics down ik that happens to me lmao. enjoy <3

you never saw yourself as the type to get on a plane at the drop of a hat just to get railed silly by your girlfriend, but you’ve been learning a lot about yourself these past few months.

and one thing that’s made itself apparent? you and violet were fucking whipped for each other.

obviously it was to be expected, over six months in and this had been both of your longest relationship yet. you both made the time and effort to make sure it continued to be so, constantly spending quality time together and making sure boundaries were respected and desires were met.

it seemed that as everyday passed your shared devotion just increased tenfold.

as well as your… equal amounts of passion.

it was almost silly to look back and remember how you were so nervous that intimacy would change something in how she saw you. you don’t regret waiting and setting that boundary for yourself, but after the first few times together you really wish you had started sleeping with her earlier.

obviously sex wasn’t the only reason you loved violet. she was an amazing lover in every sense of the word, always ever so affectionate and caring to your physical and emotional well-being. you constantly told her you’re sure her clear superiority at being an older sister made her such a sweetheart, always protecting and looking out for you even when it wasn’t needed.

but it was only a matter of time before vi’s skills and charisma in the ring caught up to her, and before both of you knew it she had greatly increased in popularity to the point she was booking matches in other cities, occasionally leaving you along for weekends when she had to stay overnights to train and perform.

and you over it for the first couple of times. it wasn’t the end of the world when the two do you had to be separated, and when you got lonely there were always other ways you could be there for each other.

“how much longer until your back?”

“aww, don’t tell me my baby’s missing me already?” vi’s mocking voice rings through the receiver, groggy and low after falling asleep an hour prior before you called.

“can you blame me? normally i have you all over me every saturday night like clockwork, now i’m all alone in this bed. in my underwear. alone.”

she chuckled at your brazenness and audibly shifted herself over the phone. “oh yeah? maybe i could help you with that. wouldn’t mind staying up to help you…”

you hum playfully. “then maybe i could give you a visual guide?”

as soon as she hears the incoming face-time call vi’s eyes briefly close in bliss. god, does she adore you.

and of course having vi guide you through masturbating from miles away for the first time is a thrilling experience, but it still leaves a slight ache in your cunt heart to not have her by your side as often as you once did.

but when you saw the radiant look on her face on television after she won a fight, heard the joy in her voice when she called you as soon as she walked off of the platform, you didn’t have it in you to bring up your silly complaints about not having her by your side twenty four seven. she was finally living her dream, and you wouldn’t cause her any worries about balancing it with you.

so you’d shut up, use her flexing mirror pics to get off, and be patient. it shouldn’t be hard, you’re an independent woman and completely secure in your relationship.

well. maybe just independent.

a big company wanted vi as a sponsor and set up a schedule for her to fly out to film promotional material for nearly five weeks. your girlfriend was intuitive, asking you if you were okay with her being gone for so long. you looked at her like she was crazy, telling her she’d have to be insane not to take this chance even if it meant you’d be alone for longer than usual. she seemed unsure, but was still excited about the opportunity and bid you goodbye at the airport with a big kiss and a promise to see you soon.

it was fine, the same daily texting and calls as had happened before. but after a few days she tells you her conversation might be slipping because of some of the extra trainings they’re making her do for the promo. that’s all fine and dandy to you.

until you see it on social media. it starts as a clip of vi hanging out with some of her fellow boxer friends at a club, nothing out of the norm. but going though the comments makes you skip way to around the end of the video, and you feel your eyes burn into your phone when a woman, an admittedly gorgeous woman comes up to the table and sidles up right next to vi in the booth.

honestly, this was nothing new. you’d known since your introduction that woman drew to vi like a magnet. your own friend was starstruck when she talked to the both of you and gave you a very funny passive aggressive message when she found out the two of you were dating. you’d had to deal with desperate fans at her games, begging for a chance to talk to her, touch her, beg her to autograph their chests at one point?

so who you find out to be a fairly famous influencer show up at the same hot spots as your girlfriend who’s over a hundred miles away isn’t surprising. what is surprising is the fact they keep popping up in the same places. you would never for a second think vi would cheat on you. it still doesn’t help quell the little green devil that lives in your chest, though.

its am early friday afternoon in your apartment and you’re scrolling through delivery apps for a quick meal when you see vi’s contact come up at the top of your screen, answering it as soon as you process who’s calling.

“someone’s eager to talk to me.”

“it’s nice to talk to you too, vi. how was your day?”

“it was alright, we just did those pictures and photoshoots today so i got to just stand around and show off my good looks.”

“it is one of your strong suits.” you dryly chuckle and keep scrolling through the food options, battling between pizza or pasta.

“feels better when i have you looking at me, though. you doing anything tonight?”

“nothing much, dining in and watching a movie i guess.”

she hums and is about to say something else but the green ugly devil decided to reach its hand through your body and puppet your mouth for no reason whatsoever.

“you going back to the club tonight?”

“uhhh no, all my friends are busy and i have an early morning tomorrow. why, you feeling left out pretty?”

“what if i was?”its silent once again.

“then what if i did something about it?”

so you’re here, flying through the dark of night thousands of feet in the air and slowly descending to an airport where violet is waiting for you, standing at the pickup area is a very inconspicuous black tracksuit with a black beanie to cover up most of her hair and large black shades. there aren’t words to describe the euphoria you feel being back in her warm embrace, sinking into her arms as she rests her chin on your head.

“i cant believe you really did this. and i cant believe they let you through the airport wearing that.”

“i know, had to give security some autographs. cmon, we’ll go back to the hotel.”

you sit a little too close for safety standards next to vi in the back of the dark suv the company had been lending her for her stay in the city, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other sat innocently on your thigh. well, as innocently as it could be with vi. she wouldnt do anything too crazy with someone driving, but her thick finger did inch towards the gap between your legs a few times.

there’s an unspoken tension as you arrive at vi’s hotel and she takes your bags to lead you up to her room, keeping close to you until you make it through the door and she sets your stuff by the spacious closet.

she had sent you some pictures as soon as she had checked in, but it was still surreal seeing the thing in person. it was big, but it made sense since she was an extended stay on a ‘business’ trip of sorts. you smile seeing the left open chip bag on the desk and one of her favorite movies playing on the television.

you’re brought out of your stupor by a familiar large hand grabbing yours and tugging you over to the plush couch that sits against the end of the bed.

“so, what ‘cha think?”

”you roll your eyes and relax into the chair some more. “i think that you should take these brand deals more often. just make sure to keep brining me along.”

“oh i definitely would, wouldn’t want you feeling jealous again, would we?”

your mouth gapes open as your body sits upright, looking at her defensively as she struggles to hold in her laughter. there’s no denying it with her so you decide to do the mature thing and cross your arms with a pout.

“how do you figure that?”

“because i know people are talking about the influencers that keep showing up to our booths. and i know your best friend told me about your sour mood and threatened to kick my ass over it.”

you sigh and turn your body to hers, resting your leg over her thighs when she makes the motion to pull it over herself. “’m sorry, vi. you know i’d never believe you’d do that. it’s just…”

“it’s just what?” her thumb and forefinger come up to pink your chin and bring your downcast eyes to her attention, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“of course i do. i didn’t wanna complain because everything is going so greatly for you, and i didnt want to make it seem like im unsupportive. i couldnt be prouder of you, vi. it’s just hard not being around you so much. i love our calls and the pictures and everything but its not..its not you.”

her eyes turn soft and she shakes her head before pulling your entire body to rest on her lap, both of her hands coming up to your cheeks to bring you in for a sweet but hard kiss.

she pulls back and peppers some more kisses over your face until you start to laugh, the sound of your laughter always brighting up her day. “i understand, baby. you don’t sound unsupportive, i promise. it’s been hard for me too. i’ve missed you so much when i’ve been gone, you have no idea.”

you gently nod and give a dreamy sigh before sinking into her arms once again, hand coming up to palm at her hair as hers travel to your waist and gently massage up and down your back. you’re content to enjoy the moment until her hands start to skirt lower and lower and suddenly you remember that you’re back in the arms of you’re girlfriend who you haven’t been able to sleep with in literal weeks.

you let out a sharp squeak when her palms travel down to your ass and squeeze you over the fabric of your leggings, head coming do so scarred lips can whisper in your ear.

“how about i show you how much i missed you?”

you’re very glad that its been established you’re both desperate for each other, because otherwise you’d be nothing but embarrassed to be in this position.

you’re starting to feel a slight kink in your neck from staring down at the woman currently eating you out like she’s starving, but when she takes your clit into her mouth and sucks so intensely you throw your head back you briefly think any small amount of pain is worth the pleasure she’s giving to you now.

your arms hold you up on the back part of the couch, one knee resting on the armrest and the other on vi’s thigh so your pussy is right in front of her face for her to get easy access, her hands scooping and pulling you in by your ass and making it impossible for you to back up and avoid the pleasure when it becomes too much.

“vi, nngh, vi,” the only words you can get out are slurred mumbles of her name and curses as her tongue dips down to thrust into you. her nose bridge more than enough to give you stimulation on your clit as she somehow buries her head even further into your cunt and groans into you, the vibrations only driving you crazier.

you whine when she pulls her face away to stare up at you, eyes hungry and sweet like you’re a deity that’s letting her drink freely from the fountain of youth.

“you still jealous, muffin?”

“vi cmon, please keep going, please-”

your mouth gapes wider when she quickly leans down and licks a long strip up and over your clit, pulling away with more of you smeared over her lips than before.

‘fuck, violet,” your head tips back in bliss, concentration slipping as you feel her hot breath ghost across your clit and her eyes trained on your chest as you arch your back.

her fingers clench again and pull your cheeks apart, a little grin gracing her face at your high-pitched gasp at feeling the cool air of the hotel room hitting both of your holes.

“y’know, i seem to recall a certain someone making fun of me for being jealous just a few months ago..”

you groan as she speaks, pushing your hips in a futile attempt to get her to keep eating you out.

“not so fun when its you, huh angel?” her hand travels further up from your behind so her fingers can prod at your entrance, teasing your hole to bring more of those desperate sounds that she loves to pull from deep in your chest. “it’s ok, i know it was hard for you. could see how desperate you were over the phone.”

“i wasn't- oh, shit, i wasn't that needy.”

only about an inch of her ring and middle fingers are shallowly thrusting into you but its enough to drive you wild. its a bit humbling to realize she has you in the palm of her hand already, but you cant find it in you to care.

“tell that to my favorite pillow. swear i thought you were gonna give yourself rug burn last week.”

you drop your head to look at her again and she cant help but laugh at your best attempt at a scowl, eyes droopy and mouth scrunched in the cutest little pout she’s ever seen.

she bites her lip and suddenly pushes her fingers all the way to the hilt inside of you, silently reveling in how she has to hold your body up when your knee beside her starts to wobble.

she thought about teasing you more, holding her fingers in place and not moving until you admitted you were desperate for her, that you needed her. but she was just as desperate for you as you were for her, and when she feels your walls clenching around her combined with you starting to drip down her hand and wrist her brain goes on autopilot and she starts to fuck you at the pace she knows you love best.

in only an instant you're moaning and writhing above her, hips jerking back and forth for friction and your nails digging into the fabric of the sofa. a brief voice in your head tries to remind you that you’re in a hotel and other people can likely hear you, but like she can read your mind vi gives a stern whisper to ‘put it down.’ as soon as you raise your arm to bite into it.

vi lets out a mix between a laugh and a groan at your immediate obedience to her command and she briefly becomes aware of the arousal that's building between her own legs. she subconsciously starts rubbing her thighs together as she continues to stare up at your body. when your body jolts when she hits that spot deep inside of you she’s afraid she might actually cum in her pants and decides to distract herself by stuffing her face back between your legs.

it often scared you, how amazing vi was at eating pussy. you try not to think about how most of it was probably due to extensive practice, but when she sucks at your clit in that way that leaves a rather obvious noise you can't find it in you to care. she’s all yours now anyway, and the thought only brings you closer and closer to the edge.

she can tell you’re about to cum by the tremors in your legs and your hand coming to the back of her head to push her farther into your cunt. she likes doesn't care about the pain of your nails in her scalp. doesn't care that it’s becoming just a bit hard to breathe. there are two places in the world where vi truly feels at peace, in the ring during a fight and in between your thighs as she brings you to an orgasm. she tries to mumble gentle encouragements as you cum around her fingers but they only come out incoherent, the vibrations from her voice only driving you further up the wall as you release.

even as you come down your body still has little tremors brought on by vi continuing to lick and suck at you after your orgasm ends, only your hand digging into her hair and pulling her away able to stop her from going at you. her face is flushed, covered in cum, and her mouth agape as she takes deep breaths in and out. you’re sure you look no better but she makes no mention of what a mess you must be, only flopping her head to the side to rest on your thigh so she can stare up at you.

“i…i might have been a little jealous.”

she breathes out an airy chuckle at your confession and gently shakes her head. “i think we share that in common.”

your eyes start to droop closed in the bliss of the moment, your body in a dreamy state while vi kisses over your thighs and stomach before giggling when vi places a short chaste kiss right on your cunt,

“not a problem as long as we can keep reassuring each other, huh?”

you never saw yourself as the type to have to hide your face in a pillow when your girlfriend got delivered a noise complaint by a flustered hotel attendant at eight in the morning, but you’ve been learning a lot about yourself lately.

#ooooooooooo #i had to move to balloon because i couldnt find a sticky lyric i wanted to use bye #dont even ask what im gonna title the next one #arcane #arcane x reader #vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi fluff #vi smut #vi x reader smut #boxer!vi #someone help me find butchfemme photos please

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