#what if i could go in the f/f tag and not be overwhelmed by bad genderbend fics

[zukkaoru]

what if people in this world realized female characters are good and interesting instead of genderbending their favorite mlm ship in order to pretend they like women

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 7

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader sleep together for the first time

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: loss of virginity, oral f/m receiving, so much praise, pain during sex, unprotected sex, cr**mp**, bit of overstim, soft dom spence, if u don't like that freak shit (love and intimacy) this is not for u, spencer is a nerd, they're both nerds actually and that factors in heavily, you may get more from this part by FIRST reading how they met in this bonus chapter a/n: thank you all for being patient, ilysm, this was the most laborious thing i've ever done for no reason and also this part changed so many times and is not what i expected it to be so pls go in with tempered expectations and keep in mind that this story is more about the characters and their specific relationship dynamic than just being porn. i truly have no idea how you guys will react to this but i sincerely hope you love it and them like i do<3 also it's twice as long as the other parts so feedback would be very very appreciated! again i love u all and enjoy the penultimate part!

Spencer’s lips are on yours, and you weren’t expecting it—hell, you weren’t expecting him to be in your apartment. After all, he’d wished you goodnight and walked out only a moment ago.

“Spencer—wh—” 

But he’s insistent with his lips, kissing you bruisingly over and over like there’s nectar on your tongue and he’s parched for you. Still, he has enough decency to not completely ignore you, exhaling a quick excuse over your flushed lips. 

“I missed you.”

This time, though, you dodge his hungry kiss. Part of you thinks, as he watches you, eyes alight and breathing heavily, that he sort of likes your playing hard to get. It’s not something you do very often, admittedly. 

“We’ve been apart for like, maybe a minute.”

“I didn’t even make it to the parking lot.”

Your face heats.  

“Well you can’t just—you can’t just walk in like that! And I thought you said we weren’t supposed to mix fighting with pleasure.”

“Then start locking your door. And I thought you said we weren’t fighting.”

You roll your eyes in response, though your heart is still pittering in your chest. 

At least his hands move to your arms, stroking up and down relatively chastely—although he has this way of making everything seem intimate. Especially when paired with those amber eyes of his—glowing like a candlelight beacon in the window guiding you home. He speaks in low, appeasing tones and darts his tongue over his lips. 

“I originally said it’s a bad idea for couples to sleep together after an argument. But you know—makeup sex is ubiquitous across culture and time because it works. Anger and arousal trigger a lot of the same hormones, specifically norepinephrine which is involved in feelings of longing and—”

“Spencer.”

“You know what else?” He mutters in a way that feels dangerous. “It tends to feel better than regular sex.”

That earns a shaky exhale from you. Whether from irritation or arousal is anyone’s guess—probably a combination of both. 

“So you came back to fuck me?”

It’s probably evident to Spencer from your choice of language that this already isn’t going exactly as he’d planned. He doesn’t answer right away—just regards you, gaze bouncing between your two eyes like he’s trying to calculate your level of anger. 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You push him away and move to walk down the hall. 

“Maybe your window of opportunity has passed.”

A warm hand wraps around your wrist in the dark of the hallway and he pulls you back until you’re falling against something tall and warm and lean. The smell of polished amber and sandalwood overwhelms your senses. 

“What’s wrong, angel? What happened in the minute I was gone to change your mind?” His voice is scratchy like a favorite record. It’s the voice he could hold you captive with. The one you have a very difficult time saying no to. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, unintentionally leaning back against him. “What happened to change yours?”

His response comes pressed against your ear, half-lost in your hair. 

“You’re upset that I changed my mind. I thought you wanted this, honey.”

“I do,” you admit, letting your head fall back against his shoulder and bringing his arm to wrap around you. “And if you hadn’t walked out earlier I would’ve done it. But… I’m tired of us doing everything on your timeline. You just… you expect me to be amenable to what you want, constantly.” His nose and lips press into your shoulder. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I’ve been begging you to sleep with me for I don’t even know how long. And you keep changing your mind, and I feel like you’re being really confusing about it. Obviously you don’t have to sleep with me, you never did, but I just feel kind of… jerked around. And you did it again tonight.”

A beat of silence. 

“I understand your frustration,” he appeases, securing both his arms around you. You cling weakly to his wrist, to his warmth, like he’s a tether in a storm. “Would you prefer to wait until you initiate it?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know,” you huff, disentangling yourself from his arms and continuing toward your bedroom. “Now I’m annoyed at you again.”

He follows you right through the door. 

“Just tell me what to do! I don’t want to be annoying.”

“I can’t. I’m being unreasonable.” You flick on your adjoining bathroom light and examine yourself in the mirror. Yeesh. The eye makeup situation is abysmal after all the crying that has taken place over the course of the evening. 

“So choose to be reasonable and tell me what you want from me. I’ll give it to you.”

You frown at your reflection, pushing your hair back and rubbing at some excess mascara. 

“No, you’re not understanding me. I’m not choosing to be unreasonable. My thought process regarding the situation is inherently unreasonable and there’s nothing I can do about it because it’s just the way I feel.”

“The feeling being that I’ve been too domineering over how our sexual relationship has unfolded?”

Spencer watches you in the bathroom mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed as you tip some makeup remover onto a reusable cotton pad. You try not to check him out as you nod, but it’s impossible—with his sleeves rolled up to show defined forearms cradled in capable hands, and his hair all messy. 

When he pushes off the wall you freeze, unsure of his next move—until he’s gently spinning you around and taking the bottle and cloth from your hands. 

“Maybe it would help,” he begins, soft as he focuses on the new task, carefully bringing the round to your right eye so he can remove the bleeding mascara. You allow your eyes to flutter shut. “If I remind you why I’ve been so hesitant.”

“Because you hate giving me joy.”

He laughs, nothing more than one huff from his nose. 

“You’re spoiled and we both know it.”

Point taken, as he gently wipes your makeup away for you. Your silence is his cue to continue. 

“Everything I said about worrying that you would regret choosing me is true. It was especially true when I thought you felt lukewarm toward me. And all of that confusing stuff I said in the phone is true too—having sex for the first time is incredibly intimate and weird and sometimes scary. If you’re not 100% sure about your partner, or if you think your feelings are unrequited, it’s hard to be completely comfortable in such a vulnerable situation and your likelihood of getting hurt or having regrets skyrockets. I know that from experience. I wanted better for you than what I got. Still, I know it was wrong to project my feelings about the significance of sex onto you. In that regard, you’re right. I was being domineering, and I guess… I guess to an extent I’m still deflecting. I shouldn’t be trying to pretend like it’s about you when in reality I mostly just didn’t want to get hurt again. I didn’t want to go through that again, and that’s okay, but I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was something you could have changed.”

You try to process that. 

“Go through what?” You whisper hoarsely. Something about having him at such close range while he takes such care with you feels whisper-y. 

“Sleeping with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Your reply is small. 

“Oh. Right.”

How could anyone not love him back?

Spencer’s reply is simple and kind, without a hint of, obviously you dumb bitch—which is pretty much what you’re thinking to yourself. 

“Does that make sense, lovely? Do you understand why I wanted to wait?”

He lets you ponder for a while in comfortable-enough silence as he finishes removing your eye makeup with a characteristically gentle hand. When you open your eyes, he looks genuinely content, screwing the lid back on the bottle as if he’s got an eternity to wait for your answer. 

“Yeah. That part makes sense. But why did you seem so… I don’t know, like, wishy-washy about it?”

Spencer’s eyes dart up to meet yours, brows slightly raised. Then a small laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside him. 

“Because I’m obsessed with you. I thought about you like that constantly. I still do.”

Your breath catches at the casual admission. 

“Oh.”

Spencer hums, setting the bottle down before tenderly thumbing away some excess mascara that he must have missed from under your eye. 

“You didn’t think it was easy for me, did you?”

“Well… kind of,” you admit, tracking his eyes until they meet yours. 

“Not sleeping with you has been among the hardest things I’ve ever done. Especially when you started begging me. That first time, when I picked you up from Penelope’s and you asked me why we hadn’t had sex yet…”

He trails off, still rubbing at your cheek as he loses himself in thought. 

Eventually, you grow impatient, prompting, “what?”

“It’s not a nice thought.”

“Well, you have to tell me now,” you insist. 

He half smiles, thumb straying to your lips. 

“It was just… you had no idea what you were talking about, and you were ready to throw a tantrum in my living room until I gave you what you thought you wanted. Part of me was imagining bending you over the couch right then, since you thought you were so ready.”

It feels like someone has snipped the pulley that keeps your stomach in place. 

“Spencer,” you splutter, convinced your cheek is tangibly heating under his touch as your head reels at the revelation that he could have such a deeply dirty and mildly sinister mind. 

“I told you it wasn’t nice.”

You swallow. 

“Is that… is that still what you want?”

His brows flicker again and he tucks hair behind your ear. 

“To bend you over my couch? No.”

Your face warms even more and you turn to leave the bathroom, sick of his teasing. 

“Okay, goodni—”

“Hold on.” Spencer catches you by your waist and pulls you back into him for the second time tonight. A dangerous smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “I know what you meant. And no, I don’t want to bend you over my couch.” He laughs, slipping a hand under your shirt to rub your back. “You know what I want. I’m more interested in learning what you want.”

“I want…” Your eyes dance between his, and your heart flutters against the confines of your chest as you realize what you’ve wanted for so long is finally yours for the taking. “I want to stop talking about it.”

His expression neutralizes and you know it’s probably intentional to stop whatever feelings you assume him to be having color your decision. 

“Oh?”

“I just think we’ve talked about it enough.”

Before he can say another word, or ask you another question, you kiss him with such passion there’s no way he can doubt how much you want this. 

Only a moment passes before he allows himself to lean into it, cupping your face between reverent hands and taking control of the pace of the kiss, slowing it down until you can hardly breathe. Your little noise of want has him quickening the process, pressing against you until you’re walking backward out of the bathroom. It’s like the first crack in a dam. After that, everything becomes inevitable. 

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sit down hard on the mattress, smiling up at him. You skim the front of his thighs with your palms as he smooths your hair.

Spencer groans, leaning down and kissing you til you’re on your back. 

“Don’t make that face.”

An affronted huff from you breaks the kiss up and he pulls back to study your expression. 

“What do you mean don’t make that face? I was just smiling at you.”

“I know you were. And you have such a pretty smile it makes me feel guilty about… defiling you.”

Your brows flicker up and your mouth drops open with an affronted scoff.

“Watch yourself. I’ll defile you.”

“You already have,” he admits with a half-laugh as he kisses you again. “My mind was never this dirty before we met.”

“Hm. Tell me you like my smile.”

He pauses and then chuckles dryly against your mouth. 

“I love your smile. You’re gorgeous. Any more demands?”

Pleased, you shake your head and pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Not currently.”

“Really?” he murmurs, trailing kisses over your cheek and down your jaw, “I’d do just about anything you asked me right now. You don’t want to take advantage of that?”

The sensation of his lips just below your ear threatens all rational thought in your brain, but you manage a reply with only a slight delay and a hint of a waver coloring your tone. 

“I shouldn’t have to demand things. You should just know to do them.”

His kisses drag lower, warm and unhurried and you’re trying not to let your hyper-sensitivity from going a week completely untouched show—but you doubt he misses the way your breath catches, or the barely audible squeaks, or the arch of your back or the tightening grip on his shirt. 

“Well, for future reference—” he nips at a sensitive spot and you gasp quietly, even as you tilt your head to offer him more access. More room to bite, if he so chooses. “—I happen to enjoy it when you make demands of me. Especially when those demands entail letting me call you pretty.”

“I’ve never not let you call me pretty before,” you huff. It’s a touchy subject, and Spencer can probably sense your hackles rising, but he has you right where he wants you and so he pushes anyway. 

“No. But you never believe me. We’ve had this conversation. You always act like I’m walking you to the gallows when I compliment you.” 

It’s hard to make a defense when he’s leaning his weight onto one arm so he can unbutton your jeans, when he’s looking down at you with sparkling onyx and scorched-earth eyes like you’re something to be consumed. But not violently, no—ardently. Like fruit heavy on the vine. Like you’re a religious rite to the devout and deluded. A sacrament.

But it’s not a blind passion. Spencer knows you; every inch of you and every loose thread on your soul begging to be pulled. He knows you and he still wants you like this. To be perfectly honest, you’d never thought you’d feel comfortable handing yourself over to someone like this—vulnerable and all your layers of armor shed. Never in your life would you have thought you could trust a person so implicitly that you’d hand them a knife and show them exactly where to press, that you’d say, I know once you open me and you see me you’ll not want to change a thing.

You adore him. Cosmically. Enormously. In every dimension. He’s lodged so deep in your heart you have no choice but to love him eternally. 

It’s deep in the midst of all these very profound revelations that you realize Spencer has stalled with your zipper undone. His hand has strayed to your hip, to sweetly push your shirt up and trace love letters into warmed and downy skin with his thumb. 

“I just wish you could see yourself how I see you,” he says softly, the weight of the truth a strain on his vocal cords. 

Sometimes, he is so kind it’s like a punch to your stomach. You’ve never been quite as kind as him. And nobody’s ever been as kind to you as he is. You’ve done nothing to deserve his kindness, but you know he needs a place for it, and you’re here with open arms. 

He studies you a moment longer, swallowing as his eyes trail over your face and lower. You want to reach out and brush strands of caramel hair out of his face, but he seems to be thinking so hard you’re hesitant to distract him. 

“I’ve never told you this, because I know you’d just shoot it down, but… you are genuinely the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met in my life.”

Something twinges in the depths of your stomach—the darker shades who live there and exist solely to whisper not enough not enough not enough to you every minute of every day. 

But they’re simply not a match for the softness you find when you do reach out for his hair, or the way he looks at you. Spencer loosely wraps his fingers around your wrist—not a cuff, but an affectionate hold. 

“Do you believe me?”

There’s so much earnest hope in his voice it almost jars you. He so badly wants you to understand how feels about you—he’s been trying to tell you for months and all you know how to do is refute his praise and insist on your worthlessness. 

Ever since Spencer, you don’t see the faces on magazine covers or in superhero movies, no matter how mathematically flawless they are. Nobody gets close to being as beautiful as he is in your eyes. He’s in an entirely different echelon, and despite how you feel about yourself, you have to accept that he might feel the same about you. 

“I do,” you say, equally soft, and 100% honest. You believe that he believes it, and that’s enough. It’s all that matters. 

The shallow knit of his brow loosens. His lips ease into a suggestion of a smile. But it’s most visible in his eyes—the way smoldering coals reignite, melting the amber glass of his irises until they’re molten. 

The way he kisses you then, you’d think you’d lassoed the moon and pulled it down from the sky for him. But apparently all it takes to make him incandescently, contagiously happy, is to accept a compliment.

There’s a renewed sense of urgency on his breath as he kisses you deeply and quick enough your heart is racing. It only goes faster when he remembers his previous task and begins tugging your jeans down, but he doesn’t even bother to pull them past your knees before his hand is creeping up your thigh. Goosebumps race each other across your body as you try to remember what it feels like—what he feels like. But you can’t, even as his thumb fans over your inner thigh and pushes it open, gently encouraging you to give him more access to you. 

“You’re not wasting any time,” you breathe against him while he traces the edge of your underwear.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

Judging by the way the tips of his fingers only barely shy away from the fabric, he really wants the answer to be no. But you know in his searching gaze that he’d never push you. 

“No, it’s fine. As long as we… don’t go this fast the whole time.”

“We won’t.” The hasty words are of lower priority than the next kiss he plants to your swollen lips. “We won’t. I just missed you so much.”

“Yeah?” You giggle airily as he drags his fingers over your clit through the material, trying to ignore the way it makes your head spin. 

“Yes. Yeah.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, so… desperate for you, as he drops his lips to your neck and presses barely-there kisses everywhere he knows you’re sensitive. Just the feeling of his breath against your skin has you shivering. His hand between your legs only brushes your most nerve-dense spot, but a few touches in and you’re already wound up, like if Spencer doesn’t give you more soon you’ll burst. And not in the good way. 

When he finally commits to actually kissing your neck, you squeak, warmth emanating from that spot just below your jaw all the way to your toes. The frantic energy of earlier is slowly melting away, and he loses focus with his hand, as it begins straying wider, stroking your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach. It’s like your nerve endings are on overdrive, delivering twice as much feedback to your brain as they normally would. Each touch feels like he’s conducting electricity over your body, like you’re a plasma ball. He’d probably like that analogy—you, a core of alternating voltage, and him, the conductor, tracing a path and giving all those electrons an easy release. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d tell Spencer you found a way to work Nikola Tesla into your mutual sex life, and he’d probably propose on the spot. 

But that electricity is building fast—even more so when he drags his lips down just above your collarbone. Your breath hitches, simultaneously trying to crane your neck to give him more room, and curl into him so as to escape the stimulation. Finally he pulls away, and losing the softness of his mouth while the air feels so cold against the places he’d kissed almost hurts. 

“You’re a mess,” he chuckles affectionately, raising his hand to brush hair away from your face before stroking the heated high point of your cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

It’s teasing, but so low and gentle and honeyed it swirls your stomach. 

“Whatever you want,” you admit quietly. It’s a shy confession more than it is a salacious flirtation because he already has you. And you want nothing more than for him to act on that in any way he so pleases. Whatever he does, it will be careful, and kind, and because he loves you. You know that no matter how he takes you apart—he’ll put you back together again. 

“I don’t know if I can. You’re all jumpy.”

God, he has the prettiest smile—even when it’s twisted with sarcasm and a thin veneer of guilt, like he knows he shouldn’t be teasing and just can’t help himself. 

“I’m not,” you defend, face heating further. “I’m not nervous. I don’t know what it is.”

That sticky sweet tone is back, pooling in his eyes and dripping all over you like nectar as he languidly looks you over. 

“I didn’t say you were nervous. Just a little bit jumpy.”

It’s not accusatory—he’s simply stating a fact. Easy, gentle, designed to soothe. 

You shrug helplessly and chew on your lip, unsure of how he wants you to respond. It’s definitely true that excited as you are, you’re slightly on edge. You feel taut as a string on a guitar, tense and waiting to be yanked at any second. 

His expression is serene, and his thoughts inscrutable as he continues lavishing you with his eyes, down to where he’s lying over you and back up. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak for a moment as he formulates his words. 

“Can we try something? There’s this tantric exercise that might help you relax.”

Your brows draw earnestly and you nod up at him, not requiring any convincing even though you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

Spencer directs you to sit up, and you do—kicking your jeans all the way off so you can sit criss-cross with your hands braced on your ankles. 

He’s next to you on the bed, at a slight angle, one of your knees in his lap. You blink at him. 

“Now what?”

“Now you give me one of your hands,” he says, tone tinted with a hint of an amused smile, as if your impatience is funny to him. Of course it probably is. 

Frowning only a little, you unlock your left arm and hold it out for him, watching curiously as he takes your one hand between his and flips it palm-up. 

“Did you know,” Spencer begins, voice low and confidential, “that the fingertips are the second most sensitive part of the human body?”

“What’s the first?”

“Lips,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on your hand where he’s brushing the tips of your fingers light enough it almost tickles. “They’re both incredibly important for keeping you alive, which is why they’re one and two. But you’ll be particularly sensitive anywhere you’re vulnerable.” His words are trailing off as he brushes his thumb over your palm and to the delicate skin of your wrist. “Like here.”

His knuckles skim up your forearm, to the crook of your elbow. 

“And especially here.”

You’re fascinated as he traces back down the length of your arm and over your inner-wrist, feather light. Then up once more, with the blunted edges of his nails, and your breath catches. You’ve never noticed how sensitive such an innocuous part of your body could be, but it has your stomach flipping—more so when he looses a breathy laugh. “You know, some people are actually able to reach orgasm just by light stimulation to this area.”

Your response is just as airy—you don’t recognize your voice when it comes out like that, hanging in the pitch black between you. 

“Really?” 

An affirmative hum from him, as he lifts your hand and places an intentional kiss over your pulse at the bend of your wrist. Your chest aches and heat is pooling in your stomach as his gently trails them up the delicate skin of your arm. Maybe you should be embarrassed by the reaction you’re having—after all, it’s just your arm. But he treats every part of you like it warrants love and attention and intimacy. Even the parts you typically ignore. Certainly parts you never considered to be sexually or romantically relevant. It’s dizzying. It’s like magic. 

“Arms up,” Spencer finally directs, just as sweetly as he’s doing everything else, and helps you tug your shirt over your head. Every brush of fabric, every seam against your skin registers more than it normally would. Everything is heightened, and despite your state of undress you’re still warm. “Your neck is really sensitive, too. It’s the most commonly acknowledged erogenous zone.”

Erogenous zone. Of course this all comes back to biology. 

“Tilt your head for me, honey.”

Utterly entranced and useless to not abide by him, you do so. Spencer brushes your hair over your shoulder, and if the slip of it down your back weren’t enough, the graze of his fingertips against the nape of your neck has you shivering. 

The warmth of him at your throat feels completely brand new, despite having already had his lips there only minutes before. But now they ghost over your skin with a kind of novelty, and your own lips part in silent pleasure, head lolling to allow him greater access.

“Lie back.”

Without hesitation (but perhaps a bit sluggishly in your stupor) you obey, sliding down until you’re propped up only by pillows once more. Spencer takes his place propped above you once more, thighs slotted with yours as he quickly picks up where he left off. 

The sweet kisses are perfect and feel so much better than you’d ever thought to notice before—but at the same time your core aches and there’s that pressure building again that’s starting to get to you. 

“Spencer,” you try, and it comes out hoarse but you don’t care at all. “More.”

“You want me to leave marks?” 

And the offer is so tempting you’ll wait a few more minutes to ask for what you really need, nodding semi-frantically and ‘mhm’-ing desperately. 

As he gently latches onto a spot that will require concealer later but feels fantastic for now, one of his hands slips down your side, just barely letting his nails skim, and your back actually arches. It’s a shocking amount of stimulation for being nowhere near any sexual hotspots. That tiny caught breath dissolves as his fingers continue down just as lightly over your hip and thigh. Your muscles tense as you chase and run away from the feeling. It’s ridiculous.

There’s no point in trying to keep your eyes open now—they grow heavy and you let them fall shut as he sucks another love bite to your throat. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s kind of weird.” He says, voicing your thoughts as he eventually decides the mark will be sufficiently dark. 

“Yeah,” you agree, lacking all eloquence as he caresses every sensitive place you didn’t know you had and your hips writhe minutely in a little desperate dance of your own creation. 

“Most people aren’t aware of the potential of the erogenous zones that aren’t actual sex organs. They don’t pay attention to them. You know what else is an interesting function of erotic stimulation to areas that aren’t directly involved in reproduction?”

“Hm,” you hum as his hand skims to your back. You lean into it and he promptly undoes your bra with a single hand—a skill you’re not even sure you have. 

“It releases not quite as much oxytocin as an orgasm but more than sexual pleasure alone. So you’re less tense before sex than you usually would be, and you’re primed to build more trust and feel more connected with your partner during.”

God, he’s a nerd. And it’s so, so hot. 

You roll over on your back again and look up at him through half-lidded eyes. The corner of his mouth flickers as he takes in your expression, before trailing downward, following the path his fingertips make over your skin as they tug the straps over your shoulders. Trying to stop him, to be shy, would be a pointless venture. He’s seen you like this and you want him to see you again. 

A shaky exhale of his own brings a little smile to your face as he pulls your bra away and observes the newly bared skin with a hunger that you can feel. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs, eyes cast pointedly down and thumb brushing over the side of your right breast. 

“You mentioned.”

“I’m not allowed to say it again?” He teases, leaning down to kiss you soft. Your lips curve against his. 

“You can say it as many times as you want.”

Spencer hums, finally thumbing over your breast’s sensitive peak. It sends a chill down your back and seeing as you’re already worked up to the point of near insanity, the pleasure from such a simple touch is much stronger than it would be otherwise. 

“Good. Because I missed you a lot.”

After that, he doesn’t waste much time—only toying with your flesh for another minute as he kisses you before his hand is skimming down your abdomen and dipping below the waistband of your underwear. 

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips toward him when he doesn’t move to touch you anymore. 

“Please what?”

“Spencer, don’t.”

He smiles at this, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as his hand travels lower. Fingers slip between wet folds and he begins making the lightest of circles over your clit. 

“You’ve probably been waiting long enough, huh? I should be nicer.”

Your answer is a breathy almost-whine as you seek more friction against his hand. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pressing down harder. The sensation sends sparks down to your toes and you attempt to clamp your legs shut around his wrist. “These need to stay open,” Spencer chuckles, “or else I can’t help you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words are a sweet sing-song against your cheek as he kisses you there, before hooking his fingers into the fabric of your underwear and pulling down. You try to help wiggle out of them as best you can, gasping when he tosses them away and immediately returns his hand between your legs. He dips his head down, tongue lathing over your breast, and teases you with the tip of one finger circling around your entrance. 

“I need—”

“Shh. Let me worry about it.”

With that, he’s dipping his ring and middle fingers just barely inside of you to the first knuckle, then back out, before pushing a bit deeper, and repeating the cycle until they’re as far as they’ll go. When he slowly starts fucking you with them, still mouthing sweetly at your breast, you’re ready to melt. 

The room is quiet except for your breathy mewls, the lewd, wet sound of his fingers inside of you, and the blood rushing in your ears. Soon your breast pops from between his lips and he finds somewhere else to leave his mark. Spencer is turning you into a work of art, with his fingers, with his mouth. You don’t mind at all. You’d let him sign his name, if he could—but you doubt he’d let you get his name tattooed. 

Soon you stop fighting the perpetual tug of your lids down and let them flutter shut, loosing a freer moan as he brushes over that sweet spot inside you. Even when he’d told you how to find it over the phone, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like this—maddening enough to have your hips twisting again and that hot bed of coals in your tummy sparking. 

“Spencer,” you warn, leg twitching as he stokes the fire beyond the point where you can passively enjoy it. Either he’s got to slow down or he’s got to let you burn all the way up. You practically jump when you feel his tongue flick over your clit—you hadn’t even been aware of his shifting positions. Maybe you’re more out of it than you’d previously thought. Your eyes shoot open and he does it again. “Oh, fuck.”

The words are simple, quiet, and apparently that’s not enough. Before you can even process the sensation of the tip of his tongue on you he’s latching onto your clit, suckling in a way that has your vision momentarily going out. You cry out and kick involuntarily, hips jumping up, but he captures your leg and presses you down into the mattress so no matter how much you squirm and squeak you can’t get away. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, Spencer I wa—ah—sn’t ready—oh my god.”

He remembers his fingers deep inside you and begins rutting them and you hiss, inhaling sharply through your teeth before letting it all out in a tremulous moan. The orgasm is building up so quickly it almost feels like an attack on your poor body as you try to process it all to no avail. Every sound you make is a vulnerable mess of pleasure and pain, a clear fear of surrendering to something inevitable. Of course, it doesn’t really hurt at all. As usual, he’s blindsided you. Found you unprepared. You rake your fingers through Spencer’s hair, continuing on with your shaky moans that sound half-worried. 

“Oh, please.” Really, you’re just pleading to be put out of your misery. It’s in moments like this, as the black is creeping in around the edges of your vision and your thoughts become threads in the tangle of an existence knotting in on itself with no discernible end or beginning in your mind until everything is completely abstract, that you’re reminded why the French refer to orgasm as the little death.  

Your fingers lace tight enough in the wilds of his hair to pull, and he groans against you, and those vibrations are your undoing. You succumb to the dark momentarily but he continues a loving assault of gentle kisses to your clit—careful enough so as to be inoffensive even after the euphoria abates and you’re hypersensitive, still relishing soft strands of hair between your knuckles. 

You’re breathing hard as you blink your vision back, looking down at him as he looks up at you from his place between your legs and rubs the top of your thigh.

“I wasn’t ready,” you pant, lips flashing into a tired smile that doesn’t hold a candle to his own livelier one. 

“Took it like a champ.”

If you weren’t already so warm his sarcastic comment would inspire more heat in the apples of your cheeks. 

“Dr. Spencer Reid using sports idioms?” You smile as he climbs back up your body. 

“It’s unreasonably sexy that you said idiom and not simile.” He kisses you, grin mirroring yours, and you don’t complain about the slick still on his lips. “And look at that. Not afraid to kiss me when I taste like you anymore.”

“I remember what you said,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, glowing amber pools in the low light. The words echo in your head from the first time he’d gone down on you and you’d been hesitant to taste yourself. 

One day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.

“So do I,” he points out needlessly. “Eerily prophetic, hm?”

“I think you just like going down on me,” you laugh. 

Without the light on, his smile is just as brilliant as usual.  

“You might be right about that.”

Another interlude of quiet begins, but you don’t mind it. Taking this slow, as desperate as you’ve been for it, feels nice. Easy. Waves of burning need ebb and flow, but for now, it feels nice to be bathed in his candlelight gaze, know you’re loved, and nothing else. 

“What next?” You whisper after a long moment, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw. He leans into it slightly, lips brushing your palm. 

“That’s up to you, angel. What’s going to make you feel most comfortable?” 

Your bottom lip rolls between your teeth as you think and he tracks the movement, corner of his mouth twitching fondly. 

“It might help if you weren’t fully clothed.”

“I think we could probably do something about that.”

He pecks the tip of your nose playfully and then he’s pushing off the bed. Your brow wrinkles as you follow suit only partially, sitting up with your legs folded under you and pulling the sheets over your body to combat the chill and the vulnerability of being completely naked. 

“Oh, my god. You had your shoes on that whole time?”

“I got distracted,” Spencer defends, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to slip the loafers off. 

You clutch the sheet to your chest, watching the adorable way he pushes his hair out of his face as he rushes. He’s so clearly excited—it shows in the flush of his cheek and his even worse than usual coordination. 

“But on my bed?”

“I’m sorry,” he says without seeming very apologetic, leaning down to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger and pressing his lips to yours. “I’ll pay to have your comforter dry cleaned. I’ll buy you a new one. I don’t care.”

“How chivalrous.”

“I am,” he insists against your lips, shaped by what is surely a boyish smirk. 

Unsurprisingly, you get lost in the kiss, dropping the sheet to hang onto his shoulders. Spencer takes advantage of the once-more revealed skin, rubbing your thigh with slow passes in a way that has you all lit up again already. It doesn’t help that his tie is skimming right over the recess between your folded thighs as he leans over your seated form, kissing you deeper as the moments pass. 

“You’re distracting me now,” you scold, but your voice is quiet and smiley as your noses brush. 

“Do you want to help me with my clothes?”

You nod, heart hatching like a cocoon and already slipping a finger into the knot of his tie so you can tug perhaps not gently enough. He chuckles, bracing himself with his fists on either side of your lap as you pull and yank until the fabric comes loose and you slip it from around his neck, flinging it blindly for dramatic effect. Then he slowly draws back to his full height, until you’re about eye-level with his chest. His gaze fixes on you, feverish and intent as he finds the buckle of his belt without looking. The slide of leather on leather, the jingle of the metal has the hairs on the back of your neck rising and you fight a chill as he pins you with his stare—feeling rather powerless as he towers over you, still essentially fully clothed while you’re completely naked. 

You probably shouldn’t be as thrilled by it as you are. 

Spencer tosses the belt on the floor and watches on, utterly charmed as you rise to your knees. His hands find your waist, steadying you as you begin unbuttoning his shirt with slow, careful fingers. 

“See?” You murmur bashfully. “Helping.”

His voice is equally as soft. 

“Very helpful. Thank you.”

The tension in the quiet room gets to be too much and you have to focus hard on the task at hand, failing to bite back a twisty smile. For once, he keeps his stupid perfect mouth shut and lets you push the fabric of his open shirt from his shoulders in humid silence. 

Your fingers skate down his torso and you watch the muscles tense. You wonder if he notices the way he pulls you slightly closer or if it’s subconscious as you both track the path of your hands. 

“Your button is on the wrong side,” you note, voice wavering slightly, once your fingers stall at the waistband of his pants.

Spencer chuckles. You feel silly. 

“Men and women’s clothing tend to have the buttons on different sides, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh.” A beat of silence, before the words come pouring out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m still a little bit nervous, I think.”

“That’s okay,” Spencer assures you, hands gliding up and down the soft lines of your waist. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. But I’m going to take really good care of you, okay?”

You nod, not looking away from the exposed skin of his torso. 

“And if at any point you need to take a break or stop, you’ll tell me.”

“I will, but… I don’t need to stop right now.”

“Then you can go as slow as you want.”

You swallow and take a moment to gather yourself before continuing on undoing his pants. With his assistance, you pull them down, and with them his boxers tug an inch or two lower, exposing a subtle v-shape before it disappears beneath the waistband. The fabric is obviously tented. A ball of nervous anticipation spins faster in your stomach, drawing all the heat in your body down between your legs. He’s pretty everywhere. You’d nearly forgotten. 

Spencer’s stomach tenses under your light touch as you drag your fingers down, down, just to the waistband. It’s then that you look up at him for permission to continue, and find his eyes already on you, heated and intense. 

“Go ahead, honey.”

Again you find yourself quite excited to touch him, but you start cautiously, simply letting your hand fall over the shape of him through the fabric. Even that has his chest rising and falling at a slightly quickened rate, and one of his hands finds your unoccupied one, twining them together. That small gesture inspires you to bolden your explorations, becoming more insistent in the way you palm at him. He feels big, which is a concern of yours. But you try not to let that intimidate you.  

Already he’s quite hard, you suspect from going down on you earlier (which is flattering as much as it embarrasses you) and your fingers graze a small wet patch of fabric. You fixate on the shaky little breath he releases as you push down his boxers with new fervor, and his cock springs up. 

He’s still perfect. 

You smear beads of precum down his tip, and he sighs, letting his head fall against yours as you both watch. A few coquettish pumps and he’s humming, kissing your face and dragging his lips down your neck where he makes a home for himself. Apparently the sight of your hand wrapped around him had been too much to bear. 

“So good. Missed this.”

“It’s just my hand,” you whisper, a little insecure that he’s maybe playing it up for your benefit. 

“It’s you.”

His voice is so breathy, you sort of have to believe him. 

“Can I…?”

Too nervous to voice what you really mean, you trail off, but it apparently doesn’t matter to Spencer. He lifts his head like he’s in a stupor but you’ve said something urgent. 

“Anything you want. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Um…”

You let go of his hand (and his dick). Spencer automatically rotates to accommodate you as you end up on your knees on the wooden floor in front of him. 

“This is what you want?” He breathes, already pushing his fingers through your hair and gathering it back as you look up at him and nod. 

Very quickly you have him back in your hand, trying to remember what you learned from the few times you’ve done this. You start perhaps a bit softer, less eager to prove yourself than you have in the past—simply dragging him over your tongue before enveloping his tip in your mouth, and releasing with a pop. Despite being overtly, explicitly, and undeniably sexual, there’s something almost chaste about the way you handle him. It’s a (dirty) expression of love, and you think he understands that as he rubs at your cheek affectionately. 

Eventually, however, you get too excited, and you take him into your mouth in earnest, bobbing your head slowly and seeing how much of him you can take without gagging. 

Spencer makes the prettiest noises—they’re breathy, and not ostentatious, but he’s got such a nice speaking voice it’s like his gasps are bars in a song. You whine around him, wriggling your hips in a rather pathetic display, and then all too quickly he’s tugging your hair so you can’t keep him in your mouth. 

“What?” You ask, closer to pouting than you’d care to admit and voice slightly hoarse. “You said I could do anything I want.”

“Not if you’re that good at it. Come here.”

He helps you up and catches you in a deep, messy kiss before you’ve fully regained your footing, swaying against him, but he holds you fast, pulling away slow like strings of honey trail between your mouths. 

Spencer’s eyes are fixed on yours, lips parted in a sort of wonder before he glances down to your own mouth, wiping the shine from your bottom lip. Any moment you’re expecting him to say something, to tell you you’re beautiful or perfect or that he’s in love with you—but instead he just meets your eyes again, that same wonder-struck look on his pretty face. A tiny, breathy laugh forces itself from his chest like you’re a genuine miracle. 

You feel so observed—seen in a way you’ve never been seen, looked at closer than anyone has ever looked at you before. And he still looks at you like you’re the human embodiment of love, the closest mortal manifestation of the divine, Galatea come down from her marble pedestal. The way he looks at you has your heart pounding and your breathing hastened. Adoration has never been something so physical, so tangible, ever before in your life. Your blood hums at the frequency of his electromagnetic field—an energetic aura that surrounds each person and can be detected from several feet away, as he’d explained it to you. It originates from the heart and if you spend enough time close to  someone, syncs up the beating of your most vital organ with theirs until it’s a perfect match. Maybe that’s why, almost as quickly as your heart had begun to pound, it slows again, and you feel any reservation flush from your body like a fever. 

“Okay,” you breathe, cataloguing every angle and curve of his face to store with all the rest, all the moments that feel important. Of course, you’ll never remember them like he does yours. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try your hardest. 

“Okay?” Spencer asks. He understands the confirmation for what it is, and searches for signs of hesitation on your face while rubbing reassuring circles into your hip. You nod resolutely. 

As he lays you down on your bed, it feels like you’re entering some kind of altered state. Everything is muted and glowing with a watercolor aura in the dark and you really only care about the man on top of you and the way moonlight dances on his skin and the way he smells like smoky amber and rain. He makes sure the pillows are fluffed under you, before sweeping your hair from beneath your shoulders into a corona around your head. All the while his eyes are so soft on you, just like his hands, and his lips when he leans down to touch them to yours. 

One of said hands finds its way to your jaw, trailing down over your neck and collarbone, before settling over your breast where he swipes a thumb over your nipple, lightly, slowly, several times. 

Once again you’re struck with the odd feeling, even with his hand on you like this, that the situation isn’t sexual in the way you’d anticipated. It’s not pornographic, or even very dirty. Everything Spencer does, even as his hand sneaks down between your legs, he does because he loves you. 

“One more like this,” he mutters against your jaw after a moment. 

“Why?”

Your impatience yields a smile you can only feel against your skin. 

“Just want you relaxed and feeling good. That’s all.”

When you assent, his fingers are already slowly pushing inside you. 

It seems you’ve entered some sort of time warp as well, because you reach a gentle peak in what feels like record time, aided by his easy murmurings and saccharine praise.

“Perfect. That was perfect,” Spencer says with a kiss to your shoulder as he slides his fingers from you and you feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets. “Can I ask you something before we get carried away?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sweet and compliant as pleasure dulls your inhibitions for the second time tonight and your head lolls into the pillows. 

“Baby,” he croons, voice soft as worn paper as your lids flutter and lashes brush febrile cheeks, thumbing over the heated skin. “Need you a little more alert, sweet girl.”

“’M trying,” you whine, though it’s half self-effacing laugh. Spencer chuckles too as you shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to reinvigorate yourself. “Okay. Go.”

“Well… we don’t have any protection.” Before you can groan, loudly, he hurries on. “And that’s… I’m okay with that, if it’s what you still want. I trust you. But there will come… a moment of reckoning. And I need to know where I should… reckon. So you don’t end up surprised.”

Now you’re really laughing—a giggly mess beneath him as your arms loop over his shoulders. 

“Stop it,” he whines, pressing his nose to your cheek as you turn your head in an effort to not snort at your boyfriend to his face. “That was for your benefit, you know. You get squeamish.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t take you seriously when you refer to it as reckoning.”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase. When I come, you essentially have two options. Inside, or on your stomach. Tell me where you want it.”

Your breath catches and your stomach does that tripping-over-itself thing again. 

“Um…”

Another fond half laugh, at your expense, is pressed against your skin. It’s enough to prompt you into answering—he doesn’t have to say anything to make his point about your being squeamish. 

“Inside,” you mutter, shy as you attempt to bring him closer so he won’t be able to look at you quite so closely. You wonder if he’s remembering the conversation you’d had over the phone last week—before he’d accidentally kind of broken up with you—about this very subject. You certainly are. 

“Okay. I want you to have everything that you want.” A few kisses to your neck later, between nips, he speaks again. “Just need to hear that you want this one more time.”

“I want this,” you repeat, obedient and honest, plain and simple. “Now, please.”

Spencer responds by first kissing you, firm and loving. It soothes you, and he punctuates it with a kiss to your cheek, before he’s reaching down and guiding himself between your legs. You feel surprisingly calm, more overcome with love and the light pleasure rolling down your back as he drags himself over your clit than you are by nerves. Still, you pointedly hold his gaze, not looking down in case you psych yourself out. He slots himself in place, tip resting against your entrance. 

“Remember, if you need to stop at any point—”

“I remember,” you cut him off hurriedly. 

Okay. So perhaps you’re still slightly nervous. 

He watches you, sympathetic though you’re not sure what for. 

“I need you as relaxed as possible, okay? I want this to be easy on you.”

You take a moment, scanning your whole body for tense muscles. When you feel sufficiently relaxed, you offer Spencer a small nod, and at that, he begins pushing into you ever so slightly. 

At first, it just feels foreign. He’s going so slowly, so carefully, you’re not sure he’s moving at all—until he finds resistance and the odd full feeling changes to a hint of burning stretch. Your hips jump and your breath catches, and Spencer stops immediately, relieving the pressure with a tiny shift in position. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” you realize, eyes darting between his like he might be able to tell you otherwise. You’d always been aware of the possibility, but you were holding out hope that you’d be one of those people who didn’t experience any pain their first time. 

“Just for a minute. Then it’ll feel good, angel.”

You swallow and nod. At the end of the day, you trust him completely. You trust him enough to let him hurt you. 

“Super deep breaths for me.”

He watches intently as you follow his directions, taking several deep breaths in succession, before he begins pushing into you once more. The pressure builds and builds until he pushes past that point of resistance, and it’s like he’s breaking you in two. 

“Ah,” you gasp, abs twisting as your body tries to escape the sensation without any input from you. 

“I know. I know, baby, that was the hardest part. Breathe.”

He drops his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles with light pressure to distract from the pain.

You nod, lips pressed together tight as the deep ache muddles your brain. It’s an insistent pressure against something does not seem to want to budge. It burns and stretches and is laced with sour, flirtatious pleasure so that you can hardly tell what it is you’re feeling. Mostly, you’re dizzy and hot.

“Relax, just like that,” he strains, looking down. “My good girl. We’re almost there, baby.”

Cries spill unbidden from your mouth and your eyes shut as he continues to open you up deeper, until finally, finally, his hips settle into the cradle of yours. 

Spencer sighs a curse under his breath, so quiet you don’t think it was meant for you. 

He’s inside of you. It’s bizarre. 

You whimper, and he snaps out of whatever revery he’d been in. 

“You okay? How does that feel?”

You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and trying to clear your head to no avail—your thoughts are like TV static. 

“I’m good. I need… I need a minute.”

“You can have as much time as you need. It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admit, voice small and weak. 

“I bet,” he agrees, peppering soft kisses all over your face. “But you’re doing so well. Proud of you, brave girl. You’re doing so well and we’re gonna make sure it feels good soon, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

“Will you please kiss me again?” you whisper, and Spencer’s brow knits with concern. 

“Of course, angel. Of course I’ll kiss you,” he says, and makes good on his promise with his lips on yours. It sweetens the ache. “I’ll do whatever you want. You can have anything. You’re so perfect.”

He kisses you again, just as lovingly, and soft, like you’re delicate. All the praise is only contributing to your lightheadedness, but you don’t mind at all. It feels good. 

“You can… you can move.”

“Okay. We’ll go really slow, yeah?”

He waits for your nod before his hips are pulling back and you arch at the odd sensation. When he pushes back in, eyes carefully locked on yours the whole time, you keen slightly, frowning and brain shorting out as it tries and fails to process this new feeling. 

“Uh-huh. You’re okay, I promise.”

At first it doesn’t feel good. It mostly hurts. But slowly, the pain begins to abate as you acclimate to having him inside of you, and he’s careful the whole time. 

“Spence?” 

“Hm?”

He sounds concentrated on the task at hand—you’re entranced by the sight of him above you, the parted lips, the unkempt hair over the brow furrowed in pleasure and focus. But he’s never too busy for you. 

“Does it… um—” you pause to hold back a whine—“what does it feel like for you?”

At this, he slows even further and chuckles—it’s a strained, slightly breathy sound. 

“For me?”

“Mhm.”

“You feel perfect, baby. You feel so fucking good.”

The slight fry in Spencer’s voice as he curses, which is a rare event in and of itself, flips your stomach, turns you on immensely. The idea that you’re giving him pleasure too—it’s almost overwhelming. That’s when it starts feeling good. 

“Oh—” you squeak, jaw dropping and bucking your hips inadvertently as the first bolt of true pleasure shocks deep in your core. He hums. 

“Yeah, is that it, sweet girl?”

But you can’t answer for a long moment. Your brain is melting as your legs lock around him. 

“Mm—it’s—it feels…”

“I know it does,” Spencer murmurs.

You whine and press your face into the curve of his shoulder as each thrust gently rocks your body. As the pace picks up bit by bit, you feel yourself clenching hard around him. His hips stutter and he hisses. 

“Ah. Can’t do that, lovely.”

“What? Did I hurt you?”

He laughs breathily. 

“No, you didn’t hurt me. You almost pushed me out. You have to relax.”

“Sorry,” you whisper. “’M trying.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. I know you’re trying, baby, you’re being so good for me.”

Your nails skim his back—a small expression of a much larger desperation. Once he’s sure you’re relaxed around him, begins going faster. 

Your gasps and soft moans come more often now as he finds a steady rhythm and it feels so different when he’s actually fucking you. It feels like he’s everywhere. Every time your hips meet you feel the sweet shock of it in your teeth, your toes, the back of your neck. In the best way, you feel consumed by him. It’s not at all like you’d imagined, and it’s perfect. 

“Wait, Spencer,” you breathe, struggling to form the words. Immediately he stops again, lifting his head from your shoulder to examine your face. 

“What is it?”

He sounds just as wrecked as you feel, panting and strained and it feels good to hear. 

“I wanna watch.”

For a moment his eyes dart between yours like he’s trying to determine what you really mean—but you said exactly what you meant. Then he laughs, a huff of air from his nose as he presses his head to yours and gives you a quick kiss.

Your toes curl as he readjusts his position, holding himself a little higher and resting your heads together so you can both look between your bodies. 

“There,” he murmurs as he slowly begins to withdraw again. “Like that?”

But you can’t answer, because you’re too busy whimpering at the sight of him pushing into you. The feeling seems to increase tenfold as you watch it happen. Distantly you wonder how the fuck it fits. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Like that.”

Spencer takes this as a blessing to find a pace again, slower now as he seems to be just as enthralled by the sight as you are. 

“Give me your leg,” he rasps after a few moments like that, and you don’t know what he means exactly but you lift your right leg slightly only for him to press his hand to the back of your knee and push toward your chest, effectively opening you up and giving him more range of motion. It also enables him to fuck you even deeper. Again he slows, apparently savoring the feel of you yielding around him all the way down to the hilt. 

Black spots dance in your eyes as he settles at your deepest point—not pain, necessarily, just overwhelming sensation. Your jaw drops and you choke out a moan as he presses into recesses you didn’t know you had, as he shows you a part that you might have gone the rest of your life without knowing existed. He stops there, like that. Everything stops there, like that. If the cars on the road below ceased to drive, if the airplanes froze in the sky, you’d not be the least bit surprised. Somehow, you’ve unlocked a small eternity. There’s no sound but your joint heavy breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. The words just come bubbling up out of you in a little whine. 

“I love you.”

Spencer’s breath pauses for a moment before he’s letting it all out at once, brushing his lips up the ridge of your nose before they settle on your forehead in what seems like a permanent kiss. A few breaths in, you allow your eyes to flutter shut. Your heart rate slows down a touch, and you settle into the moment, never having been quite so content as you are like this—never having felt quite so adored and safe. 

“I love you,” he finally echoes, voice rasping, lips still pressed to your skin, still breathing against your hair. When he starts to move again, drawing back ever so slowly, you hiss softly. He raises his head from yours, and you look away from where he’s pulling out, meeting his eyes just in time for him to push back in, just as deep. They shine in the mostly-dark room and you moan unabashedly. It’s a high-pitched, sweet thing, nothing that will have the neighbors complaining—but so clearly true, from the depths of your soul, an expression of everything you’re feeling—not just the pleasure. 

Although that’s good, too, as Spencer shapes you to him again and again, the head of his cock kissing places nobody’s ever been and places you hope nobody else will ever venture to. This is all you need. Him. 

“Jesus,” Spencer groans, eyes fixed on your face as he fucks you slowly. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, too new to this kind of pleasure to find it anything other than mind-boggling and world altering. Your lips are still parted, allowing each sound to pass without filter. “Listen to you, beautiful.”

When he stops again, just to look down and marvel at you, you’re conflicted. On the one hand, you can taste the pleasure on the back of your tongue and he keeps taking it away when it’s so close. But on the other—you’re just as overwhelmed as he said you’d be. Your body has never had to process this kind of sensory information before, and you’re exhausted, but it’s so good. 

“Spencer,” you manage. He looks up, pupils blown and eyes lidded where they’d normally be wide. “Please don’t stop.”

He swallows, spurred into action again as soon as you say it. 

“Good?”

You nod and whine again as he picks up the pace bit by bit, remembering to push your leg back once more so he can get as deep as you need him. 

“So good,” you exhale at the top pitch of your voice. Your brows pinch and you release a fuller moan as Spencer finds a speed that’s fast enough to constantly feel good no matter where he is. You’re gasping for breath, back arching—and he finds a new angle, catching against the spot inside you that renders all those years of human evolution that gave you sentience and intelligence a waste. He chuckles airily at your series of series of affronted moans and halted gasps. 

“Right there? That's a good spot, isn’t it?”

“Oh, go—fuck, fuck!”

It feels so good it almost hurts, and your eyes are stinging to prove it. Your legs clamp tighter around him and you realize there’s a very lewd wet sound and you can’t believe that’s you. 

“Spencer, you’re—oh my god, I love you,” you whine, and it sounds like you’re pleading for your life. At this makes his own sound of pleasure, and hastens his messy circles on your clit as if in reward. 

But it’s too much all combined. 

Your hand claps to your mouth to obscure the loud, licentious moan that comes out—but Spencer immediately moves his hand from between your legs to grab your wrist and pin it gently to the bed, intertwining your fingers. 

“Don’t do that. Let me hear.”

You nod, and he lets go of your hand to return his fingers to your clit. If possible you get wetter around his cock—you can feel yourself gushing. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine as if pained. 

“Yeah? Gonna finally let me feel you cumming, angel?”

He has a filthy mouth when he wants to. The words hit like high voltage to your core and the very pit of your stomach. You can’t even respond beyond a desperate sob. 

“Show me, baby. I’m right here. Let go.”

You cum around his cock with a broken cry and it’s like a purge of every drop of angst you’d felt over the past week or so—hell, it’s a purge of all the insecurities that had bubbled to the surface since you started dating him. None of it matters anymore. How could it matter when you have him? When you have this?

The orgasm washes you out like a tidal wave, taking everything with it. It’s strong, and it’s so good, so intense, your body is overwrought with sensation and it’s too much even though it’s perfect. Your brain is drawing a blank as it tries to react to the feeling, and it’s like every button on the damn panel has been hit. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Spencer grits, and you feel it in the way he adjusts his position, shifting as he grips at the edge of the mattress for leverage and the thrusts become messier, needier. You gasp as his other hand tangles in your hair, turning your head to ghost your lips over his forearm. It’s not entirely surprising when his own lips find your shoulder—but the feeling of him finding his release just as his teeth sink into your skin does come as quite a shock. It doesn’t hurt, and you’re sure there’s no skin broken, but it’s an undeniable fact that he has grounded himself in the throes of passion by biting down on you.

Inside you, he feels hot. Searing, almost, as his spend tries to fill space that doesn’t exist. There is absolutely no room for anything else inside of you. Stars dance in your eyes at the overstimulation, but long after he’s finished he’s still fucking into you—albeit much slower and with far less technique. Spencer moans like a two bit whore, like he’s reached pain to a point of ecstasy, and to you it’s as good, as special as the singing of the planets. If he’s as sensitive as you are now, it’s no small feat for him to keep going on like this. It’s a testament to how much he doesn’t want it to be over. The pleasure is carrying him away, but you’re beginning to feel how soft you must be and how if he continues on like this you may bruise like an overripe peach. 

“Spencer,” you manage, skating your hand up and down his back in what you hope are soothing lines. “Baby.”

He whines as his lips detach from your shoulder, but his hips finally slow to a stop, nestled inside you. 

“Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry,” he breathes, opting now to bury his face in your neck (with significantly less biting this time).

You’re still reeling, toes still curled, still struggling to breathe as your head spins and spins and spins. His chest pushes against yours with every heaving breath, hot and heavy on your skin, and that’s the only sign he’s still alive until his hand eventually reanimates in your hair, scratching your head tenderly. 

For a span of minutes, you stay like that—silent, twined together like caducean serpents. His weight on top of you is perfect. This, the lack of differentiation between your body and his, is perfect. You don’t know where he ends and you begin and you don’t need to. It’s a blissful moment. 

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, lifting his head to look at you with flushed cheeks and messy hair and sparkly eyes. 

“Hi.”

He smiles. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“You too,” you murmur, moving your hand from his back and pressing your thumb into the hollow of his cheek. His eyes map the curves of your face as he pushes your surely askew hair back. 

“How do you feel?”

It takes you a moment to seriously consider his question, scanning your body for any undue pains, but for the moment, you find none, beyond a dull aching throb that you can manage. 

“Good. Tired.”

You wince at the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. Spencer hums sympathetically and presses a sticky kiss to your lips which makes it a little better, though you can’t ignore how uncomfortable all the previously pleasant wetness has become between your legs. 

“Here—stay here, I’ll get a wash cloth and—”

“It’s fine,” you insist, holding on even as he tries to roll off of you. “I just need… will you stay here for a little bit?”

“Of course,” he promises, now pressed close to your side and propped up on an elbow, “whatever you want.”

You lavish in his gaze, warm like a spotlight, as he strokes your cheek and plays with your hair. Very quickly you’re lulled into a doze, eyes fluttering shut. Minutes stretch. You feel drunk on waking dreams, and perfectly at peace. Safe. 

“Angel girl,” he christens you fondly. More than anything, it’s an observation, so lovely it sinks into your skin like a balm, soothing every tired muscle and little mark he’d made. Even half-asleep, it makes you smile. 

“You’re an angel,” you slur, reaching blindly for him, and he chuckles, catching your wrist and helpfully settling your hand on his cheek. 

“I thought you were asleep.”

You hum, “mm-mm,” looking up at him with just as much adoration as he has for you. Those cuddle hormones must be kicking in because soon you’re attempting to pull him back on top of you. He doesn’t quite comply, probably for fear of crushing you—rather he settles next to you, gathering you in his arms. 

Silence blankets the two of you, but it’s not unpleasant as you just watch each other with barely-there smiles curling your mouths. This kind of intimacy still manages to give you butterflies, even after everything else you’ve done. This kind of satisfaction, reverie in the sound of each other’s blood flowing and lungs filling. Setting aside words because you don’t need conversation as a pretense for wanting to be around each other anymore. You don’t need an excuse to look at him like this. You don’t need words any more than you need clothes. It’s enough to just be. 

“I love you,” he says, a soft reminder, and entirely redundant with the way he’d already been looking at you, touching you. 

“I know. I love you too.”

The smile flickers brighter on his face. 

“And thank you.”

Your eyes narrow minutely as you consider what he could possibly be thanking you for. 

“For what?”

“For loving me. And trusting me. It’s…” your heart squeezes as you realizes tears are pooling in his eyes. He takes a moment and clears his throat. It’s incredibly endearing. “It means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

You look down, thumbing at the sheets where you’ve hoisted them over your bodies. 

“You do realize how lame we are if we have sex and both immediately start crying, right?”

At this he laughs loudly but not loud enough to pop the little bubble you’re in, and you look up just in time to catch the brilliance of his smile, the way it changes his whole face and he becomes superhuman in his beauty, the lines that form by his eyes and the way they narrow and crystalline tears bead his lashes like precious gems. 

“Don’t cry,” he requests gently, hypocritically as your own eyes sting. The way his smile fades is like the sun setting. Gorgeous, like everything else he does. “You’ve cried so much, honey. Please don’t cry.”

You sniffle, gathering yourself. 

“I’m not. That would be pathetic.”

Spender leans forward to kiss you tenderly a few more times. Ordinarily you’d worry about coming across as clingy when you hold onto him so closely and so insistently like this, but for now you don’t care. Neither does he, it seems, as he seems unable to get you close enough. Eventually, you end up curled against him, head tucked under his chin and dozing on and off as he traces shapes into your skin. 

“What are you writing?” You mumble some time later, cheek smushed against his shoulder. He only responds with a soft hm, like he was lost deep in thought. You clarify, “it feels like you were writing something.”

“She Walks in Beauty.”

Your lips pull into a sleepy smile. 

“The Lord Byron poem?”

The first time you’d met Spencer, he’d inadvertently caused your painstakingly annotated copy of Lord Byron’s works to go flying all over a cafe, and then kindly helped clean up the pages and reorder them for you in record time. Among the poems had been She Walks in Beauty. 

“Yeah. I was trying to figure out when exactly I fell in love with you, and as someone who is deeply skeptical about love at first sight, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I keep coming back to our first conversation. I mean, I believe in genetic compatibility, and how that contributes to attraction and what we think of as chemistry, but—”

“Wait, what about our first conversation did it?” Your cheeks ache from smiling as you speak. “As I recall I was being a bitch and I was covered in coffee.”

He laughs dreamily, still tracing letters over the small of your back. You wonder what part of the poem he’s at now. 

“Yeah, mean to me and covered in coffee is pretty much exactly my type. But I think it was actually the annotations on that copy of Lord Byron’s works. They were so insightful, and personal, I—it kind of took my breath away, and I know I shouldn’t have read them all but I couldn’t stop. You were compelling, and charming, and funny and wildly intelligent and beautiful and… and I didn’t stand a chance.”

Everything aches. It’s a good ache. Despite being seconds from tearing up all over again, you snort. He never told you about that first day.

“You thought me writing ‘sister fucker’ in all caps every time he mentioned Augusta was charming?”

“Oh, obscenely so. But now that I’m looking back, I feel like… I feel like I can’t remember not being in love with you. I mean, I remember when I realized I was, and that was later. But it was like I met you, and then I was just… waiting for you to catch up.”

You grab his hand and interlace your fingers, watching the way the ambient nighttime light from the window and the bathroom dips them half in color. 

“We were pretty much on the same page. I was debating courthouse versus small intimate ceremony as soon as you left.”

You watch him watching your joined hands, features soft and relaxed, fiddling with your fingers absentmindedly as he speaks. 

“Definitely small intimate ceremony. I have too many friends who would kill me if they weren’t invited to the wedding.”

You giggle and pretend the thought doesn’t give you butterflies. You imagine a ring on your finger, the one he’s got between his own. Marriage had never been something you’d considered. Not when you had no reason to. It seemed like something for other people. But maybe one day, it will be for you, too. 

“Did you know Lord Byron had a daughter who is regarded by many as the first computer programmer? She wrote the first algorithm for a theoretical machine that was so complex it couldn’t be built with the technology available at the time. It was called an Analytical Engine.”

He sounds almost wistful as he gives you the utterly unprompted, but still welcome, abridged version of her life. The description is ringing a bell—but you can’t quite place her, sleepy as you are.  

“What was her name?”

“Ada Lovelace. She was exceptionally gifted. The odds of parent and child being so extraordinary in their respective fields are incalculable, but from a purely theoretical perspective, negligible. I mean, they’re both massive historical figureheads. That’s extremely uncommon.”

You adore it when he goes off on these tangents—the passion that stains his voice, the ardor that grips him until he has no choice but to tell you exactly what’s got him so excited. You could listen to him talk for hours. It means he’s here with you, and he wants you to love what he loves. 

Since he met you, that’s all Spencer has wanted—for you to love what he loves. 

You want the same. 

“Pretty name,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Tell me more.” 

-

part eight

[i2sunric]

𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 (p.sh)

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!sunghoon x classpresident!reader (f)

SUMMARY: after an argument caused by his overwhelming jealousy, you decide to find him in the hockey changing rooms to show him your loyalty, by getting down on your knees.

WARNINGS: jealousy (borderline toxic?) argument, fighting, sunghoon has a bad temperament, smut (blowjob, deepthroat), dirty talking, dom!hoon but reader knows her way with him, cum in mouth, cum eating, high school au (but they’re both 19), hoon is slightly toxic, pet names (slut, baby), messy blowjob, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD

PUBLISHED: 27th November 2024

WC: 2.1k

TAGLIST: permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvr r @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01 @cloud-lyy @won4me @slut4hee @leov3rse @aanniikkaa @lvnglysunoo @lovingvoidgoatee @talesofthegreatest @yeonjunswife05 @soobieboo @llearlert @j1sb4e @roslayy @yunhoswrldddd @eneiyri @jakeswifez @malak13567889 @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @hoonics BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED

a/n: peekaboo! guess who rose from not the dead but my drafts? yup, this fic i never actually had the inspiration to write. please REBLOG & COMMENT to share and lmk your thoughts.

The cold air from the rink clung to your skin as you stormed down the corridor, the sound of your heels clicking pounding in your ears.

Every word from the argument replayed in your mind, sharper each time, like tiny blades cutting into your chest. You’d always known about Sunghoon’s temper, how he buried that dangerous, jealous side of himself for you.

He was used to getting into fights and spending more time in detention than in class, but he had tried to change the exact moment you became his girlfriend.

He tried, but sometimes it slipped through the cracks. Sometimes it surged to the surface, fiery and unrelenting, like it had the day before.

For a moment, you just stood there, breathing hard. You thought you’d gotten used to it—the way his jealousy twisted into anger, the way he let it consume him.

It hadn’t, truthfully, but you were going to make everything right again, even if it meant swallowing your pride — and his dick — Because he was more important.

As soon as your council meeting ended, you decided to rush to the hockey changing room in order to get Sunghoon before morning classes.

You waited for everyone to exit, knowing that if your boyfriend was any the annoyed teenage kid he was, he’d take a long shower to calm his nerves.

You ignored all the wolf whistles and viscous smirk as you pushed the door of the male changing rooms open, after making sure everyone except Sunghoon was out.

And there you saw him, sculpted like a Greek god as his dignity was covered only with a towel while he dried his hair with another.

His eyes closed momentarily before quickly snapping back open as his head turned towards the door.

Sunghoon stepped forwards with the towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from his hair but his muscles were prominent as he stared down at you

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he spoke, tone harsh and annoyed as he stepped closer to you.

You already knew he was mad, so be it. You stood in front of him with your backpack in hand, your hair perfectly combed and uniform neat “We need to talk.”

Sunghoon's jaw tightened at your words, his eyes narrowing on you as he continued to walk towards you while looking down at you like you were some kind of prey. "Yeah? Well, if you couldn't tell, I’m kind of busy here,"

You sighed, placing your backpack on one of the benches, side stepping him “I can wait.”

"And you think you're allowed to just wait in here? You shouldn't be in here in the first place," He retorted impatiently as he also turned around, walking towards his own locker to grab some clean clothes.

“Then I’ll just have to break some rules.” You replied, letting him know you weren’t backing down. “Why are you mad at me?”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw as he grabbed his boxers, pulling them on under his towel and removing it around his waist before reaching for his school pants.

He didn't bother to turn around to look at you as he was getting dressed, but his attitude changed a bit at your question, scoffing in response. "You really wanna know why I'm mad?" he retorted as he grabbed a plain black t-shirt to go over his head.

You eyed him shamelessly as he got dressed. "That's what I just asked."

Sunghoon couldn't help but notice the way your eyes remained on him, watching as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, his muscles straining against the fabric as he finally looked back at you, eyes dark and expression cold. "It's because of that prick from the council you've been spending so much time with," He responded with venom in his tone as he spoke.

“What about him?” You already knew what was the rant about, you had already heard all of his jealous tantrum the day before.

Still, you needed him to talk to you.

He clearly was not happy about the fact that you were acting clueless. "Don't play stupid with me," he sneered, "You know exactly why I’m mad. You've been spending so much time with that bastard from the council, right under my nose."

You sighed, hands resting on your hip “Because he helps me with my election campaign,” you filled in “Nothing more, don’t act like I’m hooking up with someone.”

Sunghoon couldn't help but scoff again, clearly not believing you whatsoever. "You really expect me to believe that bullshit?" he retorted, his tone cold. "You're constantly with that prick every time I see you. How am I supposed to believe you haven't been doing anything behind my back?"

You raised a brow at him. Clearly, what he had said wasn’t of your liking, “Why do you doubt me?”

"Oh, don't give me that look," He shot back, his expression cold and indifferent as he stared down at you with narrowed eyes. "I have every reason to doubt you. Everytime I see the two of you, you're all chummy, standing way too close together."

You walked close to him, slowly, like a panther ready to attack; waiting for the right time.

“Choose your words carefully.” You said, lowly “Because you know well I would never cheat on you.”

His nostrils filled with the smell of your perfume that he always loved.

He was about to attack again but your words shut him up immediately, his eyes locking with yours as he was slightly intimidated.

However, he still tried to keep his cold, indifferent façade, scoffing again as he leaned against a locker. "I can say whatever the hell I want," he retorted stubbornly.

You looked up at him “What do you need?” you asked “Do you need me to prove myself to you?”

Sunghoon couldn't help but notice the way you stared up at him, and as much as he wanted to keep his cold facade and be stubborn, he was also slightly affected by the fact that you were making it so difficult for him to stay mad at you.

“What are you getting at?" he asked, his tone still harsh as he kept his eyes locked on yours, his arms folded as he leaned against the locker.

Your tone was low “You need my reassurance, Hoon?” his heart skipped a beat as you called him by his nickname, something you never did when you're upset.

"What kind of reassurance?" he questioned, “My loyalty.” you replied.

“And how do you plan on showing me?” your hand slowly travelled up his thigh to squeeze his groin.

Sunghoon reached out for you, his hands gripping onto your hips tightly as he pulled you closer so your body was now pressed against his. "Is this you being loyal?"

You smirked and squeezed him, nodding your head, making Sunghoon suppress a shiver. A mocking scoff left his lips “Yeah? You think that is enough?”

You rolled your eyes, “You think so lowly of me.” you slowly sank down to your knees.

Your long socks weren’t long enough to cover your knees and neither was your skirt, which meant you’d have some serious sore knees later. But it didn’t matter, not when you needed to redeem yourself to your boyfriend.

Sunghoon's eyes widened as you sank to your knees in front of him, now face to face with the prominent tent in his pants he had tried to hide from you moments ago.

“This isn't proving anything yet," he managed to spit out, his tone shakier than ever.

Instead of verbally replying, something you know would only lead to yet another fight, you decided to lower his pants.

Sunghoon wasn’t average, he was thick and long, something you had tried to cope with over the time you dated. Because it hurt, but it hurt so good.

As his boxers and pants fell down to his ankles, his cock sprung free, proud and red in front of you.

“Are you such a slut?” He asked, even if his hands gently gathered your hair so you wouldn’t dirty them “Going to your knees to resolve everything, uh?”

You rolled your eyes and began giving kitten kisses to his prominent bulge, making Sunghoon shiver.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, and you pumped him painfully slowly.

He let out a soft groan in response, especially when your finger brushed against a certain vein that had his hips buck.

Your lips enfolded his angry tip, tasting the salty precum “Fuck,” Sunghoon sighed.

Impatient, and still irritated by your argument, he gripped your hair and pushed his length deep inside your throat.

You gagged at the sudden action, trying to take deep breaths not to actually retch your breakfast.

You looked up at him with an annoyed gaze, making your boyfriend chuckle “Can’t take it?”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his whole body as you bobbed your head back and forth.

Sunghoon leaned his own against the locker, his other hand flexing as he got lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

You pulled away to gather your breath, saliva and spit coating your lips. It was such a hot sight for Sunghoon.

You cleaned your mouth and used your saliva to lubricate his shaft, pumping him and then taking him again.

You tried not to gag again around him, using one of your hands to help you where you couldn’t reach.

“Good girl.” Sunghoon murmured, slowly going back to his usual self.

You smirked around his cock and pushed your head deeper, feeling his thick tip hitting the back of your throat.

Sunghoon let out a low moan, “Fuck, just like that.” he breathed out, “Bet that guy would dream of having you like this, mh? Should I take a picture and send it to him?”

You shook your head, but at the idea of Sunghoon being so jealous he’d even snap a picture while you were sucking his dick aroused you. You squeezed your thighs together to soothe the aching feeling in your core.

“Keep going,” Sunghoon changed as he matched your pace with his own thrust, each one almost making you gag, “Your mouth was made to suck my dick.”

It was a challenge, but you’d endure it if it meant soothing the beast that lay under his skin. Your beast, your demon.

When you felt his legs tremble, you knew he was close, so you hollowed your cheeks and let him fuck into your mouth.

One of your hands dropped limp while you used the other to palm his balls, adding to the already overwhelming pleasure he was feeling.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” He said, trying and failing to get you to move away.

You were all dolled up for school, and he had already messed up your hair, he didn’t want to stain your uniform with his cum, however erotic such an image was.

You let out a disapproving hum, which was enough to send him over the edge.

“Ah— Shit.” His cock twitched in your mouth as you wrapped your lips around his length and swallowed all off his seed, greedily taking every drop.

His hips bucked weakly a couple of times before you pulled away and licked your lips.

Standing up on wobbly legs, you took a tissue from the pocket of your skirt and cleaned your mouth, as well as some smudged make up.

“You didn’t have to swallow it.” Sunghoon said as he tucked his softened cock inside his pants, “I know how much you don’t enjoy it.”

It was true. You thought it was gross to swallow whenever you gave him head, but you also knew how much he loved it. He loved when you took his cum, when you gave him a reason to claim you.

“If I didn’t want to swallow, I wouldn’t have done it.” You replied, fixing your hair and taking your discarded backpack.

Just in time, the bell rang. Being the (hopefully) soon-to-be school president, you couldn’t manage to arrive late to class, so you tiptoed and pressed a quick peck on Sunghoon’s lips.

“I’ll see you after school, yeah?” You murmured, smirking when you noticed how flustered he was, “I’ll let you take me in whatever position you want.”

Sunghoon shook his head, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pressing a hot kiss to your mouth. Argument long forgotten, “Where did I find you?”

You wiggle your brows “In your wildest dreams.”

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move��I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (12) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (18+)

Chapter Word count: 24.7k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii so this took a while but thank for being patient and showing so much love! This might sting a bit but I hope you enjoy it. We're close to the end so don't lose hope! 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by someone you’ve given your all to. This doesn’t feel like that, but it’s close. 

It’s so damn close that you feel your chest tightening, the unfamiliar feeling of loss of a person you never even had overwhelming you. You press your palms on your ears to block the sound of your heart breaking, but even that doesn’t do anything.

You let go, your fingers now shaking as you type away. Jungkook has asked you to send him your resignation letter so he can forward it to HR for documentation. It’s like saying goodbye to him all over again, and it doesn’t hurt any less.

This is all on you though, you remind yourself. Wanting him was wrong in the first place - he’s your boss, the man who pays you, who needs you so he could do his job, so you could make his life easier. But he’s also the son of the man that your family is indebted to; a man who, in a lot of ways, shaped the way you approach life and determine what you want out of it. Jungkook stands as a reminder of who you are and where you came from, of the childhood you had, and the decisions you made to get to where you are now. You let your guard down and let him in, and you let yourself fall for a man whose own past was always going to intertwine with yours. 

You don’t know what you were thinking, kissing him and believing that things would fall into place. That was the thing - he kissed you and you kissed him back, a moment of weakness that you had no business having, as if almost doing it the first time wasn’t bad enough. You planned on leaving, and you hoped that you’d get to tell him on your own terms, that you’d have time to process your feelings and then explain yourself to him, that you’d be able to process his feelings and see the sincerity in them. 

But life doesn’t always play out the way you want to, and you can keep thinking that people would react the way you hope they would but you’re human. You fell into his touch and wanted so much of it that you couldn’t think properly. He asked you to stay - expected it actually, which is the last thing you wanted him to do. 

And now you’re left here with a lot of emotions that you don’t know what to do with - all conflicting, all overwhelming, and all seemingly out of your control. 

You can’t deny what you feel for Jungkook. The thought that he feels the same should be something you welcome, but with how you both learned about it, and with him now knowing the secret you’ve been keeping, it’s hard to think how you both could move forward without those feelings of doubt, perhaps of distrust. You know enough that those aren’t good starting points for any relationship. 

You’re doing what you have to do. Resigning was always the plan, but doing it this way wasn’t. You also didn’t expect you’d be leaving so much more than just a team you enjoy being a part of and a boss you’ve come to admire, a man who’s come to mean a lot of things to you. 

And so even if this is the decision you’ll make every single time, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you to be making it. Perhaps it’s now just dawning on you that you’re truly walking away from this job, and that may mean walking away from, too. This is when you realize just how big that loss is gonna be.

Jungkook made you braver. He made you feel understood and less alone. He showed you that beautiful things do exist, that you can capture them so you could hold onto the good memories, and doing that is one way to move on from the things that hurt. 

Without realizing it, he’d become the person you were willing to crawl out of your walls for. But just like him, maybe your timing wasn’t right either. No matter how strong the feelings are, something just happens to be more important than being with him - feeling free is one, knowing that you’re able to do this for yourself is another. There’s wanting sincerity, too, on his end and on yours.

You know you need time to sort yourself out, to know what you want outside of all this, but the way he goes on about his business is affecting you more than you expected. He’s essentially giving you two weeks to stay in the office. He’s having Lucas fly in immediately. The implications are breaking you even more - perhaps you’ll be kept out of the projects; maybe you’ll no longer do your morning routines with him. 

Perhaps he’s still overwhelmed about everything he knows. And perhaps he’s realizing he doesn’t want that complication in his life anymore. Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with you and the mess you created, given all the stress and pressure he’s under. 

Maybe you were that easy to let go, too.

The thought feels like a slap on the face. 

But you’re the foolish one who wanted to leave but who also hoped he’d go after you. He didn’t do it last Friday. He’s not going to do that now. You doubt that after your last day, he would do it either. 

The tears dance around your eyelids. Everything becomes blurry, and after the first one falls, you stand from your desk and head to the washroom. You give yourself just 10 minutes to silently cry. You hadn’t prepared for this enough, and now the thought of saying goodbye to the team and leaving Jungkook during a big project launch weighs heavily on you. 

You calm yourself down, thinking that if you’d chosen to delay it, everything else would be harder - seeing him, being close to him, knowing you both feel the same way but not knowing if that’s enough. Or if it’s real.

You get to be selfish this time and leave for your own reasons. You get to choose which heartbreak you’ll face and for how long you’ll feel it. You get to decide which burdens you’ll carry and what you’re walking away from. 

The team will understand. You’ll give your all for the next few weeks you’ll be around and make sure that Lucas guides them well. Hoseok will be supportive. You know that he’ll always encourage you to go where you’re happiest. You just hope he won’t carry any guilt for being one of the reasons why you stayed now that he knows the truth. CEO Jeon might still ask you to wait, or he might just not want to see you again if he knows what really happened with his son, and that’s something you’ll have to learn to deal with as well. You don’t want to think you’re burning bridges with this decision, but you also know that those who truly care would want this for you, too.

But despite all that, the guilt and the sadness don’t go away. You’d once thought you could be happy with Jungkook. He’d given you a peek into a life where you could be, and he’d given you a taste of what it’s like to feel that all-consuming desire for someone. You don’t know if you’ll have that or feel that again for another person, but you at least now know what you’re searching for. 

Maybe you’ll get over yourself and find the words to tell him what you feel or hope for both of you. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other someday. You might also have to face the possibility that this decision is what pulls you apart for good, and the thought breaks your heart again.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. You think of the comfort of your morning routines and the shared silence. You think about the warmth you felt from all the food he’d sent when you were sick and injured. You think about that night you felt brave because he’d been with you when you were scared. You think about the tranquility of being in his presence as you gazed at the mountains and felt free being outdoors. You think about feeling understood during the times when you’d been honest and so had he. 

These are the good memories he gave you, the ones you’ll hold onto as you go through all this. You wonder if he keeps them in a nook in his heart the way you do, and if he’ll hold onto them as well as you walk away from him and from what you could’ve been. 

The thoughts are enough to suspend your sadness for a while. You fix yourself up and while it wasn’t a big cry, your slightly swollen eyes could still give you away. You decide it’s not much of a problem. Until, of course, when you make it back to your desk, about to sit down to resume your tasks, and Jungkook opens his door and locks eyes with you. 

There’s a moment where you hold each other’s gazes, and you see his face fall a little, softening briefly before he looks away, the seriousness coming back again. He attempts to say something but he stops, looking down at the papers he’s holding instead and asks you to photocopy them for distribution to the team.

You nod in confirmation, and as you’re about to walk out, Hoseok shows up.

“Are you free?” He asks Jungkook. “I need to run some things with you.”

“Sure,” Jungkook replies, glancing at you before walking back to his room.

Hoseok finally turns to you and sees your glassy eyes. His face falls, unsure how to comfort you during this time. He was never sure how to do that before, and he feels heavier thinking that so many times when you still worked for him, you probably wanted to quit but couldn’t. And that maybe his claims of needing you around to help him helped keep you here, in a place that wasn’t giving you that joy and satisfaction that you deserve. 

“___,” he calls out. “I got the notice. How are you feeling?”

“Well, I see that word travels fast,” you giggle, an attempt to avoid a somber conversation. You also don’t know how to explain whatever it is you’re feeling so it’s not something you’re keen on addressing.

“HR was actually the one that informed me and uncle,” he explains. “Losing you is a big deal so they thought to let us know right away. And I only mean that because you’re an integral part of this company. And you… you matter to my family. You matter to me, and I know you matter to him.”

Hoseok gestures towards Jungkook’s direction, prompting you to look away. The man in front of you sighs and apologizes, adding that you’ve come to mean so much to the people he cares for, including his wife. 

“You welcomed me to your family, Hoseok,” you respond. “You and A-yeong treated me like one and I always will be. But none of the sadness yet. I’ll still be here for the next month.”

“I’ll take my time in saying goodbye then,” he says, his genuine smile serving as the comfort you badly need. “And I hope it’s not for good.”

“Not to you,” you assure him. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“Good,” he says, his eyes softening in understanding and acceptance. “I’ll just meet with Jungkook. I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you say. “And uh, thank you.” 

Your smile holds in it a lot of emotions for the man who’s become your friend all these years. And you know that whatever happens with Jungkook, Hoseok will always be a person you’ll treasure.

You walk out while he enters the room and closes the door. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows are scrunched as he gives instructions over the phone while also typing on his desktop. Hoseok can sense the stress and tension all over his cousin, and he hopes that especially with this, the younger man finds it in him to talk about what he’s feeling. There’s fear that he’ll keep it all to himself again, and in doing so, he might just push you away even more.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Hoseok asks after the call ends.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Jungkook huffs.

There’s a beat of silence before Hoseok speaks again. “So, you already have a replacement for ___, huh?” He says, having just heard Jungkook’s conversation about Lucas’ work visa requirements over the phone. “Isn’t that too fast?”

“The Arts Center launch is in a couple of weeks. I can’t have delays,” Jungkook explains. “Sending Lucas here will require less time than looking for a new assistant. He’s familiar with the project and he’s used to working for me so he can take over with the preparations. I’ve received father’s approval for his transfer.”

“What about ___, then?”

“What about her?” Jungkook asks bitterly. “She’s resigned. I’ll have her focus on turning everything over and documenting key projects and practices. She has vacation leaves to use up for the last month she’s here.”

“Just like that?” Hoseok questions. “She resigns today and then you’ve gotten everything sorted out for her departure, just like that? As if you can’t wait for her to leave?”

“She wanted this,” Jungkook counters. “You heard what Mr. Ri said. She’s been wanting to do this for years, and I’m just making sure she’s not bothered by what she’s leaving behind. Having Lucas here will assure her that the team will continue to function and that she’s not delaying anything by deciding to leave. She doesn’t have to worry about anything.”

And it’s the truth. Hearing what you went through and that you’d thought of resigning several times before makes Jungkook think that you haven’t been happy here for a long while. He’s unsure if you’d always planned on leaving before the Arts Center launch, or if what happened last Friday prompted you to do this now. But still, it seemed so easy for you to make the decision, as if you can’t wait to leave him, as if being around him hurts you that much, as if you know that whatever it is you’re looking for isn’t here. 

Jungkook spent all of last weekend replaying that night in his mind - from the way you pulled him close to you and to the way his heart broke when you pulled away. He doesn’t know what you want from him. You kissed him as if you wanted him. He felt your desire as your hands danced around his chest, as you moaned against his lips, as you thrusted against him like you wanted more, and he would’ve given it all to you, he would’ve given you everything, but the words he’d never told anyone slipped from his mouth and somehow, that’s what made you create that distance. 

Perhaps it’s what made you not want to stay. 

But he wouldn’t have known because he didn’t ask. At the thought of you no longer being by his side, he faltered. At the thought of losing the routine you’ve both created and the comfort you’ve been giving him everyday, he caved in. He lost all sense and just wanted to keep you. He’d disregarded every rule, crossed every boundary he created, and thought of nothing else but to be with you. He made the mistake of not thinking about you, the person he wants. 

He naively believed that your expression of desire meant that nothing else mattered - you’d be with him regardless. But he realized that maybe he doesn’t know you at all. He would’ve risked everything but maybe you wouldn’t. You make him happy and that’s all he cares about but maybe he’s not enough for you. He’d do anything to be with you everyday but maybe that’s not what you want. 

The thought that that moment made you realize that maybe, he’s not what you wanted after all creates another crack in his heart. That cold, stubborn heart of his hasn’t felt much in years but it betrayed him this time. It called out for you and he’s afraid to find out that it still will, after everything. 

“Have you spoken to her?” Hoseok pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies. “I gave her my recommendation letter, told her about Lucas replacing her, and that she still has leaves to take.”

“I meant about both of you,” Hoseok clarifies. “About what you both feel, about what that means and what happens after that.”

“What is there to talk about?” Jungkook groans. “She left me that night. I come here today with a resignation letter on my desk. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you,” Hoseok says. 

“It doesn’t mean she does,” Jungkook counters. “Clearly, her happiness outside of this company is her priority. And it should be. She doesn’t have a reason to stay here anymore.”

“And what if that happiness could include you? Did you even think about that?”

“Then she could’ve said that if she wanted to. It was her decision, it was her call.”

“You think it’s that easy to say that? Then why don’t you go ahead and tell her what you feel and want?”

“I did!” Jungkook almost yells now, thankful for the thick walls of this room. “And she pulled away! She said she couldn’t do this, that she couldn’t do this with me. That tells me everything I need to know, Hoseok. Whatever she feels for me isn’t that strong. I was stupid to believe an overheard conversation. I heard that she liked me and I thought, all I had to do was tell her that I felt the same way. But it wasn’t enough. I asked her to stay and she said she couldn’t. I don’t matter to her. Not in the way that she matters to me.”

“Why did she cry, then?” Hoseok asks. “Did you notice that?”

Of course Jungkook did. He’s seen you cry a few times, a sight he never wants to see again, and seeing your puffy eyes earlier made him want to just forget everything and hug you so he could help make the hurt go away. It’s something he’s wanted to do before and there’s a reason why he never did. Today, he knew that doing so would make it harder for him. So all he could do was look away.

“She wouldn’t be that upset if all this didn’t matter to her. If you didn’t matter that much to her,” Hoseok adds.

“This job mattered to her, too. You and I know how she works. Maybe there’s guilt or worry that she’s leaving at this critical time, which is why I’m trying to make the transition easy,” Jungkook reasons. “She’s leaving a lot of things and people behind and that could be hard for anyone. She’s crucial to the team but I don’t want there to be anything else that would hold her back. Not anymore.”

“But all these arrangements… it’s as if it’s so easy to replace her,” Hoseok sighs. “Are you even giving yourself time to just process all of this?”

“And then what? Give myself time to realize again that I can’t do this without her? I already know that I can’t, I can’t replace her, not in any way but I…” Jungkook heaves. “I can’t give in to those feelings and end up asking her to reconsider her decision. She has a life to live outside of this but this is mine. I have a project to launch, a name to uphold…”

A broken heart to live with, he doesn’t say. 

“I don’t know what else to do but this,” he adds, his head bowing down as he pinches the corners of his eyes. He’s just trying to deal with losing you in more than one way, and trying to maintain whatever professionalism he has left after everything.

Hoseok sighs as he watches his cousin stop himself from falling apart. It’s true that everything feels so sudden. Perhaps for you, the best decision you could make after what happened last Friday is to leave and he wouldn’t fault you for that, especially after what you gave up to be here. And maybe Jungkook is just trying to deal with that pain of losing you as his assistant and the possibility of more in the way that he knows how - distance, detachment. It’s how the younger man has always chosen to deal with things he can’t control, and as someone who’s seen him try to move on from his own past, it’s hard for Hoseok to stand by and watch Jungkook hurt this way when he knows that you care about him, too. 

It wasn’t always obvious, but at one point, Hoseok started to notice things; he just never questioned them. You were always competent. When you were his assistant, you paid attention to every detail and made sure that he was always at his best. But this past year, Hoseok had seen you pay attention to Jungkook in a more meaningful way. He’d seen you care for the younger man, showed him kindness that no one’s bothered to do before. And that’s done so much for him as he learned to open himself up, to allow himself to feel a different kind of vulnerability, to feel like he could be himself again, and that he’ll be accepted for all the scared and flawed parts of him. 

All Hoseok can do is at least help his cousin be honest about what he feels and help him not lose you completely. But much as he wants to figure this out with Jungkook, life continues, and right now, there are some executive decisions both men have to make. So he redirects the conversation, and it’s half an hour later when they come up with a policy statement that they send to CEO Jeon as instructed. 

That’s at least one other important thing that Jungkook can tick off his list. He’s determined to just focus on all work matters for today, hoping that would keep his mind off of you. 

But that’s impossible when you still have a role to play in his life, as you enter his room after Hoseok exits, avoiding the older man’s worried gaze. You glance at Jungkook just once, placing a folder of documents on his desk for his signature. 

He’s past the second of a dozen pages when he speaks, his eyes glued to the papers, not wanting to look at your face.

“I intend on telling the team about your resignation during tomorrow’s meeting,” he says. “I’ll release the company-wide announcement on Wednesday, followed by an email to other partners and contacts. The Arts Center launch is happening in a few weeks and we can’t have delays, so I’ll be endorsing Lucas soon after.”

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, trying to stabilize your voice. “If you need me to draft anything—”

“There’s no need, I will do that.”

“That’s noted, sir.”

You remain standing in front of him, watching him go through each page and feeling like you could burst any moment. Somehow he seems like that man you met almost a year ago - focused yet detached, close but so far away. 

“You’re also no longer required to come to my apartment every morning,” he continues. “I’ll only need you to come on Thursday so you could give Lucas your access and brief him about the building and where things are. Mr. Ri could still drive you to work until your last day.”

“That service was extended to me for the purpose of assisting you every morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice sounding firm this time. “That is no longer necessary.”

You see him stop his movements for a second before he resumes and nods in acknowledgment of your statement. 

As you watch him sign the last few pages, you allow yourself a brief moment to wish that you’d just left much sooner, during a time when he wasn’t around so you didn’t have to feel this agonizing pain of him slowly slipping away. Everytime you remind yourself that you made this decision, you’re pulled back by the thought that leaving didn’t have to mean that you’d lose him completely. 

But with the way he acts now, with how he’s distancing himself from you and everything you shared, you’re starting to think that maybe he’s decided on this, too - that this is goodbye and that there’s nothing for both of you after this. It’s a hard pill to swallow but one you suppose you should - this was your call and you didn’t give him a choice in the matter. Perhaps this is his way of dealing with your departure as well. That’s something you can’t fault him for doing. 

That leaves you with no choice but to deal with the pain, too. You don’t know exactly how. You’ve never really gone through this before. All your breakups didn’t hurt like this, probably because you knew from the beginning that they would end anyway, that you wouldn’t care more than you planned. 

But Jungkook is different. You didn’t expect him to be the one you’d care for, that you’d yearn for, that you’d want with all of you. But you watch on as he slips right through your fingers, and whatever hope you had of finding your way back to him in the future withers away. This is how you lose him, and you’ll try hard to keep only the good memories with you. 

He finishes signing the papers then he hands them over to you, his eyes only briefly meeting yours. He turns towards his desktop but he speaks again.

“HR requires me to have an exit interview with you,” he says. “But due to our personal circumstances, I don’t think that’s appropriate. I’ve asked Hoseok to conduct it instead. You may just schedule it with him within the next week. You’ll also be provided with a list of all the things you need to submit for your clearance. Just let me know what you need from me and I’ll work on it right away.”

It takes a while for you to respond, as you notice him slowly look your way. 

“Understood, sir,” you manage to say, so softly like a breath, even you could barely hear yourself. 

But the words come out, almost emotionless now as you just take in all his instructions. You gave him your letter only a few hours ago and now he’s got everything organized for your departure, almost as if he wants the complication, that is you, dealt with immediately. 

You’ve disrupted his routine and messed up a lot of his plans. He’s always said he hates change, and you’ve caused one of the biggest ones he’s ever had to deal with. You don’t blame him for not wanting to do anything with you anymore. 

You nod and head out, knowing that you’re slowly losing your place in his life, even as his assistant. He doesn’t call for you the rest of the day, even for coffee. You’re tempted to knock on his door and ask if there’s anything else he needs for you to do before you clock out, but you decide against it, slowly feeling like you’re no longer welcome. 

You mindlessly walk out the building and down the street, feeling the weight of everything drag you down. You’d thought that finally doing this would make you feel liberated, like you’d be relieved of your burdens and even of a secret that you no longer have to keep. But as the minutes pass by, everything is just getting heavier and heavier. Your heart doesn’t loosen up, either. 

And as you stare at the barely eaten sujebi from your favorite noodle house and the piece of choco pie that you bought from the convenience store that you now have no appetite to eat, you feel yourself falling apart. You don’t know what you were expecting but it wasn’t this. You hated doubting Jungkook’s sincerity about what he felt but now you’re faced with his seeming apathy. It makes you wonder once more if he really felt anything for you, or if he just mistook his practical need for you as something more.

Maybe you’ll never know. At this point, he’s just your boss who’s running a company and preparing to launch the biggest project of his life. All you can do is respect that and support him the best way you know how. If it’s distance he wants, then it’s what you’ll give. You suppose it’s the most you could do for him after making the decision to walk away. 

Sitting in the meeting room the next day with the management support team chatting around you is a little unnerving. You try to engage with them and put on a smile that doesn’t feel real. The nervousness and guilt slowly creep in, especially when Jungkook arrives and orders for the meeting to begin. 

“Before we start, I’d just like to make an important announcement,” he says, quieting everyone down as he sounds serious. “Ms. Cho has tendered her resignation and will be leaving the company in a month. I wanted to tell the team immediately so we could all work on the necessary adjustments. Lucas, my assistant during my time in Singapore, will be replacing her. I made this decision with the approval of the CEO to ensure a smooth transition. His first day will be on Thursday.”

In the silence, you look up, afraid of how the team is taking it. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have a mix of sadness and acceptance on their faces. Yohan has his head bowed down. And Do-hyun sits there, silently crying. 

“Do you… do you not like us anymore?” She mumbles through her sniffles. 

“Of course I do,” you say, your eyes softening. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it?” She asks. “Why… why are you leaving us? Why are you leaving Mr. Jeon?”

“I…” you start, looking at him for approval, and he nods as if to say that you’re free to say whatever you want to say. “I’ve been here for a while. This job is all I know and the years just flew right by. I feel like a new environment and a change of pace would do me good.”

Chin-sun turns to you, her look of understanding giving you the comfort that you need. She told you once that you deserve to live a life outside of work, that you need to find yourself and what makes you happy, and that she knows what that could mean. You’ve always looked up to her and how she’s handled everything in her life with such grace, and seeing her give you that nod of encouragement tells you that she gets it, and that despite the doubt that’s slowly crept in, she’s that hand on your shoulder, saying that you’re doing the right thing. 

“Do you have to go this soon?” Do-hyun asks, her voice so unusually soft that it makes you feel like crying, too.

“I had initially planned on resigning after the Arts Center launch,” you say, the words hitting Jungkook as you see the way he clenches his jaw. “But the company I’ll be moving to requested for my start to be in two months. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up on, so I decided to leave early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You had emailed Namjoon last night and inquired if the production officer position is still open. He responded right away to say that it is, and that he’s been hoping for you to officially apply, so you did. He insisted that based on your resume and your mindset and approach to work that he’s picked up from your conversations, the role is meant to be yours. He scheduled an interview in the next two weeks during your forced leave - for formalities’ sake, he told you - and you can start next quarter.

“I’m just… I’m just really sorry that I’m leaving in the midst of all the preparations,” you add, your nails sinking in your skin once more as you try to deal with guilt. “Things just happened so fast and I had to make decisions right away.”

“We’re gonna be okay,” Chin-sun assures you now. “You and Mr. Jeon trained us well. You, especially. We’ve been working together for over four years and I may have been in this longer but I’ve learned so much from you, ___. This breaks my heart more than you know but I’m proud of you, and I’m happy for you. I can at least say on behalf of the team that we don’t want this decision to burden you. You’ve held the fort for everyone for so long, you deserve to pursue whatever makes you happy.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling the words getting caught in your throat as you try to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Chin-sun isn’t always this sentimental, so you know it means just as much to her that she’s able to say these things to you.

“I agree with her,” Manager Lee says. “It’s gonna be different and definitely hard but the team will manage. You’ve given this company so much, and I know that wherever you’ll go, they’ll be so lucky to have you. Just… just don’t forget about us, okay?”

“Never,” you assure the team this time. 

“Remember when I was being stubborn and didn’t want to go to the hospital when I was sick?” Yohan speaks up, looking at you now with glassy eyes. “You took half the day off so you could drag me there and then visited me everyday after work when I was confined for a week. The doctor said things would’ve been worse if I’d gone there even just a day late.”

You remember that incident clearly. It was the month before Jungkook arrived. The entire team was busy preparing everything but you noticed that Yohan looked unwell, and you insisted on taking him to the hospital so he could get checked and you’re glad you did. You can’t imagine how things would’ve turned out if you hadn’t.

“I was trying hard to keep it in because I didn’t want to be a burden,” he continues. “But you noticed, you always do. And I’ll always be thankful. Chin-sun may be my wise auntie but you’re my ever dependable older sister and I’ll miss you so much. No one can calm me down the way you do, and no one will tell me and Do-hyun off when we’re being whiney or ungrateful. I just hope that whatever you do brings you all the peace and happiness you deserve.”

At his words, Do-hyun sobs. Covering her face, she mumbles onto her palms, muffling her words that you can’t understand. She briefly looks up at you, pouting as she catches her breath, and then she cries again. Even when she’s being emotional, her child-like way of showing it is every bit endearing. 

You remember the first time you met her, a brilliant fresh graduate with so much passion and energy. She was a little too bubbly for you at the beginning. She was always curious and lacked filter most of the time. But you got to know her genuine heart, one that often sought you, that wanted to get your approval, that hoped you’d return the affection she always gave you. She was like that bratty little sister that you enjoyed looking after, and seeing her be affected this way is affecting you more than you expected. You can’t make out what she’s saying, but you’re pretty sure that they’d make you cry either way. 

And that’s what you’re trying hard not to do, as you bite your lips to stop them from shaking, hoping you won’t break down in front of them, especially in front of Jungkook.

Chin-sun comforts Do-hyun who’s calming down a bit now. Manager Lee and Yohan wipe their eyes. It’s a little too quiet, and you know they’re waiting for you to say something, too. Wanting to return their honesty, you start, trying to find the words that would capture everything you feel.

“You all know how much of myself I give to this job,” you start, your lips trembling as you try to get it together. “And from the beginning, I thought I would just come to work, do what I have to do, go home, and do it all over again. It’s the corporate world and we’re just trying to survive. You were all supposed to be just colleagues, people I had to just tolerate but that’s clearly not what happened. Without meaning to, you’ve all become such a big part of my life, more than I can ever express.”

You glance at Jungkook, hoping that he knows it includes him, but you see him clench his jaw and look away, and at this point, you don’t expect him to believe anything else you say, no matter how much you mean them. 

“I know I’ve never been good at accepting and especially returning your affection,” you continue. “I’ve missed out on a lot of post-work dinners and weekend get-togethers. I’ve just, uh, I’ve just never been good at mixing work with my personal life. But even then, you never took it against me. You keep up with all versions of me, you encourage me when things get hard, and you never fail to let me know that I’m doing a good job. And that’s done so much for me more than you know.”

You take in deep breaths as you feel your tears dance around your eyes, and you blink to let them fall then quickly wipe them away.  

“We’ve gone through so much together and I’ll always treasure all those moments and everything we shared,” you manage to say. “Leaving doesn’t change anything. At least, I hope it doesn’t.”

“Not to us,” Chin-sun assures you. “You’ll always be a part of this team.”

You mirror her smile, hoping your gratitude gets across.

The clearing of throat catches everyone’s attention, and you turn to Jungkook, remembering that you’re all gathered today for a meeting, and not some sentimental goodbye that’s turned into a cry-fest. You doubt he’d want to be around for this, so you apologize and say that he can continue on with the agenda.

“It slipped my mind that I have a call with one of the artists that Mr. Saito introduced me to,” Jungkook answers, looking at his phone then turning back to the team. “It’s in 10 minutes. We can resume tomorrow morning. It’s close to lunch anyway so you can all have your break.”

The whole team nods in acknowledgement. Except for you. He doesn’t have any scheduled calls today, as he was adamant on having this meeting done as soon as possible. He would have remembered if that call was that important and if it wasn’t, you know he wouldn’t have rescheduled this because making all the arrangements for your departure seems to be his top priority. 

You suspend the thought, knowing that dwelling on how much he’s distancing himself from you will take away from the moment you shared with your team. Right now, they’re who matter. Jungkook had always insisted he wasn’t part of it, and you always disagreed. But with him stepping away, maybe he’s right.

He steps out, and with him no longer in the room, Do-hyun takes the opportunity to hug you. It’s not something you always return but today, it’s everything you need, as her warmth gives you the comfort you’ve been badly craving since last Friday. All you had was your pillow and that didn’t really do much. With Do-hyun wrapping you in her arms, you’re able to breathe, and she holds you tightly as you silently cry, as if she knows just how much it means to you to have a shoulder to cry on this time. 

“Yah! Don’t cry,” she says in that mocking tone to tease you when you pull away. 

Everyone laughs and you shake your head in embarrassment. “I didn’t expect to cry this much.”

“Chin-sun started it,” Yohan says, earning him a nudge and a playful glare. 

“I just knew it mattered that you knew that it was okay,” she says, prompting you to look at her. “We may be crying and going on about missing you and things not being the same but… what you leave behind doesn’t make your decision any less valid, or even wrong. Only you would know what doing this could do for you, and there’s absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

You mumble your thanks again, feeling a bit of weight off your shoulders with the assurance that the team will be alright without you. 

Outside, Jungkook looks on as everyone gathers around you, hugging you and wiping your tears, something he held himself back from doing. 

There’s no call to be had. He’d intended for today’s meeting to be about discussing the plans moving forward, the added responsibilities that each member would have as Lucas adjusts, and how they could help in his transition. Jungkook didn’t expect for it to turn out the way it did, with each person expressing their gratitude to you, comforting you, and sharing stories that show just how much you matter to them. 

This is who you are - someone loved by the people around her, despite the distance she keeps. There’s just always been this warmth about you that’s reflected in your ability to notice things, in your stubbornness, and in the way that you make every person feel cared for. It’s something he always admired about you. It’s also what he likes the most about you, and for all that you are, all that warmth and comfort that you deserve aren’t things he can give. Not when he’s trying to keep his own distance, not when he’s trying to keep himself together, and not when he’s trying not to hold you back any more than he already did. 

In a way, he’s glad that the team was able to express themselves to you. He likes to think that their words at least relieved you of whatever guilt you were feeling about leaving, something he’s also unable to do. They were able to assure you that they understand and only wish for your happiness. On his end, he’s ensuring that you don’t have to worry about all the work you’ll leave behind. It’s his way of telling you that it’s okay.

Jungkook steps away when he hears you start to pack up. He walks back to his room and hears the team’s plans of grabbing lunch at the dining hall then eating it at the floor’s outdoor space. Do-hyun tells you to ask him to join everyone, and Jungkook hates that he’d have to turn the invitation down. He does so by pretending to still be on a call when you peek into his room, and at this point, he’s unable to read your face. 

He can’t think that you were hoping he’d join you, as he can’t feed the illusion that you still want him after everything. He’ll just believe that it was relief he saw in your eyes and that just like him, you’re creating distance because that makes it easier for both of you. 

But the truth is, it doesn’t, as an hour goes by and he spends it zoning out in the midst of sending emails and coordinating with Lucas about his move. Jungkook catches sight of you from his window, seated with your chair turned around, facing the shelves. He’d seen you do that a few times - in the midst of a busy day, or that very first time after he’d gotten mad at you. He wonders what it’s about now. 

Maybe it’s your decision still weighing heavy on you, or that you still have so much to do for turnover. Whatever it is, Jungkook fights the urge to go out there and ask you, to tell you that you could take a break if it’ll help. Or to hug you if that’s what you need. 

At this moment, he lets himself wish that the world would just suspend for a while and he could do all that without any consequences. He wishes you’re both in some alternative universe where you’re still you and he’s still him but without the baggage, without the secrets, without the intertwined past. He wishes he could just be with you without any of the burden nor the doubts, and you could just go on and be honest with what you both want, and feel what you feel with no reservations, and that all that would be enough. 

There’s so much he wants to do for you but he can’t let himself be weak this time. You made your decision and he won’t hold you back. What he’ll do is try to make things easy for you, although the sullenness in your eyes - that he briefly sees when you turn around to face your desk - tells him that it doesn’t seem like it’s working. 

But detachment is all he knows when it comes to things he can’t control. He can’t control you with the decision you made. He can't control how he’s taking it. And even after all that, he still can’t control the way he feels or the way his heart breaks seeing you like this.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

You look up from your desktop to a pair of questioning eyes, and you fumble for your tea and ask why he’s asking.

“Just curious,” Yoongi shrugs. “Jungkook’s been cross-copying Lucas in some of our emails and I don’t recall that ever happening before.”

You glance at your screen, seeing the messages that have the said man now looped in, all just today. 

“Uh, yeah. Jungkook’s including him in the communications already,” you answer. “I… I tendered my resignation yesterday, Yoongi. I leave in a month.”

You knew that Yoongi would always be supportive. So many times before, he’d asked you how you imagined your life to be and what you were going to do once you thought your time in the company was over. He’d talked about his own plans, too, like opening up his own architectural firm in Daegu because that was always going to be his home. You knew that when the time came, he’d be proud of you because it would be your decision, and the look on his face right now tells you that he is. 

“You finally did it,” he smiles. “How does it feel?”

“A lot of things,” you sigh, not wanting to give too much away. Not here at least. “There’s just a lot to think about. Maybe when I take one of my remaining leaves, it’ll finally sink in.”

“And how’s Jungkook taking it?”

You’re about to answer, trying to formulate in your head how you can explain how Jungkook has been. But it’s that moment when said man opens his door with papers in hand, his eyes flitting from Yoongi to you. You ask him if there’s anything he needs but he shakes his head and says he can handle it before closing the door. You stare at it for a while, hoping he’d come back out and say that he does need you to do something, but he doesn’t. 

“I guess not well,” Yoongi points out, prompting you to return your gaze to him. 

“He is, actually,” you counter. “He accepted my resignation with no questions asked, gave me a recommendation letter, organized everything for my replacement, told me to take my remaining leaves… he hasn’t given me more workload than I expected. He just wants me to focus on turning things over.”

“And that’s ‘taking it well’ for you?” Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. 

“Well, he hates change. The last time that happened and he got shipped to Seoul but couldn’t bring his old assistant with him, he acted out. We both know how that went,” you say. “And now I’m causing another big change. We had a routine going. The Arts Center opens in less than two months. And then I decided to leave. He could be letting out his anger and frustration on me but he isn’t.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. 

After knowing you for 10 years, he’s come to realize that you have your ways of coping with things. So does Jungkook. 

“I think I know what he’s doing,” he continues, earning him a questioning look from you. “He’s distancing himself. How else does he deal with anything that hurts or terrifies him? He’s losing you, ___. Even just from a professional standpoint, that’s a lot for him. On a personal level, even more.”

You look away, not wanting to think about the implications of Yoongi’s last statement. He picks it up, knowing that it’s probably hard for you to talk about right now.

“You may not agree, but you’re important to him,” he adds. “If you think this is easy for him, I’m telling you now that it isn’t. You know him. He’s… he’s not good at expressing how he feels. He just shuts everyone out. It’s his default. Even if the person he’s pushing away is probably the one he needs the most.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” you sigh.

You relate with Yoongi’s statement though. You pushed Jungkook away when all you wanted was to have him close. You decided to leave the company even though you hoped you could be with him. You may mean a lot to each other but it also doesn’t mean it’s enough. 

“Is it really?” He questions.

When you really think about it, it shouldn’t. Jungkook likes you. You like him. For two people who are used to being on their own, finding comfort and strength in each other and then wanting that to last is simple. But how you both got here isn’t. You kept a secret from him that may have tainted his trust in you. He pursued you in a way that made you doubt his sincerity. You’re unsure how both of you could navigate all that, especially given the way you are.

Your silence prompts Yoongi to say that you don’t have to tell him anything, but that he’s there should you need anyone to talk to. He leaves, and suddenly, the silence is too loud. 

The rest of the afternoon feels too long, with time ticking by so slowly. You always liked how your desk was separated from everyone else, as it gives you the peace and quiet you need to focus on your tasks. You’re also accessible to the VP, which makes everything easier and more efficient. But now, you hate it. There’s no sound but your thoughts ringing at you that you hear. And there’s no Jungkook calling for you to give you things to do. 

Not speaking to him nor seeing him makes your day incomplete. You used to enjoy your shared moments, like when you’d enter his room with his cup of coffee and you’d remind him to take a break. All those times when you’d make him sign documents, with him groaning at something he’s frustrated about and then telling you what you can do after you ask if you can help him with something. Those instances where he’d look through portfolios on your shelf and do small talk with you, and those times you thought he just needed a break or a friendly smile or a hum of encouragement.

It’s only been the second day but there’s none of those now, and you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.  You let yourself be selfish for once by resigning. But you feel even more selfish by wishing he didn’t act so unaffected, that he’d still ask for you after what you’re putting him through.  

You clock out at 6, initially considering letting Jungkook know but then deciding against it, knowing that his nonchalance will just cause a crack in your heart. The rest of your evening feels lonely even with your variety TV show on, so does your commute to work the next morning that you now have to get used to. It didn’t feel right to still have Mr. Ri drive for you, even though he messaged and insisted that he still could.

It’s Wednesday, and there’s something about the middle of the week that makes you feel uneasy - the week is halfway done; it feels like it flew by but it also can’t end fast enough. There are documents on your desk for review and some emails that you need to get to, but Mrs. Myung calling to say that CEO Jeon wants to see you is what does your head in. You suppose he’d want to speak with you at one point; you just weren’t prepared for it to be today.

The CEO’s office is like a personal museum, with photos and blueprints framed on the walls and miniature replicas of some of the company’s earliest infrastructure being displayed in the large room. The view of the city is stunning from all angles, and you can only imagine how much creativity it inspires. You’re still unsure how he thinks about you, but you bow shyly once he greets you and you take your seat when he asks you to.

“Jungkook said he’ll be announcing your resignation today,” the man says. “It seems that he has everything organized already and ready for your departure.”

“He has, Mr. Jeon,” you confirm. “I feel quite bad that I’m not helping him with the arrangements. He, uh, he seems to have wanted to handle all of it all on his own.”

“Well, he’s pressed for time. He had to make quick decisions with the Arts Center opening in a few weeks.”

“I… I apologize for leaving at such a critical time,” you say, bowing your head in shame once more. “I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “You made a decision that was best for you. I guess I was just in denial that you’d do it so soon, or at least before the Center is revealed. You’ve worked hard on that, too. I’m sure it’s difficult for you to let that go as well.”

You look up and see the gentleness in his eyes, the same ones that looked at you the first time you met him - in this room, over 20 years ago. He was a stranger to you, but he was kind. There wasn’t much you remember from that day nor that period, but you’ll always remember the soft way he greeted you and introduced himself. 

You look back at the years after that. He didn’t reach out much but you still felt him looking out for you and your mom. When you entered the company as an intern, he had that look of recognition, and then of pride. 

Working here all these years, you’ve seen him be the critical, perfectionist, and passionate man that he is. People stopped what they were doing when he entered the room, they listened when he spoke, he commanded fear and respect, but you’ve seen his moments of tenderness and empathy, too. This is a man who commits himself to everything he does, something his son took after him. It’s probably why with his years of experience, he knows that for you, walking away from the project you poured your soul into is just as hard.

“It’s a sad parting, I would say. But I know it will turn out just as beautiful as your son had hoped. He really put his everything into that and I’m glad I got to see it almost completed,” you say, having visited the site not long ago. “Though I’ll no longer be here when the rest of the world sees it, I know it’ll give him that satisfaction and pride that he managed to bring to life all that he envisioned.”

“I don’t know about satisfaction and pride if you’re not around,” Mr. Jeon hums. “You’re leaving a big hole in his life, ___. And I don’t mean that just professionally.”

You turn away, unsure if you’re ready to address your feelings for Jungkook in front of his father. 

“Looking back now, I was being selfish to you all these years,” he continues. “You had a hard time when you first started and that all happened under my watch. I encouraged you to apply for that EA position because I knew that Hoseok would choose you by your own merit, and he would treat you well. He would train and mentor you and I selfishly hoped that my family would be redeemed in your eyes. And Jungkook… he… he reminded me of myself when I was younger. And you had the spirit of your mother,” he adds, his eyes softening at the mention of her. “You had her heart and I hoped… I hoped that whatever gentleness you’d show my son would allow him to heal a little. It was unfair of me to give you that responsibility, especially given how he treated you at the beginning. I’m so sorry, ___. I feel like I was holding you back and I never intended that.”

“Please don’t apologize, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your eyes blurring a little with his honesty. “I still made the decision to stay every time. Even when it was hard. I… I wanted to show my gratitude to your family for what you’ve done for us. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay you back.”

“None of that,” he shakes his head. “It wasn’t just about absolving myself of the guilt for what your mom had to go through because of me, which was bad enough in the first place. But I… I knew it was the only way I could thank her, that I could apologize. If there was a way I could help both of you rebuild your lives, I would.”

“And you did,” you assure him. “We were safe. We made good memories in Busan. We now have a good home back in Daegu. I got to study and build myself and experience all these things. And I… I got to meet your son. And I got to see his heart. And I’ll always keep that with me, regardless of how things turned out.”

“Does this mean that you and him aren’t… uh—”

“It was unprofessional to cross the line, Mr. Jeon,” you bow your head. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

“I’m not angry. I guess I should’ve expected it. I’d accept my wife calling me a matchmaker if only it was true,” he laughs dryly. “Jungkook cares about you. And I know that you care about him. You’ve resigned now. You’re… you’re free.”

“I didn’t decide to leave so I could be with him, sir. I mean, that wasn’t the primary intention,” you try to explain. “I… I always knew I would, but doing this soon is because I’m unsure how to continue with my role given what happened. I hope I’ve clarified that.”

“Is this it, then? Is this goodbye for you and him?”

“I… I still hope I’ll see him one day, perhaps when we’ve forgiven each other, when we’ve come to understand the decisions that we made, and once we’ve come to terms with them,” you say. “I’m unsure when that would be. But I hope I’ll have the chance to congratulate him and to tell him I’m happy for him.”

“Goodbyes aren’t always for good,” Mr. Jeon says. “I’d like to believe that we cross paths with people for a reason, that we lose them for a reason, and that we find them again for a reason.”

“That’s not such a bad thought,” you smile. “I suppose that every person I lost for good was for a reason. If I find my way back to Jungkook… it should be for a good reason, too.”

“Of course. And I also mean that for us,” he smiles back. “Please don’t become a stranger. You mean a lot to our family, ___. How your mother helped me and how you helped our son will not be forgotten. Thank you.”

“Likewise, sir. You and Mrs. Jeon have helped us so much. Even Mr. Ri. I… I owe a lot to him as well.”

“You should already know he has a soft spot for you. That man treats you like family.”

You smile to yourself, thinking of how Mr. Ri has looked out for you all these years. He sacrificed a lot, too, and that feeling of safety that he gave you and your mother changed everything for you, even if it took everything from him. But he never wavered, as he made sure to visit you regularly when you were growing up. You suppose he had to hold back once you started working for the company and especially for Jungkook, given the secret you both kept, but Mr. Ri has been showing that same care to you now that the truth is out. 

“Did… did you know about him and my mom?” You wonder. 

“I did,” Mr. Jeon nods. “It was hard not to. Byung-hun was always serious and expressionless but his eyes always softened whenever she was around. She’s why he even smiled. But… decisions had to be made. I’ll always be sorry for what could’ve been.”

“It’s a love that lives on, though,” you say. “He’s been such a big help to me these past few days.”

“That’s good. You can always count on him. He’ll do anything for you, you should know that. It’s how he keeps their memories alive.”

It’s a nice thought, as you let the older man’s words settle. Love may not always be returned but the beauty is in how it’s expressed, in that it’s received regardless, and that it’s remembered. 

You didn’t expect for the talk with CEO Jeon to be as emotional and uplifting as it was. You suppose that all these years, you both were just trying to make it up to each other, to compensate for something that was given and for something that was taken away. Maybe he needed this closure, too, for him to know that you’ve always forgiven him, and that after everything, you’re grateful for what his family has done for you.

Letting out a sigh of relief that at least he’s not angry at you, you return to your tasks. You organize some documents then enter Jungkook’s room to request his signature, immediately spotting some of those he’d already signed from yesterday. 

You avoid his eyes again, and you only hope he doesn’t see the sadness in yours when you hear the conversation he’s currently having.

“Is the apartment okay?” He says on the phone. 

It’s Lucas, you assume. He’s scheduled to arrive today and is probably settling down first. 

“Yeah, just take your time. But don’t forget to be at my penthouse tomorrow,” Jungkook continues. “Ms. Cho will be there to brief you. I’ll see you at 7:00.”

He puts the phone down and retrieves the folder with all the files you set on his desk while you review the ones he just signed. Moments like this used to be spent on friendly banter or some questions on his end, but there’s none of that now. There’s just the sound of the pen gliding on the sheet and the flipping of pages filling the tense-filled air in the room. He hands you back the folder and you’re forced to look at him to say your thanks.

“Please be at my apartment tomorrow at 7. Mr. Ri can take you there, I’m sure he’ll insist,” Jungkook says. 

“Yes. Mr. Jeon,” you reply, your eyes focused on his desk. 

“And prepare the conference room for the postponed team meeting. We start in 15 minutes.”

You confirm his instructions and quickly head out. You gather everyone - and receive another hug from Do-hyun that you hadn’t realized you’ve been needing so much - then proceed to the room as instructed. 

Emotions are managed this time, with no more tearful goodbyes and sentimental speeches unlike the day before. Jungkook gets straight to the point by laying out the plans for Lucas’ onboarding and the division of tasks for the Arts Center opening. You’re primarily assigned to handle the former, as you’ll be turning over all of your responsibilities to him, including all documents, schedules, and contacts. Your facilitative role for the major project is divided between the rest of the team, and as you add the growing list of deliverables and other things you’re in charge of, you’re reminded just how hard you’ve been working for this, too. 

CEO Jeon was right. You’re not just walking away from your job; you’re walking away from something that you’ve started to believe in and be passionate about yourself. In a way, Jungkook gave that to you, and you’ll always be grateful that he let you be a part of it. 

The melancholic feeling stays with you for the rest of the day. You find yourself lingering on people and things and moments, as if capturing them so you can keep them in your memory. 

You do that, too, during lunchtime with the team as you laugh at the stories and incidents you recall that only all of you know. You do it while replying to the dozens of messages you receive after the announcement, with some of the other assistants calling you and expressing their sadness. You do it as well when you email Jungkook another memo he has asked you to draft. And then again when you peek through the window while he’s busy working on perhaps some other design, the image of him focused being etched in your mind until you sleep that night. 

You have to let go, you tell yourself; that was the point of resigning. You’re free, like what CEO Jeon said. While you never likened being in this company to a prison, there’s something liberating about stepping back from what you’ve known for years and realizing that you enjoyed it, too, that it gave you a certain kind of happiness and satisfaction, and a special feeling that only you could have.

Jungkook was someone who gave you all that as well, even if it was all fleeting. But then again, you don’t think anything really is. The things and people and emotions and moments you encounter all stay with you in one way or another. For that instance, you had them and they had you. Perhaps that’s the beauty of it - they may not stay but they will always linger. 

You enter the car the next morning with the scent of freshly baked pastry. Your eyes light up when you see the iced coffee, prompting Mr. Ri to let out a soft laugh and say that he picked them up on the way for you.

“Jungkook’s got a packed day so I doubt he’d have time for breakfast and I assumed that meant you, too,” he adds. 

“Not really,” you sigh. “He’s keeping me to just turnover duties for my last weeks here. I doubt I’d be that busy. But breakfast is good. I woke up late so I managed to only grab some fruits.”

“I think he just doesn’t want you to be stressed. Saying goodbye is hard enough.”

“I suppose… I guess I just hoped things would slow down a bit. But then again, I’m the one who abruptly resigned,” you say. “No one was afforded time to process things, including me.”

“It will sink in soon enough,” he hums. “Especially once you see how things change.”

“They have,” you whisper, the sullenness in your eyes letting the other man know just how much. “And I have no right to wish they didn’t, at least not this fast.”

“Oh, ___,” Mr. Ri turns to you with a sad smile. You can’t imagine him being the cold and stoic man that CEO Jeon had described, one who only softened when your mother was around. “You do. Standing by our decisions means that we accept whatever the consequences are, not that we can’t wish they were different. I’m pretty sure Jungkook feels that way, too. He’s dealing with you leaving, but it doesn’t mean he wishes you had to. And maybe… deep in your heart, you wished that not staying in the company didn’t have to mean not being with him.”

It’s a thought you’ve had for a long time, but one you don’t want to acknowledge. There’s a lot of things you’re still scared to face, including just how much you want him. You’re afraid to break, to want to take it all back, and to realize just how much you’re losing by letting all this go. 

And like the family he’s come to be, Mr. Ri reminds you that this pain you’re feeling is part of the process of finding the happiness you’ve been yearning for.

“Sometimes we have to lose things for something so much better,” he comforts. “‘Better’ could be a person or a state of mind. In your case, I think it’s discovering that kind of strength you didn’t know you had; it’s that freedom that you wouldn’t have otherwise felt even if you got together with Jungkook. For as long as you’re in the company, you’ll always feel burdened and that something’s missing at the same time. You always needed this. And I should’ve encouraged you to be braver a long time ago.”

“Then I wouldn’t have met him,” you say immediately, the thought breaking you, even if you tried to convince yourself it was better that you didn’t. “He and I have pasts that intertwine and if we never met then there… there would be nothing of him I’d carry, there’d be no trace of him in me.”

But you did meet. And now there’s Jungkook in you - in your bravery, in your strength, in your silence. He’s in your appreciation for art and design and love for disposable cameras and capturing good memories. You carry him with you, and the thought makes things hurt a little less. Maybe all that is why you got the courage to walk away in the first place. Maybe those could push you to find him again, too.

You’re deep in your head that you don’t realize you’re already at Jungkook’s building until Mr. Ri is calling your name. You exit, and right at the entrance, you see a well-dressed man with a bright yellow helmet on one hand and a scooter on the other, his smile brightening his whole face as he greets you. He’s Lucas, he says, and you’d almost forgotten the purpose of why you’re back here after almost a week. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Cho. Although I wish it were for happier reasons,” he says, his face softening. 

“It’s happy enough,” you smile. “You’re living abroad like you said you wanted to, and this is career advancement for you. They’re all good things.”

“I suppose so. Although I didn’t really get to prepare myself much. I’m quite nervous, if I’m being honest.”

You pass over your access cards to him and let him go through the building’s security process. It’s another way you’re letting go of Jungkook, you think, and there’s more of that melancholic feeling, as memories of all your mornings here fly through your mind. 

“You’ve been with Mr. Jeon longer than I have, Lucas. You know how he works,” you tell him. “Sure, there are added responsibilities as the Vice President’s EA but you’ll learn them through experience. You have the skills good enough to be his assistant in the first place. And he’s… he’s good at what he does. He’s good to people. Those should make things easier for you.”

“Hmm that’s true,” he replies, as you both head towards the elevator. “He seems a lot calmer than I’m used to. And more poised. And— I don’t know if I can say this but, more considerate, I suppose. He made sure everything was organized for my move. He checked on me when I arrived. He even got me a scooter because my old one was a bit rusty already.”

You smile to yourself. They’re simple things, and it makes you think that maybe Jungkook used to not show much care to his staff. Lucas doesn’t seem to hold resentment of any kind, so you suppose Jungkook just gave or did the bare minimum. If your relationship with him somehow influenced this kinder and perhaps softer version of him, then meeting you wasn’t so bad for him either.

Lucas rambles a little as he talks about being anxious working with all the bosses, and you wish there was a way that you could ease his worries. You understand it. You were in his shoes once, and you hope that your mentorship of him during this turnover period will be enough. 

“All that to say that I have large shoes to fill,” he adds. “And I just don’t want to disappoint him.”

“And you won’t,” you assure the younger man as you reach Jungkook’s floor. “You’re gonna be fine and the team is gonna support you. So will he, so you just do what you can and things will fall into place.”

Lucas sighs in relief and smiles. It’s the most you can do for now and you hope at least for today, it’s enough. 

You enter Jungkook’s apartment and a feeling of sadness rushes through you. Everything looks the same and it’s much too quiet than you’re used to. 

You tell Lucas what you normally do and he says that Jungkook’s doing away with breakfast.

“He knows I fast so we never really had meals in the morning,” Lucas says. “But it’s nice you got to prepare them for him. He was always too busy and didn’t realize he hadn't had anything to eat until past lunch time.”

You nod, realizing that you probably created that routine you both had. Jungkook used to just always go straight to business but at least with you, he was able to slow down a little and enjoy a meal. You’d come to like those moments, you smile to yourself. He felt a little more human to you then.

You go through Jungkook’s usual schedule and give Lucas a list of numbers to call, like his house cleaner and cook. There are other routines you share, and the young man starts to take note, as some of them are new due to Jungkook’s role. 

It’s not long after when the man himself shows up, walking into the kitchen donned in a dark blue suit. You reflexively take a step forward, ready to fix his crooked tie, but then you realize that this is one routine you’ve stopped doing for a while, so you put your hand down and bow to him in greeting. 

Jungkook just nods at you and then asks Lucas how the move was and if everything’s okay. The young man answers accordingly, with just enough information to not prolong the conversation. 

“It’s gonna be a hectic couple of weeks so it’s good you’ve settled in,” Jungkook says. “Have you gone through the building’s security process? Do you have access to my apartment now?”

“Yes, sir. Ms. Cho has briefed me about all of that,” Lucas says.

“Good,” Jungkook nods. “I’ll just grab my things and we can go. We’ll run through yesterday’s meeting and my schedule for the remainder of the week in the car.”

He walks towards his study to get his bag while you and Lucas stay behind.

“Aren’t you gonna fix his tie?” You whisper to the man next to you.

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” Lucas asks, turning to Jungkook and looks intently at his outfit.

“The knot is slightly to the right,” you point out.

Lucas takes a few seconds to answer before he nods in agreement. “I don’t really fix it but I could tell him.”

You’re all in the elevator and with Lucas looking a bit antsy, Jungkook asks him what’s wrong.

“Your… your tie is slightly to the right, sir,” Lucas says.

It prompts Jungkook to face the mirror, adjusting it himself numerous times until he figures it out. Turning around, with his eyes flitting to you, he asks, “is this alright?”

You nod, feeling the distance once again. 

Jungkook used to look at you in a way that always seemed to be more during this shared moment, with words and feelings unsaid, and you realize that so did you. It’s such a simple thing - fixing his suit, but it’s seconds where it’s all quiet and it’s just your breaths sharing space, your glances meeting, maybe your hearts beating a little too fast, a little too loud. 

But there’s none of that now. There’s just distance and it’ll get farther as time passes by, especially once all three of you make it to the car and you know, next to him is no longer the place you should be. You take the passenger seat, feeling unfamiliar when you hear his voice right behind you. 

Jungkook goes on about Lucas’ new role to include preparing his clothes for the week, which means styling him accordingly. It’s a task the younger man says makes him nervous, but Jungkook assures him.

“Just make sure the clothes match and that I don’t look ridiculous. And that, uh, my tie isn’t crooked.”

Lucas chuckles and says he’s up for the challenge before the conversation switches to the meetings today and tomorrow. Jungkook asks you questions and you fill in some other details. You’re not as on top of his schedule as you used to be, and he instructs that for the meetings after the turnover to Lucas, you’ll no longer be required to attend. You have leaves to take, Jungkook reminds you, and given that you’re set to start work elsewhere soon, having some time off would be good. 

“All noted, sir,” you say, and despite how you feel, you also agree. 

You arrive at the office and Lucas is promptly introduced to the team. He’s received well, as he’s able to match the young ones’ energy and you see the respect he has for the rest, including you. You already know he’s going to do well, and you make a mental note to tell Bitna and Mrs. Myung to look after him as well, the same thing you told Mr. Ri to do. 

While Lucas fixes his documents with HR, you decide to bring Jungkook a cup of coffee and some biscuits, unsure if he’s had any breakfast yet. He promptly looks up from his desk when you enter, nodding in acknowledgement when you place them on his desk. 

“Lucas is a fast learner and he’s good with people,” Jungkook says, surprising you, as you hadn’t expected him to start a conversation. “He just needs to work on being a leader and holding the team together. You’re… you’re very good at that. I know it’s a short time but I hope it’s something you could teach him.”

It takes a while for you to respond. Even if his tone is not the soft one you’ve gotten used to, his words still hold warmth in them - towards Lucas. And towards you. 

“I… I will, sir. And if it means anything, I think he’ll do well. He’s got good people looking out for him, including you.”

You want to return his kind words, but you also want to remind him that despite how you both started, he stood by your side and guided you. And that helped you be even more confident and capable in what you do. You hope it’s something you’re able to tell him, in a more truthful and vulnerable way he deserves, but there’s no place for that now. Yet the way he nods tells you that maybe he knows, and as you hold his gaze for a little longer than usual, you hope you’re also able to say a bit more. 

That you miss your mornings together. That days don’t feel the same without his soft laughter. That you’ve almost forgotten how his smile looks like. That there’s so much of him you want to keep even though you shouldn’t. That you hope he wishes, just like you, that you’d find your way back to him someday even if right now, you have to do this. 

The knock on the door signals that your shared moment has passed and you’re unsure if any of that reached him. Maybe not, as he turns away and just nods. 

Lucas enters, and you remind him of that building tour you said you’d give. He’s been to the office three times but only in the conference hall, so you decide to take him around before that meeting with the design department in an hour. Do-hyun will cover for both of you while you’re away, so Jungkook tells you to advise her that he won’t be taking any calls or visitors in the meantime. 

You nod, and Jungkook watches you walk out the door as he keeps himself steady like always, holding himself back from wanting you to stay a little longer, from asking how you’re doing, from taking you in his arms like he’s been wanting to do for days. 

It’s hard having to act like it doesn’t affect him, like it doesn’t break his heart seeing the sadness in your eyes with how he’s taking your departure. While that overheard conversation told him that you planned on leaving, he wasn’t ready for you to do it so soon. Perhaps he should’ve expected it - you both kissed and he went ahead and said the words he’d never said before, and that’s what caused you to push him away and decide that you didn’t want anything to do with him despite how you feel.

He doesn’t know if you ever planned on telling him the truth about who you are. He doesn’t know what your plans have always been and what they are now. He doesn’t know what you’re feeling and how you’re dealing with all these goodbyes. He supposes if he’d asked first, maybe things would have turned out differently, and you wouldn’t be leaving this way. Maybe he wouldn’t be hating himself for detaching so quickly and so certainly, as if he isn’t missing everything about you, as if he isn’t wishing that he could just hold you in his arms and have you stay there. 

It took everything in him not to fall apart when he saw your resignation letter. You’d been so certain and after what he learned, he didn’t want to hold you back anymore. He hoped you’d at least want to talk about what you felt, or perhaps assure him that leaving the company doesn’t mean leaving him for good. He kissed you and you kissed him back. And he can’t wrap his head around how you could do that and then so easily decide that being with him isn’t what you want.

It’s all too much, and the only thing he knows he could do for you is make the departure less difficult by making sure that you have nothing to worry about what you’re leaving behind. He made the executive decision to get Lucas, and it wasn’t hard getting his father’s approval this time around. Jungkook organized the whole move and all other turnover matters so that you wouldn’t be bothered by them. He recommended that you take your remaining leaves so you’d get some rest before you move on to your next job, wherever that is. He didn’t want you to be burdened by the extra tasks you have to do for him, including going to his apartment every morning. 

But disengaging with you, distancing himself… those are for his benefit. And for you, too, as he doesn’t want to linger and then be foolish by asking you to reconsider, or telling you that he still wants you, that he meant everything he said about what he feels, and that he wishes you’d assure him of your sincerity and tell him you want him just as much. Acting unaffected is the only way that he can maintain that sense of control, the one he lost when he decided to be honest with you and give in to his desires. 

He knows it’s not ideal but he doesn’t know how else to give you the freedom you deserve while wanting you next to him. A part of him holds onto the hope that you want that, too - to unburden yourself while being with him. He’d seen the sadness in your eyes these past days and he wants to think it’s because of the distance he’s creating, or because you miss him, too. He’s noticed your glances and lingering looks, he’d seen you stop yourself from fixing his tie this morning, and there’s a softness in your voice that’s different from how it usually is. 

But much as he has a lot to say, he also doesn’t know how to. He’s afraid that if he tries, you’ll push him away again, maybe further this time that he won’t know how to get you back. He’s afraid that you’ll look at him differently, that you’d think he doesn’t care about what you want, or that you’ll realize that it’s just not going to work. He doesn’t like what’s happening but he doesn’t think he’s ready for what would happen if he does anything else. 

So he stays where he is, close enough to see you, but not enough to feel your presence. Every second that he’s without you, he feels himself slipping away. He wants to give in but he knows he can’t, so he decides to do the only thing he knows - pull back, distance himself, disengage. 

He tells himself to just focus on the tasks at hand, that there are a lot more things that require his full attention, and it helps somehow. He presides over the meetings with the design team and then with marketing with few distractions. He sees you from his periphery taking minutes just as Lucas does, but Jungkook doesn’t comment on it. He just goes from one meeting to the next, one call to another one, and one email to a dozen more. 

The day is almost over before he knows it, as the knock on the door pulls him away from the budget report he’s reviewing. It’s a little disorienting seeing Lucas once it opens. That used to be you - asking if there’s anything else he needs before you head home. And Jungkook would often take a while to answer just to keep you a little longer before letting you go, even if he’s assured that he’ll see you again in the morning - in his kitchen preparing him a meal, the start of a routine that’s become the best part of his day. 

But it’s not you standing by his doorway now. And it won’t be you who’ll be in his penthouse in the morning. You won’t be asking if he got to rest well. You won’t be standing close to him as you fix his outfit, your eyes focused on the creases of his top while his eyes are focused on you. You won’t surprise him with fried rice or fancy-looking eggs on toast while you sneak glances at him to see if he enjoyed it, which he always does. You won’t be there to tease or bicker with him, and he won’t see your warm smile whenever he laughs or teases back.   

He doesn’t know how he survived the week without all of that. He knows he’ll have to learn how to get through everyday with that big, empty space you’re leaving. And he’s terrified that he’ll get used to it; the last thing he wants is to forget how it felt when you were still around. 

“Mr. Jeon?” Lucas calls out again, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts. “I’m heading home. What time did you want me to be at your penthouse tomorrow morning?”

It’s silly but Jungkook feels protective of his mornings with you. If he’ll no longer have it, then he’ll just live in the memory by himself. So he tells Lucas to be at his place at 7:30 AM, right before they leave. 

“Understood, sir. I’ll see you then.”

Jungkook bids him goodbye and returns to his task, but he’s too distracted by the silence so he decides to go home. He enters the car, feeling the tiredness weigh his body down - not only does he stay up to work, he also wakes up early to do his workout. It’s only been a week but it’s catching up to him, and the deep sigh he releases catches Mr. Ri’s attention. 

“You should get proper rest,” the older man advises. “You’re gonna get sick at the rate you’re going.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

“I should ask ___ to tell you to slow down. She knows how to make you listen, doesn’t she?”

“That’s not necessary,” Jungkook sighs, even if he knows it’s the truth. 

You had a calming way of telling him to take a pause, and he always listened because it’s you. 

“Then you better listen to me,” Mr. Ri says, eyeing him from the rearview mirror. “You need to be at your best these next few weeks and you won’t be if you push yourself too hard. You have a team that has your back. It’s all going to work out.”

“That’s exactly what she would say,” Jungkook shakes his head, suddenly hearing your voice in his head. 

“I know. And I bet you that she’d say it even more if she sees how you are now. You need to rest, Jungkook. I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says in submission, deciding that he’ll just buy food on the way home and then call it a night. But the mention of your name has his mind going to you again. “Did… did she eat breakfast?” Jungkook asks.

“She did, and she liked it,” Mr. Ri responds. “You know, she still would’ve eaten it even if I said that you asked me to get those pastries for her. It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“It would have. She’ll know it was from me.”

“And? Just because she’s leaving, it doesn’t mean you have to stop showing her that you care. And it doesn’t mean that she stopped caring, either.”

At Jungkook’s silence, the older man continues.

“Why do you do that? Why hide behind your pain? Why make excuses for what you feel about her? You think it’s easier that way?” he presses. “You think it helps you and her when you act like it doesn’t affect you?”

“She pushed me away, okay? What do you expect me to feel?”

“But she still cares about you, at least acknowledge that.”

“But I want her to want me,” Jungkook raises his voice, surprising himself with the burst of emotion he didn’t expect. “I don’t just want her to care. I… I want her to be with me. But she has a life to live beyond all this, and I don’t think she wants me to be a part of that.” 

Mr. Ri turns to Jungkook with sad eyes, unable to say anything else. He doesn’t know what kind of comfort the younger man needs. It starts and ends with you, it seems, and perhaps that’s expected. After Jungkook’s breakup with Chaerin, he kept his heart guarded and didn’t bother to let anyone have a peek. All encounters were shallow, all attempts at getting him to share himself were futile. Until you. And now that he’s shared a little bit of himself, with you turning away from it, he feels exposed and bare, and he has to build his walls back up again. 

Mr. Ri gets to witness it this time, and his heart breaks for the younger man, too. Having heard both sides, he knows that Jungkook respects your decision and wants to be with you. Those can coexist. He also knows that you want to be free from the ties that bind you to this family and want to be with him. Those can coexist as well. But he knows, more than anyone, that you’ll both have to make a decision, and you’ll both have to learn to do that. 

“I can’t tell you what to do, Jungkook. And I can’t tell her, either,” the older man sighs. “You’ll have to figure things out on your own and decide what you want to do because that’s the only way you’ll get to stand by your choices.”

It’s a piece of advice that Jungkook should follow, even if all he wants is for someone to tell him what to do. But perhaps that’s also hard if he can’t make sense of everything that he feels. And it’s both of you suffering at the end of it.

He stays quiet for the rest of the ride, wanting to just shut out his thoughts even if there are hundreds of them swimming in his mind. When Mr. Ri asks him where he wants to grab his dinner, Jungkook can’t decide and ends up going to a convenience store instead. He sighs to himself as he realizes the memories that’ll come up by being here; he wants to escape thoughts of you, but he still ends up thinking about you whatever he does, as if his mind and body gravitate towards you without realizing it. 

He buys instant noodles and some snacks. He munches on choco pie during the ride back to his penthouse and remembers the way you smiled when you ate it that night when he stayed with you. It’s an image he keeps until he falls asleep, and there’s that empty feeling again when he wakes up in the morning.

Lucas arrives that Friday as instructed and they leave for the office right away. They talk about the Arts Center and the schedule for the day, and they arrive at the building at the same time that you do. 

It’s a little tense sharing the elevator with you this time, especially as he formally greets you as if he wasn’t torturing himself with the thought of you all night. But you smile and act cordial, choosing to let the silence engulf all three of you and just deal with it. 

There are virtual meetings he has to attend, and Jungkook multitasks while reviewing some reports that are on his desk. There are some things he knows he needs to sign, so he calls your phone and asks them where they are. 

You walk inside his room with a folder of documents and promotional materials for his approval, setting them on his desk and explaining that Lucas was going to bring them in after he was done speaking with HR.

You watch as Jungkook, with scrunched eyebrows, goes through each sheet of paper. There’s so much tension on his face and his entire body, and you wonder if he’s been resting properly. Perhaps not, as you see the dark circles under his eyes.

“You don’t have to wait for Lucas to give these to me,” Jungkook says. “You still have that responsibility. You’re still my assistant.”

There’s no anger in his voice but you can’t help but feel defensive. He’s instructed you to focus on turning over files and functions, after all.

“Am I?” You find the courage to question him. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear on what I’m only here for.”

Jungkook is taken aback by your words, not expecting you to say them with a mix of sadness and bitterness. But he answers back, unable to control himself this time. 

“And you’ve made yourself perfectly clear on what you want. And what you don’t want,” he says, more bitterly than he intended. 

Your face falls, and he hates himself for making you feel like this, so he backtracks.

“I’m just… trying to make things easier for you,” he reasons, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the papers. “There are lots of things to turn over and I prefer that you just focus on them. I need Lucas to know what to do because you always did, and that’s a big loss for the team. It’s not my intention to undermine you or… make you feel like I’m replacing you. I know I won’t be able to,” he says boldly. “You’re leaving and I’m just trying to deal with it the best way I know how.”

You look at him and see the mix of frustration and sadness on his face. This is all on you, and you hate that you don’t know what to do about it. So you accept his words in submission.

“I understand, sir,” you say, almost like a whisper. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

You bow then head out, leaving Jungkook rooted in his seat like always, knowing that a second more and he would’ve called you back, even if he doesn’t know what he’d say, just so he could be around you a few seconds longer. 

But he lets you go. Whatever he wants to say won’t make it out anyway. 

Jungkook gets through the rest of the day constantly distracted, always half-hoping it’s you when there’s a knock on the door, or glancing at your direction from his seat, expecting you’d be meeting his eyes. But it’s never you on the other side and you don’t look his way, and before he knows it, Lucas is saying goodbye and then Hoseok is calling to tell him to go home already. 

Jungkook tries, though. He finishes half a bottle of whiskey and then sleeps through mid-morning. He doesn’t really know what to do with the time he has and he hates that he has so much of it.

For the first time, he forces himself not to think about the Arts Center, so he decides to sketch some designs for the various residential projects he has in the pipeline. Some are still in their early stages but that Scandinavian-inspired building that he’s been visiting various properties for is still being conceptualized. He doesn’t want to rush, believing that the right design will come, and he hopes that by going through the photos from his trip with Hoseok and A-yeong to Europe last year, he’ll have that extra nudge or perhaps, a burst of inspiration.

The buildings are intricate and majestic, but it’s the little cafes that catch his attention, the fountains in the gardens, and the faraway shots he took of Hoseok and A-yeong as they laughed and danced about. There’s something captivating about the everyday moments, and when he clicks on the photo of the sky, he’s reminded that all those times, he was thinking of you - that clarity, the stability, the comfort. Jungkook always has a lot of things going on in his head but you’ve become that person who makes him stop and look around, who makes him see the beauty in things, who makes him want them for himself this time. 

There are some images that float through his mind for the project - large windows, spacious courtyards, open living spaces, muted palettes, tree-lined streets - but with all the comfort and beauty that those bring, his thoughts still shift to you. He remembers how you looked against the mountains during the team building, how the sun made you glow even more, how you looked at peace by the stream, and all he can think about is the sadness that comes with knowing they’re all just memories - still images in his mind that haunt him of what could’ve been. 

Jungkook decides to switch strategies an hour later, the emptiness of his penthouse adding to the emptiness he feels inside. Thinking that a change of scenery is what he needs, he puts on his tracks and hoodie and heads out for a run. There’s no destination in mind. He’ll just jog around town, stop if he feels like it, and then head on out again until the thought of you fades from his mind. 

He knows he’s not fooling anyone; he’ll probably still be thinking about you. But at least for those hours where he’s distracted by the sounds of the cars and the people in the streets, there’s less of you in there. 

It’s quite sunny out. It’s mid-afternoon and he likes the feel of the sweat in his body, the heat contrasting the occasional burst of wind. He stops by a garden, then a convenience store for a drink, then runs up a trail to get a view of the city. The sun starts to set and Jungkook takes it slow. With his hands in his pockets, he leisurely walks to a nearby neighborhood that he hasn’t been to before. 

He appreciates the calmness this time and thinks that maybe spending his weekends like this every once in a while isn’t so bad. But he thinks of other ways he could spend it and with whom. Finding new restaurants to eat at and places to explore with you flash through his mind. So does watching your variety shows with you on the couch or some local film like what you enjoy doing on your own. 

Jungkook doesn’t fight against it this time. He realizes that the more he resists it, the angrier he’ll be, and he doesn’t want to feel that anymore. He wasn’t mad at you, he was mad at the situation. He was mad at himself for waiting too long, for not handling things properly, for not talking to you about it… for not being honest about what he really wanted early on. He’s trying not to be selfish by letting you walk away, but maybe that’s selfish, too, if all he’s focused on is how he deals with it, without considering how it’s also affecting you. 

He sighs to himself. He’s feeling so much, and this hasn’t happened in a long time. He wasn’t good at this then, and it seems that he hasn’t learned; he doesn’t know how to express what he feels even now. 

The sound of children’s laughter catches his attention, and Jungkook turns to his left and finds himself outside of the neighborhood park. The playground is hidden behind large trees, and as if by some serendipitous occurrence, he walks inside and finds a bench to sit on. It’s where he stays as he watches the last remaining child leave the swing and head home. 

Silence envelopes him now. He remembers his childhood - how he disliked playing in the nearby playground because he was always teased for being the shy and quiet kid, how his brother laughed along, and how his father constructed one for him so he could enjoy it for once. His brother never joined him, choosing to stay in the treehouse built for him on the other side of their property, and Jungkook liked it that way. 

He would climb up the small rock wall and then slide down the slide. He’d swing himself as high as he could, giggling loudly because of the ticklish feeling in his stomach and no one would hear him. He’d look through the telescope and gaze at the stars in the evening. On some afternoons, he’d sit on the little bench and just draw cars and buildings and houses on his sketch pad, just like he’d seen his father do. Out there, he felt like he could be anyone. He could do anything and feel anything and not be afraid. No one was going to hurt him. Nothing would make him feel unwanted - not the birds, not the butterflies, not the bees that he’d watch from afar. 

His old man may have always been busy but he built that playground for him without Jungkook asking him to. They were words that his father couldn’t say, apologies that he couldn’t voice out, a desire for more time that he couldn’t express or maybe even commit to, which is why they remained unspoken. 

After the incident at the cabin when Jungkook felt abandoned, he stopped playing. He stopped going outside, afraid of the open air, of the possibility that the rain would come, of his father joining him in a space that used to be one where no one could disappoint him. 

Time passed and the apologies were still unspoken. The emotions were kept hidden, the desire left unsaid. But they remained. Jungkook knew because his father kept that playground in its spot despite the renovations done in the estate over the years. He maintained them, too, making sure that he seals them regularly, that he repairs damages, that he paints them once the color has started to fade.

Jungkook knew this because every time he visited their home, he always spent some time there. And he saw that the playground always looked the way it did when he first saw it over 20 years ago. He was there last week, and he remembers that in the midst of his outburst, being there calmed him down. 

Despite all the painful memories in between, and even if he’d outgrown it already, the safety was still there. It held memories, it felt like freedom, it held that child-like belief that he could do and be anything and he could be happy.

And as Jungkook watches the sky turn dark, the calmness overtakes him. Any playground elicits that kind of feeling, and he hears the apologies, he feels the emotions, he understands the desire. 

He realizes that he’s very much like his father, just as you and Mr. Ri and Hoseok have told him. Because much as the old man is good at many things, expressing how he feels is one thing he struggles with. That’s why he builds things. He builds homes for his wife and a treehouse and playground for his sons. 

And like some epiphany, Jungkook realizes that he may not be able to express what he feels, but he may be able to show you. The words may never be enough, even as they remain unsaid, but he can at least give you a space that matters to you, a place just like his playground that you could go to to feel safe, where you could be anyone, where you could do anything and feel anything and not be afraid. 

It will be a place where no one can hurt you, not even him, and where you’ll always be wanted - by the characters in your picture books, and the birds and butterflies and bees that you’ll color. You may have outgrown them, but he knows that the memories of your childhood will remind you that there’s a place for you, in his heart especially. 

His mind starts to race, with designs and details flashing through his mind. He rushes home and starts working, and he doesn’t leave his study until 3 in the morning. But he’s satisfied, and he spends the next day making calls and other arrangements, ensuring that the plans are set for dissemination to the team. 

It’s a monumental task for the time that he has. The Arts Center opening isn’t far from now. He’ll probably earn the ire of everyone involved, including his father, but Jungkook will just have to deal with all that. 

Right now, what matters is that he gets to do this to show you how he feels. He doesn’t know when you’ll see it, if you’ll decide to go when it opens in a few weeks, but he hopes that when you do, you’ll know that you made him feel something that he hasn’t in a long time, and he hopes that if he no longer gives you that feeling of comfort and safety that he’s been giving, then there’s a place that he built so you’d feel all those again.

You sit on your desk that Monday morning and try to act as if all your contrasting emotions aren’t weighing heavily on you. 

Being with your friends over the weekend helped, as you took the train to meet them this time and told them everything that’s happened. You apologized for not telling them right away, but they knew that it was important for you to feel everything on your own first and try to figure it out. You said you really hadn’t - deciding to leave seemed so simple but the feelings and the truth complicated them, and now you’re left with a broken heart and the belief that Jungkook won’t forgive you, that he won’t want you anymore, that he'll just let you walk away without any closure.

Soomin and Jimin just held you and listened. They knew from the start it would be difficult. Your past wasn’t something you talked about so easily, and it took you years to even tell them your story, how you ended up in Busan and why you had to return to Daegu because it was already safe for you to go back home. There was no judgment, only support, even when you decided to enter the company and work for the people that you felt you owed your life to.

Their resentment towards Jungkook stemmed from how he treated you at the beginning; they knew that yours was the same. But they never questioned your sincerity when it came to how you felt - you’re never like this, they said. It takes a lot for you to let someone in and ties to his family isn’t enough for that. If anything, that’s what told them it was real - you would’ve tried hard to control the feelings but you still gave in, and for you to think he was worth that even for the briefest moment means he probably was. 

Their perspective affirmed you in a way. This wasn’t just some silly crush on your boss, but this also wasn’t something you could just easily forget or get over. Your happiness always comes first, and it may look like a life with him in it, but it doesn’t mean he gets to be part of it right now. It’s also possible it’s one without him, and if it is, then you’re just going to have to learn to accept that. 

You sigh to yourself. You’re in no better place than you were last week, but at least you have less days left in being here. But then again, that also just means the closer you are to really saying goodbye. 

You go through your checklist of things to turn over and do before you leave, and while you’re halfway through, putting together event and project portfolios and documenting best practices still takes a lot of time. 

You’re about to begin your first task of the day when you hear rushed footsteps. Lucas scurries over to your side to leave his things then grabs some folders.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You ask the visibly stressed man next to you.

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. “Mr. Jeon called for a meeting about the Arts Center and there are changes. He wants to add something.”

“At this stage?” You ask worriedly. 

“Yeah. It seems like it’s quite a bit of work. I’m… I’m freaking out because this is a really big project and —I”

“Won’t disappoint him, I’m sure of it,” you try to comfort him. “You’ll be fine, Lucas. Just take a breath and take it one step at a time. I’ll be right here.”

You smile at him warmly, hoping that the bit of encouragement would help. The opening is a few weeks from now. At this point, focus should just be on finishing touches, finalizing government certifications, and promotion, but with how Lucas seems a bit rattled, the changes might indeed be a bit overwhelming. 

He excuses himself to prepare the conference room and get the team then leaves, and as you’re about to follow him, Jungkook exits his office then stands by the hallway. 

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, prompting you to stay in your place. “There is no need for you to attend the meetings about the Arts Center.”

You’re taken aback by his statement but you recover. 

“But… it’s opening in a few weeks, sir. There’s lots to do, and Lucas just said there are changes,” you counter. “If there’s anything I can do to help, you know I would.”

“I know that,” he says. “And I’m saying that there’s no need this time. The team can manage. You’ve taught them well.”

“But—”

“You’ve tendered your resignation, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you, his tone a little softer than it’s been recently. “Your remaining days here are meant for turnover and mentoring Lucas in his general functions, and not to take on added or continuing responsibilities.”

He may have a point, but it doesn’t take away from your sadness over no longer knowing how the preparations are going. You’ve become invested in the Arts Center this past year, too, and while you knew you had to let that go as well, it doesn’t mean it’s easy.

“Understood, sir,” you concede, bowing your head down in submission. “I’ll continue with my reports, then.”

He just nods, and you don’t miss the tinge of apology in his eyes. He leaves, and you’re left alone again; you think that’s how you’ve been feeling all this time. 

You get on with your task, and it’s not long after when Hoseok enters, his bright smile only doing little to raise your spirits. 

“Hey, ___,” he greets. “How are you holding up?” 

“Just fine,” you try to smile. “Are you looking for Jungkook? He’s not here right now. He’s meeting the team about the Arts Center and if you’re wondering why I’m not there, it’s because he didn’t want me to be. First he replaces me, and then he excludes me and I just feel so… I…”

“Seems like you’re less than fine,” Hoseok says sullenly. “I’m so sorry, ___. I know this has been hard for you. For both of you.”

You know it is. But you suppose that you and Jungkook deal with difficulties differently. 

“You… you understand why I had to do this, right?” You ask. 

“I do,” he affirms, his eyes softening even further. “And so does Jungkook. And that’s the hard part. He doesn’t want you to go but he knows you have to do this for yourself. I guess… Your decisiveness hurt him. And with what I’m seeing now, I guess his acceptance hurt you, too.”

“I… I’m such a mess. Maybe I deserve all this,” you sigh. “How could I kiss him, push him away, leave him, want him, but can’t bring myself to be with him?”

“Because you’re human and could want things that you’re afraid of? Because it’s possible to want to find yourself while also being next to someone else yet still think it’s not enough?” Hoseok says. “It’s normal to feel all this, ___. But figuring things out also takes time. Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? Not knowing what to do now is understandable.”

“I… I only have a few weeks left here,” you say softly. “Maybe this is how he wants this all to end.”

“What about you? Is this how you want it to end?”

“I don’t know, but maybe it’s easier,” you try to convince yourself. “It’s easier to walk away when I know I’m not wanted. Maybe that’s what I made him feel, and I can’t blame him if that’s what he wants me to feel in return.”

“Oh, ___,” Hoseok shakes his head, knowing it’s not the truth. “You and Jungkook just need to talk. Then you’d know you want the same things.”

“Maybe… but we’re not good at that. And it doesn’t mean we want the same things at the same time,” you reason. 

“So it’s about timing, then?”

“I guess. But we’re not good at that either,” you laugh dryly at the absurdity of it. “Look, even without all this, he already has a lot of things in his mind. The biggest project of his life is about to be unveiled soon and I… I have a life to live after this. I’m doing what I should’ve done years ago and the least I could do for myself is stand by the decision I made. I know I’d regret it if I stayed. I don’t want to regret the way I walked away.”

It’s a thought you’re slowly coming to, as you look back at how the week has been. You’ve been receiving nothing but praise and encouragement from your colleagues. You’ve been getting emails from various companies that want to recruit you after you put your resume through an online job site. There are so many possibilities now that you’ve put one foot out the door, and while you know of the possibilities you’re also leaving behind, you know deep down that you would’ve regretted it if you stayed, and you don’t want to tie that decision to Jungkook and end up resenting him for it.

The only thing that’s been keeping you down is what that decision is doing to you and Jungkook. It’s one you hope you’re able to fix, or at least mend enough that you’ll only have the good memories with you, and that so would he.

“I’m just really sorry,” Hoseok says, knowing that much as he’d like to help you and his cousin sort things out, it’s difficult when neither of you are unable to sort out your own feelings. “But I’m not just here to talk about that. I… I wanted to give you this.”

Hoseok hands you a sealed envelope and you look at him curiously.

“I know Jungkook gave you his recommendation letter, but I thought another one won’t hurt,” he smiles, letting you feel the warmth of it. 

You know that companies usually just call for references, but a letter like this - especially from a well-known corporation’s top executive - gives you an advantage that others don’t have. You suppose that when you received one from Jungkook, it was a show of support. You have no doubt that with Hoseok, it’s him telling you that he’ll always have your back, wherever you may be.

“Oh, Hoseok,” you say, feeling all the emotions come at once. 

It’s insane to think that almost a year ago, you were in this same spot with him encouraging and assuring you that he’ll always be around. Back then, you were anxious about being led by someone new who you knew was nothing like the man you admired. And now you’re here again, and Hoseok is giving you that same comfort that he always has, and the thought that you won’t even be in the same building as him is causing a crack in your heart. You hope one day, you’ll be able to fully express just how much his kindness has given you hope and so much to look forward to. 

“Thank you,” you smile through your glassy eyes. “You… you’ve taught me so much. I hope you know that much of the confidence I have now is because of you. I’m terrified of this new journey but I’m confident that I’ll do well. You believed in me first and I’ll never forget that.”

“Being a good leader is something I learned to become because of you, ___. And because of the team. I admire you for so many things, and I’m pretty sure that wherever you choose to go, the company will be so lucky to have you.”

“I hope so,” you remark, knowing that’s another thing you have to deal with. “I… I have a few options. A few companies have reached out but there’s a publishing house that I’m leaning towards. I met the editor some time ago and that encounter just stuck with me and I feel like that kind of environment would suit me.”

“That’s great to know,” he says excitedly. “I can’t wait to hear about it. A-yeong and I will take you out to dinner once things have settled down, okay?”

“That would be great. I can’t wait for that, too.”

Hoseok bids you goodbye, leaving you alone with your thoughts for the next two hours. Whatever changes are happening with the Arts Center must be big, as it’s taking the team this long to iron things out. 

It’s close to lunch time when the meeting ends. Jungkook walks in while on a call, while Lucas sits next to you looking a little stressed.

“Everything alright?” You ask.

“Yeah. There are just last minute changes but Mr. Jeon’s on top of it,” Lucas says. “He just wants us to make sure we’re on top of the other things and I’m honestly still familiarizing myself with the details of the Arts Center. I’m just nervous I’m gonna miss something.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” you assure him. “I know you were just thrust into this at such a critical time where you don’t have much leeway to adjust and that’s on me and I’m sorry. But that’s also why I’m gonna make sure that I’ll help you as much as I can.”

“Thanks, I need that,” Lucas sighs. “I can’t help but think that a year ago, I was almost supposed to be here. I mean, we can talk about it now. Mr. Jeon said he planned on taking me with him because he doesn’t want a new assistant that he has to get used to, you know? I always knew he hated change and I was the one thing that was familiar but it didn’t work out. Even I knew it wasn’t gonna happen - CEO Jeon approves these appointments and the EA of the VP needs to be familiar with the company culture and process and I wasn’t. I wasn’t really upset but I let myself think of living in Seoul for a short while and it seemed exciting. But things happen for a reason, and I think if I had to adjust then while helping Mr. Jeon with this project, I probably would’ve caved in and quit.”

Lucas turns to you with a smile. “What I mean to say is that, I admire you so much for being able to manage all this. And I know I have incredibly big shoes to fill and I think I’m more terrified about that, but I’m really thankful that you’re there to guide me, ___. Whatever tip and strategy and cheat sheet you can provide will be much appreciated.”

“Of course,” you assure him. “I’ve got spreadsheets and checklists and profiles and guidelines to turn over to you. And I’m always a call away, okay?”

He nods in gratitude, and you tell him that you both have time to sort through all those and that you’ll be finished in time for your last day. You agree on having lunch together so you could talk about the Board members and the other executives, and he says he has to see Jungkook first to get his signatures for some documents.

“Oh, can you, uh, can you give this to him, too?” You ask, passing him your leave request. It was during your time alone when you decided when to take them, knowing that you’re gonna slowly have to get used to being away from this place as well.

Lucas takes it then returns shortly after with your signed form. There’s relief in knowing you get to organize your life somehow. There are interviews to attend and a lot of your things to fix. There are feelings to make sense of, too. 

And as you and Lucas talk about his move and the worry and excitement he feels, you think that you’ve got to stop thinking of goodbyes. There’s a life for you out there, and if by some way you find Jungkook in there, too, then at least you’d know you chose him, and that if he’d forgiven you then, then you’re assured that he’s chosen you, too.

You spend the entirety of Tuesday orienting Lucas about your spreadsheets and other files, and you both come up with a system that suits his style of work. Jungkook was out the whole day, and though you suppress the feeling of missing him, it’s one that haunts you until you lay in your bed that night.

You take the rest of the week off. You spend Wednesday cleaning your apartment and then having dinner with the elderly couple next door who amuse you with their love story and memories of their youth. 

You meet Namjoon on Thursday for that official interview he’s been waiting for. You can’t help but envision yourself in the office with the dynamism of the teams and the laid-back feel of the entire space. You’d commit yourself right then and there if it didn’t make you look that desperate, but it’s Namjoon who encourages you to go to the other interviews you have lined up. 

It’s a risk, he says; he might lose you if another more appealing company states their case. But he wants you to choose them without regrets; he wants you to choose them because you’ve seen what’s out there and decided that they’re who you want and who you see yourself being happy in. You don’t miss his slightly nervous face when you agree, but you suppose that if you’re going to do this now, might as well do it right.

You go to two other interviews that Friday, and while trying out events management was always in the back of your mind, it’s nice to see just how the job and the tasks excite you.

It’s the first time you’re feeling like you actually have options. Back then, even if there were other opportunities, you chose working for the Jeons because of a debt you felt you had to pay. You limited your own choices, but now, you feel what it’s like to take control of your own life, and it’s liberating to not have any baggage with you this time around. 

Jimin and Soomin pay you a visit that weekend. They drive you around, thinking that the beauty of spring would inspire you even more. It’s fitting, they say, as you start a new phase in your life while the flowers bloom and greet you. But as you pass by a park and see the colors of the sky and buy some convenience store snacks on the way home, you can’t help but think of Jungkook.

Missing him feels a little odd. You didn’t know what it felt like until his trip at the end of last year, but you always knew he was gonna come back. This time, you’re unsure of when you’ll see him again. You spent time with him in a work environment, so being away from him and doing everyday things shouldn’t even affect you this much. But you suppose it’s the idea of what could have been that you miss, even if you don’t really know what that’s like. 

You spend Monday and Tuesday the next week the same way. There’s just one executive meeting each day that you attend to assess how Lucas manages it, but other than that, you barely see Jungkook in the office. He stays in his room all morning then heads out in the afternoon, and you leave before he could even make it back. It reminds you that you truly left him at a critical time. You don’t know if he’s eating well, if he’s getting proper rest, if he’s tending a bruised knuckle or dealing with a headache. You don’t know if the stress is getting to him, if the anxiety is slowly building up, or if it’s just excitement he feels and that he can’t wait for everything to come together. 

You hope for his sake, it’s the latter. You want nothing more than to assure him that things will turn out the way he wants, that the intended audience will love the Arts Center, and that he’s already achieved so much with just this. You hope he’s proud of himself the way you are, and that he knows that if there’s anything he leaves you with, it’s your own pride that you got to be part of something beautiful, and it’s that search for connection and intimacy and meaning that got you yearning for those things, too. 

You take the rest of the week off again. You run errands one day, go to an interview the next, and then walk around town the day after. It feels like you’re back to that state of being alone but not feeling lonely; there’s just that added sense of freedom this time. 

You’re not stressed about work. Time isn’t flying too fast. You don’t feel like you’re rushing, going from one task to another for the sake of it. You have space to think and feel. Even at such a short period of time, you’re learning what things excite you and what you want to explore. And that’s liberating, now that you’re able to pull yourself out of the routine that contained you for years, one that made you believe it was all you had and all you deserved. You think that this isn't so bad, and the constant sadness you feel slowly fades away as the days pass.

But then you return to work on Monday - your final week - and the illusion breaks. 

Lucas has to meet with the marketing department, so he asks you to prepare Jungkook’s coffee in the morning. You feel quite sentimental doing it, as you know that there probably won’t be a next time.   

You knock on the door, and when he asks you to come in, you suddenly feel anxious. You place the cup on his desk, making sure you put the biscuits like you always do. 

Jungkook senses when you step back, lingering like you’ve been doing the few times you’ve done it. You used to do it because you expected he’d have something to ask you whenever you entered his room. But recently, he feels it’s you just waiting - for him to say something, perhaps, or for you to find the courage to speak up.

But you never do. And he never says what he really wants to. 

“It’s your last week, Ms. Cho,” he states, focusing on his iPad screen so as not to torture himself with the sight of you. “How’s your clearance going?”

“Uh, it is, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “Finance and HR have cleared me. IT and security will clear me on my last day. And I’ll submit to you my final deliverables on Wednesday. You can sign off my form then.”

He nods, and you torture yourself by standing by even if he doesn’t seem to have anything else to say. You’re about to excuse himself when he speaks again.

“Please free up your Friday evening. We’ll have a team send-off dinner for you.”

“I, uh. Understood, sir. Thank you.”

He nods once more, and it’s your signal to leave. He’s never felt so far away, but you suppose it’s the kind of distance you need. 

You walk back to your seat, the reality of your last week hitting you, especially when you find Do-hyun and Yohan by your desk, looking somber as they reach out for a hug. You return it, with Do-hyun pointing it out, and she frowns when you say that you’ll be without it for a long time. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask them. 

“Yes,” they respond in unison. 

“We just want to spend as much time with you as we can,” Yohan states. “I know we’ve all been busy but… it’s your last week. So let’s have lunch today, and any other day when you’re free. Please?”

“Of course,” you say. “Food hall today?”

They nod excitedly, and you spend your lunch time at the outdoor space, laughing about, with Lucas slowly but surely finding his place within the team. 

That afternoon, Yoongi drops by and says he has lots of things going on because of the changes Jungkook is making, but he’ll meet you when you want to. He reminds you that he’s there when you need him; he’ll turn down the other man if it comes down to it. But he’ll drop by everyday until your last day, he says; he doesn’t want to feel like he didn't see you enough. 

You assure him that he’s the one person you’d definitely meet up with outside of work, and so there’s no limit when it comes to him. 

On Tuesday, you have lunch with some people from the marketing department whom you’ve gotten close to these past months, and on Wednesday, Bitna and the other assistants take you out to dinner. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok take you out to lunch on Thursday, stating that they wanted to check in and ask what your plans are. They assure you that they’re there should you need support in any way; the company is likewise always going to have a place for you. And with the sincerity in their eyes and their hope of you finding your place and your happiness, you know they mean well. So you take that time to ask for advice, too. 

It ends in laughter, as you recall your early days at the company and the mishaps with Hoseok. You talk about some of the issues you’ve been privy to and some details about your life that they missed. Talking with them feels comfortable now that there’s an acknowledgment of your ties to their family. You can tell that despite of and after everything, CEO Jeon truly cares for you and your mother, and that he’ll be eternally sorry yet grateful to both of you. 

You’re thankful that they don’t mention Jungkook. You wouldn’t know how to react if they did, especially since you’ve barely seen him all week. Missing him has become natural that you’ve just accepted it, including the fact that you can’t do anything about it. Maybe you’ll always be too scared to let him know, too. 

It’s Friday before you know it. You manage to get everything done on time, and Jungkook calls you to his office that morning to return your signed clearance form. You hate how you’re both back to this tense dynamic whenever you enter his room - lingering looks, clenched jaws, deafening silence… and words you want to say and hear but know you never would. You’re both not built for that, you think; there’s always so much to feel but not enough courage to face them. 

This room holds so many memories - when he got mad, when you stood up to him, when he said he needed your help, when he kissed you and you kissed him back… when you pushed him away. 

But this isn’t where you say goodbye. There’s still that team dinner tonight and you hope you get to leave him with a proper farewell and a sincere expression of thanks for all that he’s taught you. You want to wish him good luck on the Arts Center opening. You want to tell him that you believe he’ll keep doing great things, you want to remind him to take proper rest, to take his breaks seriously, and to enjoy all that’s ahead of him. 

So you settle for a smile, as genuine as you can make it, before heading out and closing the door behind you. 

You return to your desk and go over some other things with Lucas that he needs clarifications on. You both spend lunch with the team and then resume your final turnover. 

It’s shortly after 3 PM when Jungkook comes out of his room with his bag in hand, and he instructs Lucas to get some blueprints from Chin-sun before they both leave to go to the Arts Center for a visit. The man next to you gets up and tells you he’ll see you at dinner, leaving you and Jungkook alone this time. 

It’s that lingering look again and he stays rooted in his spot, his eyes getting more distant as the seconds pass. 

“I wish you well, ___,” he says, the use of your name with words that seem like goodbye causing a crack in your heart. “Good luck. And thank you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response as he leaves right after, and you’re left with your heart in your hands, one that keeps calling his name. You think it will continue to do that after all this. 

You spend the rest of the afternoon packing your things and entertaining all those who drop by to say goodbye. Yoongi messages to say he’s out on a project site but that he’ll see you soon, and it’s something you look forward to after things have settled down. 

You find yourself in a private room at a nice restaurant with the team not long after. You can order anything, you’re told, and Do-hyun and Yohan don’t hesitate on choosing the dishes that they wouldn’t have been able to eat if it wasn’t for their boss paying for this meal. 

“Shouldn’t we wait for Lucas and Mr. Jeon?” You ask, looking around and feeling incomplete. 

“This dinner is for you, and you’re here,” Do-hyun points out. “But I guess we can wait.”

You settle for some appetizers and get to talking. They’re less sentimental than they were a few weeks ago. They say they’ve made peace with everything and are just happy that you’re able to take a break and have time for yourself before going back to the grind. It’s all talk and laughter, and when Lucas arrives, everybody cheers because then, you can all have your food served.

“Where’s Mr. Jeon?” Do-hyun asks before you do. 

“He’s at the Arts Center dealing with the laborers and the design team,” Lucas says regrettably. “Seems like there’s too much work and he can’t make it to dinner. I doubt he even eats at this point. He’s there every afternoon and doesn’t leave until late at night.”

“Is everything alright?” You ask, a mix of worry and sadness at how much he’s pushing himself, and that he didn’t even have the heart to see you one last time.

Perhaps that short exchange earlier was his final goodbye, you think. And now you wouldn’t even be able to say yours. 

“Yeah, you know how he is when he focuses on something,” Lucas sighs. “He just locks in and doesn’t care about anything else. He’s always been like that and I guess that hasn’t changed. But he did say he wants us to enjoy tonight, so order anything you want and he’ll take care of it.”

You mask the disappointment by laughing through Do-hyun and Yohan arguing about the best way to attack the menu, but you can’t help the way your eyes flit to the door every time it opens, hoping Jungkook would walk through it. But it’s never him.

Mr. Ri walks in right as the main dishes are served, and you look at him in question. He returns your dejected look with a shake of his head, as if he knows what you're thinking. 

You suppose that this is how Jungkook wanted to end things - by not showing up, by leaving the wound uncovered. You didn’t realize it would hurt like this. 

Maybe you deserve it. Maybe you don’t. But with the empty seat on the table reminding you of the man who chose to not give you a final goodbye because you’d done yours so certainly, you’re starting to think that it doesn’t really matter. He gets to choose how he deals with this, like he said. And you have no choice but to do the same.

You try your hardest to keep up with the team’s energy. They’re at least no longer crying, although you wish they were so you’d have a reason to cry yourself, because that’s what you’re trying hard not to do. It’s probably because of the sadness at knowing that you won’t experience this with them anymore; you won’t share the laughter and the stories that you used to. Everything is sinking in already, and it’s reality hitting you that you’re really going to start a new journey soon, and that you had to let go of someone incredibly important for that to happen. 

The Jungkook-shaped hole in your life will probably get bigger as the days pass, but that’s just another thing missing that you’ll have to find substitutes for, just like you do for everything else. 

You manage to get through dinner with dry eyes, even when you’re presented with farewell gifts. Lucas hands you a large box - a present from the VP’s Office, he says, and you smile in awe when you see a coffee pod maker that’s a similar version to the one you have at the pantry. 

“You won’t be going around making other people’s coffee anymore,” Manager Lee says. “So this is for your home. You’ll be on-the-go and busy but at least you’ll have this. It’s also so you’ll always remember us.”

“It’s also how I started,” you point out, recalling your internship days at the company. “But this is great. Please uh, please thank Mr. Jeon for me.”

“And this is from us,” Do-hyun smiles, handing you another box. “Like, this is from our own pockets. And we thought of every single thing in there so don’t forget about us. Ever.”

You open it and find a lot of the things that they know you can’t live without - a tumbler, a mug, notebooks, colored pens and highlighters, post-its, little jars of snacks and candies. There are also self-care items like scented candles and essential oils. In a little bag, there are two disposable cameras and vouchers to your local theater. 

And underneath all of those is a complete photo of your team, the one taken during your team building not long ago. Everyone looks refreshed and carefree. Including you. And then there’s Jungkook next to you, hands in his pockets and sporting what you know is a genuine smile. It’s a good reminder of your time together, and despite everything, you’re glad you have something to always keep close to you.

You return their hugs, each one carrying so much care and warmth that you missed out on because you were never one to accept them, to ask for them. You finally say goodbye and make a promise that you’ll catch up with them one of these days, one you know you’ll keep.

You all walk out. Mr. Ri helps you with your things then leads you towards the car. 

“Last one for old time’s sake,” he smiles at you. “And it’s late. Let me drive you home.”

You don’t resist, knowing that as someone who’s looked after you for so many years, never faltering in his commitment to your mother or you, you’re truly going to miss him. 

Sitting on the passenger seat, you look out the window and try to amuse yourself with the scenes outside. There are cars passing by and people trying to get home, probably grateful that another week is over. You wonder how many of them are nursing broken hearts, or are running away from something, or are hoping someone they pushed away comes back. 

The tears are falling before you know it, and as you try to hold in your sniffles, you see Mr. Ri from your periphery glance at you before turning on the radio, gradually making the music louder so as to drown out your sounds. That continues for a while until the streets start to look familiar. Somehow, you dread going home - being alone at a time like this feels a little too much, but maybe you deserve that, too. 

You arrive at your apartment, and Mr. Ri helps you in bringing all your stuff inside. He stays by the door and his soft eyes prompt you to speak.

“I thought he’d come,” you whisper. “I thought I’d see him one last time. He… he couldn’t even say goodbye.”

“You know it’s not always easy for people to do that,” he says. “Letting you go was hard enough. What if he says something that would push you even farther away?”

“I can’t be any farther than I am right now,” you sigh. “But we did this to each other. I didn’t want to stay and he… just let me walk away. I hurt him but everything else after hurt me, too. And I… I wish it didn’t. I—”

You’re unable to speak as you cry once more, all the conflicting emotions suffocating you from within. And all Mr. Ri can do is wipe your tears with his handkerchief and hope that could stop them somehow.

“This hurts me,” he utters the words so softly and so heavy with emotion. “It’s like watching my daughter get her heart broken.”

It’s what makes you smile, and you take the piece of cloth from him and dry your eyes.

“I could’ve been,” you say, knowing that he wanted a family at one point.

“That’s true. But most times I think that I would’ve been too burdened by what I’ve done that I wouldn’t have been able to love your mother the way she deserves,” he reasons. “And I’ll always think that I let her go so that she could find someone like Min-woo who’d love her without reservations, who’d be able to give her a life that she’d always dreamed to have and to give you.”

Mr. Ri recalls his own decisions and the heartbreaks that followed right after. They conflicted him, too, but in life, knowing what you want doesn’t always mean you get to express it the way you want to. Sometimes doing it makes it harder for everyone involved, and that’s what he thinks is what’s happening with you and Jungkook, too.

“I think it’s what Jungkook has learned,” he continues. “He has to let you go so you could find whatever happiness it is that you couldn’t find where you are. And as for you, you have to know that letting someone go right now doesn’t mean you can’t ever have them again. You just have to stop thinking you don’t deserve to want it.”

You take his words to heart as you bid him goodbye, and they stay in your head as you force yourself to sleep later that night. 

You don’t know what kind of happiness you’re searching for. You don’t even know what happiness could truly be like with Jungkook, and the thought that maybe you’ll never know starts to scare you. It’s one you think you’d like to one day experience. But how could you when you pushed him away? Is it even something you could still want, given what you’ve done? Is it something he’d want to know as well? In the midst of the mess you created, could it still happen? 

You’re reminded of what CEO Jeon had said not long ago, and you try to comfort yourself with it. You crossed paths with Jungkook for a reason. You’ve started to believe that you’re losing him for a reason. You just have to trust that if it’s meant to be, you’ll find him again for a reason as well. 

You just hope that when you do, he’ll take you back again, ask you to stay, and you’ll be able to tell him with your whole heart that you will. And that it’s something you won’t ever regret.

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[lenaswritingandstuff]

Your Teddy ~ Theodore Nott x f!reader (PART 3 & END)

Requested: No

Pairing: Theodore Nott x f!reader (+ SPOILER x f!reader - secret and non-reciprocal.)

Summary: y/n gets adjusted at her new life with Theo's help.

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: swearing, English is not my first language

A/N: Thank God one of my classes on Wednesday was online and the other was cancelled otherwise I don't know when I could have written it lmaooo. ANYWAY. Thank you guys so much for +270 followers, love y'all!! Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @veryberryjelly @revesephemeres @mgchaser @nojamsonmytoast @cometmultiverse

PART TWO

“Darling?” your mother calls from downstairs. “Dinner is ready!”

Putting your book away, you rose from your bed and let out a silent sigh. The day after your conversation with Theo, your parents insisted you get home to rest, and, while you didn’t want to leave Hogwarts, they seemed to want you with them so bad that you had reluctantly accepted. You had now been home for over two weeks, two weeks spent reading books to learn some things and reading letters from Pansy and Theo. While Pansy’s letters were enjoyable and kept you updated on classes and the current gossip at school, you had to admit you awaited for Theo’s letters the most. He wrote to you about his daily life, sometimes making you laugh with a joke or when he told you about what funny thing one of his friends had done or said, and always ended the letter with the same sentence: I miss you. Those words shouldn’t make you feel the way they did, but they did; and you shouldn’t be missing Theo that much, but you were. 

From the moment you saw him, Theo had captivated your mind. You didn’t know if it was the way he had hugged you when he stormed in the hospital wing, the way he looked at you with those blue eyes of his, or just him, but ever since you had seen him in the hospital wing, you had a hard time not thinking about him. When you had realised what having lost all your memory meant, you were scared some people would lie to you or pretend to be someone they weren’t, but for some reason you knew Theo hadn’t lied. You had felt incredibly guilty when you saw how hurt he was when he learnt you didn’t know who he was - and still felt that way. But now, you also wanted to get to know him, and to spend time with him. There was something about him that just drew you towards him. It was partly physical, because, well, he was gorgeous, but also in his personality, how soft his voice was when he was talking to you, how patient and understanding he was, and how he made you feel safe without even trying. And now, after three weeks of only writing to each other, you couldn’t wait to see him again - but never dared to say it. I’ll try to tell him I miss him in my next letter.  

Leaving your room, you went downstairs to find your parents around the table, your mother bringing dinner to the table and your father finishing to set the table. They immediately smiled at you, and you smiled back. Your parents had been nothing but kind and understanding during your stay, but they constantly tried to make you remember things, so much so that you started to feel a bit overwhelmed after a while - which was another reason you couldn’t wait to go back to Hogwarts. 

“Got some rest, darling?” your father asked, sitting on the other side of the table.

“I hope you don’t overwork yourself, sweetie,” your mother continued. “You’re here to get rest and recover.” 

“I’m fine,” you assured them with a smile, sitting down.

“Are you sure, darling? I have to say, you look a bit tired.”

Your mother was right, and there was a reason for that fatigue. Each night, you had terrible dreams about your abduction - dreams or memories, who knew? - and you were now almost afraid to sleep. Like you had told Theo, you were thankful you didn’t remember anything about your kidnapping, but having those dreams brought you a bit of anxiety. You hadn’t told anyone, because you were scared that your parents would freak out, and didn’t tell Theo in order not to bother him. You ate your plate, not saying a word as your parents talked about everything and anything. Once you were done, there was a moment of comfortable silence, and you cleared your throat. 

“I have something to ask you guys,” you said. 

“What is it, dear?” 

“I’d like to go back to Hogwarts,” you answered, not beating around the bush. “I think I’m fully recovered now. It was nice being here, and I appreciate everything you did for me, but I think it would be good for me to go back to school.” 

Your parents shared a look, and for a second you thought they were gonna insist you stayed here.

“If that’s what you want, y/n,” your mother said, “then we support you.”

“We’ll write to Professor Dumbledore tomorrow,” your father nodded. “It will be good for you to be with your friends again.” 

“And Theodore,” your mother added with a wink. 

You felt your cheeks becoming pink and looked at your plate.

“He’s a good lad,” your father smiled.

“I hope you guys will…find a way to get back to the relationship you had,” your mother said gently. “You loved him a lot.” 

You nodded, and after a long moment of your parents telling you stories about your childhood, you decided to bid your parents goodnight - which always included a hug - and went back upstairs to your room. You lit a candle, as it was dark outside, and sat down at your desk before grabbing a piece of parchment, a quill and some ink. 

Dear Teddy, 

I was supposed to stay a little longer with my parents, but I really want to go back to Hogwarts now. My parents will write to Professor Dumbledore tomorrow, and I hope to be at school in the next few days. 

I miss you.

y/n

You then turned to your owl, who apparently had the habit of going to sleep at the same time as you, who made a small noise as if to greet you as you opened its cage. 

“Can you take it to Theo?” you asked your pet. 

You gently stroked its feathers, and then your owl took the letter and flew across the opened window. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You stepped out of the chimney, and, as expected, found yourself in Professor Snape’s office. He was sitting on his desk, apparently grading students’ work, and barely raised his eyes to look at you.

“Good evening, Professor.”

“Miss y/l/n. I hope you’re fully recovered.”

His last words surprised you, as you had found him cold and severe during the few minutes you saw him in the hospital wing. 

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

“Then I shall see you in class.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carrying your luggage, you left his office, and, as you expected, you found Pansy waiting for you in the corridor. She immediately opened her arms and almost ran to give you a hug, which you gladly accepted.

“Aw, darling, I’m so happy you’re back! How do you feel?”

“I’m good.”

But your attention was on the person behind her. Theo was leant against the wall, his hands in his pockets. You detached yourself from Pansy, and Theo and you started to walk towards each other. You felt your heart beat faster, and it even beat faster when Theo gave you a small, shy, smile. Did I feel that way before?

“Hey.”

“Hey. It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.”

It was a bit awkward, as neither of you knew what to do - a hug? A kiss? - but Theo stared at you for a second before stepping closer, gently cupping your face in his hands and kissing your forehead. You closed your eyes, enjoying his touch and his lips on your skin much more than you thought. After the kiss, his hands remained on both sides of his face before he took them away, and you felt disappointed and sad.

“Thank you for your letters,” you said. “I really enjoyed receiving them.” 

“I liked your answers, too,” he said. 

You smiled at him, and suddenly Pansy chuckled.

“Come on, you bloody lovebirds, let’s go.”

You and Theo shared an amused look before you all went to the Slytherin common room, which was near. 

“We should go get dinner,” Pansy said. “y/n, dear, how about you put that luggage in your bag and you’ll unpack after dinner?”

“Alright,” you nodded.

After all, you were hungry too. Pansy led to your dorm, as you honestly didn’t remember where it was, and you put your luggage inside before going to the Great Hall alongside Pansy and Theo. On the way, Pansy kept talking about all that happened while you were gone, but only heard half of it as your hand kept touching Theo’s, which made you somehow want to hold it - or at least to have some physical contact with him. I’m going crazy, you thought. Why do I want to touch someone who’s still a stranger? 

Once in the Great Hall, you sat between Pansy and Theo, who introduced you to his friends, who all greeted you warmly. You looked around, trying to familiarise yourself with the large, beautiful crowded room. As you had lived in a quiet house for weeks, all the noise around made you feel uneasy and comfortable. Only Theo seemed to notice, as he grabbed your hand under the table. You turned to him, and found him giving you a reassuring, warm look. You squeezed his hand, both to show thankfulness and affection, and he gently stroked the top of your hand. You started to feel better, and focused on the conversations the boys were having. You didn’t participate in it, as you had ho idea what they were talking about half the time, but you laughed at their jokes - and, with each laugh, Theo and you shared a look. Once you were done eating, Pansy and you decided to go back to the common room - as it was still too early to go to bed -, and the boys followed. After sitting on one of the green couches, again next to Theo, for two hours spent listening to the boys, sometimes talking to Pansy and again feeling the push to touch Theo’s hand. As it was now getting late, the boys started to go to bed, as they started classes early tomorrow, but unlike earlier, Theo didn’t hesitate to once again cup your face in his warm hands and kiss your forehead, but this time, you got on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Good night, Teddy.”

“Good night, cara mia.”

You blushed at the nickname, before following Pansy - whose dorm was not far away from yours. 

“I promised to spend the night with Daphne,” Pansy said, apparently feeling guilty. “Her dorm is the one next to yours, so I won’t be very far if you need me, okay? You got along very well with Daphne before your…um, departure. She won’t mind at all.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said. “I’m actually tired, so I don’t think I’ll have a hard time falling asleep.” 

“Alright.” Pansy hugged you, “Sleep well, dear.”

She gave you one last hug before entering Daphne’s dorm, leaving you alone in the silent corridor. You went into your dorm, closing the door behind you. You looked at the unfamiliar room full of unfamiliar objects. It felt as if it all belonged to someone else. Trying to ignore the feeling, you unpacked your bag, went to take a shower and then went to bed. Tomorrow, Pansy would give you a list of all the things they saw in class while you were gone and it was going to take you a while to catch up on everything - and if you didn’t manage to, it was going to be even harder to pass your exams at the end of the year. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“y/n, wake up! Come on, wake up!”

You jolted awake, trying to catch your breath. The dark, cold room and the unfamiliar voices that had been plaguing your sleep were still fresh in your mind, and your first reflex when you felt two hands on your shoulders was to try to pull away.

“Amore, it’s me!” 

It took you half a second to realise you were in your dorm, safe, and that it was Theo in front of you. 

“Teddy?” 

He nodded, and sat on the bed. “I had the feeling I needed to check up on you, and when I came you were having a nightmare.” 

He started stroking your shoulders with all the tenderness in the world, and, almost without realising it, you put your head in his chest, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he could, and put his chin on the top of your head.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.” 

He pressed a light yet tender kiss on your temple and your heart, which had been beating very fast from waking up so abruptly, starting beating normally. After a while, you felt better, and not once did Theo move. 

“Thank you, Teddy,” you whispered.

“Of course, tesoro.”

Despite wanting to stay in the comfort of his arms, you detached yourself from him, but he kept one of his arms around you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his thumb stroking your skin.

You shook your head, and he gave you a nod. 

“I don’t remember much,” you said. “But… Teddy?”

“Hum?”

“Would you…Would you mind staying here with me?” you asked more shyly than you thought.

Theo looked at you and had a soft half smile. 

“I’d like nothing more, love.” 

He bent to press a kiss on your temple and you moved to the side of the bed to give him as much space as you could. Once he was ready, he gently brought your head to his chest before putting one arm around your waist and the other in your hair. Instinctively, you put one hand on the side of his neck, and after a short moment, you felt your whole body relax. You closed your eyes, and suddenly realised Theo smelt amazing.

“You smell good,” you whispered without thinking.

He had a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You used to tell me that often,” he said. “But thank you, cara mia, you smell good too.”

He started playing with your hair, and you fell asleep to the beating of his heart and his warmth.

When you woke up the next morning, your head was in the crook of Theo’s neck, and one of your legs was over one of his. His arms were still tightly wrapped around you, and, looking at him, you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked when he was sleeping. You put your head back, wanting to enjoy the comfort of his warm embrace for a moment, but you realised it was time to wake up. You pressed some kisses on his cheek, and after a while he started slowly moving. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

He groaned before he finally opened his eyes, and his lips immediately turned into a smile. He looked at you for a moment, and brought his hand to your cheek.

“I almost forgot how good it felt,” he said almost to himself.

“What?” you frowned. 

“To wake up with you in my arms.” 

“It feels good too,” you whispered, caressing his hair. “And I know it felt good before my abduction.” 

There was no way it didn’t feel like that before. If only I could remember…

“We should get up,” you said.

He nodded and had a small sigh, “Yeah, we should.” But then he smiled, “But five more minutes, please?” 

You laughed and nodded.

“Alright, five more minutes.” 

But, as you should have expected, five minutes into ten, then twenty, and finally thirty before you managed to have him let you get out of bed. You rose from the bed, which made him groan in annoyance, and as you went to the bathroom to get your school uniform, you turned to the bed, where Teddy hadn’t moved.  

“Teddy, come on!” you laughed.

“You know, cara mia, no one would mind if you only started class tomorrow.”

You know he was likely to be right, but you shook your head.

“Maybe, but I have enough to catch on already. I can’t afford to be even further behind.”

“I’ll help you,” he said, sitting. “You were always a very good student, why shouldn’t you be now?”

“Maybe I was, but now it’s different.” 

Teddy stared at you, and you immediately knew what he thought. Yes, it is different now.

“I can still help you,” he said.

You nodded, “I’d love that, Teddy.” 

He finally got up, and agreed to go dress up in his dorm when you asked him.

“We’ll meet in the common room in five minutes,” you assured him. 

And as promised, you met there five minutes later, both all ready for the day. It felt a bit weird to be in a uniform, but you did your best to ignore it. After all, everyone was wearing it. Theo and you sat again with his friends and Pansy, who immediately asked you how was your night.

“Oh, really good.”

You and Theo shared a look and you felt yourself blush. 

After breakfast, you walked with Theo to class, with him sometimes giving you information about the castle, or something you saw. On the way, some students came to you to tell you they were happy to see you again, and each time, you felt thankful but awkward. But thankfully, Theo didn’t leave your side once, and always let you know who the person was - friends for the most part. They were Slytherins for most, but as you came closer to class, it was a Gryffindor boy, with dark hair, green eyes and glasses, who approached you.

“y/n? Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” 

You noticed the strange scar he had on his forehead, but it felt impolite to ask him about it. 

“Back off, Potter,” Theo said coldly. “We don’t have time for you.”

“Teddy, don’t be rude,” you frowned.

“I was just asking how she was,” the Gryffindor boy said calmly. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He turned to you with a kind look, “I’m glad to see that you’re alright. But…You really don’t remember anything?”

Theo opened his mouth to answer but you were faster.

“No, unfortunately. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” 

“Harry,” he simply answered. “I’m Harry. We…” 

This time, Theo sighed.

“It is really kind of you to ask how my girl was, Potter, but if the Chosen One will excuse us, we’re gonna be late for Potions.”

He put an arm around your waist, and before you could say anything, led you to the end of the corridor. You gave Harry a look of excuse, but he only stared at you.

“Teddy, that was rude,” you said as you entered the Potions room. “He was nice.”

“Not all people are as nice as they look, love,” he simply said and you rolled your eyes. 

“But, if he asked me how I was, he must have been a friend, no?”

Theo had a small, annoyed sigh. “That’s a big word. But your closest friend is Pansy. And also Daphne, I guess. If you need more friends, ask Pansy to introduce you to girls from our house. Or at least, who aren’t in Gryffindor.” 

Theo indicated you a seat in the middle of the class, and sat next to you.

“By the way,” you asked, “what is that strange scar he has?”

Theo sneered, “Long story.”

You were about to ask him when Professor Snape came in, and all conversations faded at once. He gave instructions for the rest of the lesson, and you and Theo worked on the potion. You laughed a few times because Theo couldn’t stop making jokes. Snape eventually noticed and came over.

“Mr Nott, do focus on the potion. Miss y/l/n needs to concentrate if she wishes to get back to the same level as the rest of the class, and I think your immature foolishness will make it harder.”

“We’re sorry, professor,” you apologised. “I was a bit nervous, as it is my first class since I got back, and Teddy was only trying to help…in his own way.”

Snape stared at you both and left without a word. Theo and you looked at each other and had a hard time not laughing.

“Dumbledore must have asked him to be nicer to you,” he whispered as he stirred the potion. “Usually, we would have got detention. Or at least a threat of it.” 

The rest of the class went smoothly, and so did the rest of the day, with all the teachers telling you they were there if you needed anything, and helping you if needed. As the last class of the day ended,  you put your book in your bag and rose from your seat. Theo did the same, and you started walking to the door, but Theo didn’t move. 

“Pansy and I need to talk to Professor McGonnagall,” he said. “It’s gonna take a while,” he sighed. “Hey, how about you go to my dorm - it’s the first one after the serpent symbol - and eat the snacks I left there? You used to like them.”

You were a bit surprised, but nodded. You left the class, and walked down the corridor when you heard a voice from your left side.

“y/n!”

You turned your head and saw Harry in a smaller, darker corridor. 

“Harry?”

“Can we talk?” 

Your eyes went to the door of the class, where Theo still was.

“Sure.”

You walked to place yourself in front of Harry, and you noticed he looked at you strangely. 

“I’m sure you’ve been asked this several times, but you don’t really remember anything about your abduction?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Nothing.”

You could have talked to him about the nightmares, but if you didn’t tell Theo, the person you were the closest to at the moment, why would you talk to a stranger about it?

“And,” Harry continued, “what did they tell you about it?”

You frowned, trying to remember the first conversation you had with Professor Dumbledore. “Well, they said I went to, um, Hogsmeade, I think, alone, and that’s where I was last seen. Apparently I was kidnapped because my parents work at the Ministry. They also don’t know where I was being held or how I escaped.” 

Harry thought for a second. “And what did tell you about the Death Eaters?”

You frowned again, “Not much, only that they worked for someone with bad intentions. But I’m aware I was likely interrogated and tortured, though. Why?”

“Nott,” Harry said. “His father used to work for that ‘someone with bad intentions’. Malfoy’s father too. Oh, and, Nott’s best mate Riddle, he’s the son of that someone.”

You tried to register his words. Theo’s father? You knew Theo did not see him much, and never thought much about it. Draco? Who has been nothing but polite and kind to you? And Mattheo, the funny Mattheo who constantly teased Theo like a brother, and was friendly and warm? After all, you didn’t know any of them. For all you knew, they might have lied all along. 

“You…think they know something?” 

Harry shrugged, “Who knows. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t trust anyone. I…just want you to be safe, okay?” 

He opened his mouth to say something else but kept silent. 

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m here if you need anything.”

You nodded and after giving him a polite smile, you went back to the corridor, and walking down it, you ran into Professor Snape.

“Miss y/l/n.”

“Sir?”

“The Headmaster wishes to see you in his office at once. Please follow me.”

You nodded and followed him through numerous corridors. He made you enter a beautiful room with several windows, where the Headmaster was waiting for you. 

“Professor, Miss y/l/n.”

“Thank you, Severus. Please, Miss, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

You approached his desk, and sat on one of the large grey armchairs - which were far more comfortable than they looked.

“If you allow me, Miss, how do you feel?”

“I’m well, thank you, sir.” 

“And how was your first day here?”

“Very good, sir. I’m glad to be back in class with my classmates.”

 “Good, good. And, one last question, did any of your memories come back?”

You shook your head, “No, sir. I tried to remember anything, even small things, but in vain so far.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I expected it, do not worry. However, if I made you come here today, it’s not only to make sure you are well, but also, giving your answer to my last question, to tell you there is maybe a way to find your memory back.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Really?”

“Yes. Please, come”

You rose from the armchair and followed him to a small, beautiful basin you hadn’t noticed. 

“This is a Pensieve,” Dumbledore said kindly. "If I put a memory inside, I can watch it. Even the details I don’t remember will be there. However, in your case, I have a bit of hope that, if you put your head inside, you might find your memory again, or at least some of it.” He paused before continuing in an even kinder voice, “But if you do not wish to try, I will not force you. All you have to do is to say ‘no’ and I walk you to the door and wish you a good evening.”

“I want to try.”

For me, and for Teddy. He deserves it. 

And also to see if they’re all lying. 

Dumbledore smiled, “I’ll admit I’m happy to hear it, young lady. So, whenever you’re ready…You will just need to hold your breath for a moment…"

You nodded and walked to the basin, putting both your hands on it. You held your breath, and, having the reflex of closing your eyes, put your forehead forward in the liquid. Your eyes opened by themselves, but no memory came. No scene with your parents when you were a child,, or here at school with Pansy or Theo. The liquid seemed to move a little, as it was being stirred, but eventually, all you saw was white. You waited for a moment, before going back to the surface. You breathed again, and realised, stupidly, that you weren’t even wet. 

“Nothing, sir,” you said, feeling ashamed as if you had failed an exam or didn’t understand something that even a five year old got. “There was only white.”

The Headmaster nodded, “Yes, so I thought. Trust that I’m sorry, Miss. But I will continue looking for a remedy. In the meantime, if your friends or Mr Nott want to show you a memory they have, my door is always open.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“I believe it is now time for me to wish you a good rest of your evening.”

“Good night, sir.”

You left the office and, after getting lost a few times, managed to finally find your way to the Slytherin’s common room. You heard familiar voices as you came in, and several faces immediately turned to you.

“y/n!” 

Theo and Pansy rose from the green couches and almost ran to you.

“Where the hell were you?” Theo asked in an angry voice. “We searched for you everywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not expecting him to behave like that, “I was with Professor Dumbledore, he wanted to see how I was doing.” 

“Oh,” Pansy said. “That explains why we couldn't find you. Well, I have to go to the library to do some homework, so I'll see you both later.”

After Pansy left, Theo took your hand and gave you a large smile.

“I have a surprise for you, amore. In your dorm.”

“A surprise?” you said with a smile. 

“Yes,” he laughed. “Pansy and I actually didn’t have anything to tell McGonagall, we just needed to make sure everything was ready. That’s why I asked you to leave. Come on.”

His hand in yours, he led you to your dorm, where he slightly opened the door. 

“Close your eyes, love.”

A smile on your face, you closed them, and Theo put his hands on your shoulders to lead you in, and once you were inside, he put them around your waist. 

“You can look, baby,” he whispered in your ear.

You opened them, and saw the room had completely been transformed. There were flowers and at least thirty small lights in the air (A/N: Like in Disney’s “Tangled”, except it’s not lanterns) all arranged in a precise manner alongside shooting stars, and on your bed were several snacks and several presents. 

“Teddy! It’s so beautiful!” you said, and, without thinking, kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m glad you like it, cara mia. Come.”

The both of you sat on the bed, and he presented all the snacks - and the drinks - he had brought.

“I only took your favourite,” he smiled. “I can’t wait for you to try them.”

The feeling of guiltiness you had when the Pensieve didn’t work came back and you sighed. Maybe I can at least tell him that I tried somehow… 

“I tried,” you said. “In Dumbledore’s office. He…tried to make me remember, but…nothing came. I’m sorry, Teddy. I really want to remember, I promise you.”

“Amore, don’t be sorry,” he cupped one of your cheeks and pressed a kiss on it. “I know you would do anything to remember. And I know it’s not your fault.” 

You nodded before clearing your throat. “Teddy, I…I have a question.”

“Go ahead, amore.”

“Is it true your father used to be a Death Eater?”

Theo looked at you for a while, with both surprise and confusion.

“What? Who told you?” 

You hesitated, but decided to be honest. “Harry. He came to talk to me after class, and…”

“God damn it!” he said, angry now. “This little fucker always have to ruin things. Ever since we got together, he always tried to put ideas into your head.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “y/n, look, it’s true my father used to work for You-Know-Who, but I don’t know if he went back to him after his return, and I don’t care! He could die and I wouldn’t care! I don’t care about him, what he does or what he believes in. All I care about is us and, well, my friends, but I don’t give a damn about anything else!” 

“Teddy,” you said, “I know you care! I’m not saying you’re like him, but maybe through your father and Draco’s, we could find a way to find out who abducted me.”

Theo looked at you, apparently thinking. “We could try…But even if my father or Draco’s father or even his aunt know something, I don’t see them telling us anything unless we use Veritaserum. And we would have to wait for the next school break to ask them.” 

“I can wait,” you say. 

Theo sighed, “If that’s what you want, we’ll make a plan. But, tonight, can we just celebrate being together?” 

Both his voice and eyes were pleading, and all you could do was nod.

“Of course, Teddy.”

He seemed to relax, and, one by one, handed you the presents. There were books, an album filled with pictures of you and Theo, a small book where Theo had written all your memories together, and, to finish, some jewellery - a gorgeous necklace with a heart-shaped diamond, a ring with a small white flower on it - and you thought there was no more gifts and was about to give him a “thank you” kiss on the cheek but Theo took a small grey bag from his back. 

“This one is special,” he said before handing it to you.

You took it with a smile, and opened it. There was a beautiful, small bracelet inside. You took it out and was about to put it on when Theo reached a hand out.

“Do you mind if I put it on your wrist?”

“Sure.

You gave him your wrist and he put the bracelet, but he didn’t let go of your wrist, looking instead at it and caressing it with his thumb. 

“This bracelet is different from the other gifts,” he said. “I gifted it to you on our first anniversary. It has never left your wrist ever since, except once.” You frowned and he looked at you, “when you got abducted, you lost it. I found it on the ground when I was looking for you, and I knew something was wrong.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “Your absence was killing me, cara mia. We were never separated since we got together, you know. Even during school breaks, you invited me to your home. Not only that, I didn’t know where you were and could only imagine what you were going through. Even my dreams were filled with nightmares of you facing unspeakable things alone. I couldn’t think of anything but you and how I missed you. I stopped going to class and going down for meals. I would have done anything to get you back, you know? I know I’m still a stranger to you, y/n, and it’s probably too early, but I love you. More than anything, more than my life. You’re all I have, you know? My mother is dead, my father doesn’t give a damn about me. Sure, I have my friends but you…God, y/n, you’re…everything. All the joy and happiness I have, I owe it to you. You taught me to be kinder with others but also with myself, and to have faith in me and what we had. I never took you for granted, and it hasn’t changed. But now, I can’t stand to be apart from you. I totally understand if you want to take things slow, and I will earn your trust and love again, but, please, just…just give a chance, amore. A chance to show you why I’m your Teddy and why you’re my y/n, and to make up for the time we lost. That, even if you don’t remember it, there is a reason why we were together. If you never get your memory back, it’s fine, I’ll spend hours telling you about every moment we had together in detail, and we’ll create new happy ones. I…love you, y/n.” 

After his last words, there was a silence and you could almost feel the weight of his words sinking in, going straight to your heart. That’s when you realised the attraction and the pull you had felt towards him from the moment you saw him was completely normal because Theo, with his large blue eyes and his adorable accent, was your soulmate. There was no doubt why you had loved him. Unable to say a word, you brought your hands to his cheeks and kissed him. The surprise caused him to not kiss you back immediately, but once he did, it was with all the longing he had felt ever since you had disappeared. One of his hands found your waist while the other was on one side of your neck. Your heart started beating faster and you felt something in your stomach before, all of a sudden, you felt as if you were struck by lighting. Your eyes opened by themselves, and images came rushing into your head. 

You playing with your parents as a child, buying your wand, being sorted into Slytherin, your first conversation with Theo and Pansy, all the classes and exams, your time spent with Theo before you guys dated, the moment you realised you were madly in love with him, your first date and first kiss, all the times you guys cuddled, the first time you spent the night loving each other, and, finally the last time you saw him before your abduction. Then, memories of a dark, dirty room and people wearing black pointing their wands at you, screaming in pain as you swore you didn’t know anything, and then, finally managing to escape and run back to the forest where you passed out. You felt tears coming out of your eyes, and broke the kiss.

“I love you too, Teddy. More than anything,” you whispered. 

He frowned, full of confusion, and you stroked his cheeks. 

“I…I don’t know why, but the kiss, it brought back all my memories back. Our first date was a picnic near the lake, right? That’s when we had our first kiss.”

He didn’t say anything but nodded. “You…You remember.”

It was your turn to nod before hugging him, stroking his hair and inhaling his comforting scent. 

“It’s the bracelet,” he suddenly said before breaking the hug. “When I bought it, the man at the shop told me it had magical properties, but I didn’t listen. I was late for class and wanted to have time to create a surprise for our evening. Maybe it remembers its owner?”

“Maybe,” you agreed. “But whatever it did, I’m glad you decided to give it to me that day. I always saw it as a symbol of our love, and now I truly believe it is.”

Theo nodded and you stared at him, admiring how gorgeous he was.

“I love you,” you said, “my Teddy.”

He kissed you again, this time with passion, and you knew this night was the first of many beautiful new memories together. 

(A/N: The bracelet, as Theo said, was magic. When y/n was abducted, a tear fell from her eye to bracelet, and we know memories can be found in tears. So the bracelet basically saved the memories and when she put it on, her memories came back.)

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the meet ugly (javier peña x f!reader) 

WC: 1.6k | Other fics | Rating: it’s ? fluff? No smut

last one for today, sry for spamming anyone, it was an all-or-nothing scenario in my mind 

Summary: your bad day gets worse when a trash bag spills on you. your neighbor javi tries to help but you both get stuck trapped with him and a dumpster. 

Note: this was for the meet-cute, but i had to do something nobody asked for aka make it gross ??? it’s my clown blood idk 

Tags/warnings: au modern javi lives in your apartment complex, description of cold leftovers from your garbage spilling on you, it’s just flirty peña idk it was an exercise for me to write something short and without smut, i’m assuming that dumpsters locked behind fences are relatable enough for all, no y/n, reader is able-bodied, all mistakes are mine just pretend like you didn't see them, i think that's all ty <3

 

You groan as you wrestle with the trash bags, their weight pulling on your arms while you trudge down the cracked concrete stairs. The holly bush at the bottom catches on your shorts again, its spiky branches scraping across your leg. Mocking you. You bite back a curse. The day has been a disaster from start to finish, and now you’re hauling half your apartment’s trash to the dumpster, trying not to lose your temper.

Why does this apartment complex even have holly bushes? It’s like someone got paid just to make everything as inconvenient as possible. Whoever designed this must have never experienced the luxury of hauling garbage bags between two overgrown defensive security bushes. 

You’re still fuming about it, whoever designed this hellscape of an apartment complex, when you reach the gate for the dumpster. One of the trash bags, full of leftovers you’d rather not think about, digs painfully into your fingers. You adjust your grip, unaware the straining plastic is a ticking time bomb. 

You trudge toward the dumpster enclosure, spotting your hot neighbor rounding the corner of his SUV, cigarette between his fingers. Of course, he would be out here to witness your personal walk of garbage shame.

He glances up, and you catch the moment his dark eyes land on you. His gaze sweeps over the bags, then to your face, a smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t say anything, but his look is enough to make your face hot. 

Damn him.

"Rough day?" he asks as you approach the dumpster, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"You could say that," you mutter, already feeling defensive. He’s really the last person you want to see while you’re sweaty and cranky. 

With a huff, you push the gate open and step into the dumpster enclosure, tossing the first couple of bags into the bin. The smell is overwhelming, but you just want to be done with it. You lift the last bag, but just as you hoist it up, the thin plastic rips apart, and cold, week-old pad thai leftovers land on your chest, feet, and everywhere but the dumpster. 

You freeze, mortified. Of course.

Before you can even process what just happened, you hear boots scuff against the pavement. Javier’s already hustling over, cigarette still between his fingers, that damn smirk still in place. 

"Need a hand?"

"I’ve got it," you snap, despite the fact that you aren’t moving. Unsure what’s going to make the situation any worse. 

It’s hard to focus on the mess when he’s standing so close. His presence makes your embarrassment worse. Like, you could climb into the dumpster yourself and wait until the garbage truck picks you up on Thursday and takes you away. 

"You sure about that?" He doesn’t move to help—just watches you with a look that’s far too amused for your liking.

"I’m sure," you grumble, tossing the ruined bag into the dumpster. "I don’t need your help." You commit to the mess, peeling cold noodles off of your chest and tossing them into the bin. You frown deeply, fishing out the leftovers that made it down your shirt. The smell and the texture make you nearly gag. 

Javier steps closer, chuckling under his breath. "Right. Because you’ve got everything under control."

You glare at him, wiping your hands on your already-ruined shorts. “I think you’re a little late to be a hero. I’m already wearing the leftovers.”

"Never said I was a hero," he replies smoothly, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Just trying to be neighborly."

As you turn to face him, the gate behind him swings shut with a loud clang. He tries to shove it open, but it doesn’t budge. His expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of realization in his eyes.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “We’re stuck?” 

He tugs at the gate one more time before turning back to you, that smirk still in place. "Looks like it."

You stare at him, your frustration mounting. "You aren’t even going to apologize? How are you calm about this?” 

Javier shrugs, leaning back against the gate and taking a long drag of his cigarette before acknowledging your question. He’s like the opposite of an anti-smoking campaign. You want to be the cigarette. 

"Not my fault the gate’s a piece of shit. And I’m not in a hurry."

"You closed it," you counter, flustered and looking for someone to blame.

But even as you glare at him, you can’t help but notice how infuriatingly attractive he looks, the way his leather jacket pulls tight over his shoulders, the way his dark eyes glint with amusement.

Javier catches your gaze and quirks an eyebrow. "You’re staring."

You roll your eyes, heat flooding your face. "I’m not."

"You are." His voice is low, teasing, and the way he looks at you—like he knows exactly what he’s doing—is making it harder to keep your composure.

You step back, trying to regain control of the situation and you catch him laughing to himself. 

“I really don’t see what could be funny about any of this,” you wave your arms, gesturing to your ruined clothes and the small space you’re both trapped in. 

“Could be worse ways to spend the evening,” he drawls, taking a step towards you. 

You pick another piece of rice noodle out from between your tits. “Yeah, like if the dumpster was on fire?” 

You’re too aware of him. Of how his voice gets lower and rougher when he’s this close.

He chuckles, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. "I’ve been in worse places. With worse company."

You swallow hard. The way his eyes flicker over your face, how his smirk never fully fades–it’s maddening. He knows what he’s doing to you. It feels like a sick joke. 

"Yeah?" you mutter, your voice sounding breathier than you’d like. "And what makes me such good company?"

Javi’s eyes darken, and he takes another step forward, close enough now that you could smell the leather of his jacket, the faint tobacco on his skin if it weren’t for the foul stench of all of half the apartment complex’s trash in the container behind you.  

"You’re more fun to argue with."

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “Don’t fuck with me, Javier. I’m already having a day from hell.” 

He gives you a pouty look that makes you want to scream. “Why would I be fucking with you?” he asks quietly, almost sounding hurt. 

You snort, incredulous. “I’m wearing last week's lunch and the only clothes that weren’t in the laundry. Don’t act like you’re flirting with me.”

He steps closer until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice drops, smooth and dangerous. "What if I am?"

For a moment, you forget where you are. 

“What if I think you look good? Even with a garnish?” he asks and pulls a piece of cilantro off of your cheek. 

All you can focus on is how close he is, the way he waits like he’s daring you to make a move. There’s no way he’s serious. He rarely says more than a curt hello, even though you walk to your cars in the parking lot at almost the same time every morning as you head out for work. Sometimes, he’ll wave if you pass him on your walk to the corner store. 

You only knew his name because of the time he caught you trying to drag a dresser you’d scored at an estate sale up the stairs to your apartment on your own. He’d helped you carry it, despite your protesting, all the way into your bedroom.

“I’d say you’re literally stuck in here with me for the foreseeable future, so of course you’d say that.” 

He sighs heavily, muttering under his breath at you, “Tan terca.” And in a move that makes your jaw drop, he turns away from you, stalking towards the fence with a fluid arrogance. Like an oversized cat in a leather jacket, he leaps at the chain link fence like he’s done it a hundred times. He hoists himself up, swinging over the top and dropping onto his feet on the other side. 

He’s grinning at you when he unlatches the gate and swings it open, but you snap storming towards him. “How long were you gonna wait to let us out?” 

He shrugs, “I thought Randy would’ve been out for a smoke before we had to wait long. Don’t exactly enjoy having to climb over a fence.” 

“Right.” You slip out of the gate with a thanks, but when he says your name, you feel like your whole body is drawn towards him.  

He eyes you, leaning in just close enough to make your pulse race again. “And if I were to flirt with you now?” 

“I’d question your judgment,” you point to yourself, “I’m still in desperate need of a shower.” 

His eyes lift, looking just past you, before he grins. 

“Oh my god,” you cut him off before he says a word, “were you about to tell me I could use your shower?” 

Everything about his mockingly sheepish look says you are right. You shake your head at him in disbelief, but you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. It takes all of your strength to walk away but head towards your own apartment. 

You make it to the top of the stairs before the sinking feeling hits. You deny it until you check the door for yourself. Of course. After everything that went wrong today, it only makes sense that you would lock yourself out of your own apartment. 

You berate yourself all the way to his door. It swings open after the first knock, and he gives you a look that has your cheeks burning. His eyes gleam, and you just know he’s going to enjoy this before his smoky voice even reaches your ears. 

“Changed your mind?” 

divider @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

[sunarc]

Synopsis: Falling for gojo was one of your worst mistakes, but loving him when you know he could never love you back was an even bigger mistake.

CW:gojo is an ass, fuck boy gojo,angsty, situationship, oral f receiving, alittle blood not during sex, ownership, reader gets jealous, reader is a bit possessive, fuck boy gojo, 5.1k words

A/N: this is for @honeybleed ‘s RnB collab! i am super late but yeah lol

tags: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

Being around Satoru made your palms sweaty. It was embarrassing to say, but you couldn’t help the bubble of emotions that seemed to burst inside of you when he was near. His presence alone could send your heart on a never-ending race. His eyes could make you melt within seconds with just one look. You always found yourself gazing into them, wondering what secrets they held. They’re so bright, so blue, and so pure. His eyes alone could cause emotions you had never experienced before. You could stare at them for days, stuck in a blue trance that you never wanted to escape. You knew he wasn’t good for you. You had told yourself you needed to let go a thousand times before. When you first laid in his bed, allowed his fingers to graze so delicately against your skin, and allowed his lips to press against your body with lustful hunger, you knew he’d be trouble. You knew he was bad for you when he held your body close to his, caressed your skin with his tender touch after a steamy session, and told you he enjoyed being friends with you. Yet somehow you continuously found yourself being drawn into him, constantly breathing in his musk while he held you close, constantly pushing your feelings away just so you could have one more intimate moment with him.

‘This is the last time’ It was a mantra that went into one ear and out the other. You could never seem to follow through with it whenever you found yourself wrapped in his arms.

You sat silently in the backseat of Getou’s car, fiddling with the wheel of your brand-new skateboard. You weren’t a skater. You had never stepped foot on a board before. It was embarrassing to say, but you had only brought a board because you thought it would give you more time to spend with Satoru. You were overwhelmed with nerves, practically holding your breath the entire ride. You felt like an overfilled glass waiting to run over. One little drop, and you’d spill like a glass of milk. This was the first time you were skating. You had only agreed to go because Satoru promised to teach you. You recalled his bright eyes shining with excitement as you asked. The way his lips curled upward into a sly smile as he pulled your naked body closer to his made you melt. You wanted to be covered in the warmth of the light that seemed to radiate off of him.

“Something on your mind?” Shoko asked, blowing smoke in your direction.

You coughed and waved the cloud of cigarette smoke away before giving her an angry look.

“Just nervous is all,” you whispered.

“Don’t be nervous, skating is like walking, anyone can do it." Satoru turned around from the front seat with a bright smile and chipper voice.

"Oh, that's not-” Getou started but was soon cut off by Satoru’s intoxicating voice.

“And besides, if you break a bone, then you’ll officially be a part of the skater community,” he said as if it were an initiation into the skater world.

Shoko nodded her head hesitantly. "Well, I can agree with that part. The first time I broke a bone was after I landed a 720 flip, the best bone break I’ve had to this day.”

You sat nervously listening to the three of them share past stories of the bones they had broken. If you weren’t nervous before, you were damn near shitting yourself now.

“Thanks, guys, this conversation helped so much,” you said, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

Gojo turned around, giving you a smirk that made your heart flutter.

“Don’t worry, if you fall I’ll be there to catch you,” he gave you a wink.

The smallest things could make your heart feel like it was about to explode. You bit your lip in a failed attempt to hide the smile that was forming. He was like a burst of sunshine through a terrible storm, always there to make things better. You hated admitting it, and you’d never actually say it out loud, but you were in love. Head over heels in love with Satoru. Being around him made you feel like you were floating on cloud nine bursting with an overwhelming feeling of devotion. You could only pray that he felt the same. You were stuck in an intricate web of wonder. Did he love you the way you loved him? The way he’d make you feel when he was around screamed yes, but everything seemed to lead you in the opposite direction. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for the nth time what the two of you were, only to get the same reply of “We’re just chilling,” paired with a passionate kiss to take your mind off of it. You didn’t want to 'chill'. You wanted passion. You wanted the kind of love shared between Achilles and Patroclus, where he’d walk for miles wailing your name because he craved you in your absence. The kind of love like Orpheus and Eurydice, where he’d travel to the depths of hell just to bring you back to him. You wanted the kind of love where he would memorize the thrumming of your heartbeat so well that he’d recognize you just from the sound of it alone. You craved his love almost in an animalistic way, you craved him.

“We’re here people.” Getou’s voice pulled you from your manic thoughts.

You looked around, observing every person in the park. Everyone seemed so professional compared to you. You got out of the car, standing to the side, awkwardly swaying side to side holding your board. Your nerves were getting the best of you as you compared yourself to those around you. Their scratched and dirtied skateboards mocked your pristine, untouched board. You didn’t belong here. You felt anxious watching everyone with experience skate around you.

"Breathe, babe.” Shoko leaned next to you on the car. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack."

You let out a soft laugh. Satoru and Suguru had run off to start skating, leaving you and Shoko behind.

“I feel like an unprepared freshman entering high school. Everyone seems so good here,” you exclaimed “I feel like I'm going to embarrass myself in front of him” 

Shoko already knew about the ‘him’ you were speaking of. She had warned you a million times before to be careful with him, and every time you just brushed it off as her being too worrisome.

“I had a feeling,” she said, lighting her cigarette “You were sweating like you were in a sauna in the car.”

You scoffed and brushed your palms against your pants.

“I was just a little hot!" you exclaimed, making an excuse.

“The windows were down."

“I just want to impress him,” you whined childishly.

She rolled her eyes.

“You want to impress the same guy who just left you in a place you’ve never been before?”

You turned around to see the man of the hour mingling with Suguru. He was poking the cheek of a tall, blond-haired guy who looked as if he was completely over the entire interaction. You turned back to Shoko with an eager smile.

“He’s just excited. He’ll pay more attention when he’s teaching me." You excused his behavior as you grabbed her hand, dragging her over to the two.

You walked over to the chaos, reminding yourself to take deep breaths.

“Hi,” you chimed in, embarrassed at how your voice somehow cracked.

Satoru turned to you, giving you a welcoming smile, and from just a glance, you felt a whirlwind of emotions.

"Hi." His voice was soothing.

It was just the two of you. No intimidating skaters, no Shoko reminding you of how he isn't good for you, just him and his gentle voice.

“Ready to skate pretty?” The nickname made you swoon.

You nodded your head eagerly. Satoru grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the group. You followed behind him with a longing smile. You felt like the main character in a movie living out your dreams. His hand was so soft. He was warm. You never wanted to let him go.

“Welcome to my world, pretty girl. You ready to become one with the board?” He asked as he held your face with a serious gaze.

You were in a somewhat secluded area of the park. You nodded your head, too focused on the way his eyes glistened in the sun to focus on his words.

"Alright, get on the board,” he said, letting you go.

You were in an empty space away from what you considered experts, but Satoru somehow considered novices. Geto and Shoko were off skating doing tricks you could only dream of.

“Will you hold my hand?” Your voice was soft as if you were afraid of his answer.

Gojo was a kind person, one of the friendliest guys you had ever been with. You knew he’d say yes, but you somehow feared a reaction from him anyway.

“Of course,” he said, slipping his hand into yours, his eyes watching you steadily. His smile was soft as he watched you. You stepped onto the shaky board. You felt like a baby, learning to walk for the first time. As you were gathering the courage to place your other foot on the board, you slipped and fell into him. His hand wrapped around your waist as he caught you. You were pressed against his chest, gripping his arm tightly.

“I told you I’d catch you,” he whispered gently.

This was the Satoru you had fallen in love with. The one who would catch you no matter what. He held you up straight on the board, holding both of your hands.

“We’re going to move now, okay?” He spoke lowly. His voice was comforting. You felt like you could do anything with him around.

He took slow steps, moving you on the board. You wobbled, leaning into him ever so often. You let out a soft laugh when you picked up speed a bit.

“You’re doing it,” he laughed with you, proud of your accomplishments. “I bet you’ll be a better skater than me in no time,” he whispered the words as if they were meant for you and you alone.

You smiled with a wordless reply.

"Satoru,” you heard Getou call for him.

Satoru’s eyes were trained on you, keeping you balanced as he replied quickly, “Hold on."

You held onto him as he walked with you on the skateboard, allowing you to get used to being on the board.

“I’m gonna let go soon, okay?" he spoke “Don’t panic, just keep your balance and breathe.” His voice was steady as he spoke to you.

You felt so at ease listening to his gentle words. Confidence surged through you as he gently pulled away, setting you free to sail. You let out nervous laughter as you continued rolling. You stood up straight, feeling braver.

“I’m doing it, I’m really doing it, Toru,” you called out to him, excitement racing through your blood. You turned your head in the direction he had previously been, searching for his smiling face, only to see him gone. Your wide eyes filled with disappointment as you turned your head, searching for him.

“Satoru?” You called out for him.

Your attention was so focused on the blue-eyed boy missing in action that you failed to see the upcoming railing blocking your path. Before you knew it, your body was going one way and the skateboard the other. You lay face-first on the ground, groaning from a mixture of pain and embarrassment. Your mind could barely focus on the pain from your bleeding knee due to fear that he had seen you fall. You sat up, watching your skateboard slowly roll away from you. What a great day to wear shorts without knee pads. Shoko walked over to you and held out her hand, which you gladly took. Your eyes searched for the boy who had failed to catch you. Your heart felt as if it had been sliced into pieces once you saw him. He was far off, standing with Getou and a girl with short brown hair. She was, in simpler terms, gorgeous. Gojo threw his head back, laughing at something she was saying. Not only was she pretty, but she was also funny.

“So much for being there to catch you,” Shoko grumbled as she helped you stand straight.

“Who’s that girl?” you asked.

Your eyes stared woefully at the two. It wasn’t like you were jealous, of course, he could have friends who were girls.

“You’re bleeding are you okay?”

“She’s really pretty." You spoke, lost in thought.

“It’s not too bad I have some bandages in my bag.”

“Do you think he saw?”

“I don’t know; let me check.”

Shoko turned to look at the three mingling. Gojo was leaning into the girl, smirking softly as she spoke to him, never breaking eye contact. His hand moved to push a stray hair behind her ear, and you watched as a soft blush appeared on her cheeks. You felt like you were third-wheeling with how intimate their conversation seemed to be. Getou was long gone skating with other friends, leaving the two behind. Her eyes stared into his with that same look you knew all too well. Those damn blue eyes were trapping her in the same way they did you.

“She’s really pretty.”

“I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

“Do you think she’s a good skater?” You wanted to tear your eyes away from them, but you couldn’t pull away from the sight of him flirting right in front of you.

“Stop comparing yourself." You fell silent at Shoko’s words, “Her beauty does not invalidate yours.”

You looked down, ashamed of your jealousy. You couldn’t help the anger and jealousy that boiled inside of you watching him mingle with someone who wasn’t you. Shoko wiped your knee clean as she continued her rant.

“Stop letting his validation define your worth,” she whispered.

Disappointment was laced in her voice. It wasn’t that she was particularly disappointed in you. She was disappointed in how you completely lost yourself in Gojo. He had somehow controlled your every waking being. His passions were your passions, and his dislikes were yours. You were engulfed in the desire to be everything he wanted, yet there he was right before your eyes, proving to you yet again that you were nothing more than just a pretty girl who gave it up to him.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you watched Shoko sit next to you.

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to yourself,” she said as she lit another cigarette. “And don’t forget to forgive yourself; that’s the most important part.”

You sat in silence, watching everyone around you. Shoko promised to stay with you for the rest of the day because she was tired of skating. She sat scrolling mindlessly with her head on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the park, never failing to land on the boy you just couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His attention was all over the girl you had deemed a goddess in disguise. She was pretty, funny, and a damn good skater. You watched mesmerized at the tricks she was pulling off.

"Damn, she’s good,” you whispered.

“That could be you if you want to practice some more, don’t worry, I’ll actually be here," Shoko commented

You sat for a moment, contemplating the idea. Skating wasn’t really your thing. You were slightly disappointed that you were just coming to this realization after paying damn near 100 dollars for your board.

“I actually don’t think skating is for me,” you admitted.

Shoko hummed in response, too engulfed by a TikTok video.

The sun was finally going down when Getou walked over skateboard in hand.

“You two kids ready to go?” You nodded your head like a child as you stood with Shoko.

"Satoru,” he called across the nearly empty park.

You peeked behind him to see Gojo whipping his phone out, handing it to the girl who had captured his attention for the day. You rolled your eyes and began limping back to the car. The pain of the scrape had eased, but you still wanted to clean it when you got home.

“Need help?” Shoko walked up behind you.

“No thanks,” you said softly, wanting to be alone for a bit.

She patted your back and gave you a soft smile before running ahead to jump onto Geto’s back.

"Asshole!” he yelled as he stumbled, trying to find balance.

You smiled at the two and continued your slow pace.

“Pretty girl, wait up." You turned around to see a smiling Gojo chasing you.

You silently cursed yourself at the feeling of your heart skipping a beat because of the nickname he always called you.

You rolled your eyes before turning around. You knew he’d catch up to you with his long legs.

“Hey, what happened? Why are you limping?” His voice was filled with worry.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling the rage suddenly boiling over inside of you.

“Oh wow, now you care." You practically yelled.

He flinched from the sudden outburst. He had never really heard or seen you so angry.

“You promised to teach me how to skate.” Your pointer finger stabbed him in the chest. “You promised to stick with me. You promised to catch me if I fell,” you continued.

His mouth hung open, too surprised to form words to speak.

“I was bleeding from my knee and you were too busy flirting to even notice.”

He stared silently, allowing you to continue.

“You didn��t pay attention to me, not once while we were here, and you now have the nerve to ask what happened?!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and began limping towards the car.

Gojo grabbed your hand, pulling you back to him.

"Wait, I’m sorry.” He gave you a soft pout.

You hated the way his wide eyes had such an effect on you. “I shouldn’t have abandoned you today. I’m a jerk, I’m an asshole, and whatever name you want to call me.” His fingers rubbed circles into your skin as he attempted to ease your anger.

“You are an asshole and a jerk. I’m glad you noticed.” You made an attempt to pull away, but he held your wrist tight.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

“Come back to my place, and I’ll show you.” His arm wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you in close.

You were breathing in his familiar scent. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that it was impossible for him not to hear.

“I don’t care about any of your sleazy tricks, Gojo.”

You pulled away.

“Gojo? What happened to Toru or Pretty Boy?” He was chasing after you pulling you back into him. You didn’t want to feed his ego, not when you were seething with anger.

“Listen, come over tonight, no sleazy tricks, no asshole or jerk Gojo, just me, you, and whatever you want to do. I care about you, and I’m so sorry I made you feel like I didn't. Let me make it up to you.”

He stared at you with a pleading look. His wide eyes held so much desperation as if his world would fall apart if you said no.

"Please,” he begged, waiting for your reply.

You rolled your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“Fine Gojo. I’ll come over.”

You wanted to grab the words as soon as they left your mouth. You should’ve said no. You should’ve stood your ground. You should have made him feel the way he made you feel when he openly flirted in front of you. You wanted to scream because, for some reason, you could never pull away from him. It was as if he held a magnet that you couldn’t help but pull into.

You sat silently in the car, preparing yourself to sit angrily in Gojo’s home. Why even go at this point? Perhaps you knew you were never really angry. More so, you were jealous. Why couldn’t it be you that he wanted to be with all the time? Why couldn’t he whisper sweet nothings into your ear that made you giggle like a schoolgirl? Why couldn’t he just reciprocate your love? It wasn’t that he ‘couldn’t’ he just wouldn’t do it. Part of you knew that, but some part of you still wanted to try.

When Getou pulled up to Gojo’s house, you tried to ignore the disappointed headshake Shoko gave you. You wanted to ignore the insistent feeling of dread bubbling inside you, screaming to get back in the car. You had planned on standing your ground. Of course, you weren’t going to sleep with him. Last time was the last time, and that was final.

“Get comfy, let me go grab some new bandages for your knee.”

You sat on his couch, taking steady breaths. Every time you came here you felt as if it were the first time. Your palms were sweating profusely. Your heart felt like it was seconds away from jumping out of your chest.

Gojo came back with a first-aid kit. His touch was so soft. You couldn't even look at him when you had so many emotions bubbling inside you.

"Gojo,” your call of his name was followed by complete silence as he focused on rubbing ointment on your knee.

"Gojo,” you called out to him louder. You know he could hear you.

"Toru,” you groaned, annoyed with his silence.

“Yes pretty?” He looked up at you with a playful smile.

You give him a pout.

“I- I need to say something." Your face is filled with frustration. You had to get this off your chest.

“I’m all ears.” He finished bandaging your knee and placed a kiss on it to top it off. He sat crisscrossed in front of you, his hand gently rubbing up and down your calf while giving you all his attention.

"Um, well.” You didn't know how to start.

Your attention was all over the place. His hand was still massaging your calf. Your thoughts were tracing back to the events of the day.

“What do you want from me?" You looked down, frustration covering your face.

"How can I show you I love you and you finally understand?” You clenched your jaw while unconsciously caving into yourself.

"I will always love you how I do, but I need you to feel something more for me than just lust." You hadn’t realized the tears that were beginning to fall. Your emotions felt like they were overpowering you. You wanted to scream, Why won't he choose you? You felt so small like the room was slowly growing smaller. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling so vulnerable—too vulnerable.

“I wish you needed me. I want to be your number one,” you whimpered.

Gojo’s palm softly grabbed your face, wiping away your endless stream of tears.

"I—please let me make it up to you. I care about you so much, pretty,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips felt like heaven. He was intoxicating. You breathed him in like a drug that you were unknowingly addicted to. His hands dragged hot trails on your skin as he deepened the kiss. It was filled with fire and passion you could've sworn he was telling you he loved you with his touch alone. You hated how you fell so easily for him. One touch alone, and he left you feeling weak in the knees. You wanted to pull away. When his hands dragged you to his room, you wanted to pull away because last time was the last time. When he dragged his lips down your naked body, apologizing with each kiss, you wanted to pull away. When his fingers peeled your panties down while his eyes focused on your face, watching your every reaction, you wanted to pull away. When his tongue licked between your folds, you knew you were far too deep to pull away.

“Spread your legs for me, baby, let me show you how much I care.” His voice was silky as his warm tongue pressed against your core. You arched your body into him, loving the way his tongue massaged your warmth. Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened. Gojo was eating you out as if he had something to prove. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body impossibly closer. His tongue lapped at your clit at an unrelenting pace. His groans vibrated against your core, leaving you a complete mess. Your hands gripped the sheet desperately, attempting to gather yourself. You were so close.

"Fuck, please- “ Your whimpers were cut off by another moan. Gojo was taking every part of you. The way he slurped your juices left you feeling embarrassed. How could he make you fall apart for him so easily each and every time? He pressed wet kisses to your thighs in between swallowing your essence messily. Your hands moved to his shoulder, clawing desperately. You were stuck between needing him and wanting nothing to do with him.

“Fuck, Toru, I hate you so much” you whined as you grew closer to your orgasm.

It was true. You hated him, every ounce of him. The way he made you feel, the way he could have you wrapped around his finger within seconds, the way he could have you trembling just from his tongue.

You felt like you had no control over your body. You were at his mercy, constantly giving yourself away to him.

"Wait, w-wait Toru” you whined 

He pulled away with a deep breath. His face was drenched with your juices.

“You did so well for me, pretty girl.”

He crawled up to be at eye level with you. His lips pressed against yours, and once again, you were trapped in his soft presence. His hand gripped your waist, holding you in place while he positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel the beating of his heart against your own. It was like a drum to a song you had memorized over and over before.

“You still mad at me?” His voice was lower than before.

Of course, you were. One little orgasm wouldn’t change how you felt. You nodded your head. He rolled his tip against your clit earning a moan. His cock dipped into you, stretching you out with each inch.

“How about now?”

You couldn’t focus on his question. Your mouth hung open as you tried to adjust to his size.

He sat up and pressed your legs to your chest.

“That's okay, baby. Just lay back and let me make you feel good.” His voice was sultry.

Gojo rocked his cock in and out of you, smiling at the way you moaned. His eyes stared down at where the two of you met, captivated by the way you sucked him in.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take this cock. So good for me.” His hands pushed down onto your thighs, folding you so he could have easier access.

The feeling of his cock gliding against your walls left you speechless. Your eyes were rolling back with each thrust. You felt butterflies in your stomach as he whispered how you were his good girl.

His.

Something about that word made you melt.

“Tell me who’s pussy this is."

"Yours,” you moaned, as if it were engraved in you to acknowledge yourself as his.

“It’s your Toru, always,” you whimpered.

You fell for him all over again.

This is the last time. You knew it was a lie.

His hips moved in circular motions as he pushed himself into you.

“You like that, huh?” He knew exactly how to make you feel good. He knew your body better than you.

“You like it when I fuck my pussy, don’t you?” he grunted. "Yeah, you do. Take this cock, baby, it’s all yours.”

Your heart fluttered. You felt a sense of possession as the words spilled past his lips.

"Mine,” you whispered. The words were probably hard for Gojo to hear over his grunts as he plunged his cock into you. “All mine,” you whimpered.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum,” he groaned. “You want my cum, baby? Want me to fill my pretty pussy to the brim?” He said, looking down at your shaking figure.

You were far too gone, still reeling from the possessive words being shared between the two of you.

Gojo thrusted into you sloppily as he neared his orgasm. His thumb circled your clit urging you to another orgasm.

“Make a mess for me, let me see how sloppy my pussy gets.”

You moaned loudly, shaking and shivering, as you were overcome by your orgasm. Your eyes squeezed shut as your juices sprayed against Gojo’s abs while he continued thrusting into you.

"Oh, Fuck Toru,” you whimpered.

Your watery eyes opened to see Gojo’s lust-filled gaze. His lip was pulled between his teeth as he fucked roughly into you, chasing after his orgasm.

“Cum inside of me, Toru. I need it, please." Your pleads were all Gojo needed before spurting his seed into you, whimpering about how good you were for him.

He leaned down into the crook of your neck as his thrust came to a halt. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. His body felt so warm on top of you. Your mind went from a fucked out blur to a mess of thoughts. Your love-struck eyes gazed down at his still form with realization. You were more than just a body he could fuck; at least that’s what you were constantly telling yourself. It was so easy to say these things, but once his lips were on yours and his hands pulling you free from your clothes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put these words into action.

Gojo pulled out of you to lay beside you. He pulled you so you were resting on his chest. You lay silently, staring into the darkness of the room.

You knew this had to be the last time. You knew you had to let go, and you knew you had to forgive yourself for taking so long to let go. You knew it was a bad religion to be in love with the brightest shade of blue. When he pulled out his phone to text the pretty girl from the skate park, asking to hang out with a winky face, you knew he’d never crave your love the way you did.

[devotedfem]

∞ Angel

Synopsis: You always felt protected by your sweet guardian Angel, the issue was, that Seokjin wasn't as pure as you think. Not when you made him fall from grace.

K. Seokjin x f. reader

Genre: guardian angel au | yander-ish

Tags: angel Seokjin, overprotectiveness, sassy Seokjin, captivity, fluff if you squint, yander-ish, angel turning demon.

Patreon for extra content

From the series; otherworldly.

Navigation Masterlist.

The first time you saw him you were 7. You opened your tired sleepy eyes and watch Seokjin with curiosity, getting out of your bed to walk towards him, he widened his eyes with shock at your little steps coming to him near the window.

“Why do you always follow me, mister?” You frowned and pouted your lips, crossing your arms.

“You can see me?” He stared down at you with lifted brows. This shouldn’t happen.

You hummed nodding, smiling big at him, and inviting him to your room to play with you until you fell asleep.

Back then you were so smart, you noticed you were the only one that could watch him. So it became your little secret, because who would believe you if you say you can see your guardian angel and talk to him. You don’t want to look crazy so you never tell anyone.

You only talk back to Seokjin when you two are alone.

And years passed, he became literally your best friend. You grow fond of Seokjin, of his dramas, his sassiness and his protectiveness towards you. Always looking over you like a hawk, not letting anything hurt you. And you knew that guardian angels do that, but sometimes it feels that Seokjin is being a little bit extreme.

“Seokjin come on, it’s just a college party. Stop being so dramatic,” you said rolling your eyes.

You never go to parties because of him, at first you obey Seokjin when he said that there’s a lot of dangers out there, but then you got tired of his attempts of overprotecting you.

You’re an adult now, you should go out and see the world. It was Seokjin’s job to not let anything happen to you anyway. Also, you weren’t stupid, you know what’s dangerous and what it’s not.

“Excuse me,” he gasped offended, floating towards you, “you’re not going to that party, missy. You don’t know how dangerous those parties are, there are a lot of bad things that could happen to you. So don’t be ungrateful when I’m trying to protect you,” he said in a low warning, standing in front of you and staring down at you with his darkening gaze.

You gulped feeling overwhelmed, he sometimes doesn’t act like an angel at all.

“Oh my god! Let me live my life! If something bad happen to me so it be, let me experience those things like normal people do. You have nothing to worry about, please!” you shouted, running your hands through your hair in exasperation.

Seokjin pressed his lips together into a thin line. His blank gaze woke chills on you. You never saw him this serious before.

“You are mine to protect, whether you like it or not. And if I say you won’t go to that party, you won’t,” he growled close your face, gripping your shoulders and making you flinch with genuine worry and fear.

Who does he think he is?

You wiggle away from his grip, with flames of fury rising to your chest.

“I’ll go,” you challenged him with your chin up, turning around towards your door ready to go to that party.

And suddenly, the temperature of the room dropped, freezing you.

Seokjin turned you around roughly, and your lips parted with surprise at the sight of him dropping to the floor for the first time. His feets touching the floor, and his tall frame towered over you.

You watch with deep horror how his wings turned pitch black. You tremble with fear, trying to step back from him but he didn’t let you, he snarled and gripped you near his chest. You watched how his big black wings wrapped you two, darkening your world.

You whimpered with fear, clinging to Seokjin’s body because even though he’s the cause of your fear, he’s your safe place. The one you run to when you’re scared.

He shushed you sweetly, hugging you tightly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you with me to a place where nothing will ever hurt you.” He promised against your ear, his voice sounding darker than before.

And he did take you down with him. Down, down and down. A place where you can’t see anything but him.

Taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison

[nymphoheretic]

˜”°•.˜”°• You're mine now, Private •°”˜.•°”˜

Nymph: Hey! So this is a repost from my old blog that I've edited and added more to it! It's also for @semisgroupie's What's Done in the Dark Collab!

Summary: You decided to join the Marines in efforts to spite a certain blonde Gunnery Sergeant. Little did you know he’d taken an intense desire for you.

CW: Dom!Bakugou, Sub!F reader, Light Bondage, Blindfolds, Gagging, Vibrators, Shower Sex, Masturbation(F receiving), Hand Jobs, Oral Sex (M & F receiving), Vaginal Sex, rough sex, Sex Toys, creampies, squirting , Daddy Kink, Primal Play, Praise, Degradation, Counting, Usage of the nickname “Princess”

Word count: 16.8k

Tags: @katsukichu @bakugosbratx @hvziers @rinnori @sailewhoremoon @babiefwuit @angelltheninth @monaukah @awilddreamermain @tokyometronetwork @suyacho

You walked around aimlessly within the large ballroom that your college had to host the career fair in. You felt slightly overwhelmed by all the booths and panels around you. You were just a general studies major. The jack of all trades, yet master of none. You did not know where you belonged. You glanced over at a booth that held many colorful posters boasting about Telemarketing and how it would be the future of the world and couldn’t help but to scoff slightly.

‘Even I know a cheap hack job when I see one.’ A flash of camo caught your eye and you blinked owlishly at the panel near the center of the crowd. You could barely make any of it out due to the massive swarm of females that were blocking the view, but you did manage to see that it was two men standing in military uniforms. One was cute and had long, bright red hair that was tied up into a neat bun at the nape of his neck, kind red eyes, and a friendly smile.   

The other was a rather handsome man with short cropped yet still spikey blonde hair with an undercut design. His sleeves were tightly rolled up to show off muscular and heavily tattooed arms. His narrowed red eyes seemed to pierce right through anyone who dared to look into them.

You were fidgeting as you read the banner. “The Marines”. You were always a bit hesitant about joining a military branch even though you came from a military family and was a rather strong willed girl. You were graduating soon and did need to find a job, that was the whole reason why you were here at this career fair, but to join such a battle hardened company like the Marines? Did you really want to commit to this? You jumped when a gruff voice called out to you.

“Oi, Dumbass?” The blonde called out.

You looked around for a few seconds before pointing at yourself with a confused look. ‘I know this asshole...’ 

The blonde shot you a cheeky grin as he crossed his arms and motioned for you to move closer. “Yeah, I’m talking to you, Dumbass. Are you going to keep standing over there like a weak little Princess? Or do you want to join the Marines?” He was testing you, you could feel it. He wanted to see if you could handle the disrespect that would come out of the mouth of a Drill Instructor.

With a renewed fire in youreyes, you pushed a girl out of yourway and squared up to the blonde. “Who do you think you are?”

“Gunnery Sergeant Katsuki Bakugou.” He said smugly, his lips curled up into a smirk that you wanted to smack off his face. “So what’ll it be, dumbass? You think you got what it takes to be a marine?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sneer on your face as you stared him directly in the eyes. “Depends, Gunny, can you handle me being in the marines? They don’t usually let Drill Instructors be recruiters.” you smiled when his eyes widened slightly in surprise at your knowledge. You were a proud Military brat so you knew the lingo and the attires. You spotted the wide large brown brimmed hat that all Drill Instructors would wear during boot camp.

Katsuki smiled as he leaned forward slightly, towering over your smaller frame standing in front of him. “Not bad for a dumbass.” He then reached for the pamphlet resting on the table that separated the two of you. “Fill this out and come by the office when you’re done. I’ll make a woman out of you, Recruit.”

“I’m already too much of a woman for you, Gunnery Sergeant.” you took the pamphlet from his hands, but you did not expect him to grab your wrists and pull you as close as he could with the table separating you two. 

“Careful, Recruit. I may just end up being your Drill Instructor. And I won’t go easy on a dumbass like you.” His warm breath fanned over you, causing heat to burn at your face.

Carefully, you took your wrist back, but only because you knew he allowed you to. (His grip was strong and his hands were so large compared to your thin wrists). You curled your lips up into a catty smile as you began to walk away, making sure you did a perfect half-right turn like your dad taught you. “Only time will tell, Sir. I will see you in the Recruiter’s office at 0800 sharp tomorrow.” You gave the blonde a perfect salute before walking away.

Bakugou watched the small woman walk away from the booth, a smirk twitching at his lips. He crossed his arms back over his chest as he leaned back against the wall as his eyes followed you. You were certainly a bratty little future recruit.

He’d enjoy breaking you down and making you cry once you were in his company boot camp. He nudged his partner who was flirting with some random girl. “Oi, shitty hair.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes as he excused himself from the girl he was talking about. “Sir?” He grimaced slightly at calling his best friend so formally, but Bakugou was a higher rank than he was. He frowned when he noticed that the blonde was watching the young woman he’d just handed a pamphlet to. But then a smile crossed his face as a thought struck him. “You want to break her, don’t you?”

“Make sure she’s in my company once her profile is complete, Kirishima.” Katsuki said as he pivoted on his right foot in a clean half right and walked off without another word. He would break the brattiness out of that cute future recruit. He licked his lips in anticipation of seeing you  again the following morning for your interview. “You really think you’re too much of a woman for me, Princess? We will see indeed.”

-0-0-0

You woke the next day at 0715 and quickly got ready for your interview with that cocky asshole of a Marine Recruiter. When you had told your dad over the phone that you had decided to join the Marines, he’d scoffed while making a joke about how his “Squid-raised” daughter was turning into the enemy branch.

You knew that your father was holding out on the dream that you would follow in his footsteps and join the Navy, but that just never called out to you like the Marines did. A little evil voice in the back of your head told you that you were only interested because of the Gunnery Sergeant.

“Hell no, I’m not joining for that bastard!” you slapped your hands against your cheeks as you finished washing your face and brushed your teeth. You decided to wear one of your dad’s Navy t-shirts and a pair of cute denim shorts that showed off your legs and hugged your figure quite nicely. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you realized what you were doing. 

You growled, “Dammit! I am not attracted to that man!” You checked your watch and saw that it was 0745. You needed to leave now to be on time cause in the military being early meant you’re on time, on time means you’re late. And you were not about to give that man the satisfaction of calling you out on practicality. 

You got into your car and drove to the recruiter’s office in less than five minutes. Double checking to make sure you had everything you needed to sign up, you got out. Walking up to the office, you drew in a deep calming breath to calm your suddenly frayed nerves.

What were you nervous about? It was just a meeting to talk over your enlistment. You may not even run into that cocky blonde asshole of a Gunny. Glancing down at your watch, you saw that it was 0755 and you needed to get inside or you’d be late.

Opening the door, you were greeted with a friendly smile. “Hey there! You must be the new recruit, Bakugou was going on about yesterday.” It was the redhead that was at the career fair. “I’m Sergeant Eijiro Kirishima, nice to meet you.” He reached out with a hand as a greeting.

You returned his kind smile with one of your own. At least this one was not a cocky sonovbitch like Gunny Katsuki Bakugou. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m-”

Kirishima raised his hand to stop you as he grinned widely. “Oh, I already know your name, but for now, I’m just gonna call you “Tiny”.” He laughed when you gave him an annoyed look. What was with these Marine buffoons and never wanting to call new recruits by their real names?

You let out a huff and crossed your arms before walking over to the desk where Kirishima was standing next to. Looking up at him curiously when You noticed that he had yet to sit down, You arched a brow. “Aren’t you going to conduct my interview, Sergeant?” You nearly jumped out of your skin when someone suddenly clamped a firm hand on your shoulder. 

“Oi, Dumbass, you really came.” 

Your annoyance increased tenfold when you recognized that voice behind you. You quickly grabbed the hand on your shoulder and tried to remove it. You failed when he tightened his grip on you, causing you to grimace slightly. “Of course I came, Gunnery Sergeant. I am interested in becoming a Marine.”

Bakugou squeezed your shoulder tightly once more before moving to sit down in the chair behind the desk. His vermillion eyes scanned over you as you stared just as intensely as he was at you. “You’re dismissed, Kirishima. I’ve got this one.” He growled when his subordinate tried to protest slightly. “I said you’re dismissed, Sergeant! Don’t make me repeat myself, shitty hair!”

Kirishima was a bit surprised at how possessive Bakugou was towards this recruit. Usually they would share new female recruits, but it would seem as if Katsuki had no intention of letting this one go. Looking back over at you sitting in the chair, Kirishima sighed out dejectedly. You were a cute little thing, too. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Giving his commanding officer a salute and retreated to the back room.

“You enjoyed asserting your authority, didn’t you?” You said, rolling your eyes when he smirked down at him. You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to seem indifferent to him and that cocky ass smile on his face. When that did not work, you leaned over and grabbed your paperwork to hand to Bakugou. 

Your back stiffened when his fingers grazed over yours when he took the packet from you. You quickly snatched your hand back and held it to your chest, your heart racing slightly.

Katsuki smirked as he looked down at you. You were being so coy now that you two were the only ones in the room. He scanned over your attire and frowned when he noticed that you were wearing a navy T-shirt.

 Flipping through your paperwork, he saw that your father is a Navy veteran. “Tch, your dad was a Squid, no wonder you’re such a brat, dumbass.”

You let out a huff at the name he called me. “Look here asshole, do not insult my dad.” He could talk down about you all he liked, but no one and you meant no one was allowed to talk shit about your dad. Glancing back up at him, you drew in a sucking breath when you saw that he was staring at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Like he was the hunter and you were the prey. “You don’t scare me, Sir. I am a Navy brat and I know how you Marines are.” 

Bakugou crossed his fingers and placed them under his nose, tilting his head slightly. “Who said I want you to be afraid, little recruit?” His eyes never left yours and he could see the confusion wavering in those eyes of yours. Eyes of a bratty little prey that he wanted to put in your place. “Anyway, Dumbass, why do you want to join?” He stared at you intently, carefully judging you  as you took in another breath.

“Sir, I come from a heavily influenced Military family. My dad was part of the Navy, mother from the Air Force and I have two brothers, both in the Coast Guard.” you answered, never breaking away from his predatory gaze even though you wanted to shy away, but you never backed down from a challenge. “I am a strong willed person who can handle anything dished out to you and I will never back down from a challenge. I will serve my country beyond my abilities.” 

A feral looking smile spread over the Gunny’s lips as he placed his hands down on the desk, long fingers splayed. “Never back down from a challenge, eh?” He rose to his feet slowly, his eyes locked with yours as he watched you shrink back when he stood to his full height. His smile curled up more when you hopped out of your seat as he stalked closer to you . “Little recruit, I thought you said you don’t back down?”

You could feel your body starting to tremble as you took several steps back to avoid the blonde as he advanced on you. You felt like a rabbit waiting to be devoured by a hungry wolf. It was not until your back touched the wall did you realize that you were trapped. 

“Sir, what are you doing?” Your breath hitched when he slammed his hands against either side of your head and your hand came up to clutch at your chest. Why did you feel so small around him right now? 

“Come now, little recruit.” He said as he leaned down on his elbows, his hot breath fanning out over your face. “Where are those nerves of steel you had yesterday? You can see you trembling. All talk no bite, dumbass?” 

Bakugou reached out and cupped your chin in his fingers, tilting your face upward so that you were staring into his eyes. “Or was all that the Squid in you. You were such a little brat.” He slid his knee in between your legs, pressing up against your crotch.

A small whimper left your throat as you tried to turn your head away from him. “Sir, this is inappropriate.”

Bakugou leaned in closer, his scent overpowering your senses. “What is, Princess?” His lips were just a breath away before he pulled away with a cocky laugh. He moved his knee away from your  legs and moved to sit back at his desk.

“I like you, little recruit.” Katsuki folded his hands under his nose once more as he analyzed the young woman. Your face was still slightly flushed and your hand still clutched your chest while the other was pressed tightly against the wall. “I’ll schedule your swearing in for next month.” 

He grabbed a pen and began filling out some information in a small folder that was next to your  paperwork.

You blinked in confusion. What the fuck just happened? Did he do all of this just to fluster you? You could feel your anger start to get the best of you as you marched over to where the arrogant male sat and pointed your finger at him. “You ass! Don’t you ever pull some shit like that ever again. I am not some little toy that you can play with.” His laugh caught you off guard.

“On the contrary, little recruit. Once you’re in boot camp, heh, your ass is mine.” His eyes narrowed in challenge as he dared you to question him. 

Your eyes narrowed in challenge, glaring at him. “I belong to no one, sir. Just try to make me.” With those words said, you gathered your things and exited the building. “I will see you at training, Gunnery Sergeant Bakugou.”

-0-0-0

The following month seemed to fly by. You had spent time with your family and friends as they all prepared themselves for your inevitable departure to Parris Island, South Carolina.  You hadn’t heard anything from that arrogant ass Katsuki Bakugou since that incident at the recruiter’s office. Your face still flushed every time you thought about how close he was to me. You could literally smell the bitter chocolate scent of the cologne he wore and feel his hot breath against your lips. You quickly slapped your cheeks. “Get it together, girl! You do not want that asshole! He insulted Dad.” But an evil sounding voice in the back of your head told you that you indeed did want the blonde and wanted him bad.

“Fuck it all to hell.” You cursed when your  phone started ringing loudly on your  desk. Who could be calling me? You told everyone that you would be busy this week in preparation for you swearing into the Marines. Glancing down at the screen, you saw that it was a number you did not recognize. “Hello?”

“Oi, dumbass. You ready for departure?”

You instantly pulled the phone away from your ear as shock registered on your  face. How in the hell...Oh? The paperwork had your number on it. “With all due respect Sir, kindly fuck off, I’m busy.”

“Is that any way to talk to the man who changed your life?”  His voice was a slight mocking sounding laugh. 

Your blood was boiling. You could not stand this arrogant man! Screw what that evil little voice said. “Get off my line, Gunny.” You then promptly hung up in his face. Feeling quite satisfied with what you had done. You got back to work with filling out all the appropriate paperwork you would need for swearing in. You felt mentally prepared, now to work on your physical condition. 

You considered yourself rather fit, as you did go to the gym about four times a week and go to a high intensity cardio class twice a week. But you knew that the training under the Drill Instructors was going to be brutal as they weed out the weaklings and only accept the mentally, emotionally, and physically strong.

You dug around your closet for your workout mat and quickly began doing multiple sets of push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, jumping jacks, up and down planks and other various workouts. Once you were done, you decided that you would go for a run knowing that running was going to be a huge part of everything especially during phases one through three. Grabbing your phone, headphones and fitbit, you left your apartment.

Running felt good. The air was cool with the approach of fall and although you dreaded doing all this training during the winter, you knew that it would only motivate you to work even harder. You knew that you would have to run both a 5k and 8K hike during week one so you pushed yourself to run at least a 10K, making sure that you stuck to more off road trails to simulate the uneven terrain that was going to be the beaten path. 

Sweat ran down your body by the time you were finished and you were exhausted. But you felt amazing. You accomplished your goal of running a 10K hike. It only took the whole month! And just in time too. You swore in in three days. Meaning...You’d have to see Katsuki Bakugou again due to him being your recruiter. You were dreading that. You hoped he would behave himself in front of your family. Only the Gods knew with that man. 

After reaching your apartment, you quickly hopped in the shower to wash the sweat and grime off of your body. You loved getting clean, but you knew after you swore in it would only be a matter of time until you would not be able to enjoy such long hot showers for about thirteen weeks. ‘Ugh, I’m so not looking forward to that part of boot camp.’ you reached for your favorite shampoo and washed your hair quickly before rinsing off and getting out. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you left the bathroom and laid out on your bed. “I am making the right choice, right, Dad?” Your eyes felt heavy as sleep overcame you.

-0-0-0

You drew in a calming breath as you tried to not fidget with the bottom of your skirt. Today was the day. Today was your swearing in and then you would get your departure date. You could only hope that they would wait a few months so you could spend more time with your family. Your dad’s health was not the best after years of working on the Navy Ship’s engines and you wanted to be close to him for a bit longer.

“You nervous, Squirt?” you heard your dad call out as his hand landed on yours to give it a comforting squeeze. “You can always back out and join the Navy like your old man?”

Laughing at your dad’s attempt to have you change branches like he’s been doing since you told him you were enlisting in the Marines. “No, Dad. For the last time, I’m not joining the Navy just so you can brag to your buddies that your little girl is following in your footsteps.” you flashed him a reassuring smile. “I really do want to join the Marines and serve this country beyond my own expectations. I won’t let the Drill Instructors intimidate me into quitting.”

“Is that right, little recruit?”

Your back crawled at the sound of that, now, very familiar gruff voice that could only belong to Katsuki Bakugou. “Gunnery Sergeant Bakugou,” you placed a fake smile on your face as you extended your hand out for him to take. “How are you today, sir?”

Bakugou stared at your extended hand for a few moments before arching a blonde brow. “That is not how you greet a commanding officer.” His lips curled up into a snarky smile when you blushed and quickly tried to change your greeting to a salute. “Calm down, recruit. You’re not at boot camp yet.” He glanced over at your family that had come to witness your swear in ceremony. “You must be the family she boasted so much about. I’m Gunnery Sergeant Katsuki Bakugou, the man who’s stealing your daughter away.”

You sucked your teeth at the way he said that last line. He was not stealing you away! Crossing your arms over your chest you rose to your feet and introduced your family. “Sir, This is my Dad, a retired Petty Officer 3rd Class. My mother, a retired Senior Airwoman.” 

You smiled as you glanced down at your two brothers. They were the ones who were most excited for you to enlist in the Marines, although they hated the fact their little sister was stronger than them. “And these are my brothers, both Lieutenants in the Coast Guard.” 

Dad rose to his feet and gripped Katsuki’s extended hand and clapped him on the back. “Nice to meet the recruiter that managed to convert my Squid raised daughter to enlist?” 

Bakugou returned the gesture, clapping the older man’s back. “Likewise.” He cut his eyes over towards his little recruit and signaled with his head for them to follow after him. “If you’ll follow after me, I’ll take you to where the swearing in ceremony will be held after that she will learn her departure date.” He shot you a smirk that he thought only you could see, but your father’s watchful eyes caught it.

Your back stiffened when you saw the smile that was sent your way. Cocky asshole. You blinked when your dad grabbed your hand and squeezed it. Did he see the look Bakugou gave you? 

No. 

You shook your head. He could not have or he would have said something to your brothers. You followed the Gunnery Sergeant to the back room where there were three other people there waiting to be sworn in as well.

The ceremony lasted about thirty minutes and you were allowed to take pictures afterward. Mom cried when she heard you recite your oath, your brothers were grinning as they watched you salute the General, and Dad simply was watching Katsuki with a stern look on his face, but clapped when the ceremony ended. 

After everything ended, you followed the General to sign your contract that would bind you to the Marines for a minimum of four years if you did not fail boot camp.

Katsuki leaned back against the wall, his eyes following after his little recruit as he watched you sign the papers that would allow him to do whatever he wanted for thirteen weeks. Sure, he’ll have to pull a few strings and get yelled at by his superiors, but he would make sure that you would be put into his platoon and that he would be your drill instructor.

He grunted when someone placed their hand on his shoulder and he noticed that it was the retired squid. “Can I help you, sir?”

“You’ve been staring intently at my daughter for a while now, Gunny.” Dad replied quietly, not to alert his sons of the situation. “What are you planning with her?”

“Heh, with all due respect, sir, what I have planned for my training of making your daughter into the perfect Marine soldier is private information.” He said with a slight smirk, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest with a blonde brow raised. “But I promise you she’ll be in good hands, sir.” His smile widened just a bit at the double meaning to his words that seemed to calm your father. 

If only he really knew of the plans he had for the little dumbass.

-0-0-0

A month. You were given only another month to spend with your family. You finished school and graduated top of your class. And now you are spending your last few days of civilian life in your apartment. You had already prepared myself for the nearly three months away from family and friends. You told your landlord that this would be your last week here and she was kind enough to let you stay rent free for this last month.

You packed your rucksack with only the necessary items i.e. travel sized things that will only get tossed after receiving week. You sighed as you remembered your Dad’s words. He told you to be careful around Gunny Bakugou and he really did not have to tell you that. You were already going to avoid him like the plague although that little voice in the back of your head told you that you liked this game of cat and mouse you were playing with Katsuki. 

...And it was right. The more you tried to deny your attraction to the blonde, the stronger it got. But you would not let him distract you from your goal.

Deciding to go for one last run before you were shipped off to South Carolina, you grabbed your phone and headphones and took off.

-0-0-0

It was time. You were on the long white bus heading towards Parris Island. It was late at night and most of the other recruits were trying to get the last bit of sleep that they could, but you could not.Your nerves were too frayed. What if Katsuki was your Drill Instructor? But he’s also your recruiter? Is there not some military code that disallows that? You buried your hands into your hair and pulled. “Ugh! Stupid asshole!”

“Woah, Dollface, what’s got you so uptight?”

You turned at the sound of the voice and saw that it came from a young man with bright red hair and stunning turquoise eyes. You sighed and removed your hands from your head, before shaking it. “It’s nothing that concerns you.” You frowned when you realized that he had called you a doll. “And who are you calling a dollface, redhead?”

He chuckled as he lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, bad habit of mine to give cute girls nicknames. “I’m Touya Todoroki, but a girl like yourself gets to call me Dabi.” he sent you a flirty wink and smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you held out your hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Dabi.” Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of the nasty burn scars that lined up his arms and you could not stop the gasp that left you. Realizing what you had done, you started apologizing immediately. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.”

Dabi cracked a slow smile that pulled at the corners of his cheeks. “No worries, Baby girl. I’ve got more scars if you wanna oogle them too.” He laughed when you punched him on the arm. Grimacing playfully as he rubbed the sore spot your strike caused, Dabi was slightly surprised at your strength. “Damn, Dollface, you’re strong.”

You sent him a smile and started to reply when the bus came to a startling halt, nearly causing you to be ejected from your seat. Your heart began to beat a mile a minute when the first gruff voices of the Drill Instructors began barking out demands for you to get off the bus. You quickly made a beeline for the center aisle because rule number one of boot camp: Never be the last person off the bus. You will get slayed. You felt bad for leaving Touya behind but it was every person for themselves from now on. As you rushed to get into formation you ran into something solid.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going, Private!”

A chill went down your spine as you immediately recognized the voice. It belonged to the one man you both were dreading and elated to see. Gunnery Sergeant Katsuki Bakugou. Steeling your face into a neutral expression with a blank look in your eyes, you saluted, “Sir, I apologize, sir!” you withheld a gasp of surprise when his hands snaked out and grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. Damn him! He was using the rush of chaos that was receiving week to camouflage what he was planning.

Bakugou pulled his prey closer to him, slightly thankful that Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero were his fellow underlings and would turn a blind eye to what he was doing to his new little private. “I told you, dumbass. Your ass is mine now.” His hands tightened around your waist when you tried to pull away. “Oh no, princess. You’re not getting away that easily.”

You kept a blank face as you tried to pull away from his strong grip. “Sir, I’d like to get to in-processing now.” A blush warmed your face when his fingers dug into your flesh and yanked you even closer to his chest. You placed your hands against him to prevent your face from colliding with his. 

Big mistake on your part. 

You nearly melted from the feeling of those strong muscles of his under your fingertips. ‘Fucking hell...Muscles are my weakness...’ You shook your head when you felt your expression trying to change. “Sir, I am asking you to let me go through in-processing. It is very late and will take a very long time with how many of us there were on the bus.”

“Tch...” Katsuki scoffed as he knew his time was running out. Kirishima and the others would not be able to buy him much more time. “Okay, Dumbass. You go do your in-processing, but remember for the next thirteen weeks, heh, I’ve got plans for you, Princess. Got it, Private?” He said in a commanding voice, smirking as he knew that you would have to do everything he said. When you replied with a dry “Aye, sir.” Bakugou grabbed your wrist. “One more thing, Private.” Twirling you around, he pressed his lips against yours in an intense, passionate kiss.

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

That was all that was going through your mind as you felt the Gunny’s lips on yours. Your heart was racing a mile a minute as you debated whether you wanted to grab that blonde head of hair and pull him closer or to bite his lip to get him the fuck off of you. His tongue took advantage of your open mouth and snuck inside to wrap around your own. A low soft moan rumbled in the back of your throat at his flavor. Bakugou tasted surprisingly sweet like he had eaten some kind of caramel candy. But before you could respond, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

Bakugou released you, stunned, with a sly look on his face. He ran his tongue over his lips slowly. “I’ll be taking a lot more than a kiss next time, little Dumbass.”

-0-0-0

For the next few weeks, you’ve been on your toes whenever Bakugou was around. There were a few times where he’d managed to trap you. Each time kissing you and his hands wandering a bit further each time. You could feel yourself anticipating his next attempt and was starting to lose focus on your training. I’ve gotten slain so many times by other Drill Instructors that my muscles were beyond exhausted. You even got your whole platoon slain due to you laughing at something Dabi had said. And it was by Bakugou no less. 

You had let out a very short, barely there laugh when Dabi commented on how Kaminari seemed to always go into a stupid daze when Jirou was around. Your back immediately stiffened when you heard Katsuki call out your last name with a certain sternness to his voice. You’ve learned to differentiate the tones to his voice. That level of sterness was meant as a warning for you. As those vermillion colored eyes landed on you, you knew what was about to happen and sent Dabi a mental apology.

“Private Todoroki, want to tell me what was so goddamn funny that this little dumbass had to laugh?” Bakugou stepped up to the redhead’s face, their noses nearly touching as he glared into the man’s blue eyes.

Dabi said nothing as he rolled his eyes. “It was nothing, Sir. Just said an observation, Sir.” He scooted back discreetly and moved just a bit closer to the woman he’s set his sights on.

Bakugou eyed the new recruit standing way too close to his prey. The smug looking bastard had the audacity to question him! "Oi, Burnt looking bitch, you will respect my authority! And I'm giving you orders to shut the hell up!" An evil smile crossed his lips and a vile thought entered his mind. 

Time to slay them. 

“Better yet!!” He yelled, his eyes gleaming as he witnessed the slight shoulder drop of the whole platoon. "Too easy. Half right face! Front leaning rest position! In cadence! Move!" Bakugou watched with mild glee as he watched the frustrated look on his Princess's face as he slowly counted out each up and down movement, making sure to make them wait for thirty seconds on the up. 'Maybe that will teach her to be so close to that burnt asshole.'

You groaned as you did the push ups as the Gunny crossed his arms, staring down at you. He was purposely slowing down the count and was also not counting certain ones. He then made you all  do Iron walks all the way back to the barracks. Your legs and thighs were screaming at this point and all you wanted to do was shower and lay down to prepare for the next day. Because tomorrow was the start of swim week. You’ve up put with Katsuki’s slow burn torture for over a month now. And you've caught yourself thinking about him way too often. 

Sure, he was an insufferable asshole, but he was an asshole with the softest pair of lips and the most sinful of touches. You knew the next time he’d caught you in a trap, you may just break and give into his seduction. You were starting to like the Gunnery Sergeant and you knew you were tempting fate because he would soon be your superior (which you think he’d like due to his superiority complex), but you did not care. That little voice in the back of your head was right. You did want him.

You waited until you were able to be the last person to take a shower and let the lukewarm water soothe your aching body. It did not help that all those teasing touches Bakugou does is leaving you with pent up desires. That was the main downside of being a woman in boot camp, there was no way to relieve any type of tension. The guys could make jack off socks, but you women were out of luck. ...But you had to try. You needed to release some of this pressure that the Gunny had built up in you or else you’d go insane.

Peaking your head out of the shower, you scanned the area and saw that there were only a few loose stragglers. You had a few minutes before Jirou came in to make sure the entire bay was in bed. So, you need to be quick. Softly, you trailed my fingers along the front of my body, skimming over my nipples and tugging at them briefly. You tried to mimic the way Katsuki’s rough fingers would touch you. You twisted a bit more roughly than you would usually and had to bite back the loud moan that escaped. “Yes...” you hissed. “Katsuki...”

Knowing that my time was coming to an end, you quickly touched my slickened slit and rubbed at the hard bundle of nerves. You were grateful for the water as it made it easier for you to quickly glide your fingers into your quivering hole. You rode your fingers hard as you tried to bring myself to completion before Drill Instructor Jirou caught you still in the shower with your fingers up your cunt. Within minutes you came, your legs shaking as you let out a broken sounding moan of Bakugou’s name.

Your embarrassment was instant. You quickly cleaned up and washed everything within seconds. You could not believe you just did that while thinking about Katsuki Bakugou no less! But...you could feel the heat swimming in my cheeks, you could not deny it anymore. 

You wanted him. 

“Fuck...” you whispered as you got out of the shower and dried off. You changed into your PTs for bed and hurried out. You just barely made it to your bunk when the Drill Instructor came in. Your eyes widened when you realized that it was not Jirou as usual but Katsuki.

Bakugou walked into the barracks, his hands behind his back as he scanned over the beds. His slow methodical footsteps echoed through the bay area. He was on a prowl, looking for anyone who dared to have anything out of place, but he was also seeking out a certain little Princess who got a bit naughty. He’d overheard yourr little escapade while you were in the shower. Hearing his little recruit moan out his name in that sweet voice of yours was such a goddamn turn on. He stopped when he reached the foot of your bunk.

You quickly close your eyes and tried to feint sleep when you heard Bakugou’s boots stop at yor bed. Sweet mercy, you prayed that he did not by chance hear you outside the barracks. Even if the water was loud enough to muffle your cry from the inside, you knew that you were in the shower closest to the window. Your face grew even hotter when you felt the tips of his fingers graze the top of your feet before slowly moving upward. You struggled to remain still even as those firm caresses reached my upper thighs. By the time you felt them ghosting over your sex, you were already wet again.

The Gunney smirked down at his captive, happy for the darkness of the barracks to conceal him and that you had chosen the last bunk. “You naughty little private.” His voice rumbled from his chest as he leaned down to growl in your ear. “Were you fucking touching yourself while thinking about me?” 

Bakugou chuckled as he watched your face scrunch up in embarrassment. He moved his fingers to cup your sex through the blanket, grinding his palm against your clit and causing you to gasp out. “Quiet, Dumbass. Don’t want the others to hear you.” His lips curled into an evil little smirk. “Not quite how I’d imagine hearing you moan my name for the first time but, heh, it was fucking hot, Princess.”

You let out a quiet whimper when he pressed his hand down harder against your dripping sex. Fuck, you wanted him to touch you directly and not over these blankets. You wanted him to kiss you so you could taste more of that sweet caramel flavor of his favorite candy on his tongue. You wanted to run your fingers through those soft looking blonde spikes as he took advantage of you. “Sir...” you let out a soft whisper before he placed a finger against your lips.

“Soon, Private, very soon.” The look on his face held the promise as his crimson eyes bore down into yours. “You will be mine. Until then how about I give you a little sample of what’s to come?” He arched a blonde brow as his lips curled up into a feral smirk at your confused look on your face. Bakugou curled his fingers inward, digging them into your center. “Do you want it, Princess?”

Your body was visibly shaking with anticipation. You wanted to touch him so badly, but my hands were spasming under the sheets from his hot touch. “Yes, sir, I want it, please.” Your voice came out in a breathy plea. You wanted, no you needed more. To feel him, to touch him, to become one with him. Although you knew that Katsuki would not be a gentle lover. You’ve experienced his hard touches so much that your body was used to them. You saw the slow smirk that spread over his lips at your nod. And then the sound of a zipper echoed in your ears. ‘He wouldn’t?!’

Katsuki watched the surprised look on your face as he tugged down his zipper. He leaned over and pressed his lips against hers as he pulled out his semi-hard cock. His hand stroked down the length, his mind replaying the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name. He felt himself harden fully as his eyes slid closed and swept his tongue between your parted lips. His fingers grinded harder over your clothed crotch as he stroked himself faster, smearing his pre-cum around the thick, swollen head. “Fuck, you’re such a naughty little Princess.”

You wanted to touch him. You wanted to touch him so badly. Even in the darkness of the barracks you could tell that Katsuki was long and thick. Fuck. You let out another moan muffled by his kiss. Slowly to not draw attention to yourself, you reached out for him. You felt his jump in surprise when your nail grazed the tip of his cock before your hand wrapped around the thick shaft.You was right. The Gunny was thick, so thick that your hand could barely wrap around it fully. You stroked him firmly as his tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you as his. You could feel his pre-cum smearing over your hand with each upward pull.

To say he was surprised that his little private touched him was not the furthest from the truth. He had slowly been training you to respond to his touches. But damn did it feel great to have your small, yet rough hand on his cock stroking him so earnestly. He pulled away from your sweet lips to let out a grunt as he felt his release coming. “Damn it, Private. You’re trying to milk me for all I’ve got?”

 Katsuki wanted to rip that thin blanket off of you and shove his hand down your shorts to touch you directly, but he knew that you would scream out if he did that. And he did not want Jirou to catch him inside the women’s barracks this late when all he was supposed to do was a bed check. He curled his fingers in deeper, pressing them tightly against your throbbing clit while he cut off your gasp with his mouth pressing against yours. 

The rush of liquid that left you when his strong fingers ran over your sensitive nerves made you dizzy and you could barely register the wet feeling of his cum against the top of your fist. As you were reveling in your high, you came to a realization. He’d made you cum without touching you directly. 

This man was the devil. 

You pulled your hand away when he moved away from your mouth. If he wants to be a devil, then you can show him a demoness. “Bet you’re tasty.” While looking him directly in the eyes, you stuck out your tongue and licked your hand clean.You were surprised at how sweet it tasted. He must eat plenty of fruits as well as that sweet caramel candy he loved. 

Bakugou’s eyes widened briefly before a feral grin overtook his features. “Not bad at all, Princess.” 

-0-0-0

It was finally swim week. You’ve actually been dreading this week. You may be a Navy brat with Coast Guard brothers, but you can barely swim to save your own life. No matter how hard my dad and brother tried to teach me, you just could not get swimming down. 

Your mom often joked it was because you belonged in the sky like her. But you just think it was that you were just not a swimmer. You looked down at the large pool with slight fear in your eyes as you could feel every pound of the heavy gear we had to wear.

“Alright, you unmanly weaklings!” Kirishima barked out. “Today you will learn how to survive in the water!” He smiled, teeth gleaming sharply in the dimmed lighting of the pool house. This was his favorite week to train. Kiri loved being in the water more than anything. “You will learn to tread water while in full combat gear! You will also use issued epiquitment to stay afloat and shed your equipment while still in the water.” He held up a stopwatch, his smile still in place even as his red eyes shined with an evil glare. “Oh and you will only have fifteen minutes to do it all. If you cannot do it you will be dismissed from boot camp!”

Shock ran down your spine. Dismissed? Fuck. Your. Life. You adjusted the heavy pack on your shoulders and repositioned your helmet. Fifteen minutes. You can stay afloat about twenty on your own. So you quickly calculated the extra weight and it came to about fifty extra pounds on you. ‘I can do this.’ you patiently waited in line, your eye catching a flash of blonde hair and your body instantly warmed. He was watching you. That gave you a slight confidence boost knowing that he was there.

You could not explain why you felt better with the thought that Bakugou was watching me. How did you go from not standing that man to wanting him to ravage you so badly it hurt? You drew in a calming breath when you locked eyes with him and he gave you that little smirk that has begun to grow on me. When they called your name, you took another deep breath and jumped. The water was cold and instantly began trying to drag me to the bottom. You had to claw your way up to the surface and slowly began to kick your feet and wave your arms to tread the water.

“Oi, Dumbass. Catch!”

A long floatation device smacked you in the head as you were treading causing you to lose focus and you began to sink. Desperate to remain here in boot camp, you struggled back to the surface launching towards the floatation device. Once you had it secured under one of your arms, you began shedding the heavy equipment down to just your military green t-shirt, camos, and boots. Quickly you swam over to the other edge of the large pool and pulled yourself up out of the water. 

“Time!” You heard Kirishima call out. “13:45!”

 You beamed brightly. You did it. Youfucking did it! You glanced over at Katsuki to see the tiniest of smirks on his face as his eyes gleamed. He was proud that you would be able to continue boot camp. You felt my racing heart finally ease into a normal pace as you grabbed the towel that Jirou had set out for you. As you walked back to the door, you could hear the Drill Instructors yelling at a few other recruits who were taking up a lot of time just trying to tread water. You could only hope they weren’t part of your platoon. You did not feel like getting slayed today. You were exhausted.

But it was no such luck. Dabi was one of the recruits that was getting yelled at by the Drill Instructors so of course, our entire squad got slayed...in the fucking sand pit while we were still wet from the pool. Jirou and Kaminari kept us out in the sand pit for hours, calling out push ups, sit ups, burpees, high knees, every single type of plank and squats. 

You were caked in dirt and grime by the time of it all it was over. You had sand in places you did not even want to describe. The sun had already set by the time Jirou and Kaminari let you all go, so it was also freezing. Wrapping your arms around your wet body, you hurried to your barracks.

You let out a surprised yelp when someone caught you by the waist and quickly covered your mouth with their hand. While you wanted to flip the person over your shoulder, your  body seemingly melted into their touch. It was not until that familiar gruff voice rumbled in your ears, did you realize who had captured you. “Drill Instructor, sir, what are you doing?” you questioned, trying to pull away so that you would not dirty his pristine camo uniform.

Bakugou leaned over you, his hair tickling your forehead. “There will be a line for the showers at your barracks. Come on, Private.” He wrapped his large hand around your wrist and pulled you alongside him. You moved in the opposite direction of yourplatoon’s barracks and closer to the Drill Instructors' personal barracks. An area where you, privates, are not allowed to go. “What are you waiting for, Dumbass? Get inside before someone sees you!”

You swallowed dryly as you stepped into Katsuki’s private quarters. Why were you here? You could have waited to shower or atleast scrubbed off some of the sand and grime off your body in the sink. “Sir,” you said in a quiet, nervous voice, “Why am I here? I need to get back to my barracks before Drill Instructor Jirou notices.”

A feral smile spread over his lips as he stalked towards his prey. His eyes gleamed as he watched you take a step back every time he moved closer until you were pressed against the wall. “Private...” Katsuki growled out. “You know why you’re here. Don’t act like a dumbass.” He slammed his hands on either side of your head when he saw that you were contemplating your escape. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to your dusty ones, not caring that he would taste the sand covering them. “You think you're dirty now, recruit? Get in that shower and I'll show you just how dirty I can make you.”

Your eyes widened as you nodded your head, a sudden wave of nervousness washing over you. Were you really about to do this? Were you really prepared for this? That evil little voice in the back of your head was rejoicing and telling you to just indulge in your desires. Desires that only Katsuki Bakugou would quench. With that confidence boost, you slowly began to peel off your wet, sand covered clothing as he watched with eager eyes. 

“Do you like what you see, Sir?” you taunted as you walked into the bathroom. “If you want it, just try and come and take it.” With those words floating through the air, you started up the shower and began rinsing away the sand and grime that coated your body.

Bakugou felt his lips spread even further at your taunting. Oh, he would enjoy breaking you and making you into a Princess meant just for him. He would fuck the attitude right out of that little recruit. But he will make you wait and anticipate him for a while. Then he would pounce. Walking over to his bed, he opened the top draw of the bedside table and pulled something out. Another wicked smile curled at his lips as he set the items down on the bed. Oh, it was going to be a very long night for his little naughty Princess. 

You were nearly finished with your shower and were just enjoying the warm water like you did when you were back at home. ‘Guess he was all talk, no bite.’ you laughed to yourself as you allowed the water to run down your face as you scrubbed it with a towel. You let out a small yelp when rough hands grabbed your waist and pushed you against the wall of the shower. Firm lips caught yours and a slick tongue found its way inside and wrapped around yours. That sweet hint of caramel flooded your taste buds and you moaned softly. “Gunnery Sergeant...” you let out a whimper when those firm fingers of his twisted at one of your niples while the other pinched your clit.

“Oh, no little dumbass, tonight I’m either just Sir or Daddy.” Bakugou slid his fingers hard against your already slick nerve. “Got it?” He smirked at your consenting nod. “That’s an obedient  Dumbass.” Katsuki pressed his lips back against yours, trying to mark you as his. 

His fingers found their way inside of you, the water from the shower making it easier. As he pumped two fingers in and out at a slow, almost maddening speed, he watched your face contort with pleasure. “You know what, I take that back. Cry out my name, baby. Moan it nice and loud for me.”

You shook your head, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you turn into putty in his hands. you bit your lip hard to hold in your whimpers when he picked up the pace of his thick digits, sliding along your slick folds. 

He was going to break you. 

You could feel it. But you were not going to go down without a fight. No, he wanted to hear you cry out his name, then he will have to work for it. You gasped when you felt his teeth and tongue on your neck, nibbling down to your pulse point. Fuck... He found a weak spot. Your legs began to quiver and threatened to give out.

Katsuki smirked against your flesh. “What’s the matter Dumbass? Stand straight or can’t you handle a little teasing? Or maybe you want to be impaled on my fingers?” His teeth grazed over the junction where her neck and shoulder met and gained the same reaction from her again. “Oh? Sensitive here, I see.” 

He trailed the hand that was not currently inside you to trace random patterns on your back. His nails scratched a line down to your lower back and you opened your mouth in a loud wailing moan. “Heh, looks like I found the ultimate spot here, Private.”

‘Fuck...’ The things he was doing to you should be illegal. The things he was making your body feel should not be right! You bit your lip again to stifle your cries when he inserted a third finger, stretching you out. You could feel his hard cock against your stomach but the maddening pleasure he was giving you had one of your hands clenched tightly at your side as you drew the other to your lips to bite down on your knuckle after your lips were bruised from your abuse of them. It did not help that everytime you could feel yourself nearing completion, the cocky asshole would slow back down and start the build up again. “Sir, please...”

“Please what, Princess?” He lifted his head to look into her eyes. A smirk titled at his lips as he saw the lewd expression on her face. Eyes glazed over with lust, mouth open as she panted around her knuckle, face flushed with an adorable blush. “Give me what I want to hear and I may be merciful and let you cum, little dumbass.” He shoved his fingers inside your dripping hole roughly, nearly picking you up off of your feet as you were forced to grab onto his forearms to keep from falling over. “Stand up straight, Private. That’s an order.”

“Fuck! Katsuki!” you screamed out. The response was immediate. His fingers drilled in and out of you at an almost inhumane speed, hitting depths that your own could never reach. You were a sobbing mess as you pleaded for your release. “Katsuki, please. Let me cum!” you begged him as you held onto his forearms, the feeling in your legs finally giving out.

 He pushed you against the wall and lifted one of your legs to wrap around his waist. You were so close you could taste it. “Shit, shit, shit...please?” you tilted your head back against the wall of the shower and let out a lustful mewl of Bakugou’s name as you came hard on his fingers.

You felt dizzy as you leaned your head against his chest to try and catch my breath. you saw that the sleeve of tattoos that went up his arms, also covered his chest and down his abdomen. you blinked when his fingers were suddenly pressed against your lips. ‘Did he want me to...?’  Seeing the stern look in those carmine eyes of his, you knew he was serious. Parting your lips, your tongue slipped out and curled around his thick digits and licked your juices off them.

“Good girl.” Katsuki murmured as he picked up your other leg, “I’d rather taste you directly.” With just his arms, he lifted his little recruit up on his shoulders and buried his nose into your crotch. “You smell fucking delicious, Princess.” He wrapped your legs around his neck and held your hips down with his hands. “Let’s see if you taste as good as you smell. What did you say to me before? Oh, right. Bet you’re tasty.” Bakugou slid his tongue along your wet slit, grunting at the flavor of you.

A rush of liquid flooded my center as you tried to thrash around when you felt his tongue on me. It was too much too soon. you had just come and he was already doing more torturous pleasure to your body. You were still sensitive. He curled his wet muscle around your clit while his lips sucked at your labia. “Oh god...” you cried out when he moved one of his hands off of your hips to spread your lower nethers further for his assault. You bit at your knuckles when his chuckles sent vibrations all through your body.

“God? Thanks for the compliment, Dumbass. But the name is Katsuki. That’s the one you should be screaming.” He glided his finger over the swollen nub and gave it a pinch as he stuck his tongue inside your quivering hole. He was not going to stop until you were a sobbing mess underneath him. Right where you belonged. “Maybe I should spell my name down here? The only name you’ll ever cry out.” Katsuku growled against your sex.

Your voice was starting to go hoarse from the overuse of it, but that did not stop him. You were starting to really believe that Bakugou was a sex demon sent from hell to tempt you. And it was working, you curled your fingers into his thick, wet blonde hair, pushing him closer to your core as his tongue worked wonders over you. 

You could feel him spelling things out on your clit, but you were too dazed to figure them out. The pleasure was almost painful, so you did not know if you wanted to pull him even closer or try to shove his head away so you could breathe. That warmth in your lower belly grew hotter with each stroke. “F-fuck...Katsuki...please?”

Bakugou chuckled once more as he sucked on your clit. “Begging again, Private? I can't understand you with the water running.”

You bit your lip. You did not want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg him to let me cum. But damn it, if he did not give you a release soon, you were going to go insane. But your pride?  When his teeth grazed over that sensitive little bundle of nerves, you broke. “Please, sir, let me cum!” you screamed when Katsuki bit down on your clit again and shoved two fingers inside your slick, quivering hole at the same time. You felt drunk as you came hard, a flood of your juices coating his face. Your breath came out in pants and your body was still twitching as he gave you little licks and nips, easing you down from your high.

He grinned as he lowered you back down onto your weak legs. He licked his lips, still tasting you before grabbing your chin and pulling you in for another wild kiss. “That was how I imagined hearing you saying my name, Dumbass.” He watched your face go through a myriad of emotions before settling on bashful. “Now,” Katsuki said, his voice stern. “Turn around, Private. Right fucking now. That’s a direct order.”

Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. you had just come again. Could you not get a chance to rest? Plus the water was starting to get cold. But the look in his eyes said that he was not going to wait. If you did not turn around, he would make you. “Aye, sir.” You said as you showed him your ass, pressing your hands against the shower wall. You flinched when his hands slammed against the wall next to your head. “Sir?” you said shly.

Katsuki leaned his head down on your shoulder, his hand stroking over his cock. “Listen Dumbass, count the inches and you better not fuck up.” He smirked as he rubbed the tip against you, circling around yourr tight little hole. “Or there will be hell to pay.” Slowly he pushed inside, a groan caught up in his throat.

“Fuck...” you cried out, Just as you imagined. The Gunny was large. Very large and thick. This felt very different than having him in your hand. The feeling was not the same. In your hand, it felt like steel wrapped in velvety skin, but inside you? You could not describe the feeling. “1..sir...” You began to count as he slid deeper within you, inch by painstaking inch. “2..sir...3...sir..” you let out a loud gasp when he purposely shoved it in deeper and pulled out. “Katsuki!”

“What was that, Dumbass? You messed up the count.” He pulled out completely and slapped the head of his cock against your ass cheeks. “Do it again. Right now, Private.” Bakugou growled against your neck, hands pulling at your waist as he sank back within the warm depths of your clenching insides.

You could not think. Your mind had gone blank at this point. The pleasure was driving you insane. And he wanted you to count?! You could not do that with how he keeps going in and out at such a pace you could not keep up. Was it eight inches or ten? You could not remember. All you know is that he was long and thick to the point it nearly hurt to take all of him inside. The tip of his cock was pressed so tightly against your cervix that your legs were shaking. 

You could not keep yourself standing for long. You needed a break. The back to back orgasms. The over stimulation of your senses. It was all too much. And with the water turning cold against your heated flesh, striking against your back was also doing things to you. “Ah, Katsuki, please. I can't take it anymore.”

Katsuki, the sadistic asshole he was, wrapped his hands tighter around your waist and pulled you down more. “Yes, you can Princess. Or are you really Marine material?” He knew that would awaken your competitive, strong-willed side that attracted him to you. And it did. He felt you start to push back against his thrusts, your inner muscles clenching down on him. “F-fuck...heh...maybe you are Marine material.” He sped up his thrusting.

Your legs were about to give out at this point but you were not going to let him win. You were going to make him go mad for you. Using your hands as leverage, you pushed back against him and squeezed down, trying to milk him of everything he had to offer. You enjoyed the feeling of him sliding in and out, rubbing against your walls, but this was a competition now. He was going to cum for you first. You were not going to cum anymore for him. “Oh shit...” you moaned when his fingers began sliding over your clit. ‘Fucking cheat...’

“Did you think you could beat me, Princess?” Bakugou licked the shell of your ear before nibbling on the lobe, working his digits over that cute little sensitive spot of yours. “I know all your weaknesses.” He trailed his teeth down to your neck, grazing the flesh roughly before biting down on your pulse point. 

He could feel your legs trembling as you tried your best to keep up with his pace. He decided that maybe he should end her suffering. Dragging his nails down the small of your back and sucking at the bite mark he had created, Katsuki started thrusting even harder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” the curse left you as a mantra. Damn it. You were not going to last much longer. You could feel your walls fluttering around him as that itch for release burned in your belly. When he gave another sharp, hard thrust, you felt yourself come undone. Your mouth hung open as your tongue fell out as you came. 

Your chest was heaving heavily as you tried to catch your breath. That was such an intense orgasm that your arms and legs finally gave out and Katsuki had to wrap his arms around you to keep you from falling. “Oh hell...”you drew in several deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

Katsuki waited for you to catch your breath before he slowly slid in and drew a surprised gasp from you. He smirked down at you. “You really thought I was done with you? Oh no, Dumbass. I’ve only just begun.” He pulled out completely and picked you up in his arms, ignoring your protests and demands for a rest. “You’re mine now, Private.” He walked out of the bathroom and tossed you on the bed.

You wanted to protest but you had no strength left in your arms and legs. Your eyes widened when you saw Bakugou reach for something that was sitting next to you. “W-why do you have those?” He smiled that feral smile I’ve grown used to seeing when you were alone and your heart began to beat even faster in your chest. Why did he have a blindfold? Not to mention a fucking vibrator! What did he plan on doing with that! “Bakugou, sir?”

He silenced you with another deep kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours. “Listen, Dumbass. You trust me?”

Did you?  You did just let him have his complete and utter way with you in the shower?   

Slowly, you nodded my head, “Aye sir.” As soon as you said that my vision was stolen as Katsuki placed the blindfold over your eyes. A sense of panic washed over you briefly until you felt soft touches running along your body and your skin felt alive. “Oh?”youI cried out, unprepared for the rush of sensitivity that spread over you. 

Katsuki trailed his fingers along his recruit’s body slowly, stirring you back up in a state of arousal. He brought his hand up to your face, caressing your cheek before moving to your lips. His cock twitched at the thought of having those pretty little lips wrapped around him, to feel your warm, wet mouth sucking him dry. “Fuck...” He cursed as he grabbed the back of your head and guided you down. “Open your mouth, Princess.”

You flared your nostrils, taking in his manly scent as you did as you were told. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. He filled your mouth and stretched your lips to the fullest extent. You took in as much as you could without choking, but he touched the back of your throat. 

So you wrapped your hands around whatever was left out. You bobbed your head up and down on his lap, working your tongue over him. The sweet taste of his precum flooded your senses and you couldn't help but moan at the flavor. You heard him groan in pleasure and you so desperately wanted to see his face contorted in ecstasy, so you silently cursed the blindfold around your eyes.

Your tongue felt so amazing on him. His head fell back and his hands came up to run fingers over your hair, wrapping it around. Bakugou guided you down further on his cock, wanting more of your lips around him. While he was careful to not choke you ‘Too much.’ He needed more. “Use your tongue more, Dumbass.” He grunted out when you took his command and ran your tongue over the underside of his cock. 

With each drag down your throat, you worked your tongue over the sensitive head, licking up any liquid that may have collected at the slit. Fuck, he tasted so good. Shaking his hands off of your head, you said, “You’re holding me back, sir.”

With renewed freedom, you placed your hands around the base of his dick and licked at the tip with the tip of your tongue, drawing small circles around him. You could hear him moan out and that only spurred you on as a rush of liquid dripped down your thighs. Gods, he sounded so sexy. “Keep your hands off of my head.”

Katsuki curled his fingers into the sheets of the bed, letting you take control. Watching your head go up and down on his cock, seeing it slip in and out of that pretty little mouth of yours was mesmerizing. He would let you have control for now, but... Bakugou reached for the hitachi wand and turned it on. If you noticed the buzzing, you paid it no mind. He bit back a smug laugh when you jumped as the wand glided over your back, sending tingles down your spine.

He moved the vibrating wand over the curve of your ass until he reached that dripping hole of yours. He pressed it against you and felt you moan deeply against his cock, the vibrations of it causing him to tremble and let out a groan. His hips began to move as he slid more of him down that pretty throat of yours as he kept the vibe in place on your sex. 

You moaned again, your body beginning to spam when he placed the device on your throbbing clit.

 “That’s it, Princess. Let’s cum together.” He commanded as he felt his balls tighten in preparation for his release.

You swallowed him down your throat, working your hands over the parts you could not fit. Drool was leaking out of your mouth and your jaw was starting to ache, but you were not going to stop. You wanted to taste more of his seed, fresh from the source this time. You sped up your sucking, hollowing out your cheeks and working your tongue over him. 

Slowly, to not scare him, you brought your hand up and cupped his balls, rolling them around between your fingers. That seemed to be his undoing asyouI felt him swell in your mouth before a rush of hot liquid struck your tongue. That same sweet, yet slightly salty taste filled your mouth and you moaned at the feeling.

Bakugou’s hips gave soft little jerks as he felt his release come to stop. His lips curled into that trademark feral grin as he turned the wand up to the maximum settings. He watched as your body twitched beautifully as your head swung backward with your mouth still full of his cum. 

“Don’t swallow yet, little recruit.” He grabbed you and pulled you back against his chest, the toy pressed so tightly against her clit. “I want you to come undone first.” Katsuki bent his head and bit down on your neck, soothing it with his tongue right after. Your moans were like music to his ears and he wanted to hear more. Using his free hand, he scratched a long line down your back.

You let out a muffled moan as you started to cum against the intensity of the vibrator and from Katsuki running his nails down the length of my spine to your lower back. Hot liquid ran down your thighs as you tried to cry out the Gunny’s name. You swallowed when he gave you the order before he pressed his lips against yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. 

You crawled into his lap when he pulled the wand away and pulled at your arms, cuddling against his chest as he pressed soft kisses to your forehead. “Katsuki...” you said his name in the softest of whispers. “C-can I take the blindfold off now?”

His eyes widened for a second before his lips spread into a grin. “Not yet, Private.” Even as he was just holding you against him, he could feel his cock twitch back to life. Bakugou took your hand and placed it on him. He laughed at the confused expression on your face as you bit your bottom lip. “You ready for round three?” Katsuki took hold of your leg, placing one over his shoulder and giving it a long, wet lick.

You bit your lip in anticipation for the first thrust of his hard cock sliding inside your weeping sex. I still let out a surprised gasp when Bakugou probed at your entrance with his fingers, spreading you with his thumbs. “Katsuki...I...I need it.” you could sense the smile that was more than likely spreading over his lips. 

He had won. 

You were a pleading mess under him. You wanted him so badly that it hurt. You did not care if your body was still tingling from the multiple orgasms. You wanted more from Katsuki. To feel his long, thick cock filling you. “Please, Daddy.”

Katsuki licked his lips. He’d finally gotten you right where he wanted you. His Princess was where you belonged. A dripping wet, begging little dumbass that was only his. “That’s a good little naughty Princess.” He leaned down and gave your ear a nibble as he aligned his cock with your honeyed entrance.”You’re mine now, Dumbass.”

With those words, he sheathed himself inside in one smooth glide. His hands tightened on your thighs, feeling them tremble. Bakugou knew that you would not last long but he couldn't help but to torment you a little. He gave slow, shallow thrusts meant to drive you up the wall with desire as he kissed all over your body.

You could feel your legs shaking as Katsuki moved slowly within you. You could feel each and every inch as he took his time. The pace he was going was damn near maddening. While you liked that he was taking his time and tending to your sore and tender body with wet kisses and slow thrusts, you wanted him to take you fast and hard like in the shower. 

Your body was thriving with pleasure, but your clit was throbbing, aching because your body wanted release. You were damn near in tears behind the blindfold. “Daddy...I need to cum. Make me cum!”

“Hmm?” He hummed in between kisses. “What did you say, little recruit?” He slid his tongue over your collarbone down to your chest and closed his lips over a taut nipple. You mewled so beautifully for him when he did that, your back arching off of the bed. Katsuki decided that he wanted to see your eyes as you came for the final time due to his cock. 

Reaching for the blindfold, he ripped it off of your eyes and at the same moment, sped up his thrust. He heard your strangled cry and saw the way your eyes crossed and your tongue hang out as the pleasure drove you mad.”Look at me, Princess. Fucking look at me. That’s an order.”

You tried to focus your eyes on Katsuki as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him in closer and he met your seeking lips in a wild, sloppy kiss, wrapping his tongue with yours. Your breasts jiggled from his deep, powerful strokes and you broke away to gasp out. 

The tip of him was pressed so tightly against your cervix, striking the sensitive spots deep within you repeatedly. You felt that telltale itching warmth in your lower belly. You lifted your head to gaze into his bright vermillion colored eyes like he had ordered you to.

Katsuki grunted as he stared down into your eyes. Fuck, you were so beautiful with sweat glistening on your body, tears in your eyes from the intense pleasure. “Fuck, Private...” He could feel your inner muscles fluttering around him, trying to milk him of all that he had. 

Bakugou cursed as he took hold of your legs and pushed them towards yourr chest, ankles by your head. He began thrusting in and out, satisfied with the new position that allowed him a deeper penetration. Leaning over you, he moved his hips, drilling into you at a fast, hard pace as he felt his balls tighten up with the pending threat of release. “Princess...” he growled.

“Fuck, Daddy, Oh, shit Katsuki...” You screamed out as he held down your legs by your ankles. The new position let him reach even deeper parts of you and you could feel your walls spasm around his cock. You opened your mouth and let out a soul shattering mewl as a rush of honeyed liquid left you and dripped down the sides of your legs to pool underneath you. You placed your hands against his tattooed chest, your whole body trembling. “K-Katsuki...”

“Keep moaning my name, baby.” He kept thrusting for a few more strokes until he locked his hips in place. His warm seed flooded your tight cunt as he left out a deep groan. He fell against you, his forehead touching yours. 

Katsuki pressed gentle kisses to your lips as he slowly eased out. He then wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest. “Sleep, Dumbass. I’ll wake you at 0200 so you can leave in time for formation.” He knew that he had to have you back before 0400 or Jirou would have his head for having someone from her platoon late.

Yiou looked up at him, cuddling against him for warmth as he pulled the blankets over the two of you. You smiled when he stroked his fingers along the side of your cheek and down your neck. He was being unusually tender and you enjoyed it. This was a side of Katsuki that only you would get to see and you felt a sense of happiness fill your heart. “And to retaliate, you’re mine too, Katsu.”

-0-0-0

Over the course of the next month, Katsuki had pulled you into his barracks atleast twice a week to fuck you senseless. Not that you were complaining but it was a bit of a distraction. Your grades in the classroom were slacking and your endurance was going down. So for the past week, you’ve been denying him anything more than a kiss. 

While it was hard resisting him because he was being so very tempting, rubbing his hands along your body and trying to pull you towards his barracks. But you put your foot down. Last week was Basic Warrior Training. You were taught basic skills of survival in combat, such as combat marksmanship skills, land navigation, proper gas mask use, and how to maneuver under enemy fire. 

The gas chamber was the first thing that you did and the tear gas burned at your eyes, nose and mouth when they made you take off your gas masks. You could barely breathe without it feeling like fire was spread down your lungs. 

Combat marksmanship was fun and you made high marks at the range and you were able to bring Dabi to his knees during combat. You could tell that Katsuki was happy about you bringing that redhead down since he was constantly flirting with you. The intense kiss he had given you along with the heavy petting after the day was over confirmed that. 

Land navigation was a bit tougher due to you being clueless when it came to maps, but you managed to pass the class with average marks. Your platoon did get slayed during learning how to maneuver under enemy fire because some people thought it would be fun to turn the safety off the weapons as a joke. 

Drill Instructor Kirishima was nearly shot but luckily the bean bag pellet struck a large boulder next to him instead. But dammit, Kirishima is the last Drill Instructor that you wanted to get slaid by. He worked you down to the bone and did it all with a smile on his face. Situps, crunches, butterfly kicks, squats, high knees, a five mile run, every high intensity workout you could imagine the Sergeant made you do.

The next week you still avoided Bakugou’s attempts to snatch you away to his barracks. This was an important week of your training and he knew it. The advances grew less, but the looks of want and desire still continued. 

You could tell he was just biding his time until he could get you alone. You knew the next time the teo of you were alone, he would show you no mercy. Your studies for the practical application evaluations were important, and you were not going to let your own desires get in the way. 

You worked hard and managed to pass everything unlike a few of your comrades. You were determined to see this through to the end and get your title as a Marine. Nothing would stop you! You will pass the final exam.

It was finally time. Week ten began with a physical test which you aced due to the many times your platoon got slaid and along with your own endurance. Next was the written exam and that was not too hard since Katsuki offered to help you study, but only if you did it while sitting in his lap and for every question you got wrong he left a mark on your body. 

That nearly broke you down. The feeling of those lips, teeth and tongue dancing over your body was so arousing. You were glad that you were wearing your winter gear due to it being early December, so that the many dark bites were hidden. You were dead tired by the end of the day. You  showered and went to bed. Tomorrow was the Crucible.

Katsuki was slightly bitter that his little recruit had been avoiding him other than the few times he’d managed to pull you aside to kiss you senseless and slip you a few fingers inside your awaiting hole before you’d shove him away. 

The only time he’d managed to convince you to come to his barracks was to help you study for the exam. His conditions were for you to sit in his lap and everytime you got an answer right, he’d reward you with a kiss, but everytime you got one wrong, he’d leave a mark on your body anywhere he chose. ‘And the little dumbass got many questions wrong before she started to get them right.’ 

But, he had plans for when it was time for the 54-hour long field event tomorrow. And they all included having a certain Princess screaming his name. He ran his tongue over his lips in anticipation. Bakugou was going to make you wish that you'd not denied him.

-0-0-0

You were nearing the last couple of hours of the Crucible. Your water was starting to get a bit low so you moved to go towards the spring you had managed to find, your weapon held close to your chest. Your eyes scanned the dark forest as you slowly made your way over to the water source. You made it to the spring without being tracked by an enemy platoon member.

Before refilling your water camel, you got down on your hands and knees and took a deep sip of the cool water. You shot up when you heard the leaves rustling behind you. “Hello?” You asked automatically before clamping your hand over your mouth. Fuck, that was stupid of you.

Holding your weapon close, you strained your eyes to see who could be hiding in the shadows. Your fear and anxiety was starting to get the best of you. You had been lucky so far as to not run into an enemy except during the first 12 hours, but you managed to beat them down without much of a challenge. 

Just beyond the treeline, you could faintly make out the silhouette of a tall figure hiding against a tree. Taking aim with your weapon, you shouted. “You’ve been located! Surrender now or I will shoot!”

You waited for the other recruit to step out of their hiding place and admit defeat like they were supposed to, but they did not. Your nervousness grew. Why were they revealing themselves for hand to hand combat? Could it be that someone snuck into the field? 

Your anxiety grew as you slowly began to back away from the silhouette that was slowly advancing on you. You took a few steps back when the clouds moved away from the moon, lighting the area. A gasp left you when you saw who was stalking you. It was Katsuki. He was dressed in his full camo gear, face paint included. “K-Katsu?”

Bakugou moved closer to his prey, a grin spreading over his face. “You’ve got to the count of ten, Princess.” He growled low in his chest as he crouched down, pressing his hands against the ground in a runner’s pose. “Then I’m hunting you down.”

Carnal desire and fear streaked you through as you watched him drop into that position. Your eyes widened and breath shortened as you dropped your weapon on the ground. You knew your current location so you could always come back to pick it up before the Crucible was over. 

When he started counting backwards from ten, you took off in a sprint. Your heart was beating so loudly you could hear it in your ears. And with your limited vision, it made the thrill of the chase even more fun. You ran as fast as you could, but all too soon, you could hear Katsuki’s heavy footsteps closing in on you.

You quickly jumped over a fallen log, using the momentum to propel yourself further over the ground so put more distance between you two. After running for a few minutes, you got curious as to where he could be and ducked behind a tree. Kneeling, you took in a few breaths to calm your racing heart, you glanced around to see if you could spot him. A few clouds had obscured the moon, making the lighting limited. You sighed a small breath of relief when you could not spot the feral hunter. 

Your heart stopped when you heard a soft growl rumble above you. You looked up and could see glowing crimson eyes gleaming at you; eyes the same color as the fading sun over the horizon. You quickly jumped back to your feet and took off running. 

Heat was coursing through your body, so you shed your heavy camo coat and tied it around your waist. You were not going to make this easy for him. Launching yourself through a low hanging tree branch, you hid behind a large boulder. Despite the cold, sweat was running down your body. A chill ran down your spine and you scanned the area for Bakugou.

Katsuki observed his prey from the tree above you. He made sure to stay out of yourr sight, but he knew you could feel his presence. A wicked smile spread over his lips as you tried to search for him but you could not find him. 

He silently dropped to the ground behind the boulder you were hiding next to. Taking extreme care to not make a sound, he walked around your hiding spot. As Bakugou watched you scan the area, he let out another growl, the sound loud and primal, that caused you to jump. “That’s two times I’ve caught you. One more, Princess.” He slinked off back into the darkness.

You watched with wide eyes as he moved back into the shadows, the camouflage paint on his face concealing him even further. Your heart was beating a mile a minute in your chest. You could not let him catch you again. Wiping at the sweat that formed on your brow, you took off again. You pushed leaves out of yourway and jumped over fallen logs. 

The hidden threat in his voice made adrenaline pump through your veins that you barely registered that it was starting to snow. Your feet crunched against the leaves as you ran. You kept running this time despite the burning of your lungs. Each time you stopped, Katsuki managed to find you; so to resolve that you needed to keep running.

Pushing your legs beyond their limits, you could faintly make out the outline of the homebase camp that the company had set up. If you could make it there, Drill Instructor Jirou would make you stay there until morning. 

A smile crossed your face as you ran in the direction of camp when something hard slammed into you, tackling you. You rolled onto the ground with whatever crashed into you and rough lips claimed mine in a passionate kiss. ‘Katsuki.’ Your body instantly melted against him as he pinned me to the ground.

Katsuki pulled away from your soft lips to smirk down at you. “Caught you, Princess. Now you’re mine.” He quickly pulled your shirt over your head, but kept your hands trapped inside, tying it around your wrists. He made quick work of the plain white bra that was issued to the recruits. 

“You know, Dumbass, if you hadn’t refused me for so long and been such a fucking brat about it, I wouldn’t have had to hunt you down like this.” His deft fingers twisted a nipple, making you moan out loudly. “Careful there, we’re awfully close to Jirou’s home base. You wouldn’t want them to hear the slutty noises I make you make.”

A blush lit up your face as I realized just how close I had made it to the line of lights of the home camp. You were so close that you could practically see Drill Instructor Jirou marking off tasks on her clipboard. You pulled at the shirt tied around your wrists. “Katsu....” I pleaded. 

He knew there was no way you could be quiet and that Jirou had some type of supersonic hearing. You were actually surprised she did not notice you earlier. He silenced youwith another kiss, his tongue pushing between the seam of your lips to intertwine with yours.

“Be quiet.” He growled. “Prey do not speak once the hunter has captured them. Now be a good little Princess and let me devour you.” His lips trail down to your jawling, where his teeth left his marks as he sucked harshly at your flesh. Katsuki reached into one of the pockets of his camos and pulled out a small cloth gag. “Only because I don’t need Jirou on my ass.”

You could only whimper as the Gunny tied the cloth around your mouth, using it to muffle your cirlcries as he attacked your neck once more, licking and sucking his way down to your breasts. His hot hand cupped one and brought the taut nipple to his lips. Your body gave a jolt when his other hand went between your thighs, pressing tighty against your covered pussy. 

Katsuki bit down on your nipple, tugging on it as his paint of his face began to smear into you skin. Trailing his hot, open-mouth kisses down your belly, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on your skin from the light mist of sweat. He knew that he couldn’t take his time like he did the first time he took you. “Y’know, little Recruit. I can’t be gentle this time.”

A moan bubbled up in your throat when he smirked so ferally down at you, the black paint smeared over his eyes making his crimson eyes glow in the darkness. He’s never been this rough with you and it makes your thighs squeeze together in anticipation as Bakugou nibbles his way down your body. When he reached the apex of your thighs, his hands forced your legs to part as he slotted his torso in between them.

Bakugou smirked when the heady scent of your arousal assults is nose. Leaning down, he pressed his nose against your crotch and took him a deep breath. “Fuck, you smell good.” Using his teeth, he slid the zipper of your pants down beore popping the button open. Quickly he yanks them down to your knees and folds your legs back against your chest.

You let out a squeak when you feel his sinfully hot tongue lapping through your folds. You bit down on the cloth covering your mouth as you try to buck your hips to get away from the eveousl licks and bites. His nose rubbed your clit as his tonue dipped into your gushy hole. Saliva dampens the cloth as your tongue wets it when he pushes two of his thick fingers in with a lewd squelch.

“Be a good little slut and cum f’me already. Then I’ll give you my cock so good, you’ll barely be able to walk for a week.” His thumb worked your clit as he pumped his middle and ring finger in and out at such a pace that your breasts were jiggling from each impact. Each push and pull, the intense drag of the pads of his fingers, in your sticky walls brought you closer and closer to the explosive finish. “Atta fucking girl.” He cooed.

Coming apart from the rough treatment of your cunt, you could feel your juices run down the line of your ass and pool on your jacket. Your moans were muffled by the cloth ties around your lips as you clenched down tightly on his fingers as his tongue dragged across your clit in furious circles. Your back arches off the ground as you felt your climax hit, soaking his fingers and tongue. 

Katsuki wasted no time as he licked up everylast drop you had to offer like it was his last meal. His fingers still trust in and out, albeit a bit slower as your slick coats them. “Look at the mess you fuckin’ made, Princess.” He growled as his other hand unzipped his pants and freed his throbbing cock. Stroking his lengh a few times, he pushed your legs up to your chest as he swiped the fat tip through your sticky folds.

“You’re fucking mine and don’t you ever refuse me again.” He leaned over as he slid his cock into your pretty cunt, his hands caging your head as his body pushed down on your legs. Ankles by your ears, Bakugou started harsh, deep snaps of his hips into yours, the front of his thighs slapping against the back of yours and made a wet lewd sound that echoed in your ears.

You could only lay there and take the slow, deliberate thrusts Katuski gave you, each one growing in strength that makes you tits jiggle. The clapping of his thighs meeting yours rang so loudly in your ears, that you were worried that Jirou could hear them. Your cries were muffled as you tried to press your bound hands against his chest. You plead with him with your eyes to slow down as you feel that tight ball of heat burn low in your belly.

He was going to make you cum. His quick animalistic thrust into your sloppy pussy, the gooey pat-pat-pat, his growls and groans in your ear all overstimulating your nerves. Your belly clenches as your clit throbbed, begging for release. Tears stung at the corner of your eyes, running down the sides of your face and into your hairline as your back arched off the cold ground violently. Hot, honeyed liquid squirted out of you, drenching Katsuki’s cock.

Katsuki’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. He just fucking made you squirt all over him. “Look at the mess you made. Am I fucking you that good, you had to squirt?” He laughed before reaching up to pull the gag away from your lips. Before you could make a sound, he covered your mouth with is own, swallowing down your pathetic cries as he fucked you through your high, chasing his own.

Heavy balls slapped against your ass in a rythmic pattern that was beginning to grow sloppier with each passing second. “Gonna fill this slutty pussy up. Mark you as mine on the fucking inside.” Katsuki growled against your lips as his hand came up to cover yours. His cock twicthed as it swells, his abs clenching as he felt his end nearing. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” 

His voice came out in snarls as his hips pumped once, twice, three times before stilling. Cocking twitching within your drippig pussy, his cum paints your walls in thick, creamy ropes of white. “You’re fucking mine. Got it?” He placed his forehead against your, the greasy war paint smearing against your skin as he moved his hand away. 

Bakugou kissed you over and over again as he rocked his hips gently, making sure none of his sticky seed escapes. “All fucking mine.” 

-0-0-0

You stood tall and proud on the podium, dressed in your new uniform; your Marine blues. You had finally done it. You made the transition from a civilian to a US Marine soldier. You received the highest marks in your platoon. You waited for the Drill Instructor to hand you your Eagle, Globe and Anchors, the three awards that symbolized your transformation.

You held your breath when you saw Katsuki step in front of you, your three pins held out in his palms. His face was the usual stern look of a Drill Instructor, but his eyes were burning intensely with an emotion that was meant only for you. 

“Congratulations on your transition, Private!” He said loudly, voice strong and clear. As he pressed your awards into your hands, he leaned in close without being noticed and growled, “I’ll give you your proper graduation gift later. My barracks. 2300, Princess. And don’t you dare be late.”

Your knees nearly gave out as memories of the Crucible drifted through your mind. He really almost made it so that I could not walk for the next couple of days after. You have a barely there nod to let him know you understood. 

Gunnery Sergeant Katsuki Bakugou always gets what he wants.

[anyamaris]

Yours

Word Count-1916

Summary- After a night out, you and your boyfriend end up having an argument that turns a little heated.

Pairing- bf!Yunho x F!reader

Trope- Established Relationship AU

Warnings-Language, unprotected sex (bad, wrap it up), size kink, slight bit of angry behavior, going to label this as cnc just in case because I don't want to trigger anyone. MINORS DNI 18++++

NSFW below cut

Tags-@cultofdionysusnet @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @shinestarhwaa @babesindestroyland

You throw your keys on the counter, sighing. "Yunho, I really don't want to deal with this tonight, please just leave."

The man in question was shutting the door behind you, and you turn to frown at him. You'd been arguing the whole way back to your apartment. He returns your frown and sits himself down on your couch. You just shake your head, going into the kitchen to get something to drink.

Besides feeling hoarse from raising your voice, you just wanted to be doing something. Anything. His eyes alone were making you even more angry.

"I'm not leaving." you hear behind you and you just sigh again, almost slamming the glass down on the counter. "I don't know how many times I need to tell you this, but I was NOT flirting with him."

"Well, he was flirting with you! What do you want me to do, just sit there an watch? Smile and say, OH YEAH IT'S FINE??" Yunho shouts and you close your eyes. It'd been the same argument, going in circles since you'd left the party.

"Yunho...I don't know what you wanted me to do. I was just talking to everyone. I wasn't flirting with him...we were just having a conversation." you say, yet again. You have no idea what is going on in his head.

You've been dating for six months now and you've barely ever disagreed, let alone had an argument. Yunho was the sweetest boyfriend you'd ever had and you were slightly shocked at this side of him. You understood him being protective, but he was acting like you had done something wrong.

"He was touching you." Yunho states in a low voice and you spin to look at him, your fists clenched. You take in his dark eyes, his mouth pursed, his jaw tic. "I don't see how that is something I did wrong, Yunho." You counter and cross your arms. "And...what the fuck? He touched me? When? I don't even remember what you are referring to."

You watch his nostrils flare as he walks towards you. Feeling slightly intimidated, you back up slightly. Yunho was so much taller and bigger than you and seeing him like this was a bit...overwhelming.

"So it's that easy for you to have another man's hand on your back, touching your arm randomly?" He asks, both of his hands going out to grab the counter behind you as he leans down towards you. His face is close to yours and your heart speeds up with his proximity.

"You still haven't told me what I'VE done wrong," You say back to him, glaring right back at him. Frustrated, you poke him in the chest, "I should be getting angry at you over this ridiculous argument. Do you hear yourself? Your friend just happened to 'maybe' touch me and you're acting like I snuck off to the bathroom with him or some shit."

You put both hands on his chest and push, but he barely moves. Grunting, you duck under his arm. "You don't even get it!" He is saying, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. "Just leave, Yunho." you say, pulling your arm. "You want me to go?" he asks, staring down at you. "Yes, you're being silly and I-" you start and then he's letting you go abruptly. "You really want me to leave?" he asks and you can't help but frown at him.

You'd both taken a long weekend so you could spend it together and this was not how it was supposed to start. You just didn't want to fight all night. "Just like that, you want me to just go?" He says again, his fists balled up at his sides.

"Do you really want to fight with me like this all weekend? Over something so stupid?" You huff, "Really, what can I possibly say? I'm sorry, for something I didn't even do?" You walk towards him again, unable to stop yourself. Poking him in the chest again, you bite out,

"I'm so sorry Yunho, for just loving the male attention I get, I just can't help myself! I LOVE FLIRTING WITH YOUR FRIENDS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU AND HAVING THEIR HANDS ALL OVER MY BODY-"

His growl cuts you off and he grabs you under your arms to hoist you up. You can't even breathe as he plops you down on the counter, leaning into you. His teeth are clenched together and his eyes are wild as he looks down at you. Even sitting on the counter he was taller than you.

"SAY THAT AGAIN." he says in a very low, calm tone and you feel a shiver go up your back. His pupils are dilated and he's breathing heavily. "What?" you ask, feeling a twinge of fear at his behavior but also feeling extremely turned on. The way he just picked you up like you were nothing has you swallowing hard and needing a panty change.

"I don't want to ever. see. another. mans. hands. on. you." he states, his hand coming up to you grasp you behind your neck, his thumb on your cheek. It's normally one of your favorite things for him to do when he's being sweet, but now...with how intense he's acting....

You clench your thighs together, trying to tell yourself that you're not getting horny over this. "Y-Yunho, why are you so angry at me? I...don't understand..." you manage, feeling tears spring into your eyes. As hot as it was to see him angry, it still hurt that he's getting upset with you over something you had no control over. Honestly, you hadn't even noticed the things he is talking about. You were pretty sure he was overreacting.

"I don't want anyone else touching you. Is it that hard to understand?" he bites out, slamming his hand against the cabinet near your head. As he does, you jump a bit and then he's pulling your forehead against his. You notice how heavy his breathing is and you can't help but reach out to cup his face in both of your hands.

"Yunho...I don't want anyone else to touch me either. I'm yours. Only yours." you say and his head snaps up, his eyes darkening. "Say it again." he says and you rub your thumbs over his cheeks. "That I'm yours? I'm entirely yours, no one elses. Okay?" you plead, hoping he will calm down.

Instead of that though, he makes a strangled noise as he pulls your mouth to his, prying your mouth open with his tongue. "Mine." he says in between kisses and then he grabs underneath your knee, pulling your legs open and slipping between them. You moan his name as his hands start unbuttoning your blouse, his breathing heavy as he kisses you frantically.

You can't help but get swept up in his passion, tearing at his shirt as well. Grasping at the buttons, you get frustrated and just pull, tearing his shirt. The sound of buttons hitting the hard linoleum has Yunho moaning in your mouth and his hands grip your ass, pulling you into him. He grinds himself against you and you can feel his hard length against your panties.

"Yunho!" you gasp out and his hands are up your skirt, yanking your panties down, then tearing them off of you. His is mouth making its way down your neck, and he tosses the torn material off to the side. "Mine." he says again, his fingers cupping your mound in his hand, his fingers exploring and spreading your folds briefly before he plunges them into you.

"Oh! My g-" you manage to get out before his mouth is on yours again. He's swallowing your moans as he fingers you, his long digits curling and his thumb is rubbing against your bud, causing you to start trembling already. "Yun-" you gasp, your arms going around his neck, clinging onto him as he works his fingers in and out of you.

"Mine, say it, say you're mine. You're going to come on my fingers, my precious little girl, then I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to walk tomorrow. You'll remember who you belong to long after, when you're around others. I want you to feel the ache of me inside of you, the marks I leave on you, even if I'm not around. So you'll never forget."

You feel the coil in your abdomen tightening along with your walls as he's speaking and by the end you're clenching around his fingers, crying out loudly, your head thrown back. Before you can even come down, he's withdrawing them from you and you whine at the loss. Then he's yanking down his pants, freeing himself and plunging into you without warning. The whimper that escapes his mouth is drowned out by your cries as he slides his hands under you.

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, your hand going into his hair. His mouth meets yours again as he backs you into the neighboring wall and he starts thrusting into you faster and harder. "Yours....yours, Yun, I'm yours..." you're moaning, his mouth kissing along your chin, down your neck and then he's sucking on your collarbone. You can feel the sting of pain as he leaves a mark, but it only serves to heighten your arousal.

"Fuck! Yun!" you're screaming out when you can manage to say anything. He's panting and moaning, his large hands squeezing your ass as he holds you up, his fingers biting into your flesh. You yank his hair and pull his head back, going after his collarbone in turn, marking it just like he did on you. "Mine." You say to him and you can see his eyes glaze over as a moan rips from his throat. His breath is hitching and you can tell he's about to cum.

"Fuck-fuck-" he starts and you wrap your legs tighter around him when he starts to pull away. "Cum in me, make me yours completely, Yun!" You cry out and that sends him over the edge. He thrusts up into you so hard you know you're going to bruise as he makes incoherent noises, emptying himself into you. At the pressure and the intensity of his release, another orgasm hits you unexpectedly, clamping down around him. His sudden cry at the sensation has him shaking, holding you, thrusting into you twice more as you ride out your high.

He drops his head into the curve of your neck, panting becoming heavy breathing as he recovers. He's still holding you against the wall and you just pet his hair as you let him take his time. You cup his face as he finally looks up at you, his eyes clear now. His lips meet yours, but this time it's sweet and soft, almost apologetic.

"I-" he starts and you just say, "Shhh." You push his hair out of his eyes, smiling at him. "I understand, it's ok." you whisper and kiss him. "I'll always be yours, Yun." you say and he gives you a soft smile back, kissing your eyelids, your cheeks.

"I love you." he says and you throw your arms around him tightly, feeling tears prick your eyes again. But this time they are tears of joy.

It's the first time he's told you that, and you pull back, touching his face as you say, "I love you too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[starlost97]

— last.

summary: You and Arthur were exactly like each other. And as much as this could be good, it was also a problem. (based on the song "cowboy like me" by Taylor Swift)

tags: fluff, personal favorite, Arthur Leclerc is a player, Reader is a player, based on a Taylor Swift song, f!reader.

characters: Arthur Leclerc.

warnings: none.

a/n: i'm actually SO proud of this one. like really proud.

word count: 650.

requested?: yes! by a friend.

People said that you and Arthur were the perfect match. Two people with a terrible reputation, never going to their own home after night outs and neverending dating rumors.

However, people didn’t understand it. How could you trust someone so similar to you? You knew very well how untrustworthy you were when it came to love. Always giving out a fake number, leaving before they wake up and not saying anything too personal.

Arthur was exactly like that. Just like you.

But there was something different about him. About his kiss. Sometimes slow, but sometimes so passionate. So torturous but so addicting. You couldn’t get enough of it, and Arthur wished that he couldn’t say the same.

The ghost of your lips on his, the memory of your warmth against his body and the feeling of having you in his arms was something that didn’t stop haunting him since your first night together.

It wasn’t something that he could explain. Not one of his friends could comprehend the effect that you had on Arthur. He knew very well how bad it could go. How you could destroy him.

But as in the myth of Icarus, he couldn’t help but go directly into the sun. The beauty of freedom to him, and the temptation of diving into true love to Arthur.

And if he did fall, it would be in love. He just didn’t know if he would end up in hell.

But hell wouldn't sound so lovely.

As your voice echoed around the room and that heavenly voice brought butterflies to his stomach, he smiled. He could never get used to it. To listening to your voice. To being with you. To you.

“But I said, ‘Dancing is a dangerous game’.”

Arthur’s smile turned into a smirk as he remembered the countless nights they spent dancing. Not only in parties, events, but also alone in each other’s places, being illuminated only by the street lights that invaded their apartments.

God, he loved having his hands on you. Guiding your body to the rhythm of the song and feeling your smile against his lips when he squeezed her waist.

It drove him crazy. Everything about you was maddening. How could you be so perfect? So tempting? So addicting?

Self-preservation left his body and it seemed like it was never there. Vulnerability never gave him comfort, but there was something so erotic about being exposed to you. To someone who could do anything to him, from destroying to making him the happiest man alive. God, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter.

Your beauty was enough to make him want to watch you do anything. He would’ve loved to be destroyed by you, watch as your pretty little mind created the most perfect of plans to manipulate him.

You for sure had what was necessary to do it. He was completely — and happily — vulnerable.

“Now you hang from my lips,” You sang, looking Arthur in the eyes. “like the Gardens of Babylon.”

Uncertainty. He wanted to take that away from you, but still, there was something beautiful about choosing to trust. All the stakes were against him, but yet, the overwhelming passion was enough to make you vulnerable to him. And that was very much an honor to him.

He was honored to have you entirely.

When you finished the song, Arthur waited for you to come to him, as you always did after the shows. He watched as your figure became clearer, and how the long green dress complimented your skin.

You smiled at him, and that alone could’ve killed him.

“I couldn’t have expressed us in any better way, darling.” He said, pulling you into his lap and looking into your eyes. “You’re my only true love, and also my last.”

You were the only experience of true love that Arthur ever had, and he’ll keep it that way.

[becsabillion4]

take it out on me (carmen berzatto x reader)

so this is my first time posting a fic of mine on tumblr since i was 14 and i'm slightly terrified by the formatting but i posted this on ao3 yesterday and someone told me to post here too (<3) so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoy the thought of getting pounded by carmy in the walk-in

pairing : carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary : Carmy is having a terrible service, and you're sure some time in the walk-in will help him cool off (although it gets hotter in there than you might think).

word count : 4,410

tags: SMUT, rough sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, ending with soft carmy which makes it all okay, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and also this is NOT an advert for safe sex, it is merely a fantasy i have been playing with since my own days as a waitress and carmy has helped me to realise it. also i'm obsessed and i know y'all degenerates won't send help so instead i ask that you send me asks so i can write more about this wonderful man

Disorienting. Overwhelming. Stressful, painful, unrelenting. Burning your hand hard enough for it to stick to the pan, hard enough that you know on the way to the sink it’s too late, that you’ll bear the scar of that mistake for the rest of your life. Knives slicing always so close to your skin, living on the point of pain, focus trained so hard on the blade you can’t even blink. Shouting, screaming, the place could be on fire, and you wouldn’t look up from the art you’re creating. Flames licking at your apron. Beautiful.

Kitchens are the prison and the heart of a chef, and the one at The Bear is currently the pride and the bane of your life. Plating up your one billionth focaccia of the evening as Marcus rushes by holding a tray of cannolis aloft, you try to tune out Sydney shouting instructions to the new servers, trying to drill something, anything, into their panicked, under-developed skulls. 

But none of this worries you. What worries you is the ominous, creeping silence from the station to your right, where you know Carmy is cooking up not only the best food you’ve ever tasted, but an internal storm that is going to be unleashed any, second, now-

“Chefs! Where the fuck is my garnish? Tina, are you dead? ‘Cos you need to wake the fuck back up.”

Tina is already by Carmy’s side with the garnish, but the damage is done. She doesn’t bristle at his words, but shoots you a worried look as she slides by, murmuring, “Sorry, Chefs. Behind.”

Since you started working at The Bear six months back, you’ve witnessed a rare few Carmy outbursts, and you know everyone feels the same way when they happen. It’s like the moment you miss a step on familiar stairs, stomach lurching and fear sweeping through your body. Carmy is this kitchen, and his boiling point is the moment things tend to spin out of control. 

And yet, Tina’s reaction is everyone’s; disappointment in herself, instant forgiveness because she knows Carmy is doing everything he can for this team. Last week, after you and Sydney spent the evening getting wasted on her couch, she’d confessed to you how hard Carmy took his notorious opening night failure, and how he’s been struggling to make up for it since then. And it’s been working; his kindness, patience, and passion for elevating those around him have always outshone the occasional harsh word during service.

But this service is just bad. It’s been bad since 5AM, when you got here to take in the delivery and found out that the grapes needed for the welcome broth had somehow been left off of the order. It’s been bad since Marcus ruined three batches of cannolis in a row, and when Sydney tried to touch his shoulder and ask him what was going on, he stormed out. Since Sydney snapped at Richie for singing Taylor Swift badly during family. The hundred little underlying frissons of tension that normally dissipate as soon as service rolls around have congealed today, like oil in balsamic vinegar, rubbing together but refusing to meld into the team you know everyone can be.

And you know Carmy can feel it. His anger is a physical thing beside you, like standing next to a hot pan with too much oil in it and just waiting for it to start spitting at you. Knowing you have to keep stirring it anyway.

“Four top, two steak, one bucatini, one fish,” Sydney rattles off, and everyone responds “Yes, Chef!” a little too loud.

“Can I get some hands for this focaccia,” you shout through the din, pushing the two boards forward, but nobody responds. “Hands, please, get these off my station before I eat ‘em!” you call, trying to bring some levity to the atmosphere before-

“Hands, fuckin’ hands, Chefs, FUCK!” Carmy explodes, appearing by your side so suddenly you almost jump. His hands hover over the foccacia boards like he wants to adjust something on them, fix something, but you know as well as he does that they’re perfect already.

And of course, this just makes things worse.

Carmy properly looks up for the first time, straightening out of the “chef about to have an aneurysm over plating this fish” posture and into his “everyone here is about to get fucked” pose. “These are good to go, why are we not? Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ. Go fuck yourselves-” one of the new waitresses approaches with trembling hands and Carmy pushes the boards at her, disgusted, almost taking them over the edge of the pass, “-all of you, what is the point of any of us being here if nothing is leaving the fucking kitchen!”

“Carm, it’s okay, they’re going out,” you can’t help cutting in, but you should know better than to try to soothe a wild animal. Carmy doesn’t say anything, turns back to plating up his fish, but his beautiful artist’s hands, which you often find yourself trying to draw in the margins of inventory checks, are shaking now. You’ve never seen him this bad. The whole kitchen waits on a knife edge. You glance up, watching the waitress leave with your focaccia, and have a brief but fervent desire to be her as the doors swing her out of this hellhole.

The fish is beautiful as Carmy puts the finishing touches to it. A server steps up to take it as other dishes for the same table coalesce at the front of stations, all elegant, all perfect, all more than worthy of the restaurant’s Michelin star.

Carmy is completely still. Staring. And you know it’s too late.

Plunging his fist down, he crushes the fish into sea-scented pulp. The shells of oysters, hand-selected, crack into broken-mirror shards; the sauce is peppered with shoddy scraps of lobster tail.

It’s still not enough for Carmy, as he picks up the plate and sends it spinning into the back wall, narrowly missing Sweeps’ head. “ Shit, ” Carmy mutters, turning back to his station and searching for more things to destroy. You watch him contemplate the knives, and you can’t stay out of it any longer.

“Carmy. Chef. Carmy,” you say as you reach out to grab his muscled arm, pulling him round to face you. You can feel the tension corded deep under his skin, see the sheen of sweat coating his tattoos. Normally, any skin contact with him sends your brain into overdrive, but you can’t afford to be anything but calm right now.

His eyes are wild, but you watch him steadily, and he watches you straight back. You’re not sure why, but the moment reminds you of how you felt on those rare occasions he invited you and Syd over to brainstorm new recipes in his cramped kitchen. Especially that time Sydney couldn’t make it, and you were midway through describing your idea for a yuzu-infused scallops course to him - “with maybe, like, a garnish of broccoli just absolutely smothered in hollandaise” - when he reached forward, tucked a scrap of hair behind your ear, and the very idea of food whisked straight out of your head - but you still felt hungry. And whilst he’d tried out your broccoli idea over and over again that night, you found yourself blushing every time he passed you a spoon to taste it. 

You never could get that dish right. Every time you thought about it, you couldn’t separate the flavours from the curious look in his eyes, the way he drank in your ideas, absorbed them before he responded, how his eyes tracked every thought that crossed your face.

Now here you are again, staring at that measured, thoughtful man turned savage, and you wonder if you have the guts to do what you’ve been thinking about doing for a while.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur beneath the clatter of plates behind you, just for him. You don’t look away even when you hear something shatter. You move your hand from his arm, up over his shoulder, push your palm into the curve of his neck and hold it there. 

Then you wait, feel his shoulders jumping up and down with his rapid breathing. Wait until he leans into it a little, chasing your solidity, and it’s all the response you need.

“Come with me.” It’s not a question, but he nods anyway.

“Sydney, you got this?” You ask, never taking your eyes from Carmy’s face, worried that if you do, you’ll lose whatever grip you have on him right now.

“Yes, Chef,” she replies, and you feel her edge round the side of Carmy to put another fish on rapid fire. He catches her eye as she passes, and brings his hand up to his chest, rubbing it once in what has become the team’s official way to apologise during service. She responds in kind, and he lets you drag him off the station, past the others shooting him worried looks, straight into the walk-in.

You shut the door carefully, recalling the stories of Carmy’s previous imprisonment. It’s still securely closed, giving you both some calm and privacy to cool off.

Except cooling off is not really what you have in mind.

You turn to see Carmy slumped in the corner, curled in on himself and running his hands through his already-chaotic hair. He stands again suddenly, bracing his hands on the wall behind him as if to remind himself they exist.

“Carmy.”

“Yeah, shit. Sorry, I just need a second. It’s just, I didn’t sleep at all last night. I was thinking about doing something with ceviche, but I couldn’t figure out what fish would work best, and then that sorta spiralled into a panic attack which kept me up whisking eggs for something until three, and then-” You watch his eyes darting over the shelves around him as he talks, and you realise he’s taking stock of what’s there. Even during a full-blown meltdown, he cannot stop working, stop thinking. He starts pacing.

“Carmy,” you say again as you try to catch his eye. He’s staring at some spare T-bones like they’ll explain to him whatever dish he was whisking eggs for last night. Fuck it. You grab his chin, tilt it until he has to look at you.

“D’you know the best way to calm down?”

“Lock yourself in the walk-in for three hours?” He’s trying to relieve some tension, but you have other ideas on how to handle that.

“Sex, Carmy.”

There. You’re terrified that you finally acknowledged it, finally confessed to what you’ve been thinking about for months, but thank God it’s out in the open. You’ve been blushing at his compliments on your food for far too long, ignoring how good he looks in a white tee for even longer. And today has been such a shitshow it can’t possibly get any worse by admitting to this too.

You wait for Carmy to shut it down, laugh it off, maybe even fire you, but he just looks shellshocked. Then again, that is his default look.

“I, um…” He rubs a hand over his forehead, glances up at you almost shyly. “I mean, um. What?”

“Listen, you’re fucking up service. You’re distracted, tired, stressed beyond belief. I want to help you, and I won’t pretend it’s just out of the goodness of my own heart. I’ve been interested in you for a while, Carmy. You can take that or leave it or kick me out of this walk-in if you want, but I’m here. I want to help you work through things, through all this anger. And…I want you to know you can take it out on me. And maybe even feel better at the same time.”

Carmy is flushed, and you’re all out of words. You kind of wish he was still looking at the T-bones.

“We, uh, we can’t.” Carmy leans back on a freezer for support, crossing his arms in a pose you normally associate with him working something out in his head, deciding what a dish is missing or what it needs to take it up a notch. “I mean, not now. Not here, at least. And I don’t know, we work together. I’m your boss. It’s not a good idea.” He reaches a hand round to his back, starts massaging the strain away there. It’s an especially effective position as he doesn’t have to look at you as he does it, as he says, “Sorry.”

You shrug a little, smile. Try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep it professional, or as professional as you can get in a kitchen. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Get some sleep, Chef.”

You turn to go, hoping that stirring and slicing and plating up will shake off the embarrassment currently burning through to your bones.

But you don’t live to regret the offer as Carmy grabs your arm, spins you and shoves you hard enough into the walk-in door that it rattles on its hinges.

“Hey, everything okay in there Chefs?” you hear Marcus call, and it’s a reality check you absolutely don’t want right now. Carmy doesn’t even seem to have heard him, trailing kisses down your neck, collarbone, shoulder as your body arches into the feeling. You’ve had one too many fantasies about this walk-in since you started, but the actual feeling doesn’t begin to touch the dream.

“Yeah, all good Chef!” You manage to reply, but you barely get the ‘Chef’ out before Carmy’s lips slide over yours, pushing, demanding entry as his body keeps you pressed up against the door. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, is all you have time to think between kisses.

There is no room or time for playing around. Carmy needs this, and you intend to provide, but you’re damn sure getting everything you can out of it just in case it never happens again. One of your hands curls deep into his hair, pulling his head back as your teeth click together in the ferocity of the kiss. You swear you can taste blood, but neither one of you pulls back, the saltiness only urging you on. Your other hand is busy loosening his belt, and you tug it hard to pull the silver prong free of the leather, hard enough that his hips jerk forward into yours and you moan, long and low.

Gravity suddenly spins on its axis as Carmy lifts you, turns and drops you down onto the freezer Fak installed last week. And for once in your life, thank you, Fak. The movement seems to shake Carmy out of it for a second, and he pulls back, hesitates. A hand curves around your cheek, and you can feel an apology coming, see the reticence forming in his eyes. And honestly, fuck that.

You hook fingers through his belt loops, dragging him closer and then using them to tug his trousers down. You’re not gentle as you reach into his underwear, wrap a hand around his cock, and you can tell that’s what he needs as he hisses, his head drifting back.

Removing his hand from your cheek, you guide it slowly down to your neck. His head snaps up, and there’s a darkness, a need, that wasn’t there before as you move your hand slowly, torturously, down his length.

“Hey,” you whisper, reluctant to interrupt the low grunts spilling from him with each of your movements. “I’m not going to break.”

You squeeze his fingers around your throat a little tighter, and it’s this that has him surging forward, messy mouths pressing together again and everything condensing into a rippling, burning, rightness as the fingers of his other hand shove themselves between your legs.

He lingers there for a moment, breaths short and sharp in your ear as he breaks free from your kiss and whispers, “If we had more time, I would clean up the mess you’re making all over my freezer, Chef.”

“My apologies, Chef,” you pant, the sweetness of the apology marred slightly by your fingers tugging hard through his curls. Then you’re pushing up his white shirt at the back, reveling in the heat of him, the muscles straining under your touch. “What’s my punishment?”

Carmy hesitates, then withdraws his fingers from you slowly, and it feels like the calm before the storm. One hand is still pressed loosely around your neck as he brings the other up to your face, runs the edge of his still-wet fingers over your lips. Asking or demanding, you don’t know, but you’re happy to comply. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue behind them, and when you slide your mouth over his fingers, taste yourself on him, he closes them in momentary bliss. And it’s so beautiful to see that you can’t resist pulling him in to share.

A Michelin-star chef with one of the most sophisticated palates on the planet. A renowned food critic once wrote of him, “In my next life, I’d like to be just one of the taste buds in Carmen Berzatto’s mouth.” And here he is, savouring you, tongue searching out every corner of your mouth as if he wants to figure out each and every component of your taste. Add the recipe of you to his menu, and make it every night.

You’re both done waiting, and the clock is ticking. You can faintly hear Sydney calling orders through the wall, although she sounds steadier now. You don’t know whether anyone out there knows what you’re doing, but a rampaging elephant couldn’t stop Sydney when she’s on a roll.

Carmy pulls you closer to the freezer’s edge, jeans and underwear falling to his ankles and suddenly he is right there, and-

“Oh, fuck,” is all you can say as he pushes forward in one swift, animal movement. And oh, pain flickers down your spine as he slides almost free of you and thrusts back, relentless, and this is exactly what you signed up for.

“ Fuck ,” he echoes, hand sliding down your neck to settle over your racing heart. “Fuck, you…I don’t know how you do this to me,” he pants, and you try to keep your moaning down so you can hear as words spill from him, “When you come in with your hair down before a shift, when you - ah -��when you borrow my knife and I see you using it all service, when you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. Shit. You drive me crazy on purpose, and you wanna know what the worst part is?”

You can’t breathe, let alone answer him.

“The worst part is I eat that shit up every time, ” he snarls, punctuating every word with a short, sharp thrust.

This is the animal you saw tonight, spitting curses, destroying his own food, all sharp edges and uncompromising will. Grunting as he bottoms out inside you, fingers clenched around your upper thigh hard enough to bruise, littering bites over your neck as if your colleagues aren’t an unlocked door away.

But the animal isn’t the end of Carmen Berzatto. There is more to him than the bear, and you intend to remind him of that before you’re through.

“Look around you,” you pant as he thrusts again, harder, sweeter, and you have to get this out before you tip over the edge. So you risk bringing the hand you were using to support yourself forward to turn his chin towards the walk-in’s walls, to beyond them, to the restaurant hard at work and the satisfied diners metres away who have no idea what’s going on in here, and fuck if that doesn’t make it all the more delicious. “Look what you made. Look who you are.” You watch his flushed face, hope he understands the praise, but you can’t hold on anymore to see your words land.

“You’re fuckin’ unbelievable, Carmy,” is all you manage to choke out as every muscle in your body lights up, tenses and releases in a flood so strong you wonder if you’ll ever surface, and if you even want to.

Carmy fucks forward into you twice more, and his head drops onto your shoulder as he groans, shudders, relaxes fully for what may be the first time in his life.

You stroke a hand over his head, pull him closer. You’re not quite sure when this stopped being a no-holds-barred quickie and became a quiet, intense embrace, but it feels right. All the desperation, the keyed-up energy, is gone from him. And if he never wants anything more than that, even though the idea is more than a little disappointing, you can take consolation from the fact that you at least managed to stop a raging Carmy in his tracks.

Although it is a little quiet.

“Carmy?” You ask, hesitant to break the silence. Thankfully, it still sounds like it’s all bustle outside. You wonder how long you’ve been in here, and try not to think about how you’re going to emerge with any shred of dignity intact.

Carmy pulls back, and you can’t define the look on his face, but it worries you. His eyes shine slightly, and his gaze skips across your face, down your body, not holding your stare.

“Are you okay?” You ask, praying this isn’t about to get really awkward really quick. The man’s still inside you, for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah. I, um, I should be asking you that.” Carmy’s hands skim down your sides, fingers pressing in randomly as if to check for bruises. He tilts his head to look under your chin, as if to check he hasn’t caused any permanent damage to your neck. “Jesus. Are you alright? I’m sorry, that was rough.”

“I’m totally fine.” You don’t know what to do to reassure him, so opt for two big thumbs up. “See? Voice working and everything.”

Carmy chuckles unevenly, takes a careful step back, and you try not to consider how empty you feel and how cold and slippery the freezer now is underneath you. You hop off, catching yourself on the side when you realise just how shaky your legs are. When you glance up at Carmy, he’s just staring at you, which is, frankly, unnerving.

“Do I look that bad?” you ask, pulling your hair out of what’s left of a ponytail to start again.

“No. No, I’m just…I’m just taking you in.” The raw honesty in his eyes pins you in place for a moment. But of course, Richie shouts “ Cousin!” before you can read into it too much.

There is a moment of panicked dressing and clean-up, a nod to each other to confirm you both look relatively sane and not totally fucked (even though you doubt it), and then a collective deep breath as you push open the door of the walk-in.

You don’t catch anyone’s eye for a second as you head to your station, Carmy’s presence like an open flame behind you.

“Corner. Corner. Behind, sorry Chefs,” you call as you slide back into place. Two quick glances calm you; one at the clock - seventeen minutes - and one at Sydney, who doesn’t look like she’s about to throw up and only has three tickets in front of her. You spare a final one for Fak in his position by the door, who you are positive would be grinning gleefully if he, or anyone else in the kitchen, knew what just went down in the walk-in.

“What do you need, Syd?” you ask, picking up the familiar back-and-forth of the kitchen again with some relief.

Carmy is quiet, focused, for the last half hour of service, but you can’t keep your mind clear. As soon as last orders are sent out, you slink to the back for a cigarette, hoping the smoke will at least wipe out your brain fog. It does the exact opposite. When you let me light your fuckin’ cigarette for you. You exhale, waving the smoke away as the words churn through your brain. I eat that shit up every time.

“Hey,” you hear, and you’re almost thankful to speak to the real him just to distract yourself from thinking about earlier.

“Hey.” You offer him a smoke, and he takes it, sinking onto the step next to you. The brush of his leg against yours is a lot more comforting than you expect it to be, relaxing a secretly worried part of you.

He takes a long drag, the kind of drag you only take when it’s been a shitshow of a day. “I just want to say I’m-”

“Sorry? It’s okay. It doesn’t have to happen again,” you finish for him. It hurts less that way.

“What? No.” He looks at you until you reluctantly meet his gaze. “Not for that. I’m not sorry about that.” He lets that hang there for a second, holds your eye. “But I’m sorry for losing my shit earlier. Nobody deserves to be around that, and…I want you to know I’m working on it. I wanna be…I wanna be good at this.” It’s a stilted apology as he thinks through every line, and it feels all the more sincere for it.

“That’s okay. I know. We all know.” You reach a hand out to touch his arm, and after a second, he lowers his head to rest on his knee, although his face is still turned towards you. You see his eyes flicker from your hand on his arm to your face.

“Although that wasn’t exactly how I expected that to go by the way,” he says after a moment.

You don’t try to pretend you don’t know what he’s referring to. “What, in the walk-in?”

“Oh, no, I’ve thought about it in the walk-in.” You ignore a pulse of feeling at his casual confession, at the idea that he’s thought about you. “I just didn’t imagine it so…heated, I guess.” Carmy raises his head again, traces a finger along your hand where it rests on his arm until you shiver. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”

You hesitate for a second before replying. Before extending the branch. “Well, I’m sure there’ll be other times, Chef.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and it’s your turn to watch his thoughts flickering there, watch as the fog clears, the idea forms, and he says, “Yeah. Next time.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

wow guys thank you for reading i pray through the act of writing this that my jeremy allen white obsession will calm the fuck down, but i fear i've made it worse

if you'd like to keep up with me on ao3, you can find me here and please do send me any comments or feedback or prompt ideas, i would love to hear them <33 thank you!!

[hey-august]

I know I'm pathetic - Pt 5

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Fic tag)

WC: ~300

Warnings for the entire story: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x GN!reader, not an established relationship, dubcon, auralism, masturbation, buggy is a fucking perv, slight degradation kink

Tag list: @rorywritesjunk @lostfirefly @ane5e @fanaticsnail

Title from Pathetic by blink-182

Buggy didn’t have a plan. He had a bad idea. He made a bad decision. A lot of bad decisions, honestly, but this one was new.

Weeks ago he gave himself a righteous mission to not lose track of his body parts, especially his ears. A mission that he was frustratingly successful at, and now he was determined to sabotage himself.

If he was going to be a pervert, then he was going to commit.

This new revelation occurred during dinner. During the perfect time to follow through. Buggy knew your routine. He knew that this was the day you would excuse yourself early and take advantage of the empty bathrooms for a nice steamy shower.

In the chaos of mealtime, Buggy parted with his ear and sent it along to the bathroom where it would find a little nook to hide and wait.

Buggy knew what your voice sounded like overlaid with the water and muffled by the door. You could afford to be louder in the shower, where the running water helped mask the sounds. But he wanted to know what your voice sounded like reverberating in that tiny room.

It was better than he could have imagined. He could clearly hear how the water changed pitch when you stepped into the shower. He could imagine how it coursed over your naked body. He could hear your satisfied sigh as the warmth relaxed your muscles.

Buggy sat in the safety of his room, dragging a light touch along the underside of his erection and listening to the show.

“Fuck, yes!”

He wrapped a hand around himself.

A whiney moan was next.

He squeezed tighter.

“Oooh, f-fuck…”

More pre-cum leaked out the tip.

“H-harder…”

He moved faster.

“Please, harder.”

You rarely talked this much. It was wonderful and overwhelming.

“Fuck, captain, please!”

Buggy stopped. You didn’t. You kept going, moaning and crying out. Maybe he imagined it. Maybe he imagined you saying something that he wanted to hear so desperately.

That must be it.

[bella-rose29]

Hopeless Romantics

Lockwood x f!reader

Their relationship through various hopelessly romantic dates.

With the tickets discount thing I have no idea if that's an actual thing but I figured it would work in the same way as a student discount or something.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: literally none other than maybe wondering why you can't actually have an anthony lockwood for yourself

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

Let me know here if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list! <3

Stargazing

It had been an incredibly long night, all members of Lockwood and Co wanting nothing more than to collapse in their beds and fall right to sleep. George and Lucy had done just that, bidding goodnight to their fellow agents and heading up the stairs. Y/n had been about to do the same when Lockwood dragged her by the hand through the house, out into the back garden.

"Anthony, what are you doing?!"

He turned his head to look back at her, smile bright and blinding despite the darkness. "Taking you on a date," he said, just as he pulled her to the floor, lying down next to her.

"A date? Ant, it's the middle of the night!"

"Yeah, and for once it's not a cloudy British night. Look." He pointed up at the night sky, and Y/n realised he was right. If she concentrated she could see the Milky Way. The sheer number of stars was overwhelming, and she didn't think she'd ever seen so many.

They laid there for a good hour or so, only going inside when Y/n started complaining about the chill (Anthony immediately moved the two of them inside and up to his room, saying he'd be a terrible boyfriend if he let his girlfriend freeze). They'd been talking about whatever came in to their heads, occasionally wondering about the constellations and trying (and failing) to name them. Once changed into pyjamas and snuggled in his bed (really Y/n needed to just move in with him, she was in his room so much), they continued looking at the few stars that they could see from the window, and when Y/n finally fell asleep, Anthony carefully crept to close the curtains, slipping back under the covers and drawing his girlfriend closer, falling asleep himself moments later.

~~~

Dancing in the Rain

It had been raining all day.

George had complained, since he'd been planning on going to the Archives, but at the sight of the torrential downpour he'd decided to forgo the walk and holed up in his room instead. Lucy hadn't minded so much; she was in the attic reading, enjoying some peace and quiet.

Anthony was in the library, trying to get paperwork done, but with his girlfriend sat in the same room as him he was struggling. He huffed for the millionth time, making Y/n look up.

"What? You keep huffing and puffing. Is something wrong with the papers?"

"No, nothing's wrong with the papers. Just... How am I meant to concentrate when the most beautiful girl in the world is sat so close to me?" He turned on his chair, smiling dopily at her.

Y/n snorted, looking at him over her book. "Charmer."

"Is it working?"

"It doesn't need to work, Ant, we're already dating."

"I've got to make sure you know how much I love you though," he pouted, and Y/n giggled.

"You've also got to make sure your company is running properly?" His pout didn't leave his face, and he huffed (again) as he turned back to his work, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration. "Ant?"

"Yeah?" He looked over at her, immediately perking up at the sound of her voice.

"Wanna dance in the rain?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah. It's not as bad anymore, I think we'll be fine."

"Okay, yeah. Sure."

Y/n pulled him up from his seat, and he all but ran out the front door into the street, barely pausing to pull his shoes on. They were immediately soaked, Anthony's white shirt sticking to his body and Y/n's thin top doing the same within seconds. She was right, it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier, and they were laughing as Anthony held his hand out for her to take.

"May I have this dance, m'lady?" he said, his smile wide.

"You may," Y/n replied, placing her hand in his. He yanked her in, pulling her close to his chest, and she reached up to move some of his soaked hair out of his face. It wasn't much good, since she couldn't see that well from the raindrops that fell into her face, but she'd practically memorised the shape of him. He held her close, gently swaying as the rain fell all around them, the couple only moving when a car came around the corner and honked at them for being in the middle of the road.

When they came back inside a while later, George was just coming out of the kitchen, piece of cake in hand.

"No, nope, stay there, don't move! You two are dripping and I'm not letting you get that everywhere!" he rushed up the stairs, coming back a few minutes later with towels and changes of clothes for the two of them. "You can get changed there, then put your wet clothes in here. Let me know when you're done, so I can dry them and mop the floor." He handed over a plastic bag, one for each, then left, heading into the library.

"Oi, turn around, Ant. You might have seen most of it before but I'd like some privacy, please," Y/n lightly slapped his arm, nothing menacing in her tone as she turned her back on him. She'd barely finished pulling on the jumper (Anthony's jumper, really, but she wore it more than him at this point) than he'd wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest to hug her from behind.

"I love you, Y/n, you know that right?"

"I do. I love you too, Anthony."

~~~

The Picnic

"Anthony, where are we going? And why do you have a huge ass basket?"

"You'll see!" Y/n had been chatting with Lucy in their shared room (not that Y/n used it much now, she was in Lockwood's so much), when Anthony had burst through the door demanding that his girlfriend come with him. Y/n had laughed at his antics, taking the hand he offered and yelping when he all but ran down the stairs, girlfriend in tow. He'd been practically bouncing while he waited for her to put her shoes and coat on, and his excitement had only grown the closer they got to their destination. All of a sudden he stopped, making Y/n crash in to the back of him.

"Ant?"

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just... just close your eyes, trust me. Don't open them until I say, okay?"

"Okay..." Y/n shut her eyes, squeezing them so tightly closed she could see patterns. She heard the rustling of something plastic, followed by the sound of him moving around and getting other items out of the basket, and after what felt like forever he finally said "Open!"

She did so, gasping slightly at the sight of the picnic blanket and various food items laid out. "Wait, you did all this?"

"Yep! Well, not all, George did the cooking, and Lucy helped me carry all the stuff back from Arif's without you noticing, but the rest was all me." He looked nervous, something Y/n hadn't seen her boyfriend be for a while, and she realised that he was waiting for her approval. He was scratching the back of his neck, slight blush covering his cheeks.

"I love it, Anthony. Really, I think this is amazing," she smiled at him, and immediately he relaxed, his own grin forming on his face. Y/n moved over to where he stood, planting a soft kiss on his lips. "And I love you."

"I love you too," he whispered, kissing her again.

~~~

The Aquarium

"Two day tickets please, we should get a discount too?"

"You agents?"

"Yes, Lockwood and Co." Anthony handed over his licence card to the woman behind the desk, and she handed it back with a nod of approval.

"Here you go, that'll be ten pounds altogether then please."

Anthony handed over the notes, then accepted the two tickets with a smile. "Thank you!"

Y/n grabbed his free hand, taking her own ticket and pocketing it. They made their way into the aquarium, stopping to read every sign and press their faces to every glass, and Anthony was sure that he was the luckiest guy in the world to have Y/n as his girlfriend. He told her as much when they stopped for something to eat in the aquarium cafe, and she'd laughed and gone pink.

"Well then I'm the luckiest girl to have you, Ant."

They'd left the table not long after, disposing of napkins and empty sandwich packets, and when Y/n squealed in delight and grabbed Anthony by the arm, he knew that the tunnel was just around the corner. Y/n was always going on about the tunnel where the fish swam right overhead, surrounding you with water that was held back by thick glass smeared with little children's fingerprints. She spent the next few minutes pointing out various creatures, and Anthony nodded along, listening intently to her descriptions of each one, from the largest shark right down to the smallest fish, a huge smile on his face at her awe.

"Ant, look!" She smushed her face against the glass, jabbing a finger at the ray that had started coming their way. When, a few minutes later, a second ray did the same, Y/n looked on in as much wonder as she had the first time, and Anthony found himself smiling softly at his girlfriend's apparently limitless fascination with the animals.

They sat in the tunnel for ages (they did have a day ticket, after all), chatting quietly about anything that came to mind, Y/n interrupting every now and then to excitedly list off facts about the fish.

When they finally left a while later, going around the rest of the aquarium, hand in hand, Anthony knew then that he never wanted to be with anyone else. She was still smiling at everything she saw, laughing at the pufferfish and marvelling at the lion fish, and her joy was infectious. A few times she stopped to talk to some small kids, exaggerating her movements and discussing the animals so seriously with them that anyone would think she was talking about the threats of the Problem, not seahorses. She was so good with the kids, and not for the first time Anthony caught himself thinking about their future together.

It was nearly dark when they left, having been kicked out because it would soon be curfew, and Y/n was pulling him along the pavement on their way home, still talking excitedly about her favourite parts of the day.

Yes, Anthony thought as he unlocked the front door and ushered Y/n inside. Yes, this is my future.

[seedsofagony]

Like a Queen (KnY ♡ Kyojuro)

Cherrytober Day 12: Clothes On // Facefucking

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Rengoku Kyojuro

Word Count: 854

Summary: modern au, x reader (f), fluff to smut, s/o to Tengen, oral sex (reader receiving), queening, rimming, squirting (first time), kink awakened (Kyojuro), implied multiple orgasms (reader)

Notes: Umai! ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

Drying your hair with a towel, fresh out of the shower, you can't help but smile. Kyojuro has stocked his bathroom with all of your things, from that body wash you like to your very own toothbrush in the cup. You pick up a little container from the counter—that expensive face cream you only treat yourself to once in awhile, brand new, full size, set out and waiting for you.

You shake your head and unscrew the lid, smoothing the silky cream over your face. That's Kyojuro for you. He's always so conscious of you, learning what you like, anticipating what you need.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you pad into the bedroom, combing your damp hair away from your face. Kyojuro is lying on the bed, propped up on one elbow. He smiles at you as you come out of the bathroom.

"I heard you singing."

You flush, holding the towel a little tighter. "W-well, I'm happy…! You didn't have to buy all those things for me."

Kyojuro blinks. "I wanted to."

You cross the room and climb up next to him. "Seriously, though. That must have been so expensive."

"Does it matter?" he asks, frowning slightly, clearly confused. "I like doing things for you."

"You spoil me."

He grins, slipping his arms around your waist. "I like spoiling you." His smile widens, nothing short of dazzling. "Sit on my face."

You stare at him as your brain processes his words. Sit on my…

"WHAT?!" you splutter. "Where did that come from?!"

You have so many other questions—like, who taught him that? Actually, it's obviously Tengen's doing. You don't know whether to thank him or punch him for putting the idea in Kyojuro's head—he could have at least let you suggest it yourself. You groan inwardly, wondering what else Tengen has taught him. Still, with three wives to please, his advice probably isn't all that bad. Right…?

Kyojuro's voice brings you back. He looks at you, imploringly. "Let me spoil you."

He tugs at your towel. Head still spinning, you let it go, dropping it to the floor. Picking you up by your waist, Kyojuro rolls onto his back and pulls you onto his chest. You watch as he plants kisses along your belly, his lashes long against his cheek. His lips trail to your thighs, gently nipping your tender flesh before drawing you toward him. 

"Sit."

Gripping the headboard, you kneel over him, lowering yourself slowly. It's not that you're not into it—you're obviously not going to hurt him and you're daisy fresh after your shower. It's just that you feel so vulnerable. The toothbrush, the face cream, and now this? Warmth swells in your chest—you're so head over heels for him, it's almost overwhelming.

As you ease down, Kyojuro pulls you firmly to his mouth. He plants a soft kiss on your bud before wrapping his lips around you and sucking eagerly. Still gripping the headboard, you let your head fall back and hum with pleasure. Kyojuro was a quick study the first time he went down on you—he was amazing right from the start, but queening him is so, so much hotter.

He moans through his open mouth, clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. His hands rove from your waist to your ass, squeezing your cheeks before spreading you apart. His tongue slides from clit to slit and flutters against your puckered hole. You gasp and groan, rolling your hips to follow his motions.

Suddenly, Kyojuro pulls you tight against him, rubbing your clit with his searching lips, his nose, and his chin. A jolt shoots straight from your core to your brain. You grind on him, riding his face as you chase your high together.

Your nails dig into the headboard as you begin to pant, every stroke of your hips adding to the pressure building in your core. Your breath comes short and fast, and you start to feel heady, almost like you're about to hyperventilate. But you can't stop—the pressure is almost unbearable, and beneath you, Kyojuro is desperate to give you your release.

You grind down on your clit one last time and cum hard, stars filling your eyes as you squirt, warmth bathing your trembling inner thighs. You swoon backward, clutching the headboard as waves of pleasure continue to wash over you. 

Steadying you, Kyojuro guides you onto his chest, and you flinch at your own weight against your puffy clit. You close your eyes as he strokes your thighs and try to catch your breath.

"Oh my god—didn't even know—I could do that," you gasp, hand pressed to your heaving chest.

"Amazing…" Kyojuro murmurs. His voice sounds dazed, far away.

Inhaling deeply, you sigh, heart still pounding. "I guess I'm going to need another shower."

You look down at Kyojuro, at his mystified face covered in a sheen of your juice. "Looks like we're both going to need a shower," you say, a little sheepish.

You move to get up, but Kyojuro grabs you around the waist. "Wait." His eyes are bright and his smile is almost blinding, "Do it again…!"