#the administration at my college is such a fucking joke

[faerune]

having to email my program because they missed me when sending program completion letters to the board so i can take my fucking nclex

[shalpilot]

everyone wish me luck on this exam tomorrow if i fail i don't graduate on time and ill have to spend another fuckng 93 dollars i hate this stupid school

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

[cybergracie]

*•.¸♡ 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕦𝕥𝕖 ♡¸.•*

part two

part one is here!

pairing: college au, stoner!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings: use of marijuana, mentions of drinking

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ahhhhh! this is a continuation of this post. this idea has been rattling around in my brain for weeks and this morning with hyunjin's ab flash, the inspiration took hold and here is the result. barely proofread, and this is my first time writing after literally a decade! any feedback would be appreciated. should i turn this into a full fic?

playlist: headhigh by doja cat, lose my breath by stray kids, what are you doing new year's eve by nancy wilson, parachute by john k

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I met Hyunjin when I started working at the campus bookstore in the fall semester of my sophomore year. My first day was a whirlwind of introductions, awkward small talk, and learning the ropes of a job I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted but desperately needed. While the girl who was training me, Chloe, was showing me around, pointing out everything from the textbook aisles to the snack rack near the register, I spotted him upstairs, rearranging art supplies. He moved with a kind of relaxed focus, his long fingers carefully setting pastel boxes into neat rows, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration.

When Chloe and I made it to the second floor, he stopped what he was doing, brushing his hands on his jeans before turning to us. His lips quirked up in a crooked smile, and he gave a polite bow that felt so at odds with his casual vibe. “Hi, I’m Hyunjin,” he said simply, his voice soft but confident.

I offered a small wave, feeling caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. “Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

That crooked smile deepened, and he nodded before turning back to his task, but I caught him glancing back once or twice as Chloe continued the tour.

During my first shift, he lingered. Not in a way that felt intrusive—just enough that I noticed him. While Chloe walked me through counting the till and another coworker, Jisung, cracked jokes in the background, Hyunjin hovered near a rotating stand of postcards, absently spinning it as if the tiny landscapes and cityscapes held all the secrets of the universe.

“So, new blood,” Jisung said, leaning casually against the counter once Chloe finished her demonstration. The store had just opened for the day, and the morning rush hadn’t hit yet. “What are you in for?”

I cocked an eyebrow, unsure if he was addressing me or the air in general. “Excuse me?”

Chloe rolled her eyes and smacked his arm. “He means, what’s your major?”

“Oh!” I said, laughing as the tension eased. “I’m studying environmental science. With a minor in art history.”

At that, Hyunjin’s hand froze mid-spin on the postcard rack. His eyes flicked to me, his plush lips pressing into a subtle smile as if he’d just found the punchline to a joke only he understood.

“Doomed to a low-income career, I fear,” Jisung said with a mock sigh, shaking his head like a disappointed father.

Chloe slapped his arm again, harder this time. “Jisung!”

I laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, well I tried to major in business administration but failed my first 3 classes. I have to study something I actually give a fuck about.”

Hyunjin stepped closer then, his movements measured but deliberate, and placed his palms flat on the counter between us. His gaze met mine, and there was something so disarming about the way he looked at me, like he wasn’t just listening but understanding. “I get that,” he said, nodding. “Something you’re passionate about.”

His voice was steady, a low timbre that made my heart stutter for reasons I couldn’t explain. “I’m in art history, too,” he added, his lips curling into a smile again.

I smiled back, a little unsure but undeniably intrigued. Chloe and Jisung exchanged a glance, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was the tiny mole under Hyunjin’s eye.

Two weeks later, I was crammed into the back of an Uber with the three of them, plus Minho, Jisung’s roommate. Minho had claimed the front seat, leaving Chloe, Jisung, Hyunjin, and me to squeeze together in the back. Chloe ended up on Jisung’s lap, groaning dramatically about how we should’ve walked. Jisung, of course, responded by waggling his eyebrows at her, earning an exasperated shove.

The car was a chaotic blend of giggles, snorts, and half-finished stories. Chloe and I had spent the last hour pregaming while getting ready, and the buzz from cheap vodka shots made everything feel light and a little blurry around the edges. I sat in the middle, squished between Hyunjin and Jisung, and despite the noise and movement, I was hyperaware of him.

At one point, Hyunjin leaned over, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he gestured toward Chloe, Jisung, and Minho. “They’re my favorite throuple,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.

I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh, my shoulders shaking as I glanced between the three of them, then back at him. “You’re terrible,” I whispered, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

He shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You laughed.”

I couldn’t deny it. And as the car turned a corner, jolting us slightly closer, I swore I felt the heat radiating from him where our sides pressed together. I told myself it was the alcohol, the cramped space, but deep down, I knew better.

That night, in the dim glow of the bar’s neon lights, Hyunjin stuck close to me. Whether it was helping me navigate the crowd to get drinks or standing just a little too close during conversations, he was there, steady and warm. By the end of the night, I realized I didn’t mind one bit.

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By the middle of November, I had become a part of the group. The night was cool, the kind of autumn evening where you could see your breath if you exhaled just right. Chloe had insisted we all hang out at her off-campus apartment for the first “official” gathering of the semester. Jisung had commandeered the Bluetooth speaker, cycling through his usual chaotic playlist, while Minho lounged on the couch with a bowl of popcorn he claimed was only for him.

Chloe was flitting around, handing out drinks and snacks, her energy uncontainable as she teased Jisung about his music choices. “This is not party vibes, Ji,” she said, her voice dripping with mock disgust.

“It’s indie cool,” Jisung countered, holding his ground.

“It’s just noise,” Minho muttered, tossing a piece of popcorn at him.

I laughed from where I was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Hyunjin. The dim lighting from the string lights gave the room a cozy glow, but my attention kept drifting to him. His knee bumped mine occasionally, a casual touch that sent little sparks down my spine every time.

Hyunjin’s roommate, Chan, arrived late, bursting through the door with a lopsided grin and a smell that betrayed his pregame activities. “I brought snacks,” he announced, holding up a box of gas station donuts like it was a treasure chest.

“Finally, someone with priorities,” Minho said, grabbing a donut before Chan even made it to the kitchen.

As the evening settled into its rhythm, Chan pulled a sleek, black grinder from his bag, along with a few pre-rolled joints. He held one up like an offering. “Who’s in?”

Chloe shook her head immediately. “Not tonight. I have a shift in the morning.”

“Same,” Jisung said, though the grin on his face suggested he’d stay up late anyway.

“I’m good,” Minho said, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth.

That left Hyunjin, me, and Chan. Hyunjin glanced at me, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “You down?”

I hesitated for a second, the familiar nervous buzz of trying something new hitting me. “I mean… yeah, why not?”

Chan chuckled as he held up the joint. “First time?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, glancing at Hyunjin, who was already reaching for a lighter.

“Don’t worry,” Chan said, leaning back into the couch and expertly lighting the joint. “You’re in good hands.”

Hyunjin shifted closer to me as Chan took the first hit, blowing out a smooth cloud of smoke before passing it to Hyunjin. He took it with practiced ease, the flickering flame of the lighter casting soft shadows across his face as he inhaled. The moment he exhaled, he handed it to me, his fingers brushing mine for just a second.

“You’ll cough,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “But it’s part of the fun.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure you will.” His grin was infuriatingly charming.

I took the joint, holding it awkwardly between my fingers. I mimicked what I’d seen them do—bringing it to my lips, inhaling slowly. The burn hit immediately, and I couldn’t hold back the cough that tore through me.

“See?” Hyunjin said, laughing softly as he patted my back.

“Shut up,” I rasped, my eyes watering as I handed it back to Chan.

Chan gave me an approving nod. “You survived. That’s step one.”

The joint made its rounds again, and by the time it came back to me, the room felt softer, like the edges had been smudged with charcoal. I took another cautious hit, coughing less this time, and leaned back against the couch. Hyunjin sat beside me now, his arm draped over the back of the cushions, his head tilted as he watched me.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, his voice warm and low.

“Good,” I said, the word coming out slower than I intended. “Really good.”

“You’re smiling a lot,” he pointed out, his own grin matching mine.

“Am I?” I asked, touching my cheeks self-consciously.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on me. “It’s cute.”

Chan broke the moment by passing the joint back to Hyunjin. “You two are adorable,” he said with a knowing smirk. “Couple vibes for sure.”

I felt my face heat, but Hyunjin just laughed, a low, easy sound that made my chest feel light. “You’re too high to be making assumptions, Chan.”

“Am I?” Chan quipped, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Or am I just observant?”

Chloe and Jisung, who had been watching a ridiculous TikTok video on the other side of the room, suddenly burst into laughter. “What did we miss?” Jisung asked, looking between us.

“Nothing,” Hyunjin said quickly, shooting a glare at Chan.

The night dissolved into more laughter and teasing, the haze of smoke curling through the air as the playlist shifted to something softer, more melodic. At some point, Hyunjin leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against mine.

“Next time, we’ll smoke alone,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to him, my thoughts hazy but warm, and nodded. “Deal.”

For the rest of the night, his presence felt like a steady hum beside me, grounding me even as the world tilted and blurred in the best way possible.

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Getting high with Hyunjin quickly became the highlight of my weeks. Despite his promise that we’d smoke alone next time, Chan’s presence was a given—he was Hyunjin’s roommate and dealer, after all. But I didn’t mind. Chan had a calming presence, an older-brother vibe with just enough chaos to make him fun, and Jisung often tagged along, too. What started as casual hangouts became a routine, one I looked forward to as much as my favorite art history lectures.

It felt like a dream to be part of such a warm, welcoming group after the isolation of my freshman year. Back then, my days had been a blur of late-night cramming sessions and anxiety-filled mornings. Failing my first three business administration classes during my first semester had shaken me to my core, leaving me questioning everything about myself. By the time spring rolled around, I was barely scraping by, clutching onto passing grades as though they were my lifeline.

But that semester had also been the turning point. Art history—a class I had added on a whim to fill my schedule—lit a spark in me I didn’t know I had. I spent hours pouring over slides of Renaissance paintings and Impressionist masterpieces, getting lost in brushstrokes and color theory. Biology had been another unexpected success. When I saw my final grades—a surprising A in both classes—I knew something had to change.

By summer, I’d decided to leave business behind, switching my major to environmental science and tacking on a minor in art history. For the first time in a year, my schedule felt like a reflection of who I wanted to be, not who I thought I had to be. It was my mom who suggested I find a job on campus. “You’ll meet people,” she said, “and maybe it’ll make school feel a little less lonely.”

She was right. I could never have imagined, sitting in my room and filling out that online application for the campus bookstore, that months later I’d be celebrating the new year in a haze of smoke and laughter. A joint between my lips, red solo cups clinking against each other, Hyunjin’s arm draped casually over my shoulder as we drunkenly sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

That night, Chan had brought his date, Amanda, a bubbly pre-med student with an infectious laugh. They spent most of the evening sitting on the couch, passing a joint back and forth in between playful kisses. I couldn’t help but glance at them a few times—there was something intimate and mesmerizing about the way Chan leaned close to Amanda, blowing smoke into her mouth before sealing it with a kiss.

Hyunjin noticed. Of course he noticed. He always seemed to pick up on the small things, like the way my gaze lingered a little too long or the blush that crept up my neck when he caught me staring.

As the countdown to midnight began, Hyunjin quietly took the joint from my lips, his movements smooth and deliberate. The lighter flickered in his hand, casting his face in a warm, golden glow as he lit it and took a deep inhale. He gestured for me to follow him, leading me to a quieter corner of the room. My back pressed gently against the wall as he stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint citrus of his cologne beneath the haze of weed smoke.

“Did you want to try that?” he asked softly, nodding toward Chan and Amanda, who were sharing another smoky kiss on the couch.

I blinked up at him, my mouth suddenly dry. His voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a gentleness to it that made me feel safe, even as my heart thudded violently in my chest. I swallowed hard, the alcohol buzzing in my veins giving me the courage to nod. “Yeah,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“10, 9, 8…”

The countdown swelled around us, but all I could hear was my pulse hammering in my ears. Hyunjin’s cheeks were flushed pink, whether from the warmth of the room or what he was about to do, I couldn’t tell. He held my gaze as he brought the joint to his lips, the end burning a bright orange as he inhaled deeply.

“7, 6, 5, 4…”

He moved the joint away, holding it loosely in one hand as he leaned closer, his other hand bracing against the wall beside my head. The air between us felt electric, every nerve in my body alive with anticipation. “Just inhale,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady, his dark eyes flickering to my parted lips.

“3, 2, 1…”

He exhaled slowly, a steady stream of smoke escaping his mouth. My instincts took over, and I leaned in, inhaling the smoke as it drifted between us. My eyes stayed locked on his, on the mole beneath his eye, the world around us fading into a blur of warmth and color. The smoke filled my lungs, and before I could think too hard about what was happening, his lips brushed against mine, soft and tentative.

“Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers, but I barely registered the noise. His kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, his hand sliding from the wall to rest lightly on my hip. My head spun, a mix of weed, alcohol, and the sheer sensation of him.

Then reality hit—my lungs were still full of smoke. I pulled back suddenly, turning my head as a coughing fit overtook me. For a split second, he froze, his face a mix of confusion and concern, until I started laughing between coughs.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his lips quirking into a grin.

“Yeah,” I managed, wiping a tear from my cheek as the coughing subsided. “I’m fine. Sorry, I just—”

He cut me off with a laugh of his own, his hand brushing against mine. “First time for everything,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at me.

We stood there for a moment, grinning at each other like fools, before the noise of the room pulled us back. He grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the center of the room where our friends were exchanging hugs and shouting well-wishes for the new year.

As Jisung threw an arm around both of us, pulling us into a chaotic group hug, I glanced at Hyunjin, his cheeks still pink, his smile brighter than any firework. And in that moment, I knew—this was exactly where I was meant to be.

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The next weekend, I found myself back at Chan’s place, indulging in one last hurrah before classes started again. The cozy apartment was alive with music and laughter, the air thick with the familiar haze of weed. Chan had proudly brought out the bong that Hyunjin had gifted him for Christmas—a sleek, emerald-green piece that caught the light beautifully—and after my very first hit, I ended up in the kitchen with the pretty boy from the art section.

Our hands were intertwined, his larger one enveloping mine, resting on my lap as I perched on the counter. There was something so easy, so natural about the way he stood close, his free hand tapping absently against the counter’s edge, his soft gaze fixed on mine.

“Stay here for a while,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting. “Just you and me.”

He had to know by now there was no place I’d rather be, right?

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the muffled music and chatter from the living room.

I turned his hand in mine, placing his warm palm against my thigh, just above my knee, and reached for his cheek with my other hand. He straightened up at the touch, his expression shifting as he stepped between my dangling legs, bringing us closer. His cheeks flushed a soft pink under the dim kitchen light, and I felt the warmth of his skin bloom under my fingertips.

He smiled—gentle as always—but his eyes turned deeper, darker, brimming with something unspoken. The weight of his gaze made my arms feel weak, and my hand dropped from his cheek to rest on his shoulder. Slowly, I let it trail down his arm until his other hand instinctively found the curve of my hip.

“I think about you all the time,” he said suddenly, the words spilling out like he’d been holding them back for too long. He nibbled on the inside of his lip, watching me closely. “Did you know that?”

My heart stuttered in my chest, my cheeks burning hotter than ever. Words felt useless, so instead, I scooted closer to the edge of the counter, pressing my heels against the cabinets below to close the distance between us. My eyes darted between his hazy, half-lidded gaze and his soft, parted lips.

“I dream about you every night,” I admitted, my voice trembling but sure. My hands twitched as they slid up and down his forearms, only to fall away and find their place on his waist, gripping the sides of his soft, long-sleeve shirt like it was the only thing grounding me.

Hyunjin shuddered, his breath hitching. He slid his hand from my knee up my thigh, gripping my other hip as he pulled me even closer. His lips found mine for the second time, the kiss cautious but firmer now, more certain. The faint taste of weed and the cool temperature from the water bottle lingered on his mouth, and I melted into him, clutching his shirt tighter. A tiny whimper escaped me before I could stop it, and I felt him respond immediately—his fingers dug deeper into my hips, his body leaning closer until I could feel the thud of his heart against mine.

But just as the kiss deepened, he pulled back, his hands trembling slightly where they rested on my hips. His face was flushed, his lips glistening, and his words tumbled out in a rush.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” he blurted, his voice quick and nervous, like he’d forgotten he’d been holding onto the thought all night. “I mean—like, I meant to ask you earlier. I just…” He laughed nervously, his thumbs hooking into the belt loops of my jeans, fidgeting as he rambled on. “I thought maybe we could go to the art museum. They’re doing this post-impressionism exhibit, and I know you said you were taking the class on Van Gogh, so I thought maybe it’d be cool, you know? If you wanted to—”

I cut him off with another kiss, laughing softly against his lips.

“Hyunnie,” I giggled, pulling back just enough to meet his wide, startled eyes. “Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

His expression softened immediately, his beautiful pink lips curling into the kind of smile that made my stomach flip. For a moment, he just looked at me like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his hands steadying themselves on my hips.

“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward to rest my forehead against his. “I’d love to.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, and he let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Cool,” he whispered, and then, with a surge of confidence, he kissed me again—this time with no hesitation.

In the other room, Chan’s voice rang out, laughing over some joke Jisung had cracked. But in the kitchen, it was just us, Hyunjin’s arms wrapping securely around me as I held onto him like I’d finally found something—or someone—worth holding onto.

[fromgoy2joy]

Here is the scene -

Shabbat dinner at a rabbi’s house with all the college kids from different schools in the area immersed in discussion. Spaghetti lines up high on each plate with a minimal serving of droopy artichoke. The rabbi made an announcement at the beginning of the meal that calories don’t work on Shabbat and we’re eating for two souls :

A girl I hadn’t met before- Dawn- was discussing the lawsuit set against her school for antisemitism. This is very common nowadays so I was nodding along, twirling noodle around my fork.

My friend , who we will call Duck, shook his head. “I’m lucky.” He stabbed a piece of artichoke. “My school is administratively failing, so that’s the focus. Not the world falling to crap.”

I nod along, eying the challah on the other side of the table.

“Joy, have you experienced anything?” Dawn asked, politely. I know she would’ve loved me to say “oh nothing! We’re actually beloved there!” But that wasn’t the case.

“Oh- uh! “ I jolted up. “No more than the usual.”

“Well,” Dawn peered at me. “What’s your ‘usual’?”

“Ah,” I took the moment to think. “Oh. Well. I started my conversion journey in October and all my freshman first semester friends cut me off because that made me complicit in genocide.”

Both of their eyes widened at me. “Oh G-d,” Dawn put down her fork. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh don’t worry about it! You live, you learn.” I waved my hand. “Let’s see. Oh, oof, there was the time a Jewish kid got beat up and nearly thrown into traffic at a protest -“

“Really!?”

“Oh yeah,” I twirled spaghetti. “Our antisemitism teach in was canceled because we are “genocide colonizers” and it got dangerous to host. A professor made an entire class defend Hamas for a final paper,”

“No fucking way.” Duck breathed.

I shrugged. “Apparently, it was an 1800s philosophy class.” My two friends squawked before I continued. “We’ve got the cliche of ‘resistance is justified’ but I don’t think that’s anything unique-“

“You understand that’s still bad, right?” Dawn interrupted. I felt caught off guard, and answered slowly.

“Yeah of course. It’s just kinda lame. Lack of originality. There’s a bit more. Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “The Nazi thing!”

Dawn and Duck are both staring at me, in a daze. I felt like a commercial, head buzzing with so many examples that I wanted to say “but wait , there’s more!”

But instead of a free water bottle to go with whatever infomercial contraption there is, instead it was a long list of ways my life is passively and actively in danger.”

“I’m so sorry, Joy.” Duck began. Dawn nodded slightly. “I had no idea it was this bad. I was at a conference recently, and a lot of the talk was how bad your university has gotten. You guys might actually be the worst in the state.”

There are things I know logically. Like that I should eat more than 1.65 meals a day, that what I’ve been experiencing isn’t normal.

But it was Shabbat, my heart was as light as it could be, and I was here in my beloved community. I twisted my face into a grim smile. “Huh. Celebrity moment! Now, could you pass the challah?”

(I got like five extra pieces, so, you know! Perks to Jew hate!

Jokes, jokes.)

[luxurybrownbarbie]

Just read your posts about Columbia. I think it was the ultimate slap in the face to students to ignore their concerns about what the school’s endowment fund was invested in, even if the administration disagreed. No one should have been in tents, period. After 3 days of sign-holding, the college should have said “we hear you” and we will organize a meeting with the trustees so you can convey your thoughts. So, because the school couldn’t manage its own students, they called the police. The police had no desire to be there, as it was picking up after Columbia’s president’s mess. I disagree 1,000% with any of the protestors’ hateful rhetoric and belligerent behavior, as well as wearing ski masks. But there are always nice kids in every group, so I can’t make blanket generalizations. Bottom line: Columbia is a joke. They promote liberal elitism but can’t even listen to their students. It is a very expensive place. I’m so very sorry your friend was disrespected and re-victimized by that school.

You must be new here, because coming to a biracial American’s blog to hand wring about the feelings about the police is crazy. Acting like the NYPD, armed to the teeth and fully militarized (and only recently dethroned from its position as worst police department in the country, tied with the LAPD) didn’t want to actively harm and brutalize students is actually fucking crazy. The press was removed for a reason. No one removes the press and brings in a militarized police force for fun. The police want to be there, hate to break it to you, pal.

I’m from New York. I am currently sitting in Manhattan. I grew up under Giuliani and Bloomberg’s mayorships. My friends are at the protests. I know the NYPD. Don’t ever presume that I don’t know what I’m talking about.

And ski masks, really? Covering your face is literally Protest 101. Go look up the most visible protestors from the Ferguson protests. Most of them are in prison on falsified charges, or dead now. It’s safety and preservation. I don’t care if they’re belligerent. I don’t care. They do not deserve to be brutalized. Ever. The first amendment isn’t a suggestion.

“Both-sides”-ing this situation is insane. The university is wrong, full stop. The police are wrong, full stop. The students are brave and deserve our support, full stop.

[kharmii]

Someone posted more garbage blaming male isolation on 'white guy culture' and 'capitalism', and then, like a coward, they made it so a person couldn't reblog. I still wrote something in reply:

No, it's not the usual bullshit sheltered left-wing college kids want to blame it on. No, everything isn't the fault of 'capitalism' or 'eeebul white guys'. Again, secular progressivism has caused more death and misery worldwide than all religious wars combined. If anything, leftwing culture has made everything more effed up for men with screw around culture creating an environment where we now have the greatest percentage of unmarried men in recorded history. For sure, it's not healthy for men to treat their SO as their only source of emotional support, but now they don't even have that.

Everything started going wrong during the Carter and then Reagan administrations in the 70/80's. Before then, men could get good paying jobs in a factory near where they lived and make enough money to support a wife being a stay-at-home mother and a couple of kids. Pushing women to enter the workforce 'for independence' is a huge scam foisted on us, because now we have a culture where both parents often have to work to barely afford a couple of kids and a mortgage. Women find it more noble to be cogs in the machine. Some people can't even manage the kids, (or they are lazy and selfish) so they end up with a butt-licking poop-eating stanky dog-child to get extra weird about.

Next thing you know; they're leaving rude comments about Kristi Noem shooting a damn dog (it's a fucking dog, calm down weirdos) while gushing, "I love my dog so much! Look at my shit-breath baby that just got done eating its own ass and is now licking off my ice-cream cone! Isn't that cuuuuute!"

Anyway, another problem we have (that goes along with the point about men in social clubs) is that we don't have close knit communities anymore. We don't have neighborhoods where everybody knows each other. How many people live in isolation on social media and don't even know their neighbors? How often do you see block parties or guys inviting the other guys on the street over for a cookout? Less people have children, so you don't meet new people having other peoples' kids knocking on your door asking if your child can play. (I suppose theoretically you could meet new people letting your stank-beast 'child' run around a dog-park).

-So then you have isolated men who have to meet other male friends through work. How would that work out for me if I was a male? It sure didn't work out for me being a female. I married and had children with a man from the other side of the goddamn planet while the losers I worked with labeled me as no fun because I wasn't into the Dem voting blue state party culture.

If you are a man in my place of employment, you have to be into the casino boats, betting pools, smoking pot jokes, telling the same stupid stories about getting drunk at bars and ballgames during your long-ago youth....and it's no wonder half of them ended up childless, unmarried weirdos in their forties and fifties. There was the one lowlife into fuck-and-dump culture, (and even he lived with his mom until age 40) but most of them are incels who are getting fatter and balder. None of them have grown into mature role-models with great character. None of them are the elders at the church or the guy you'd go to if you needed advice.

Side note: The guy they've talked into stalking me doesn't fit in with the culture. Under better circumstances, (like if he wasn't a misogynistic patronizing asshole who isn't even attracted to me, and I'm not really sure what the deal is.....) I might be into him, because for an older man, he's physically fit. He's into one of those Sierra Club type groups full of people doing outdoorsy shit, such as camping, hiking, canoeing..etc. He belongs to a lot of co-ed social clubs where they play cards on Thursdays or whathaveya...

Meanwhile, the flabby lowlife goobers complain that 'there's nothing to do in a small town! This is why so many men are dying of fentanyl!'

I've taken the piss about this so much. The Kharmii be like.......you mean there's not enough lowlife shit for low lives to do in a small town? Low lives have to OD on fentanyl out of boredom because there's not enough for dirty rotten low life scumbags to do? You have to drive all the way up to the suburbs for strip clubs and casino boats, and the Biden economy has made gas over $4/gallon?

[emailgremlin]

my college held a (completely tame) rally and now everyone involved is getting vague emails from the deans threatening to bar them from graduation if they continue to “disrupt.” what a fucking joke of an administration

[charfletchh]

ic task 4: interrogations

Charlie was hungover.

Not the kind of hangover that gave you a mild headache and a good story, but the kind that made you shiver and your heart beat out of your chest, the kind that had you locating the nearest trash can every time you enter the room, the kind that made your whole body simultaneously limp and wired. No better day to be interrogated, she guessed.

She walked into the administration office that had been co-opted for interrogations looking more like a victim than a suspect- hair unwashed and bedraggled, last night's eyeliner halfway down her face. Likely not the way her father would like her to present herself. If she'd told him what was going on at Ogden, he might have flown out here with some other fancy lawyer and taken her to Nordstrom for a sensible pantsuit. But she hadn't told him what was going on at Ogden. She didn't think he cared much what she did in school anymore- She didn't think having a felon for a daughter could embarrass her father much more than she already had.

"Good morning," she grumbled to the surprisingly hot cops (damn, maybe she should have showered this morning). "Let's get this over with."

One of them pushed a cup of coffee her way. She didn't touch it. "Charlotte, I'm Agent Choi, and these are my coworkers Agents Murray and Brown. Thanks for joining us here today- we just have some questions for you." She nodded, mouth suddenly so dry she wasn't sure she trusted herself to respond.

"Charlie, right? That's what your friends call you?" She nodded again, mute. "And you were friends with Greer? Could you elaborate on that relationship?"

She coughed hoarsely. "Greer and I were friends. Good friends, I guess. We went out together a lot, that kind of thing."

She knew she hadn't given the right answer when Agent Murray in the back pursed her lips. "Charlie," Agent Brown interjected, "several other students have brought up your... relationship with Greer. Why do you think they thought that was relevant?"

It was a testament to her narcissism that her first impulse was to ask what people had said. "I mean, everyone knew we were friends. We were all over each other's Insta, it wasn't a secret." She paused. "Sometimes we fought- not like, physically fought or anything," she stumbled over her words to clarify. "Just in the way you fight with people you love. Over stupid shit. Maybe some people thought we were mad at each other, but we never really were." Right?

The pit in her stomach only grew as the police across the table from her stayed stoic. She wasn't used to this, not being able to turn a room to her side with just a smile and a joke, and she didn't have a lot of experience feeling like she was under attack. Only with Greer. "Right. Let's switch gears, Miss Fletcher," Agent Murray spoke up. "As I'm sure you're aware, the videos submitted for Ogden College's 250th anniversary were leaked in advance. Can you talk about the video you submitted? Give us some context?" Charlie wasn't sure if there really was disdain dripping from her words, or if she was projecting.

"Context? They're boobs. Do you need a visual aid?" She shot back, smarting from the humiliation of knowing all these strangers had seen her half-naked. "I did something stupid, and now a lot of weirdos can see it on the Internet whenever they want. It really fucking sucks, and no one cared. That's the context." Her patience was waning.

If she caught it right, it looked like a kind of warning glance passed between her questioners. "Okay, we can move on. Did you know Greer submitted a video?"

"No," she answered flatly.

"Were you aware of Greer traveling to Portugal this summer?"

"No," she answered flatly again.

“Had Greer brought up breaking up with The Naive Newcomer ever? Or anything of the sort, like she did in her video?” 

"I'm sure you can guess, but the answer is no."

"Did you have any reason to believe Greer would want to leave Ogden College?"

"Let me tell you all something about Greer. Anyone who says they had special insight into her special mind is lying. She did a lot of shit that she didn't tell anyone about. I wouldn't have been surprised if she went off to Portugal, I wouldn't have been surprised if her time capsule video was her dancing with the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, I wouldn't have been surprised if she and her boyfriend broke up fifty times and got back together a day later," she spat out. "She was my friend and I hardly knew her. I told her everything, and she didn't tell me shit. Happy?" She stood to leave.

"Charlotte, sit down," Agent Brown stood as she did, using a tone of voice that reminded her of her mother. That just made it worse. "We're not finished."

"Really? I am. This is so fucking stupid, I've already said everything I know." She thought she might be about to cry and she wasn't sure why.

"Just one more question, Charlie," Agent Choi raised his hands in the kind of gesture they teach you to calm rabid dogs. "Is there anything you know that you're not sharing?"

"No," she lied, and walked out of the silent room to the hallway, where she promptly threw up.

[carneirinha]

i'm not even joking when i say the novo ensino médio reforms have done irreparable damages 2 my education n i'm in a PRIVATE school. i can't even imagine how absolutely fucked the kids in public schools r rn. sure they've fixed it 4 all the grades below me so they'll still have SOME support 2 SOME extent. but as the graduating class of 2024 in a school that decided 2 take on the new 'novo ensino médio' policies 4 the first time n use MY year as a fucking guinea pig this was absolutely excruciating n did not prepare me 4 college exams. i would've been fucked regardless of whether or not my senior year was AS underfunded n baseless as it was. my school changing administrations in my last year n then going completely off the shitter was just the icing on the cake bcuz i got fucked over by michel temer's mandate policies regardless

[cas-blast]

complaining about school!

Don't go to art school without looking into ur specific program! Idk what happened to my college but our animation department is a fucking mess. We aren't provided computers or tablets in studio, the class size keeps expanding even tho our professors are barley handling the amount we have, and oh yea our professors don't have time for all of us! I blame administration for the most part but also its clear our department is more concerned about professionalism and "selling yourself" to corporate overlords instead of focusing on making art that makes you happy and improving. Animation as a career is a joke, ur expected to be ur own social media manager, sound designer, composer, editor, script writer etc on top of animating. What even is the point when we're about to be replaced by AI?

I'm just so bummed bc I went here for a program in HS and the vibe was so different, the program was different, they provided for the students. They HAD tablets for students, a room with lightboxes, a studio for stop motion. This school has changed from being for artists to being FOR PROFIT. RN it makes having a professor feel like having a boss. In other classes I've had at other schools I've gotten really close to my professors. It's not really possible here in the main animation program. I'm just BUMMED!!!!

[mekatrio]

there is a blogger on here, musashi, who im pretty sure has a sizeable following.. they rbed a post advocating to vote for biden, which is already horrific.. and that rb included an addition on that post from this other aa fan, an addition which is not just so callously evil, but also factually untrue? minorities in america suffer regardless of which administration its under?? and saying that biden has been pressuring for a ceasefire is a fucking joke?

musashi, the person who rbed this, runs a decently sized aa discord, which i left after seeing them rb this.. they are also currently organizing a nick and maya zine, which seems to be garnering a lot of interest.. a lot of blogs ive been lurking on hv shown interest and support of this zine. which is just... terrible to imagine, that someone can share a post this callous, and ppl will still follow them.

i want to give the ppl who follows / are friends w this person / are supporting their zine the benefit of the doubt, maybe they hadnt seen this awful post.. but i am also not that blindly optimistic. i know how evil and callous americans in fandoms can be. theyll speak about joining the military for college funds like it means nothing to them, bc they live in their little bubble of the world that doesnt comprehend tht the rest of us are humans. a man will spearhead a horrific genocide, and these people will still give him their votes, bc the matter of genocide mean so little to them, bc at least they can get some benefits from voting for this man. or imagined benefits, cuz nothing ive heard abt the biden administration has looked very pretty.

i hope their zine flops, but it seems unlikely that will happen. ill probably want to post smth abt this on my art blog, cuz ive gotten several followers on there who have eyes on my aa fanart. i really really hate liberal americans.. spilled blood means nothing to these people. i dont want to share a fan space with people so removed from reality.

i dont think i like. aa fans on tumblr..

[fuck-customers]

Oh buddy do I need to vent.

TLDR: I am underpaid and have tasks assigned to me that are not my responsibility and my boss is a shady ass bitch

I am a dog bather so my job is to wash, dry, and prep dogs for grooming. At the salon I work for groomers will usually bathe their first dog and then I take over after that.

1. I found out that this one groomer who had these bernadoodles (Saint Benard and poodle, dense coat, apx 100lbs) Caramel and Lola come in every two weeks. The groomer always puts them on the bath board for the bathers to do but she is the one who is supposed to bathe them. The dogs take up to an hour to fully bring them to standard

2. My boss constantly overbooks. He has booked dogs that are severely aggressive to where it makes bathing and grooming impossible. It is not safe for the dog or for us to be put in those situations. Today we had 2 bathers and 35 dogs. There is never enough bathers to equate to the amount of appoinents

3. The reason why there are no bathers because he pushes all the bathers to become groomers at a school which he is an administrative assistant so makes more money. (May also be opening another salon location when this location is already fucked)

4. Today I spent an hour cleaning and disinfecting because a dog pissed and pooped everywhere and no one bothered to help me. Only one person even said thank you. MY BOSS SAW ME SCRUBBING THE FLOORS and decided that was a great time to crack some jokes on how the poop was everywhere.

5. The average pay in my area is $15/h but I am only at $12/h. The job is so physically and emotionally demanding I have fallen behind on my college classes and may need to go back to physical therapy. Groomers always want to bitch and have the bathers clean muzzles, clean eye gunk and poop butts, express glands, full blow out, brush through tangles, remove undercoat. I do all this for them but they never do jack shit when it comes to helping the bathers

I love dogs so much and it breaks my heart how much the environment and the systems at this job has made me dread going to work. I'm ready to say pay me more or my ass is gone.

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part IV

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1880.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

_________

After you came back to your room, you got a message from Steve about changing the locks on both you door and your locker. You were so taken aback by today's conversation in the student council room that you had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, Steve had already requested the change of locks on your behalf through email, and you were really grateful to him for that: you dreaded coming back to the room that had been forced open. Of course, tonight you would have to move your dresser to the door so that nobody could enter when you'd be sleeping.

Shit. It was absolutely crazy.

"I'm not sure about all this, Steve." You texted him while laying on your bed and staring at your phone in the darkness of the room. "It doesn't seem right."

Naturally, you meant the fake dating thing. It felt horrible thinking of what others would think after seeing you with five different guys. Would they be calling you a whore in the open? Make some nasty jokes behind your back? Report you to the school administration for immoral behavior? Remembering those bigots from the student office, you cringed at the thought.

Besides, it still didn't make sense to you why you had to date all five. Sure, if they were around you at all times like your friends, these unhinged bastards who stole your things wouldn't do anything funny again, but it wasn't like that. What could one guy do against a group of other students?

"Listen, I didn't want to talk about it in class, but I'm worried it won't end with a stolen lingerie."

You didn't like his message.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. They might attempt something much worse than a theft."

Oh no. Was he talking about rape? Seriously? Did he anticipate others were so crazy they would do something like that?

But then again, girls were being raped in colleges even if it weren't the all-boys schools. A shiver ran down your spine.

"But if several people attack me, just one of you won't be enough." You typed with your shaky fingers, trembling beneath your blanket.

"It's not about the pure force. Each of us has a certain reputation, and others wouldn't want to cross us over because of it."

Wait, this was interesting. What on Earth did he mean? What kind of reputation was that to prevent people from messing with them?

"Thor is a good athlete and a great leader, his basketball team is ready to beat people to death for him."

"Loki's father is one of academy’s main sponsors, and he can have this school turned upside down if he wants to."

"Bucky is a threat by himself, but he also have a company of loyal friends."

"I don't think Peter is serious enough to scare anyone, but with his computer skills he could easily blackmail others, I’ve already seen him doing it. Students would be wary to cross him over just like any of us."

Steve was writing you a bunch of messages with a terrifying speed, and you could barely read the first when he was already sending you the second. It felt absolutely insane. Did he choose every guy because the more powerful admirers you have, the less others would intervene? Well, at least in case of Bucky and Thor who could beat people to near death, it was wise. You preferred not to think of Peter - you had no idea someone as sweet and caring as him did something as disgusting as a blackmail.

“But what others will think? 5 boyfriends? Others will think you are dating-” you paused, chewing your lips to bit, “- a whore. Nobody gonna stood up for me.”

"Imagine if each of us tells our friends that other four guys were just asked to watch over you, but you date only one.”

Oh. Yes, this was slightly better. Then you wouldn’t have to do something as bold as kissing every guy in public, instead maintaining the mystery who you were really dating. 

Damn, how Steve even came up with this plan? Why was everything so complicated?

“It’s getting late. Good night.” Your phone vibrated again, and you huffed with irritation. You hoped you could ask him a bit more - about what you were going to do with the thieves Steve found, for example - but he was probably getting tired with all your questions. It was better to ask him tomorrow.

___________________

The next morning you were restless: since you were starting to going out with guys, you felt like you needed to look better than you usually were, so you spent your morning working on your hair and makeup. It was like fake dating, right? You had to pretend you wanted to look pretty for them.

What else did you have to do? Cook something sweet for them? Yeah, probably, but not at the start of your relationship. Going to cafe together? Helping each other study? Loki also mentioned the cinema...

You felt dumb. Of course, you dated guys before, but now you realized you had no idea how to act not to cause any suspicion. Oh boy, it was going to be a tough day.

Thor nocked at you door thirty minutes before your first session, but you woke up so early you were more than ready to go. As you opened the door, first moving the dresser back to its place, the guy looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, what was that?"

"The dresser. I can't leave the door just like that until the lock is changed."

He blinked at you, watching the door and then probably remembering somebody forced the lock open to steal your underwear.

"These guys are batshit crazy." He mumbled and nodded you to go with him, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, they won't do it again."

You wanted to argue they definitely would, but, seeing his warm smile, you thought Thor simply wanted to cheer you up and smiled at him in return. In the end, he was here only to make you feel safer: you didn't doubt he was very popular with the girls every time he went out to the city.

"You look great today!" He said sheepishly, walking in the dorm's corridor while other students were staring at him silently, obviously surprised to see you two together. "I mean, not that you looked bad yesterday, I just..."

Watching his face suddenly getting crimson red, you couldn't help but giggle at his expression. You could never think Thor was actually bashful around girls. Yeah, at your old place he'd definitely be one of the most popular guys around.

It was lunch time when you two could actually talk, sitting together at the same table and being watched by everyone around. Strangely, with Thor constantly talking and often rubbing your hand with his, it didn't feel suffocating, and you held your head high: regardless whether those pricks were looking at you, you weren't going to run away to your room and cry there like a little girl. Loki was right: you weren't a silly little sheep, scared of your own shadow. You wouldn't let anyone spoil your time in the academy you dreamt studying in.

Funny enough, Thor turned out to be a talkative type when he was speaking about basketball and his team in particular. He loved sports: while you were more into hockey, the way he talked was so enthusiastic it made you listen to him with a genuine interest. Thor's love for basketball was infectious.

He seemed a simple man, this giant bag of muscles who was laughing so loud people around him flinched; Thor wasn't the exact type of a guy you would encounter on your own, but he seemed nice, sincere, and surprisingly softhearted. You felt at ease talking to him, and soon you too acted like you'd known each other for long.

It was a pity you'd only met under this circumstances. It felt like you two could became friends.

But then when Thor absent-mindedly put his arm around your shoulders, you remembered Loki's warning: they would try to gain your favors. Was it the reason Thor was so nice to someone he just met? Wasn't it suspicious of him? You couldn't let your guard down after just one lunch together. In fact, you knew nothing of the man sitting in front of you.

"I knew something like would happen." Some guy to your left sighed loudly, catching your attention. "They were fucking crazy."

"I'm not surprised either. I just wanna know who they got in a fight with to be beaten like that. Have you heard they broke Gray's both legs?"

"Woah, both? That's brutal, man."

You shivered, trying not to listen to them.

"It'd happen sooner or later anyway. They were completely wild."

A word caught your attention right away: that was what Steve called those students who were stealing your things. Could it be a coincidence? Surely, in an all-boys school the students were fighting each other constantly.

But to the point of breaking both legs of someone? Really?

As you sent Thor a nervous look, he gently patted your shoulder, lowering his voice so no one would hear him, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. These things happen here from time to time because the guys have no idea what to do with all that testosterone."

You hoped he was right.

The rest of the day went as usual aside from Thor walking the corridors with you and chatting about sports: he managed to convince you to come see the game next month when they would be having a tournament. You were grateful to him for helping to ease your mind because the news of guys being sent to the ambulance made you shook. Steve also mentioned something about his and other's friends ready to beat anyone to death, right?

By the middle of your last class you couldn't think of it any longer and quickly typed a message to Loki. Of all people, right now he seemed the most sincere to you.

"Hi. Are the guys who were beaten last night are the ones who stole my things?"

Waiting was a special torture when you held the phone in your arms beneath your desk, hoping to see your screen lighting up with a message. In five minutes you got your reply.

"Yes." The message said simply, but it was enough for you to stare at your phone with horror, wishing you didn't ask Loki anything.

Oh shit. It wasn't a coincidence, right? It's impossible. Somebody did it on purpose. But who of the five?

"Do you know who did it?"

Next time he answered pretty fast, "No."

A part of you felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't related, finally. Maybe they got beaten by somebody who was fed up with their attitude because they were crazy as the guys in the cafeteria said.

But what if it weren't true?

"Who's the most brutal among you five?"

Biting your lips, you started rocking in your chair a little, making the guy on your left to roll his eyes in irritation.

The phone's screen flashed again.

"Barnes."

Part V

_________

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[ayliffe]

my parents never pressured me or even expected me to go to oxbridge. they met at durham, after all. my mother's parents were farmers, immigrants from poland during ww2, and my father went to durham rather than oxbridge out of a twisted sense of pride -- both his parents and all of his siblings got into either oxford or cambridge (or both) easily, so he never saw getting into either as a particular achievement, he said.

[posh boy oxbridge angst under the cut]

but the spectre always hung over me. at some point, no later than age 13, i decided that i had to go to one or the other. perhaps it was because i was never close with any of my extended family, so i taught myself to idolise (oxford and) cambridge in lieu of any actual connection. perhaps the school i went to drilled it into me. all i know for certain is that by the time i was 14, i was reading oxbridge college student newsletters, enchanted by jokes i'd never truly understand.

it goes without saying, i think, that this isn't normal behaviour, even for the school i went to, a school that prided itself on its oxbridge admissions.

the school i went to essentially ignored me until they learned i intended to apply to oxford -- and suddenly, they decided i mattered. it didn't matter that i never did my homework; it didn't matter that i didn't appear to have any drive for any subject other than the one for which i applied. i remember my biology teacher, someone high up in the school's administration but also extremely aware that i was doing terribly in her subject (i was averaging Ds), saying something along the lines of, "oh, you're going for oxbridge? i'd better write the best reference i can!" -- and she lied in it. i'm sure she did. because there are codes teachers learn when they're writing recommendations for their students, codes that might imply a student's fine, even good, but when read between the lines -- they're shit. don't bother. and my biology teacher would have been completely within her rights to suggest i'd have been a shit student, because i would have been.

but the fact she felt the need to lie; the fact she felt the need to try to get me somewhere good over somewhere, perhaps, i would've been suited. though knowing how i was at the time, i don't know whether i was suited to anywhere at all.

and i'm grateful to her, of course i am. moreso than the teachers in whose subjects i actually excelled, in some ways. i didn't get into oxford, but i do think her reference helped me get to interview, and interview is truly one of my favourite memories. but the fucking... the ritual of it all. say the right things. write the right statement. be argumentative at interview -- but not too argumentative. you want them to like you, after all.

it's not really oxbridge i'm railing against here. or at least it's not just oxbridge i'm railing against. to be honest, i'm not entirely sure what my point is. i suppose i'm projecting my self-inflicted academic anxiety (to this day, i struggle with accepting that a rejection from oxford doesn't make me an idiot) onto my school onto, well, the institutions themselves.

i think mostly i want to know where on earth i got it from. as i say, my parents never gave any indication that's what they expected -- in fact, they actively discouraged me from applying -- and i never saw my father's family enough to absorb any expectations from them. none of my cousins got in, either. i think there's a lot to be said about the hold oxbridge has on british institutions, but i don't have the knowledge or the experience to talk about that. as with so many other things i throw out into the void, i mostly just want to know why the whole thing had such an effect on me.