#who's paying attention tho :eyes:
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teardew · 10 months ago
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crop of a commission n_____n
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prettycatboy · 4 days ago
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something I think is pretty funny is that I don't usually listen to typical sleep music.
no, no—my brain decided that Metal is the ideal sleep music.
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numiolaes · 6 months ago
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i love that aemond felt Kinda Bad about killing lucerys but there is NO inclination he's sad about aegon sdlkfjghfskldg like okay love that you have a hierarchy
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atopvisenyashill · 1 year ago
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………i just don’t get the romantic appeal of lucemond i’m sorry
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gifti3 · 1 month ago
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from a quick glance it seems like they expected mc to go to RAD until they died
#okay im exaggerating#get ready for the rambling on stuff no one is paying attention too in ob3y me#idk enough about the lore to know if they had a graduation system set up BUT#i do know that mc officially joins the student council later in the story (or at least that theyre trying to join)#and when i think about how long the school has existed and how the brothers are just still going there cause theyre the student council#i cant help but think mc was kinda expected to just keep going to school forever#....they know mc isnt gonna live forever ever right?#like me personally i probably have 60 years left and thats me being EXTREMELY generous#and no way i would still be there willingly once i hit 30#....who tf wants to spend a majority of their lifespan in school#studying and doing homework and worrying about their grades#after the 2nd year id start planning to move out iwjidwjwd#id pull solomon to the side ask if he wants to room with me and we can split the housing costs lmaoo#if he says no id still move out and then id drop out#the only reason i dont ask asmo is cause i geniunely dont think hed want to move out away from his brothers#also im sure he wants to keep going to school#so its either sol or i go solo haha#id just feel weird staying at HOL as the only bitch not going to school lmao#also i dont want lucifers judging eyes on me. ik hed disapprove of the dropping out..not gonna stop me i just dont wanna be judged everyday#sorry this bugs me about the game...i cant let it go#im gonna go with it being a cultural thing#and being able to go to school forever is like peak happy fantasy. to me personally though its actual hell#this would be an interesting writing prompt tho#“how everyone reacts when you say youre dropping out of rad and moving out of HOL”#......the mcs life span is so short in comparison to everyones and i feel like all the characters forget that most of the time#LIKE theyre not being malicious its just ugh....does the mc not have anything else they wanna do in their life???#tho i was thinking about how time works in this game....how do these characters have time for the shenangian of the week and school#and hobbies and part time jobs#it doesnt really add up to me#what if theyre like only in school once a week LMAO
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lokissweater · 5 months ago
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you noticed me ⚾︎
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{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}
summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.
word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)
authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!
want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・
megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.
and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?
there he was in all of his emo glory.
number eighteen.
focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.
“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.
“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”
you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.
“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.
your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”
you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.
“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”
“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”
she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”
“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”
she snorted. “are you sure?!”
you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.
you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”
“suit yourself!”
a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.
she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.
“i told yuji.”
you blinked. “told him what?”
“that you like fushiguro.”
“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”
“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”
“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”
your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”
you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”
“megumi also played really well today.”
“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.
“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”
“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.
he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”
you snorted, “elaborate please.”
yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.
“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.
your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”
“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”
“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.
yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”
“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”
he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”
you stared blankly.
“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”
you kept staring.
“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”
you blinked.
“y/n?”
“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”
your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”
“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”
“because your eyes are red.”
“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”
you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”
“y/n…” yuji trailed off.
“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”
and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.
it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?
this was the reality. you never stood a chance.
so why were you crying?
you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.
you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.
you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.
megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?
he never felt so out of reach.
“here.”
your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.
“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”
the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.
but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.
“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”
“for what.”
you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.
not that you could even see in the first place.
“for looking like a loser.”
the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”
you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.
“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”
“that’s the point,” he hums.
“how come?”
“i get migraines everyday. they help.”
“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”
you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”
you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”
“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”
you snickered, “what? loserrr.”
you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.
“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”
you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.
“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”
you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.
“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.
“why is that.”
“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”
the stranger man stopped.
“…why?”
“because he indirectly broke my heart.”
you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.
at least someone is having fun right now.
“how did he indirectly break your heart?”
“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”
“did he?”
“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”
the stranger man hummed.
“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”
“why do you like him?”
“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.
you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”
you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”
you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”
the stranger man laughed a little.
“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”
“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”
you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”
you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”
“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.
“yup.”
the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”
“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.
it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.
“i’m sorry i made you cry.”
you jumped back.
“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”
you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.
and when they did?
megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.
your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.
“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.
you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.
his smile widened.
oh my god.
megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.
but he was smiling.
“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”
“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.
“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”
he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.
“you don’t have to do that.”
“yes i do—”
“you don’t have to forget me either.”
“that i definitely do—”
you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.
“hold on y/n—”
megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.
y/n?
you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.
“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.
“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”
you nodded, eyes blank.
“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.
oh.
oh that’s right.
you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.
“oh.”
he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.
“dummy.”
“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.
his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”
megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.
you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.
cute.
“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”
“do you have a ride home?”
you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”
he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.
he paused and looked over his shoulder.
“you coming?”
your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”
he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”
“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”
he stared lazily.
“come.”
you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.
megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.
you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.
his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.
megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—
he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.
“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.
megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.
“can you put your address in—”
“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”
you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.
forty fucking minutes.
“megumi..”
his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.
“hm?”
“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”
you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”
“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.
“i’ll jump out.”
he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.
“i have child lock on.”
“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”
“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”
you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”
he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.
“what do you do?”
you fidgeted. “h—huh?”
“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”
he’s asking you?
“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”
he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”
you grimaced.
do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?
you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”
he raised an eyebrow.
“i— don’t?”
he cocked his head. “you don’t?”
you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.
“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”
you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”
you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”
he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.
you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.
megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.
you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.
“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.
your eyebrows furrowed.
he was still thinking about that?
you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”
he huffed out a laugh.
megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.
well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.
megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.
you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.
“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”
he shook his head. “it’s alright.”
you went in to close the door.
“y/n.”
you leaned back down, “yeah?”
“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”
you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.
“i— i don’t think so.”
“good.”
megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.
“i’ll see you then.”
as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.
the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.
as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.
once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.
he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.
“who are you waving at?”
your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.
“who is- fushiguro?!”
you looked at her sheepishly.
as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.
“i have to tell yuji—”
“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”
“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”
“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”
“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.
that’s how it went for about a month.
you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.
but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.
but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.
when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.
“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”
“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”
“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”
“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.
“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”
she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”
you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.
“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”
she nodded eagerly.
“i swear!”
so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.
you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.
finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.
“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”
“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.
your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.
“hi.”
you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
you gulped.
“h—hi.”
“i didn’t think you’d come.”
he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.
“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”
he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.
“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”
you faltered.
he noticed that?
“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”
for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.
“are you—”
“fushiguro!”
you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.
“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”
megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.
the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.
“hi! i’m takuma!”
you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”
“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”
you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.
at his own banquet.
“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”
takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”
you nodded, “mhm!”
the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.
you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.
“is anyone sitting here?”
“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”
“take mine ino.”
megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”
huh?
“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”
he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.
and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.
“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”
“mhm.”
your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.
the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.
your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.
he stared at your enamored look.
“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.
but he did.
“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.
your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”
megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.
“here.”
your eyes traveled down.
“what?”
“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.
shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”
megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.
“i have four others. it’s fine.”
“no but—”
he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.
yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.
your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.
“t—thank you gumi…”
his lips twitched.
you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.
and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.
megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.
“they met at a party didn’t they?”
you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”
he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”
your jaw dropped. “you were?!”
he nodded. “and i remember you too.”
you sat there in silence.
how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?
before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.
you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”
he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”
“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”
megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”
your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”
he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.
“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”
“don’t be sorry gumi…”
you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.
but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.
“do you want to leave?”
he turned his head to the side and looked at you.
“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”
you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.
“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”
he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.
your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”
you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.
“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”
you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”
“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.
“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.
“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”
your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”
“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”
“y/n!”
you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”
“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”
“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”
“i can definitely see why!”
he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”
yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.
“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”
“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”
“i don’t know!”
“well call megumi over—”
suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.
“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”
yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.
“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.
megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.
“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”
you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.
he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”
“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.
you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.
you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.
the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.
you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.
“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.
“me neither.”
“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.
“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”
you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”
the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.
“it’s okay. i trust you.”
you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.
“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.
your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”
he hummed, “how come?”
“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”
“i have a sweet tooth.”
your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”
“you’re not?”
“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”
megumi liked how much you talked.
“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.
you nodded. “have you?”
“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”
met his dad?
megumi spotted your confusion and continued.
“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”
your eyes softened.
“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”
“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.
he nodded. “i do.”
he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”
you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.
“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.
“i love it.”
you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.
“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”
he nodded.
“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”
“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”
you giggled.
“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”
you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”
you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”
megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.
“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.
everyone thinks he’s rude.
your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”
he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”
you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”
you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.
you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.
“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.
megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.
“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.
his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.
you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.
your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.
and then you pulled away with a wet pop.
“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”
what?
megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.
he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”
“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”
megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”
“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.
megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.
“y/n.”
you stopped. “what.”
he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”
“helpless and a creep.”
he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”
he stood and offered his hand out for you.
“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”
megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.
you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.
you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.
you kissed megumi fushiguro.
“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”
“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”
your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”
“that was for stability! he—”
“no it was to feel you up!”
you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”
“y/nnnn!”
as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—
and he couldn’t find you.
this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.
except you never did.
and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.
“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.
“hi.”
he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”
megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”
she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”
“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”
“because—” she stammered. “well because—”
“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.
“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.
“i don’t know!”
“let’s just tell him!”
“but what if!—”
megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”
your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.
“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.
“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.
so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.
and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—
but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.
and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.
and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?
and it was all because of you, you realized.
you made him upset.
you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.
“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”
“i can take a wild guess.”
she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”
she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.
most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.
just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.
“y/n.”
you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.
megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.
“h—hi-”
“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”
your eyebrows furrowed.
“what?”
megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”
he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”
your eyes bulge out of their sockets.
fall?
“you what?—”
“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.
“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”
you fidgeted.
“i— i was doing it for you—”
“why for me? i never said—”
the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.
“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”
“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”
“no but—”
“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”
“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.
“so?”
“and i’m a loser.”
he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.
“no you’re not you big dummy.”
he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.
“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”
he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.
“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”
he nodded, head still hung.
“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”
“way fucking more,” he mumbled.
you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.
you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.
“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.
“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.
“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”
he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”
he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.
“you’re so dense y/n…”
megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”
“the party?” you murmured.
he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”
your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.
since the party?
it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.
you were so fucking stupid.
your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.
“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”
you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.
“don’t be.”
“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”
“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”
you held him tighter.
“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.
“hm?”
“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”
megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.
he gripped you tighter.
“did you?”
you nodded, “mhm.”
megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.
“what else do you like.”
you gripped the fabric of his uniform.
“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”
your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.
“what else.”
“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”
“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.
“more than anything.”
“what else do you like?”
you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”
he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”
you nodded, your heart hammering.
he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.
“you wanna see what else i can do?”
“what— what else?”
megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.
“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”
he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.
“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”
“i don’t fucking care.”
megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.
he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.
you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.
“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”
“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.
“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”
“g—gumi—”
“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.
the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.
“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.
if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?
they’d drop dead.
without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.
megumi was freaky.
your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.
“is— is everybody gone?”
“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.
“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”
he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”
you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.
he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.
“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.
you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”
“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”
“m—maybe in high school?—”
megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.
“thought you liked me.”
“i do!” you sputtered.
“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”
your hole clenched.
“that— that was before you!”
he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.
“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.
“and what about takuma, hm?”
you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”
“mhm. he was all over you.”
you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.
“i—”
“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”
he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.
your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.
“would you?”
“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”
“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”
“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”
“just me?”
megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.
“y—yes!”
he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.
“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”
“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”
he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.
“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”
“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.
you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.
you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.
“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”
your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.
“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”
megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.
you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.
megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.
he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.
“put these on baby,” he murmured.
you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.
“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.
he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.
“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”
“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”
megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.
“and so are you.”
and that you were.
you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.
your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.
“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”
he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.
the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.
without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.
one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.
megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.
but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?
megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.
————————————————————————
want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!
22K notes · View notes
taegularities · 7 months ago
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entertainer | jjk (m)
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Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut!! ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, a shit ton of sexual tension, sexual fantasies, some jealousy from his side, he is very VERY attracted to her, mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, difficult past(s), (mention of) sexual harassment, mentioned past death of a side character, crying, fear, manipulation, confrontation and fighting, aggression, cursing, cocky and selfish kook, overthinking, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content: kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, dom jk, oc is odd, oral (f. receiving), spit stuff, handjob, manhandling, orgasm delay, lip ring…, light choking, bit of hair pulling, a spank or two, coming on oc, some cum tasting mmmh, ass stuff, protected sex, rough sex, various positions, masturbation; as always THE ENDING!! lmk if i forgot something!! ➳ wc: 32.4k ➳ a/n: MHMMM, it's finally time!! i experimented with the trope a little; def not a professional when it comes to this genre, but i tried my best. both oc and jk are odd in this one, and you might be on either's side and hate either of them, i can't say :'D very curious tho, so come and drop a message to lmk what you think. let it aaaall out :P <3
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➳ listen to the Entertainer playlist! 🖤   
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs 
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Jungkook has always wanted an audience to perceive him.
Not just to perceive him, in fact. To worship him.
Jungkook doesn’t consider himself a bad person. Spoiled, a little selfish, but not necessarily bad. He enjoys attention, no matter how temporary or who the giver of it. Feasts on it like an incubus.
What’s wrong with that? Nothing.
Or. 
Maybe there is. Maybe he’s coming on too strong.
Because you’re not part of his audience, sitting over there, middle row, middle spot, with your eyes lowered to the notebook. And when you do look up, there’s nothing but indifference in your eyes.
It irks him. Maybe he is a little narcissistic, and maybe he can’t quite deny it after all — but as part of his future team, you should at least fake a smile, right? Display a certain amount of enthusiasm, the joy of working with aspiring artists.
But no.
You’re occupied, scribbling into your notebook. Jungkook, cognisant of the fact that he hasn’t issued much of significance today, understands that you cannot be taking notes of his words. And he also understands that… if that is true…
You’re not granting him as much fascination as he’s used to.
General admiration thrown into the same bucket as his unwavering talent — that he’s well aware of — might just be the reason he climbed up so high in no time. Sometimes, gentle livestreams and vlogs do the trick — locals have found reasons to adore him already.
At times, a good song and strong vocals aren’t necessary to woo people.
Jungkook, however, is insatiable — that’s what keeps him pondering at times. That it’s just the locals, and on an international scale, there’s still much to achieve.
But he’s not a quitter, he’s a conqueror.
And he’ll reach that mind-boggling status of a well-known, global icon, name flowing as naturally through the seam of people’s lips as a still-lying, tranquil lake.
Jungkook knows it’s cocky of him to praise himself to the skies and to rely on his resolute hopes so much. He knows life backfires sometimes, and that endeavours don’t always pay off. He only started as an insignificant city boy, too.
Survived the cruelty of elementary and middle school; shared a room with his brother, relying on him until he grew and learned to finally rule over high school; every single soul at his beck and call. Then, trudged through college before any of where he’s standing even existed.
But he’s here now. And people acknowledge it.
Except you.
And it throws him off his balance. Which is probably why he shortens the end of his speech, close to slurring distracted syllables before he realises he’s forgotten a prepared sentence or two.
No matter; the relevant and main message should have been delivered by now.
So he leans back in a chair in the back, flashing a captivating smile and waits for the applause. Somewhat proud when the praise needs a moment to cease for his manager to reclaim the mic, freeing the metaphorical stage, much in the form of a simple pult, for the CEO of the company.
Taehyung is savvy of how to regain control over a stage; Jungkook doesn’t know whether he fucked up his final remarks, but Taehyung summarises his ideas well. But the clapping does say a lot.
And between those raising their hands to appreciate Jungkook’s speech, you were, too. He knows because he looked directly at you; still is. And when your eyes drift to his, the two of you hold each other’s gazes for at least a couple seconds longer than the others.
And your smile, while present, is somewhat tight-lipped, a bit awkward but confident, too. Odd, as well; hard to explain, but as though you know what you want. As though you have your priorities set straight and cannot be swayed by anything the world might throw at you.
He doesn’t have a word for it. Poised? Self-reliant? Fearless? Can a single look even say this much or is he being delusional?
But this can’t be true, honestly. Nobody is this unperturbed or passive. He’ll find out.
Your stare aligns with his a couple more times over the next minutes, staying there before continuing the journey over the crowd. Jungkook’s eyebrows twitch just a little whenever your eyes pierce into his, so tantalising and deep, big sweet ires, but so conniving at the same time.
He doesn’t know your name, but he’s sure that it defines intrigue. And maybe, just perhaps, it might serve as the synonym for drop fucking dead gorgeous, too.
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When Taehyung leads you to Jungkook’s stuffy studio, the latter hears your voice through the open door several seconds before you come in. Or actually, it’s not quite his studio.
More like a collective office that a couple of the newcomers use. Jungkook has been part of this crew a little longer, but he needs the additional success, more prosperity; he’s been told to yield more results to earn his very own four walls. Carrying his signature flavour.
But it’s okay. For now, this suffices…
The stench of coffee and the sound of the AC. The pot and plants that always rest in some corner of the room, courtesy of Taehyung who insists on some colour in the grey-white, small room. Jungkook has gotten used to it all.
Which is why it’s strange, seeing your splendour enter the small space, delighted by whatever Taehyung might be explaining. Your grin is the widest Jungkook has seen since yesterday.
He didn’t get to meet you properly yet, so he can’t say where your humour lies. Nobody introduced you, despite your new position as his very own, personal work partner. A second manager, here to guide and aid him when Taehyung can’t; and apparently, you’ve found some charm in Taehyung that you didn’t see in Jungkook during the stupid meeting.
Not that Jungkook would ever dare to doubt his friend’s appeal, but you’ve stormed into his life like a present, and so silently, too; and he wanted to be the one to open it. To reveal it.
Not Taehyung. Even if it’s his job.
Okay. Calm down. Jungkook sighs. That again.
A motherly blanket of praises and fatherly pats of pride. That’s what’s gotten his head so riled up. He was coddled too much as a child. Made felt special. That’s over now, Jeon, you’re in an industry filled to the brim with competition.
Chill chill chill.
But now?
With that alluring smile staring up at Taehyung, only hints of it left when your eyes move to Jungkook. Fuck.
But Jungkook’s stance remains steadfast and self-assured when he greets, “Hi there. Welcome at last, huh?”
Jungkook notices when your mind snaps out of the conversation with Taehyung and into the one he started; a gentle hand frees your face off your hair to enable a proper view to it. The other is still dug deep in the pocket of your leather jacket, covering parts of the white top underneath.
Semi-long, silver earrings rest right below your ear, against your neck when you tilt your head a little; your expression so respectful and inviting when you smile. Jungkook inhales you in that one split moment, details stinging into the eye without much effort.
And perhaps he’d observe more, appreciate your stunning, obvious beauty and elegance further; but time passes as it does before you finally utter your very first sentence to him, “Hi. Didn’t think I’d ever be saying this, but… thank you for having me.”
That’s sweet.
Your words are reminiscent of the adoration his fans grant him, but your expression is as cool as a refreshing autumn wind. The perfect balance, possibly.
Jungkook gestures to a small couch in the back, right next to the door, but you raise a rejecting hand, claiming, “Been sitting all day observing Taehyung. Need to walk a bit.”
And you do. Deliver a last farewell nod to Taehyung who waves a little, gripping the handle and locking you in the room with the younger man nearly drooling over you.
The hand hidden in the jacket before has emerged, arms loosely folded as you take in the interior of the studio, allowing no more insight into your thoughts than, “Nice.”
Jungkook hums in distracted agreement, standing at the wall, watching you roam around the humble space in small steps. It’s odd, being in here with you; the atmosphere fizzles, a little less like electricity, just a bit more than carbonic acid.
But the moment was to arrive anyway; you’ll be a close link to Jungkook from now on. Of course you need to familiarise yourself with his space, too. So far, you seem to have an opinion on it already.
“Easy to trigger claustrophobia, but,” you walk through the open door to the darker recording room, tapping the mic for a moment, “cosy, too. Very cool equipment.”
“Yeah. I agree.” Pause, eyes dropping to your fingers grazing the stand of the mic. Then, “I would’ve come to you today… or yesterday for that matter, but things were so chaotic and—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” you assure, waving his concerns off, “I could see people rushing around and preparing the moment I got here. I’m probably not the main concern right now among everybody.”
“Nah, that’s not it. We have a great team here.” You step out again, hands folding behind your back until you’re leaning against the wall opposite of him, mirroring his stance. “I’m sorry you arrived at such a stressful time, though.”
“Not your fault. I decided so myself fully knowing you were in the middle of something.”
Ah. So you’ve seen his interviews, read the news. You came here with sufficient knowledge about him, alright.
“Really though,” you continue, blinking slowly, “I’m just glad to be here at all.”
Ah. Yes — about that.
“What brought you to our company anyway?” Jungkook asks, coating his voice in sugar to decrease the risk of unintentional and prying rudeness. “I mean — it’s been a while since somebody joined the main team, is all.”
“Oh. What brought me here…” You slide down the wall just a few inches, staring at your feet before you meet his eyes again. Something flashes in them for a miniscule second, albeit too brief to be caught and analysed. Then, you say, “Sentiments?”
Jungkook gathers words of confusion the moment you utter yours, a question already on his tongue. Has he been here long enough to evoke sentiments in his followers? Or do you veil a whole different connection to this company than he might understand?
Who knows. It doesn’t feel too deep, at least, when you speak again, elaborating when his eyes reveal his bedazzlement before he can, “I mean, I like your work.”
Okay. So much he interpreted; and he must admit — the feeling of pride is a thoroughly unique one.
“I think you’ve been deserving of your growth, and I just,” you speak, shrugging your shoulders, digging one heel into the solid ground, “I could never stop thinking of what I’d say or do if I was here or how I’d try to help, even though I’m not a true musical genius like you.”
This is so excitingly new.
How poised you remain as you talk about your fascination for him; how carefully you choose your words. He’s met fans before, but he doesn’t think any of them has ever practised such control over themselves.
And harbouring such emotions for a tiny little celebrity like him while simultaneously treating him like a human being is an art you’ve well mastered. Despite Jungkook’s urge to feel loved and worshipped to a dependent degree, you’re an incredibly attractive change in pace.
Ugh.
Dependent degree.
Although, he does wonder what you’d be like if you fawned over him.
Jungkook contains the fantasy; suppresses his sigh.
“So,” he starts, “you’re here because you’re a fan.”
“Mmmh. Kind of. My friends started it and then pulled me into this. Honestly, at first I couldn’t imagine ever getting into your stuff.”
Your gaze moved down to your trainers a mere moment ago; whether to hide your expression or give into a habit, Jungkook can’t say. But the honesty surprises him; even stings a little as he voices, “Oh?”
Your head shoots up, lips forming a circle before you imitate, “Oh. Wait. That was… pretty rude.” You seek confirmation or denial in Jungkook’s eyes, and when his slightly wrinkled forehead, tight-lipped smile reveals the answer, you immediately opt for an apology, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“How did you mean it then?”
“Just that.” You fiddle in your position, bringing your digits to waist level. Then, you laugh; a rhythmic sound. “Okay, don’t hate me, but. I was one to judge a book by its cover, and you had this young adult too-confident-too-sly something about you. But your music’s surprisingly sentimental.”
Jungkook halts for a moment, moving his head to side-eye you; producing a hoarse Uhhh before he admits, “I’m not sure whether you’re complimenting me or fully destroying me.”
Another lovely laugh. “I am complimenting you. To be fully transparent, I was probably, uh, biased? Because my friend. They have a knack for usually pulling very questionable men, so I probably just didn’t entirely trust their intuition.”
“Fair enough. I guess?” Jungkook matches the softness of your giggle, nodding towards you, “And now you do?”
“Mmmh, well, we’ll see.”
Jungkook must be stupid. Of course you won’t be able to deduce much from the first meeting yet; perhaps the flirting needs to slow down for just now. You seem the patient kind; much like now, letting the quick silence prevail without much struggle.
No sign of awkwardness surrounds your aura; only a hint of… suspicion? Flashing into your eyes when you let them move through the room again, freezing right next to Jungkook’s head. You’re not looking at him, but at something past him; but you don’t question nor voice anything.
Merely return to his stare with a smile, and he uses the moment to pour some courteous manners into the mix, asking, “Do you want something to drink? Coffee, water? A Red Bull?”
But you immediately raise a hand, shaking your head, “Oh, it’s okay. I’ve already got caffeine flowing there instead of blood,” you slide a finger along your arm, indicating a vein under your layers, “I just mainly came to say hi and to introduce myself. And to ask if I can help anyhow.”
“Ah… well, uh,” Jungkook halts mid-sentence, throwing a look around as though he’s searching for something to appear before he concludes, “don’t think so. I was in the middle of some production work, but don’t think I need much.”
“I see. Okay! Then I’ll leave yo—”
“But,” Jungkook intervenes immediately, adamant on keeping you around. Maybe he can wrap up work earlier today? Bring you home? Probably not — not on Taehyung’s watch. “Maybe you can tell me what you think once I’m done?
“Of course. It’d be my pleasure.”
“Would have an excuse for your company, too, then.”
The laugh that follows is so subtle that Jungkook barely hears it. It doesn’t leave your throat, stuck in there, just a tiny sound reminiscent of amused bafflement. 
Jungkook knows his way around words — understands what his utterances and implications usually apply. But somehow, not too many people have been the calmer ones in the room; aside from his superiors at work, not having the upper hand is new to him. 
So you set a fuse loose in him; destroy a nerve in his brain, changing up his communication habits. Because he certainly did not mean to say this out loud. And not in such a sense either.
He adds quickly, “I mean, it gets lonely here.”
“Right…” you concur, albeit weakly and with somewhat… entertained mystery in your eyes? He can’t say. It’s as though you’re wearing your face as a mask, undecipherable. “I get it. Even though your studio is cosy enough to enjoy your own company at times, right?”
“Not mine. But we’ll work on that.”
He cards his fingers through his hair, aware that he is probably more than an open book right now; his usual perfect poker face does not work with you.
Why? 
Weird.
“Got a couple things here that are mine, though. Yoongi and the others allowed me,” he adds.
“Ah… Like…”
Surprisingly enough, you take another look through the tiny room, possibly trying to detect something you didn’t see before. Regarding details. Then, you settle next to his head once again… and once Jungkook moves his eyes off you for the first time since you came in, he sees what you see.
Which is to say, nothing much out of the ordinary. In fact, the most trivial thing in the room.
“Like that?” you voice, pushing yourself off the wall to near his relaxed body. The scent of your perfume wafts through the room before you’re close enough; tenderly grazing his senses. “What’s that?”
Focus.
Your finger points to the object next to him, hanging at a nail at the wall; dark blue with white letters on it. Pretty mundane, pretty basic design.
“Just… a cap I bought back in college.”
You read out the name, pronouncing it perfectly, yet slowing down as if you’re learning a new foreign term. The sudden inquiry is strange, too: you don’t seem as truly curious about it as your question did; perhaps you’re playing for some time with him, too?
He wouldn’t hate it if you did.
“Do you know that one?” he questions.
You nod; a main hint as to why you wanted to know, yet indicating that the knowledge wasn’t of much significance. You say, “Isn’t it a popular one? I had a few friends who went there.”
“Hm… yeah, I mean. I guess it’s a known one. I got a degree there in broadcasting and entertainment like… four years ago.”
You exhale a barely audible puff of air before you whisper-murmur the most infinitesimal, petite, “Damn,” underscored with one indecipherable tilt of your head. He can’t see your eyes too well, so the reaction remains as transparent as you have been thus far.
Until he raises a thick eyebrow, confusion hidden in a somewhat relaxed yet awkward smile as he wonders, “What?”
“Hm? Oh, nothing, just. It’s impressive how much you’ve achieved in just four years, right?”
“…Well. If you say it like that, it does sound pretty neat.”
The bubble of pride expands alongside his ego; right beneath his chest. Somehow, the feeling changes his posture, makes him feel bigger. 
Perhaps you notice what your praise elicits; perhaps you’ve already fathomed his persona that he usually doesn’t dare to reveal this fast. But whatever he conceals with his fans, lies in front of you with an open access.
You make it easy to feel comfortable; he doesn’t need to know you too long to acknowledge this much.
“I graduated not too long ago, too. Three years?”
“Oh… then look at you,” Jungkook compliments, using the moment as an excuse to examine you further; head to toe and back. Your legs are crossed, upper body and face confident, but the position somehow delicate. Hm. “You’re quite awesome, too, don’t you think?”
“I mean— took a while to get here.”
“Right. So what have you been doing during this time since graduation?”
Whatever distraction you have found in the cap seems to break as you silently forage your brain for a response; possibly attempting not to divulge too much. And your answer is accordingly hesitant, though never dubious.
“Saving up? Preparing for life, I guess. And waiting for a good opportunity.”
For what? Do you usually keep your statements in fragments?
He prods, “To do what?”
“Well, to do,” you gesture to the wall in front of you, albeit clearly hinting to the situation, “this. Hoping to change everyone’s lives around here.”
You smile wide, the joke obvious as can be, but Jungkook can’t help but think that you might not be too far off. Unique minds alter brain chemistries; there’s something unforgettable and magnetising about them, and Jungkook steadfastly believes his intuition that you might just be one of them.
For the first time ever, he murmurs your name, delighted by how easily it melts on his tongue. It falls out breathier than he intended to, but when you tilt your head, the intrigue in your pupils inexplicably matches his tone.
He adds to your name, eyelids drooping just a bit, “So… you’ll turn out a long awaited surprise, huh?”
And you, against all expectations, lean in for just a minimal, not too inconsequential moment, hands back in your jacket. It’s a playful, harmless motion as you move back on your heels, then steady yourself again, bodies and faces still far away. You could’ve just as well given him a pat on his shoulder.
But there’s something in the way you look at him, tempted and ominous at the same time. He can’t say what you’re thinking because every feature in your face implies something different.
Even more so confusing what methods for success you came into this company with when you finally say, no pretext or further clarifications, “I really do hope so.”
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“Do you come here a lot?”
Everywhere he goes, the lights are bright.
The white walls in the rooms of the company building reflect the sun in the summer and maintain a sense of optimism in the winter. They’re what Jungkook imagines waiting halls before Heaven to look like.
Then the fluorescent vibrancy in his apartment. And the sunlit sky, albeit cold in this winter, giving way to the planetary system’s star through the floating, parting clouds.
Even this modern art museum with its complex design, winding staircases, glass walls and high ceiling. It lets through an abundance of light, unaware of the balance Jungkook usually craves.
Dark and light — a healthy mix.
It’s why he cherishes the comfort of the recording studio so much. Its dim walls and the silence, so unlike the hallways outside of it. Or why he prefers his apartment unlit, often merely allowing the few lava lamps to illuminate his rooms.
But again… it’s only a balance he usually craves.
Today, he doesn’t mind the brilliance.
Because you’re part of it.
Clad in a beige long-sleeved cotton top, slight turtleneck included. It doesn’t fully cover your neck, still revealing a mole similar to his. It’s tucked into your light brown skirt; your legs are covered in sheer tights, crossed. A gentle hand holds the strap of your bag. Light academia at its finest; somewhat soothing, and somewhat radiant.
You look at him with an initially neutral expression, surprised that someone spoke to you, but more relaxed when you realise it’s him.
“Oh,” you voice; the faintest autumn-tinted smile tugs at your lips. “Hey! I, uh…” Your gaze flits to the painting in front of you, then back to him. “Not at all actually. Which… surprising.”
You gesture towards him before you grant him more of your silky voice, asking, “Do you? Come here much?”
Your eyes are indecipherable to him, cheeks dusted in natural make up. All the damn time, you sport this relaxed, unbreakable mask, and he can’t quite guess what you might be thinking about.
It’s so easy with anyone else. You’re like a scene from BBC’s Sherlock, embodying Irene Adler’s mystery.
But maybe your guard can be broken, too.
“Not really,” he admits, “only when pretty people are around.”
A weak attempt, but it makes your eyebrow cock in amusement. He knows you are, because the hint of mischief that scurries over your face resembles his own.
“Ah, and you happen to know when pretty people are around. Or did you follow me here?” you, however, ask.
It’s an obvious inquiry, but weirdly enough, he didn’t expect it. You exhibit the first sign of a proper, humane emotion. Delivering three quick blinks, voice quiet, suspicion swims in your eyes, slightly irritated.
Or even… scared?
You can’t truly be.
So he backtracks, slightly angling his head. He sighs — hiding how much his lungs crave a breath of air. He doesn’t want to scare you off just yet.
“No,” he defends, “of course not. I was just joking.”
“So… I’m not pretty?”
Oh. Oh?
Perhaps he misinterpreted your expression. Perhaps you’re merely a good actress; messing with him as he is with you. The smirk suggests this much, at least.
Perplexed, he holds his breath before letting out a choked laugh; the head tilt and click of his tongue carry a sliver of scolding before he admits, “That’s pretty frustrating, I won’t lie.”
“I’m just kidding, too. It’s a big exhibition. I expected a familiar face here.”
Why is there something so devilish about you?
He can’t say; maybe he doesn’t need to. Maybe it’s enough to join the game, to be just as cocky and see how you react. 
Perhaps he’s being selfish and too certain of himself, and in the worst case, he might just be imagining the tension buzzing between you like sparks off an electric fence. But does he have anything to lose, really?
Barely ever.
“Then,” he begins, “is it a good face?”
“All the art around us and you want me to admire you, huh?”
“…The art won’t be mad if you do.”
Jungkook is bold, he’ll admit. He hasn’t always been — he remembers a time spent in the back of classes, preferring to eat lunch alone. Did college tug him out of his shell? Was it senior year?
Then again — did that one kill the timidness in his heart or rather the last shred of humanity?
Maybe his cold matches yours, too. Is that why he feels so drawn to you?
Because you’re as bold as him; you don’t sugarcoat words and thoughts. And Jungkook appreciates the honesty, the ingredient to actual success — even if it’s achingly direct.
Like now.
You uncross your legs; your hips move in an elegant curve, and Jungkook attempts his best to keep his eyes off the arcs of your body. Focuses as you say, “You shouldn’t be flirting with a coworker, Mister Jeon.”
“Wait. I thought we were warming up to each other. Don’t demote me from Jungkook to Mister Jeon now.” You chuckle; that’s something, right? “Besides, I was just conversing. We need to spend all our time together now, so better get along, right?”
Right. Right; of course he’s right.
But… what is that?
It lingers for the faintest of moments, just a glimpse of an unspoken feeling, gone with the next blink. In this crowd of unsuspecting visitors you’re the closest to him physically, but your thoughts are miles and centuries away.
“Maybe you’re right,” you still say, as if whooshing away all unwelcome sentiments, “then I should not… dodge your conversation, right?”
“Sure.”
“Behave, though.”
He’s so confused — but not deep in this enough to question it. So he merely shrugs his shoulder before he responds, “I have been. I can converse, alright.”
“Right.”
“Like… first of all,” he steps closer, raising a hand, gesturing for you to walk on as new admirers of the modern piece approach, “tell me, have we met before? Feels like I’ve seen you somewhere.”
You halt in your steps, but immediately resume to the stroll when a stranger nearly bumps into you. “You’re doing it again.”
He’s honestly not. The aura surrounding you like an ominous fog is omnipresent and eerie, yet… you carry a sense of familiarity. But you’re a presence too distinct to ever forget.
Which doesn’t help his case.
“Yeah,” he still agrees before potentially embarrassing himself, kissing his teeth, “sorry. I’ll stop.”
“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”
“Fuckbo—”
“Nevermind.”
If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done this a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.
You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?
Yet.
You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.
Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices when the two of you halt in front of another piece. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me that way?”
You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”
“Well, shit.”
“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”
“Sure.”
Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.
“Then,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”
You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.
But somehow, he only sees a calm ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is gentle, but wrapped in dark mystery. How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?
When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly strange things.
“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”
“And it’s not, yeah?”
“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must have been a trigger, or a thought about something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A soft hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”
Interesting…
“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.
You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”
“Ohhh. Like what?”
“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibit made me realise how this colour makes me cry.”
Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking now. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.
You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who earn it.”
Earn it? How? 
Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?
And then…
If that’s what it is.
He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack. 
“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.
“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your stare. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”
Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.
He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t.
Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”
“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”
Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like that when you were in his office, or at the meeting. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.
And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.
But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.
One who shrugs all the mystery away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.
He inquires, “Are you always this open?”
“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”
“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”
“Yeah. I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Out of the blue, too. Strokes his ego, though. And then, unexpectedly again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”
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Jungkook has barely seen half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.
Perhaps it’s enough for now, sitting in this overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.
Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.
But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.
Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”
“Oh,” you make, “don’t you want one?”
“I do.”
“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”
Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as heck. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for the two of us.”
You laugh — a sweet, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”
Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip in his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. It’s always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.
He sighs.
“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.
And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, two perfectly prepared lattes and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge slice. You thank her with a gentle smile, tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing the dangling earring.
And he watches.
Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”
Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.
And then… God.
He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head, through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.
Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance at snail's pace… makes him sick.
When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sounds around him come alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.
You see him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.
But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try it.”
You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — then again, maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.
But making you smile must be an achievement. If only… you didn’t think of him like…
He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.
He wishes he could.
His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him relax, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”
The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… it’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”
“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you lovely. And somewhat attractive.”
People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t quite budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?
Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”
He shakes his head, clicks his tongue. “You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”
Is it the habit of never failing? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?
You’re just a person.
Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest in peace. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel. Makes him want you more.
He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before. No matter what it is; Jungkook merely understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.
Wants to be the colour green for you. 
“Ah—” you voice.
“In fact, I’m not supposed to hang out here with you.”
“…How come?”
“I should be with Tae,” he admits. Maybe he’s revealing more to you than he should — maybe he should adjust to your level of secrecy and wait. But this is frustrating him. “He dragged me here, so I could get inspiration from all sides.”
You listen; perhaps not quite loving the idea of seeing him in such a way?
Fuck. Maybe it really was a mistake. No turning back now, though.
“He said artists find motivation in art, too, and I do like to paint, so…” He looks at his cup, still left to be tried from, and then stares up from the cream leaf that the barista formed in his coffee. “I didn’t wanna come here, though. I already have an idea of what I want to do.”
“And…” you start, still not addressing the issue on hand; choosing to talk about something else for now, “he doesn’t like what you’ve come up with?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t know about it yet.”
You take a sip of your coffee, softly smacking your lips once to relish the taste. You’re living proof that subtle gestures can make a mind race. Then you say, “Maybe you should introduce it to him then.”
“I will. Just… mmh, need a better grasp on it.” He throws a nod towards you. “I can’t wait to show you either.”
Another sip of the seething liquid.
If the gentle hint of him being bent on your presence flatters you anyhow — stirs anything in you at all — you don’t let it show. Are you, by chance, used to being swarmed from all sides?
Are his advances kindergarten to you?
You don’t budge as he waits for you to respond, setting the cup back on your saucer before you inquire, “Where is Taehyung, anyway then?”
“Uh, I’m sure he’s going around admiring the art?” Jungkook guesses, head reflexively moving to the side, as if his friend and co-worker could materialise out of thin air. “He enjoys it even more than I do.”
“And you separated from him because…”
Because Jungkook ascended a spiral staircase. Because he turned right and halted in front of the second instead of the first room. Because he recognised the familiar curves and edges, as intriguing as ever, from this far distance.
And told Taehyung to continue without him; that Jungkook was going to explore a different corner of the museum.
He tilts his head; his left eyebrow raises just a twitch, fingertips tapping the hot surface of the coffee cup. And then, charisma gathered in the middle of his pupils, he tells you—
“Because I found you.”
There it is.
The slightest of reactions.
Your eyes widen barely an inch, but he sees it. How your lips part a bit, even though you should’ve expected his answer after the conversations hitherto shared. Hm…
“So you did follow me,” you say.
He can’t say if you’re joking or not. But all of a sudden, he wonders if he’s creeped you out. He opted for flirting so clearly, but… maybe you interpreted it vastly differently.
But he keeps himself relaxed; not faltering now when you aren’t either. Answers, “If you want to call it that. I call it finding you and then sticking with you. You’re interesting, Miss Manager.”
You smile.
Genuinely, thoroughly, wholeheartedly.
The beam reveals more than any word could’ve today — that humanity slumbers somewhere in the crevices of your heart. Your eyes suggest it as much as your stance on art did.
Whatever might have scarred you in life, behind all that ache, you hide a delicate soul.
Green, green, green.
And your cryptic worry, uttered a moment later, doesn’t bring him down from his sense of victory. No. Not now.
“Yeah?” You cross your legs, letting out a breathy sigh. “Then I sincerely hope that doesn’t change.”
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[6:43PM] Jeon Jungkook: i’ve been thinking about something. and of you
For a bedroom as sparsely decorated and light-coloured as Jungkook’s, he should be surrounded by a brilliant glow. And usually, he is.
The windows occupy half of the wall, the bedsheets a perfect white; had he texted you a couple hours prior, he would’ve found himself in the gleam of a pale blue late winter sky. But if he’d tapped your name on his device earlier, he would’ve indulged in a whole different mood, too.
Wouldn’t have given into fatigued, delirious fantasies. Daydreaming about the curves of your lips and about the single strands of hair kissing your cheeks. Or the way you love exposing your neck, as if to taunt him.
It’s right there, but you can’t touch it, Jeon.
And…
And the mounds of your chest, slivers of it visible whenever you put on those heaven sent dresses. Their cuts are almost as deep as the ones damaging Jungkook’s brain. And not much for the sake of his sanity, the thirst isn’t quenched just yet.
Crossed legs badly hidden under your see-through tights. The movement of your hips when you walk into his studio, placing yet another gruesome schedule onto his desk. Your scent when you lean into him, pointing to another meeting he barely recalls.
You… you…
If Jungkook hadn’t already cleaned up the sloppy mess previously covering his knuckles, trickling down his thighs, he’d possibly give into the urge to sneak his fingers back to where he craves them to linger.
No, you made that mess.
Of his sheets, of him. And you never needed to be here in the first place.
Jungkook is no fool — unlike many of his friends, he doesn’t deny the way his body winds. He knows what he wants; and right now, he hungers for you. Wants you to eliminate the drought on his tongue; wants you to replace it with some taste instead.
“Fuuuuck.”
The word drags into the emptiness of the room, filling the silence that someone else should be lifting. But you’re not here, and you’re not answering. Not yet, at least. Has it been seconds or minutes?
Too long, is all he knows.
His digits are cleaned thoroughly, but he can’t shake the persisting feeling of sheer, dirty lust as they reach his phone again. Lighting up the screen, then curling inwards in frustration.
He repeats the desperate attempt of manifestation a couple times until he throws the device aside, nearly missing the mid-air vibrations, indicating the long-awaited message. Jungkook’s heart falls out of his ribcage and squeezes his guts; your name elicits far more than it should.
And he feels just a little guilty.
Because he doesn’t deny himself any pleasure — so he knows this isn’t love. This isn’t starving for emotionality. Not for sentiments. What you pull out might be his ugliest, beastliest side; his mind is filled with images of you that he shouldn’t be having.
You’re so respected. So tender and kind. Intriguing, a riddle, but inhabiting secrets probably far darker than his thoughts. So he feels odd about the wanton desire; feels guilty.
But just for a bit. Just a little.
The message you sent back is too humble, too innocent. Sometimes he reckons you’re aware of your power, and sometimes he assumes you think of yourself as… ordinary.
But you’re not. And he wants to show you.
Just one touch, please.
“Fuck, shut up, you creep,” Jungkook whispers to himself, scolding his treacherous mind before he reads again.
[6:52PM] You: Oh? Why would you be thinking about me? Of all people?
Should he wait? You did, too.
Or should he make as crystal clear as he can muster that he’s been waiting for you?
Screw it.
[6:53PM] Jeon Jungkook: what else should I be thinking of?
Your next response is immediate — you’re online. Waiting for him to answer.
Good.
[6:53PM] You: Your music?
[6:53PM] Jeon Jungkook: my music doesn’t talk to me as much as you do these days
He smirks. Keeps the beam plastered to his face until the waiting becomes a little too long. Message on read, you leave the chat room empty of you and full of a nervy Jungkook. He opts out of it the same second, keen on patience before it fades again, bit by bit.
Because then, the thoughts flood in.
Are you rolling your eyes? Throwing the phone into a corner of your couch? Has he fucked up before anything could start?
But it’s been going so well. You talk to him every single day. Ever since the museum, the two of you have been orbiting each other; partly due to work, partly because he’s caught you smiling, too.
Your words are too sickeningly often accompanied by a soft touch of yours against his shoulders; against his arms. Sometimes, you brush his back, his eyes wide awake, the smile timid yet crushingly losing against your confident gaze.
All this must mean something.
“Nah. Fuck it,” he mutters again, sighing over his own constant use of curses. “Come back.”
[6:55PM] Jeon Jungkook: actually… I did come up with one tune. It’s just a skeleton of a song tbh, but I need a sounding board.
It takes another one minute for you to come back, and Jungkook angles his legs, relying on the movements of his body to ease the impatience. But then—
[6:56PM] You: Oh, and? [6:56PM] You: Sorry, I had to step away for a sec
Sigh of relief. Even though embarrassment annoyingly adds itself to the mix, an uninvited guest.
[6:57PM] Jeon Jungkook: …do you wanna come to the studio?
[6:57PM] You: Right now? It’s like… [6:57PM] You: 7pm
Unconsciously, Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, unbothered to the bone, just craving, craving, craving…
[6:57PM] Jeon Jungkook: a true artist never rests. [6:57PM] Jeon Jungkook: and I’d rather die than stop hustling for my passion
As the next message appears at the bottom of the screen, Jungkook can’t help but bite into his lower lip with a certain pride. He nods as if he caught his prey, trapping it between his fangs.
[6:58PM] You: 😂LOL. now that, I admire, mister Jeon :) [6:58PM] You: I’ll finish my wine and be on my way
Oh.
Are you tipsy? Maybe he’s reading too much into it, but the emoji seems so unlike you; yet, you somehow manage to capture the core of what and who you are in the rest of the message. Six coherent words. That’s all it takes.
Goddamn.
You’re so thoroughly you.
[6:59PM] Jeon Jungkook: wait. really?
And that’s it. You disappear.
Perhaps you’re joking; perhaps you’re messing with him. The sun has already set; and he doesn’t think he’s ever stayed with you much longer than dusk before.
If he met you in the evening, or on other nights, would you make more sense than you usually do? Are you the type to unravel when the world quiets down? Or the one to blend with the darkness more, drawing back further?
If there’s pure truth in what you just said, devoid of all mockery you could revert to… he might find out. And it seems you’re in the right mood today, earnest with your intentions when he feels his phone vibrate against his thick thigh again, making him flinch.
[7:11PM] You: Yes? I’m already dressed. Get your ass up
Oh shit.
Despite your order, his limbs still shut down. His muscles and bones melt into the bed, a fleeting image of your sly smirk crossing his mind and an assured voice surrounding his eardrums.
And if he didn’t overthink each of your movements; didn’t fantasise about the possible rise and fall of your voice, he would’ve discarded his phone and gotten dressed a lot earlier.
How embarrassing.
The fact that his mind doesn’t want to categorise this as a crush, no matter how much he asks. That his body responds to you like that, superficial and intrigued.
Embarrassing. He should focus on more important things.
Yet, he can’t be bothered with the intruding sentiment, shame shoved aside and trampled under his feet as his car turns into a parking lot, perfectly in front of the building’s entrance. Your form is crystal clear in the dark; not even the shadows and lack of light can hide your silhouette.
The radar sensor beeps when he creeps too close to the hood of the car behind him, and he mumbles a curse, averting his eyes from your unmoving self to focus on proper parking. Letting the roaring engine die.
Your shoulders are slightly raised when he approaches you at the door. One hand is stuffed in the pocket of your thin, baby pink coat, the other curled into a fist, possibly resisting the urge to enter the building and combat the cold.
You could’ve waited inside, too. Unless…
Maybe you’re excited to see him, too.
You smile, lips reaching far up; he tries his hardest to believe he’s right. Takes the gesture as a good omen, and the hair pulled up in a loose bun as a sign of hurry. You look domestic, comfortable in your skin, no matter who’s around.
But somewhere between the comfort and the softness, there’s that everlingering intrigue, too. And… some timidness. Showing in the crossed legs his eyes drift over, up to the short skirt barely visible underneath the coat.
And your face… so natural. More than usual. Mascara only? He doesn’t know.
All he knows is that he needs to say something.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” you throw back, tilting your head in tease, “where were you? Took you long enough to get here.”
He steps closer; fiddling with his jacket’s pocket, fishing for the keys. And his proximity changes something about you so subtly, a miniscule movement. Hand digging deeper into your coat.
You’re on guard for some reason. And he can’t help but admit he’s on guard with you, too, albeit in a less physical and more mental way. The unfathomable, dichotomous sensation of wanting you near, wanting you far is killing him.
What are you hiding?
If he could, he’d speak it out loud.
“I had to freshen up,” he finally responds, “I honestly didn’t expect you to say yes.”
Your body might be in protection mode, but your voice is as composed, even somewhat amused, as always, “Well.” You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t see why. But I’m here now, and honestly… a little cold?” Nodding towards the door, “Should we go inside?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He sniffles, fishing for the chip to unlock the door. For an ephemeral second right before walking inside, your breath lingers incredibly close to his own, grazing his lip ring. “Don’t forget to dress warm this season.”
Near enough for his fingers to succumb to the impulse and sidle to you, skimming your thigh so featherlightly. He thinks he hears the sharp inhale you suck in. His skin tickles, the shiver icy on his body. He watches you smirk, lowering your head; his fingertips insist on the vicinity just for the tiniest seconds before he says,
“Okay. Let's go inside before you catch a cold, silly.”
But the bitter frost permeates the hallways of the company in the same ruthless manner. Perhaps somebody’s still lingering around in the daunting dark. Revising steps in the mirrored practice rooms or hovering above lyrics and tunes, neck bent and back tired.
But the building isn’t heated; and it shows in your rather quick steps, an arm wrapped around your chest to rub the layers above your arm. The guarded demeanour doesn’t match your usual confidence; aside from the hollow hallways, it seems that you’re scared of more than just the cold.
He doesn’t point it out. And he doesn’t stare for too long.
If he did, you might realise.
Instead, he saunters to the elevator with you in tow, delighted about the light that never changes in the small rectangular space. You let your hand drop to your purse, lazily toying with its zip, and turn your head to observe the closing doors.
And Jungkook observes you. 
The glow of your cheeks in the bright beam, half of your face devoid of the hair tucked behind your ear. As you breathe in, your lips split a fraction, and their gentle, soft curves mesmerise him for a moment too long.
It’s difficult and cruel, being around you. Haunting, agonising, aggravating.
And when your eyes align with his again, sparkling a little in line with your tender smile, Jungkook realises that he’s been holding his breath. Because it escapes between the seam of his mouth in a sudden push, his knees nearly buckling.
He resists the urge to bite into his fist, instead disguising his thoughts when he covers his mouth, teeth digging into his plump, lower lips.
“So,” he quickly adds, leaving no space for you to question his eccentricity, but you initiate another convo in the same tiny second, “It’s…”
You pause, withholding your statement in order to listen to his. But he shakes his head, lifting a hand to sign for you to continue. So you say, “It’s a little scary here at night.”
Okay. Not that tough of a topic.
“Right?” he confirms. “I always imagine getting here and hearing a hum that’s not really there.”
“Uh…” You blink in disbelief, lifting your eyebrows, but when he shrugs your confusion away, your hesitation marker turns into a chuckle. “Why the hell would you say that?”
“It’s just something I imagine. It’s terrifying, but my mind goes places, and I never ask it to.”
“Well, it’s a mean thing of your mind to do.” The ding of the elevator distracts you, and when you step out, your thoughts remain at an afar spot. Kept inside your pretty little head until you whisper, “And? Have you ever heard it, then?”
“Hm? The hum?” You nod, and he suppresses the snicker your curious, cocked eyebrow nearly elicits. “No. Only myself. Humming helps me control my breathing, so I do it to practise.”
“Weird. It’s so different from how I’d imagine you.”
Huh. Seems he’s not the only one sketching your entire being to keep himself awake at night.
“How would you?” he asks.
“As a rockstar?”
“Oh?” That’s new. “As a future RnB slash pop sensation I find this officially peculiar. Why a rockstar?”
You cock an eyebrow; either digesting the confident prophecy or pondering his question. The crooked smile matches his own signature smirk a little, and you puff out a breath before your sombre yet sparkling eyes wander an inch further down, right to his mouth.
Your eyelashes are endless, on their way to brush those delicate apples of your cheeks — in reality, it’s an impossible fantasy written in novels and poems, but it’s exactly how it looks. Exactly how much your curious gaze drops.
Only, the tingling sensation in his chest soon subsides, freeing a path to the realisation that he’s yet again misunderstanding. Because you’re not drawn by his lips, but rather considering a response.
He sighs in subtle disappointment when you point to the shiny metal encircling his lower lip, telling him, “Gotta be the piercing.”
“Ah. Ahhh. Well. First off, this is a very stereotypical assumption.” You shrug your shoulders in amusement, watching him cram for his chip until he halts in front of his studio, keeping you in his vision. “And secondly.”
The lock of the door clicks as he swipes the chip across the reader, defined knuckles paling a bit when he pushes the handle down. He raises his chin by a fraction, pulling out the most-assured smile, and asks, “Do you like it?”
And you, composed as ever, respond, “It suits you. I always wonder how comfortable these are, though.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, like. Do they have a metal taste? Do you ever get hyper aware of them and then get annoyed and want them off? Are they… cold?”
He laughs. There’s something endearing about how your voice quietens further the more your curiosity grows. You’re not quite looking at him, pupils focused on a random spot, hands expressive as you vocalise your thoughts.
“Let’s see,” he mutters, jacket thrown over a chair, “sometimes and, again, sometimes. It feels a bit cold right now because it’s cold outside. I mean…”
He rubs the chill off his tattooed arm, fingers diving under the short sleeves of his white, oversized t-shirt. Attempts never faltering, he leans into you in intrigue, parting his lips before running his tongue over the jewellery.
“Do you just. Wanna touch it and find out for yourself?”
You blink, frozen in place.
The room isn’t too spacious; Jungkook will get his very own studio, name tag and all once he reaches a clear peak. For once, he’s glad about the crowded room, girded by a guitar on the wall, chairs standing side by side, a little couch leaning against the back of the wall.
As ever, he can’t decipher your mood; as ever, you’re still quick to answer, “I… no. It’s okay.”
Why don’t you want him?
Goddamn it.
“Okay,” he simply utters, shrugging his vexation away. “Let’s get started then.”
The excitement in his tone dips, seemingly aloof, but as he walks into the dark square of silence, reaching for the headphones he placed right here mere hours ago, wordless curses dangle off the tip of his tongue.
He makes sure you don’t see the clench of his jaw or the fast and steady fall of his ego, but you’re shoving back the chair and adjusting anyway. Crossing tight-clad legs as you place your coat on your lap, throwing your mane to one side to free that damned neck.
It must be on purpose.
He waits for you to settle, the headphones on the table in front of you enveloping your head. They look way too big on you, and Jungkook can’t decide whether to tut at his anguish or swoon at your stellar being.
Jungkook uses his headphones to communicate through the glass, raising a thumb to ask, “Ready?” You nod, matching his gestures with your own. “Be honest, how professional do I look?”
Carding the fine hair back, he pushes a hand into the pocket of his pants, taking a stand in front of the boom microphone. He mimes a typical grimace of an immersed artist, letting out an immediate, sweet chuckle that you chime in joyfully.
You lean in, long earrings brushing your jaw, pressing down the button for the talkback mic to assure through the intercom, “You look like a born star.”
He rolls his eyes, playfully clicking his tongue, “Ahhh, that’s a nice yet basic thing to say, but. I’ll take it.”
“Why did you go in there anyway? Weren’t you just going to show me a song?”
“Adlibs, baby. I’m still missing those.” He adjusts the headphones again, clearing his throat, almost in position. “But I didn’t warm up my voice, so I’ll need to re-record them anyway.”
“And still you’re straining your voice because…?”
“We’re here to impress you, so let me.”
Your finger lifts off the button, but the movement of your lips suggests to him undoubtedly what your teasing self might be mumbling.
Oh damn. Sorry then, boss.
You raise your hands in defeat until you detect his beguiled smile, raising your eyebrows in a clear question that he answers with two words; a simple title of a song, not as glorious as the tune itself but hopefully as memorable.
Eyes scurrying across the now opened laptop screen, you search for the instrumental until you stumble upon it. 3:54 minutes of what Jungkook prays to be blasted everywhere in a couple week’s time before the big concert, chiming in his ears.
The initial guitar riff drowns the room in a mixture of intriguing anticipation and uncurbed sentiments immediately. Jungkook’s eyes dart to your face, attempting to decode a reaction. And when you notice, hands on the headphones, you nod approvingly.
Most of his vocals are already recorded to perfection; a silky voice laments about a lost time with purity. Jungkook largely listens in, searching for wonky bits or moments to be re-tackled. Of course, he will need to discuss the details with Taehyung tomorrow, but whenever the passion burns the hottest, he can’t help but add an adlib here and there.
As he sings, his eyes reflexively close, and for a couple dozen seconds, the melodic current pulls him towards a bigger ocean; the sense of freedom and possibility is astonishing. There’s a certain ardour he feels towards music that nothing will ever be able to elicit.
Do you feel the same?
As somebody spending day in, day out surrounded by musicians, does that phenomenon make your heart surge, too?
Maybe.
When he looks at you again, it’s at least something fervent he detects in your gaze. A bit like the longing he feels. Intense fondness, or perhaps, even zoning out — until you’re barely blinking anymore.
Your features relax a little more as the song proceeds, bit by bit, the calmest when the ending notes arrive. Jungkook observes you; freezes at his spot. The change from the built-up chorus to the suddenly calm ending, instruments dying, are as forgotten as the last touches… because you, behind the glass, are much more interesting.
Just staring. Looking at the screen, its brightness reflecting in your pupils. When you blink again, most of the preceding smile is gone, something indecipherable in your eyes.
He doesn’t know whether you actually enjoyed the entire thing or became consumed by memories he doesn’t know of. Some the song might have drawn out but shouldn’t have. There’s… a past in your stare.
He knows because much like the vast existing humanity, he’s been tending to faraway memories for years, too.
And he wants to know about yours.
Gently, Jungkook grasps the headphones covering his ears, the mane victim to the impact before his fingers fix it again. He frees his eyes off his strands, never directing them away from you, and when he opens the door to the small room you drifted off in, you look up.
Your emerging smile is unsuspecting and polite as always, and you deliver a tilt of your head. Jungkook could sign the previous oddness off as just this, or a sinking into arts just as he does sometimes.
But what’s enough is enough; brushing questions off his mind has become tedious.
So he rolls back the second chair next to you to take a seat, placing his arm on the one of the furniture before folding his fingers; leaning in, asking, “You okay?”
You react with a soft nod, a tender hum, “Yeah! I was listening.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“You zoned out.”
“Which is a good thing, I promise.”
Jungkook looks for a moment. Waits for you to break or admit that the truth you display might not be as pure as you think; waits for his instinct to wind up correct.
But when you do nothing of that sort, eyes a resolute and solid statement, he sighs. Tongues at the lip ring for a moment before he clears his throat and questions, “Good thing, yeah? What else do you think?”
“It… goes deep,” you confess, an impressed declaration in your expressions, “what are you talking about in that one? I mean, I know, but… it sounds so personal.”
“More or less? I’ve spent most of the last few years dedicating myself to this job. The training, the late night sessions, the failure and lost time. I wanted to depict those hardships.” He nods, emphasising his points. “I want this song to help me look back one day…”
He shrugs his shoulders, thumbs slowly circling around each other, “And comfort my older self that despite the hectic life, things are okay.”
“I see.”
Your tone is neutral, but your chest rises and falls a little too slowly. Your sorrow is quiet. He closes the distance further, nudging your arm, “Hey. Did you not like it?”
“I did,” you defend, honesty and reassurance in your voice, “I do. You have an amazing voice, come on, what’s not to like. And the sound is incredible. Should you manage to release it, it will be celebrated a lot.”
“I will manage to release it,” he says with furrowed eyebrows, resisting the urge to touch your elbow again, but settling on simply calling your name instead, “you’re part of my team. Let’s be optimistic.”
“I am. Teamwork makes the dream work. Etcetera.”
“Right,” Jungkook breathes, word close to a yawn. He throws his body back in the cushioned chair, manspreading as much as the space allows; stretches his arms until his muscles crack. “Ahhh… I really want this to be good.”
His gaze falls to the darkening laptop, soon giving way to pitch darkness, potentially to some screensaver. The title of the song remains still in the opened audio file, and he smacks his lips, blinking only when you voice an approving, “Mhmmm.”
His head darts to you the moment you deliver a subtle nod towards the computer, deducting, “You really strive to be big.”
Well, yeah. That’s been the plan. Always, always.
“Shouldn’t I?” he argues. “It’s a dream.”
“It’s good to have dreams.”
“That’s right. Mine is to… Stand on a bigger stage. I think I’ve reached a solid group, but I think if I keep working hard and with the right team, I can make it?”
“This determined, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he responds with a hint of obvious self-evidence, slight confusion shadowing his mind — have you never wanted something so badly? “The audience’s eyes glued to me. Don’t you have a dream?”
Another deep inhale of air, chest working hard, as if you’re breathing out fatigue. He prepares for another vague answer that might leave him guessing; and albeit clearly seeing the usual curtain veiling your true thoughts, what you say next makes his ears perk up.
“Honestly. I’ll allow dreams again once I’ve moved on. That’s all I want.”
What?
Did you actually want to say that? Was it on purpose? A slip of the tongue?
Because it seems so unlike you. Reveals too much. He doesn’t think you’ve exposed your innermost thoughts like this before, even if still not quite transparent.
“…From what?” The previously relinquished distance dies when he inches closer again, digits sneaking close to your knee. A fingertip floats over your tights. “Hey. Is something bothering you?”
“Ugh,” you say; the sliver of sadness seamlessly transitions into an expression of nonchalance when you wave your concerns off so quickly. “Young adult stuff.”
Nevertheless, you speak on. The biggest development in this friendship between the two of you yet. “I once had a friend that moved away. We were pretty close, and now she’s far away. Which sucks.”
“I’m sorry.”
That’s it.
Jungkook offers to listen, but he doesn’t necessarily deem himself the most expressive guy when it comes to emotions like these; even if he so deeply wishes to read your thoughts. Music is different; speaking to an audience is, too. Articulating gratitude isn’t as difficult as extinguishing someone else’s grief.
And while not quite confronted with anguish, he houses demons that still haunt his nights; he can barely obliterate them.
Maybe he doesn’t need to.
Maybe he can comfort you in the only way he’s ever known. The stupid, selfish way; offering relief and distraction in the most sinful manner.
“Listen…” Jungkook starts, but in all honesty — there isn’t much to say.
Only to crave. To look.
At the curve of your lips. The distance between them. The bare wrist needing to be held, tired eyes wanting to replace the sorrow with something else.
Is he an asshole for wanting to annihilate your heavy breaths of dejection and replace them with sighs of his name instead?
He doesn’t know. He barely hears his thoughts. Only the blood rushing to his ears, and then away from his head, down his body.
Fuck.
The levitating finger drops an inch; you gasp almost inaudibly when the tip touches your knee, skin separated by the tights only. Jungkook loves fashion choices like these, but hates the hurdle right now.
His warm palm opens, placing right above your knee, approaching the meat of your thigh. He knows you’re not breathing because he can’t hear the exhales; and when his eyes, hooded and possibly insane, flit up to you, he recognises the change in your pupils.
You gulp; and then finally push out some air again. Your hand moves to his inked wrist, touching lightly, unsure what to do. But when you don’t resist, his other arm lifts, touch moving to your face, holding it.
The world spins, moving like an earthquake as his mouth draws nearer. You let out a miniscule sound that punches him in the guts; sweet and pure.
He wants to shatter and wreck you so bad; wants you to feel the same poison you’ve fed him. Irresistible, deadly.
But just as the metal of his jewellery grazes your lips, the softness and warmth radiating towards him, your breath shakes. Your face budges enough for his upper lip to feel a brush against yours, but that’s all he gets.
Because you retreat without giving in. And he doesn’t know why.
He clenches his jaw. God fucking hell. What’s your problem?
The sense of failure overwhelms him. Failure. Failure.
That’s not the term his mind should conjure. He knows the moral compass hides somewhere in his dark heart; he knows. Yet, he can never give into it. Is he a bad person? He doesn’t know.
Control was never his domain, after all.
But he keeps those intrusive thoughts inside, intending to not scare you off more than he already might have. So he accepts the dodging of the kiss, moving back, immediately leaving you safe from his touch.
And then, he says, “Uhm— I’m sorry.”
You don’t answer, still catching your breath, back to the heavy sighs that he was going to help shove back. Once again, he tries, “Honestly, I apologise, I just…”
“No, no. Please, don’t be sorry,” you reassure, slightly touching his shoulder. A wave of relief washes over him. “I’m just. Not in the right mindset for it yet. But I’m flattered, really.”
“Okay.” He nods. His eyes drop to his fingers; he still feels your heat on his skin, basks in it for a moment. But when the awkward silence lingers, he suggests, “Then. Let’s call it a night and I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sounds good. I’m definitely getting tired.”
“Me too.”
Jungkook rises from his seat, still unable to wrap his head around what happens — or almost happened. Maybe another time. Grabbing your coat from behind you, he helps you into it, avoiding your eyes, trying not to showcase his frustration.
Uncertain what to say, he reverts back to small talk, stating, “Thanks for still coming so late. You really do like the song, yeah?”
“Jungkook… it’s honestly very good.”
You smile; there’s something about your honesty. About the way you say his name. And how hopeful you truly seem for him. How much you seem to mean it when you say—
“If there’s anyone who can manage to wrap the world around their finger, it’ll be you, Jungkook.”
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“Alright. I think I have an answer to your question now.”
You down the sip of red wine with a delicate smack of your lips, blinking at the change in topic. The evening has followed a pleasant pace so far, conversations well balanced; even though you still carry a sense of caution that Jungkook sees no reason behind.
Perhaps it’s the fact that after weeks of subtle, flirty undertones and advancing attempts you’ve taken the seat on his couch as he’s imagined for so long now. Maybe he still exudes something that screams for caution; maybe that’s just who you are.
Jungkook, for one, is just glad to receive any kind of recognition from you. But he’d be a fool to not insert all his effort into tonight, from the food to the type of drinks and conversations. He knows where he needs to be and he wants you to want it, too.
“What question?” you ask.
It’s just.
Despite the lightness with which you carry your talks, some of your movements feel off, detached from your body. Not quite matching the grace your face portrays; just that one hint. The one hiding in your fingers, tapping the dark screen of the phone resting on your thigh.
As if you’re waiting for a call or something to happen that Jungkook isn’t aware of. Who knows. Nothing has happened in the last hour, so this might be an unconscious gesture reasoned in nothing but an absent or distracted mind.
Yeah.
You’re probably not even aware of it and he’s just overthinking it.
He takes a breath, inhaling the aroma of the almost finished wine, “What I’d do if I could spend a day in a virtual reality.”
“Wait, does the Wembley Stadium doesn’t count anymore?”
Jungkook smirks, dismissing his own prior answer with a click of his tongue. “C’mon. Does it really? You can ask literally any artist ever and that’s what they’ll say.”
You ponder his response, pursing your lips in thought, and then shrug one shoulder. Nodding along, you acknowledge, “Right. So what is it then?”
“I’d just.” He sucks air through his teeth sharply, leaning back with a signature smack of his lips. “Get into a reality in which this damn song is already finished and mixed and ready to be released.”
This song referring to the concoction of sounds he showed you earlier, yet to be concretised and burnished to what he truly envisions. It’s the only song left that shackles him to the studio; at the upcoming concert, he’ll just sing the demo version as a sneak peak if needed. What a source of stress.
But you don’t see it as much of a struggle; you’ve told him a dozen times that hard work justifies a slip-up. That the progress on his album balances out the artist’s block.
Possibly why you laugh his worry off without mocking it, merely throwing back, “I’m disappointed.”
Oh?
“Why?”
“Just because — the Wembley answer was better.”
Unexpected and sudden — much like the snicker you elicit, throwing his head back just a little. Concurring, he sighs, “Okay, okay. What about you then?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me what you’d do.”
“You didn’t ask,” you remind him, already slurring your speech a bit, though still remaining a stable and solid stance, “dunno. You want the sappy or the basic answer?”
“Is the sappy one a tear-jerker? Sounds like it.”
“For sure.”
“Then the basic one. Don’t dig being sad.”
“Thought so,” you answer, and Jungkook holds back from prodding again this time, despite wondering what image he gets across, “alright. I’d do things I’m unsure of in real life. Like bungee jumping.”
“Oh? Kinda did not expect this.”
“No?”
“Just having a hard time imagining somebody as calm as you jumping off a building. Or yelling.”
You roll your eyes. “Anyway. I’d love to go, but I’m too scared of the risks. Like, rope stuff. Don’t want to be jumping for the last time.”
“Okay, yeah, but,” Jungkook starts, hesitating, “I mean, you could say that about anything. You leave your apartment and get hit by a car and then you’d be going out for the last time.”
You begin shaking your head mid-sentence, already drawing a breath, ready to disagree. Then, “That’s a bad comparison. These things are a once in a lifetime experience.”
“I’m just saying! Why hold back from things that excite you.”
“…Maybe you’re right.”
Jungkook’s proud nod and hum are reciprocated with a soft smile, fleeting when you roll your eyes back to your phone briefly. Absent-mindedly, you drag a fingertip across the device’s side as Jungkook follows your movements.
Yet, unsure what you might be harbouring in this pretty head of yours, he doesn’t ponder but asks, “What was the sappy thing?”
It’s as if you live multiple lives, hiding them in your innermost parts; because once he finishes his question, your sparkle returns, and you smirk a little, suddenly leaning forward.
Wordlessly, you fish a tissue out of the square, wooden box, puzzling him for a second until he understands right before you clarify, “For the upcoming tears.”
His titter is immediate, a reflex. You might be relaxed as a calm river, but your humour does shine through among your other million traits. He shakes his head in rejection, smile still plastered to his lips, and watches you lean back again, clearing your throat.
“Mhh, I’d say,” you muse, “I’d try to get into a simulation of Heaven. Try to meet those I miss.”
“Oh… damn.”
“Yeah.”
“…I don’t know what to say.”
But despite the dumbstruck silence, his mind does conjure prompt associations. Like when the two of you sat in his studio just two weeks ago, you engrossed in his music yet somehow dissociated from reality.
You spoke about lost and faraway people back then, too. And he didn’t ask then, either.
In the depths of his mind, he wants to believe that you’re trying to lead him somewhere, fishing for his hand but never quite reaching it. Drawing back right before pleading for help; or perhaps wanting to make him understand a thought he can’t fathom in the way you form it.
The pattern is repetitive, loud — but he knows you’ll retract the moment he does lean into you, offering his ear to your worries and thoughts.
He can’t win.
“That’s okay,” you say, making up for his lack of proper empathy, and that’s where you leave it. Not hesitating, not indicating another hint to lead to your mind.
Yet, he clears his throat quietly, licking drying lips, and asks in attempt to grip the truth, your whatever-truth, “And, who’d be there? Do you want to talk about that?”
“Mmmmh,” you hum, pondering, before you treat him with the same disappointment he’s suffered throughout the last weeks, “no. I think I’m good.”
Unbelievable, and truthfully, frustrating.
Are you playing this side of yours? Is it an act? Are two sides of you fighting within you?
“Okay,” he simply responds, clearly agitated but unsure whether you notice. You’re looking at your phone again. He sighs. “And… Do you believe in that stuff? Heaven, Hell, stuff like that.”
You shrug a bare shoulder. “Dunno. I like to think there’s something, but then again I don’t.”
“How so?”
“The way I see it, it’s kinda simple,” you explain matter-of-factly, “some people are good enough to deserve a place in Heaven once they’re gone. And some people are terrible enough to burn for eternity.”
Coming from your sweet mouth, uttered in an equally soft tone, the sentence feels jarring. Jungkook has had these thoughts before; he’d be a hypocrite to judge you for yours, recalling moments when he wondered where he’s destined to land once he’s left this realm.
And somehow, it was never the prettier option.
Still, he utters, disguising his own past pondering, “Wow. That’s dark.”
“It’s true. There’s some serious crime in the world.”
Agreed. Perhaps, compared to the extreme sins, he can be forgiven. Right? Maybe…
“Yeah,” Jungkook accords, “then, why did you say that sometimes you don’t like believing in it?”
“I mean, if there’s actually something like Hell, and I happen to fuck up throughout life… I don’t wanna end up there.”
It’s like you’re mirroring his thoughts.
Even if he never quite thought about it to such an extent. Even though his idea of the afterlife built on what he’s already done, and not what he’s still going to do.
But your words give a subtle hope that redemption is possible. Who knows. Who really knows.
Perhaps it’s easiest to stray away from these thoughts and focus on you at this very moment. Even if it’s you triggering innermost fears; he doesn’t quite have a clue how you do it.
No matter. He’ll focus on you. Altruism might be the first step to vindication. Karma points. Karma points.
“Valid,” he says kindly, “can’t imagine you fucking up, though.”
“How would you know?”
“The company grapevine whispered a lil something about you.”
“Ahhh—”
“Good things! Other than that, I just think. Don’t know.” A small gap, well-hidden so far, grows in the back of his mind, tiptoeing to the very front of his mind. Before he’s thought it through, he blurts, “I’ll be honest with you.”
Your ears perk up, eyes suddenly wide.
What was that?
Okay. Whatever. Can’t stop his speech now, “Uhm, I’ll be honest and say that I’m not the best person I know. Like, I’m aware of that. It’s why sometimes, I don’t really understand how people can be as genuine as you.”
…Has he said too much? Or not enough? Because he could swear your face deflates, expression dimming, as if you expected something else.
And all you say is, “I understand.”
A flicker of slight panic creeps into his overthinking head, not usually a trademark of his personality. But you look dispirited, even if just for a second. He tries further.
“And from what I’ve seen, you go through life gently. The way you do anything is how you do everything, right?”
“Hmmm,” you voice again, pupils hidden until you look up. And when you do, he breathes a sigh of relief; deep and obvious, and he doesn’t care if you notice. Smiling sweetly, you tell him, “You said that really well.”
The way you say it is riddled with woe, but within a second, your eyebrows relax, mouth forming an authentic grin. Displaying real emotions suits you better than the mask of the frigid ice queen you keep plastered to your face; you look different right now.
Vulnerable.
And it makes him want you more.
Does it have something to do with the warm light he chose for this room? No. It doesn’t shine brightly enough to really illuminate your face that much. With the intensity lowered beforehand, some of your features hide in the dark when you lower your head a little.
And it’s not the decent amount of alcohol the two of you slurped.
It’s the usual, mysterious shimmer in your eyes, begging to take off more of your mental layers. The fragility behind the pretence of invincible strength. No doubt, you’re still a textbook definition of a femme fatale.
Still, there’s some sweet urge to surrender, visible in your stance. A fragrance luring him in. Warm skin close to his; calling for his fingers.
And he’s at your beck and call, ready and motivated; giving into your wanting eyes — or is that his own desire he’s confusing? — and leaning in. A little more with each tiny moment, advancing until the tips of your noses meet.
Your warmth consumes him; your breathing quickens, resulting in fitful exhales that he takes in with vigour, much drowning in his own head until you gasp and he realises—
“Sorry,” he mumbles, not yet retracting. His hand touches your knee, carefully but with intention. Waiting, he asks, “Is that okay for you?”
“…I’m not sure.”
Your answer takes a seat on his ego and weighs it down. Harsh, sudden, perhaps not unexpected but definitely breaking a string of patience within him. But consent is consent; he understands. He’s grown now.
Yet…
“Fuck,” he whispers under a faint sigh, dejected and confused.
And you hear it. Bambi-eyed, you ask, “What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He’d lie if he suppressed the disappointment. Working towards you for weeks was supposed to end in realising his fantasies into a palpable, actual feeling, with a side achievement of a deeper connection.
You don’t seem to want to provide it; he understands, but the agitation courses through him like a fire burning up a forest. The trees are his nerves; alight with different emotions. You’re fumbling with the soft cotton of your winter dress, and he averts his eyes.
Shutting them for a moment, he ponders his options; does he continue the awkward conversation? Or perhaps, ask you for your opinion straightforwardly? Maybe, after all this while, it wouldn’t be so stupid to swap a penny for your thoughts.
And his mouth opens, but it seems you’re faster. Crushing his questions and uncertainties when he hears you gulp, witness to another change of mind as your knee shifts forward. His eyes open rapidly, and when he looks at you again, you’ve moved closer.
Your leg touches his thigh; your eyelids half fallen, lips an inch apart and fingers hesitating, yet advancing towards him. Hope sparks and sparkles in him anew, and he suppresses the cheeky, triumphant smile.
He feels like an asshole. Oh, he feels so selfish — but he can’t be the only one. He cannot possibly be the first or last to give into deepest desires out of self-interest.
Carefully, he matches your pace, moving into your direction much like you are drawing into his. His hand lifts to your arm, and you suck in a breath as he touches your skin, your chest rising and falling deeply.
And his eyes observe. The motion drives him crazy. He wants to pilot his touch to this spot, wrap his palm around your mounds, desperate to feel your nipples perk up under his skin, your mouth fall wider.
Should he? Maybe, maybe—
Not yet.
Instead, he draws an invisible line with his fingertips, up your arm and to your shoulders until he reaches your neck. The sound you let out is so tiny he barely hears it, and you tilt your head to the other side, giving him free reign over your skin.
A spark lights up under his finger, as if he’s touched a defective bulb. He wonders if you feel the same flame when he charges for your jawline, tracing it for a moment before he moves to your seething hot cheek.
You’re burning up.
So he asks in a quiet, gravelly voice, somehow much lower than usual, “Are you okay?”
Your eyebrows are furrowed, and he starts to worry again; but maybe that’s just the same tension unleashing that he’s felt, too. The temptation runs deep; he could scream it out of his lungs and it wouldn’t be enough.
Relieved as you nod, he mimics the movement, whispering an, “Okay,” before he then dips forward, exhaling close to your neck hotly and… leaves a small kiss right there. He doesn’t know about you, but if you did that to him, he’d possibly faint.
One more kiss, and suddenly, your hand is on his knee. His head spins. Must be the alcohol. Must be you.
And you’re probably in no better state, judging the hot cheeks and the slight sway of your body. Must be the wine. Must be him.
And when his lips graze your jaw, your fingers curl in, clawing onto his knee, and his inner voice celebrates, “Jackpot.”
But not really. He’s going with the flow, exploring your preferences, but this needs to be the night of your life. His mind and ego want you to perceive it that way. So what should he do? What do you like?
Are you one to push him into the bed, holding his shoulders down? Straddling him keenly, pouncing on him, eyes rolled back?
Or do you give away all the power you usually emanate; hands bound with a tie, legs struggling between a rope, screams muffled under a gag? Do you wind and go crazy when somebody has their way with you, edging and then overstimulating, refusing a touch and then slapping your ass wound…
Should he let your siren eyes tempt him into submission or will you be the one drilled into his mattress with a hand around your neck and a trail of black mixed with tears under your eyes?
He doesn’t know. Because you’ve disguised all of you; hidden your mind behind a mask of absolute neutrality, hard to decipher. He can usually read women so easily. They lick their lower lips when they want him under them, and quiver when vice versa.
He’d oblige to either for you. So what does it matter in the end, anyway?
No, it doesn’t.
His tongue that lashes out, however, does matter. Tasting your skin as it drags over your chin and then to your mouth. Insane when he reaches your lower lip and you sigh, then back to your neck, blowing, teasing, still not kissing you… touching your thigh, moving inwards…
“What do you want me to do?” he asks.
And this time, while still a little quiet, you finally say, “More. You can do more.”
“Yeah?”
You nod as if starved, relieved when his hands leave your leg and venture further in. It’s hidden under your dress, but somehow, not seeing your full glory just yet, but observing your reactions to his movements, stirs his thoughts. If any were left, that is.
The touch to your panties is light, tender as he reaches the hem, driving a finger underneath it in exploration. You don’t say much, but he sees the zeal in your eyes, murmuring a little, “Mhm…”
And when he finally presses against the fabric slowly dampening, lightly as he rolls his digits right where your skin so incredibly softens… you moan. You moan.
It doesn’t sound the way he imagined. But it kind of does. He doesn’t remember what he imagined — doesn’t know much at all. Just that he wanted this sound to echo within his walls. For him to be the one to drag it out. Not for anybody else, but him.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Okay. What if he does… this…
Thought so.
Sometimes, human beings have a fantasy unmatched, don’t they? Able to form and reform expressions on people they know that they have never seen. For example, he can imagine what you look like when you cry. Or when you’re mad. Or…
He knew you’d press your lips together, along with your eyebrows, muffling your sound once he sought out your clit and pressed against it. And not because he’s seen other women contort their faces like this; no… it’s an entirely new sensation with you.
You don’t compare to anyone. Nobody compares to you. Nobody, ever.
Sick of watching the invisible movement under your dress, he lets his eyes wander to yours, and you notice, do as he does. Eyes hooded, staring at him as if drunk — possibly, probably drunk.
Just once, he gapes down again, trying to adjust without crushing your knees with his. Comes closer. Then looks back at you. Absolutely astonished by the coloured lips drying up. Seeing your tongue peak behind your upper teeth, pushing against them.
Then you’re blinking, several times, not rapidly, but enough to indicate that you’re losing yourself, too. And then there’s some melancholy behind your gaze; he can’t say where it derives from… you seem to be coming out of a room that you kept dark for long enough.
He can’t say whether he’s further dimming the light in that room or lightening it up — and as he advances, gauging your reactions, he inwardly hopes it’s the latter.
So inwardly. So desperately.
Patience only persists for a moment; Jungkook barely believes in it. People always break. And he does when you lean forward as he drags his finger between your pussy lips, still over the clothing. You balance your weight with your arms, holding yourself up.
And then…
You so tantalisingly, softly, quietly, whisper his name.
Okay.
The snap was expected. The sigh he lets out was expected. And the way his lips finally crash against yours, making you almost fall back onto the sofa was expected, too.
But your taste… Why did he know you’d be as sweet as a cliché, like a perfume made edible? Matches your mystery and your elegance.
And the mellow, yet wanting sounds fit every move he makes. Like the moan-sigh combination when his bold hand wraps around the bun you’ve arranged your hair into. How you breathe into the kiss when he tilts your head a little, and then proceeds to loosen up said bun.
Releases it. Lets your hair fall. Pulls you in, pausing the make-out in the process, and then diving back in with a greed he’s never been met with before.
And as he kisses you, his index finger still dips into the uncharted territory below, ruining your panties some more as he soaks them; fucking loving how you whimper as a result.
No… this is ruining him just as much.
So he draws back from your body, attempting and probably failing not to look at you like an animal glaring down at his prey, ready to devour. He’s never seen this expression himself, but one or two girls have uttered quiet, “Oh-oh,” in such moments before — do you see the danger, too?
Or is he being cocky? But it’s not his fault. You make him cocky because he can never fucking say what you think! Of course he’d need the mental praise to himself — your opinion on him is too difficult to decipher.
He’ll keep the energy up. Make you shrink in his hold.
Hands under your ass, he lifts your lower body a little, amused by your wide eyes and how you wonder, “What are you d—”
Silencing the moment he uses his palms’ position to grab the hem of your panties and pull them down your legs. Over them and then on the other side of the table. The two of you won’t need those tonight.
“What does it look like that I’m doing?” he teases, smirk effective and permanent.
He likes that about himself. Maybe you’ll do, too. If not, then you at least do like how his fingers, impatient, find their way back home again, not before lifting your dress to your hips until you’re bared to him the way he’s craved.
And he pauses.
Oh, this treasure…
“You…” he starts, moving two ring-clad fingers between your folds. Testing the waters. “I’m not letting you go anywhere tonight. You’re staying right here…” He leans forwards, body on body, whispering against your lips. “Trapped under me.”
You want to answer, he thinks. Your eyebrows relax for a second, an inebriated smile playing around your mouth. If he knows you well enough, he’d guess you’re urging to dive back into your witty remarks.
But none of it is possible just yet. Because when he caresses your pussy again, increasing the pace without being too unreasonably fast, you bite your lip. He urges you to release it with his tongue. And when you do, his finger plunges in; as deeply as it can. So easily, too.
He kisses your clavicles the moment your nails get ahold of his arms, wiggling underneath him, but still caged in. And he sees the built-up frustration; how you kept yourself at bay, but can barely do it now. How you yearn for just one or two more right touches here and there before…
But before he can, he stops. Immediately, unexpectedly for you. Once again, mean, but…
“You’ll thank me later,” he utters — and with those four measly words, something awakens in you that was hidden for just the last ten minutes.
“Oh? You… you’re confident like this.”
“Of course I am.”
“Jungkook…” you say in such frustration that he thinks you’ll beg some more. But you don’t. Instead, you shake your head and say. “Men rarely manage to…”
“This isn’t rare. I’m not giving you rare, ‘kay?”
“I…”
“How…” he readjusts your body, pulling you down the couch, shifting until his knee keeps your legs apart. “How fucking insulting.”
Do you hear any of this anymore? Because your eyes are closed again. Hands still holding on; and… and body winding in order for your cunt to shift closer to him, suddenly rubbing against his knee.
It’s all you can get at the moment since his hands are so far out of reach. And the satisfaction of knowing that you’ll strive for anything at all is cosmic.
“You’re ruining my jeans,” he mocks, clicking his tongue as if to reprimand.
“Then…” You hook a finger into one of his jeans’ loops, pulling and then releasing again. “Take them off, coward.”
You don’t have to tell him twice. They say that if you have waited for so long, what’s ten more minutes? But no more. Not another second.
So he obliges immediately as he mutters, “‘Kay,” offering a helping hand when you work on his shirt. Off and to the ground. Pants off and to the back of the couch. He already knows he’ll be finding them all scattered the next morning.
But that’s the problem of just that next-morning-self.
Boxers still on, he returns to give you another initial taste of what’s to explode. The dress moves up from your hip as he slides it over your skin, stopping right under the mounds he’s still so curious about.
He needs to keep this balanced. Rush as much as might be appropriate, but not too much to make things embarrassing. This… the way he leans down again, opening your legs, erection grinding against your pussy and offering the bare minimum… this is good enough for now…
Or maybe not. Because merely a couple seconds later, you halt mid-moan, letting out breathy words that he struggles to understand until you repeat, “Is that… all you’ll be doing tonight?”
“Hmmm, you want more?”
“I— I don’t know.” Pause, a gulp when he presses his clothed length between your cunt. “Are you going to tell me your secrets if I say yes?”
His secrets?
You must be kidding. He has been an open book to you, chasing you around; if anything, he needs to unravel your mind.
But for that, he needs to play along. So he feigns the same mystery you emanate, teasing, “What do you wanna know?”
And you don’t hesitate. “Everything.”
…Hmm…
You’ve never seemed as interested as you are now. Never dove into his thoughts and the dim heart like now. If he agreed now, would you blurt out something specific? Questions that you formed when he wasn’t paying attention?
No idea. Maybe that’s something to worry about later. Pillowtalk. The morning after talk. Just anything… just not now.
He removes the obstacles currently standing between the two of you. The cushion standing against the back of the couch, constantly falling into your face. He throws it on the ground, so you don’t have to keep swatting it away.
Then, the dress covering your body. He gives a sign of wanting to proceed, and you play along, lifting yourself, chasing his lips as your outfit follows the cushion. And then, the phone right underneath the small of your back, having snuck there, undetected until you yelp, “Oh!”
“What?”
“Cold. Don’t know how it got there.”
He fishes out the device, watching it light up, a notification at the top that he can’t decode and that he doesn’t pay any mind to. Puts it on the coffee table. Then… last but not least… the uncertain atmosphere.
He says, “You want to know everything? Then make a list. I’ll tell you if I feel like it… deal?”
“You’re so…”
“You gotta make me. No other way out, baby.”
An answer lies on your tongue, ready to disrupt the moment. He knows because you look distracted all of a sudden, possibly still thinking about the same thing you did before, dissociating as he sat next to you, wine in hand.
It’s probably about work. Or about Taehyung — God, nobody at work but Jungkook would know, but you mention that guy all the time.
But tonight is not the night to think of others. So he shakes your upcoming inquiries away, giving you no time to think about it further as he, thirsty and impatient, picks you up and off the couch.
Right into his lap. Right onto his cock.
Still a layer between the two of you, watching you grind immediately. For a moment, you put him under your spell, urging him to stay right there and not move away until he’s shot buckets of cum into his boxers.
But…
But he’d rather do it in you, with you, because of truly you.
So he wastes no second as he executes his former plan, large hands sprawling over your ass before he stands with willpower and strength. He throws you a couple inches into the air, making you adjust, and then moves.
Away from the couch, stepping onto the clothes on the floor, careful not to stumble and hurt the two of you. The way to the bedroom seems endless, and you so naked… so… so his for the night. Like what, he still needs to wait those couple square metres?
Fuck, how…
No. It must be a primal instinct that hankers him to give up already, having made it halfway through the room and almost to his bedroom when he suddenly stops. Pinning you against a random free spot at the wall, right under a silent clock.
“What are you…?”
Your voice is trembling, for some reason so incredibly small. For the first time since you lay beneath him on the couch, he sees your eyes properly, and they flit back to the couch as if you’re looking where you just departed from — and then back to him.
“What are you looking for?” he whispers. Tantalisingly, he brings his fingers to your chin, pinching it lightly as he raises your head. “Hm? I’m here. Do you want to go back? Missing the couch? Wall might not be as comfortable, huh…”
“No… that’s not a problem. I’m just… surprised by the change.”
You do look surprised. A little cheekier again as your tone rises, your head falling to the side, lips smiling as if to distract him from something bigger. As if there’s anything bigger in existence right now than you.
“It was just sudden,” you conclude.
“Is that bad?”
“Not at all. I’m just curious.”
He doesn’t need to ask what about. He sees it in this expecting gaze of yours that you want to read and decrypt his next steps. And you can have them.
Because he lets you go, making you fall silently on your feet, kissing you once before he falls to his knees. You groan when he grabs your leg, placing it on his shoulder, restless when his lips charge for your open folds.
He offers you, “Curious, huh? No need,” before kissing your clit, adding another, “Just indulge in it… no need to use your pretty brain today,” and then attaching his mouth and tongue to your dripping pussy.
Digging his large nose into you, tickling your nub, he swirls his tongue around, slurping you up like his favourite drink. Holy fuck, you taste good. He could eat you up, down you in one like a shot. Stay right here all night.
You get ahold of a patch of his hair, but don’t pull — somehow, he wishes you would. Instead, you seem to focus on your body, trying not to fall, keeping it upright. You’re winding, your leg moving, and he soon wraps an arm around your thigh to keep you from stirring too much.
And with the other, he targets your cunt, mouth moving up to make space for the digits to easily, effortlessly slide into you. You gasp, just a bit louder when the metal touches your hot sex, calling his name — and for possibly the first time, he hears you curse, “Fuck. Fuck, I’m— I’m going to pass out.”
Oh my God.
If he could lick you to unconsciousness, he’d feel shocked and proud at once. He wants to see you become weightless, wants to catch you in his arms, and then bring you to his bedroom, still delirious, and fuck your brain out of you.
He wants you so bad. He wants to fuck you so fucking badly. His cock aches, godfuckingdamn.
As he rolls his tongue, lips kissing yours, moving his head left and right as he makes out with your pussy, he almost pulls all the way through. Nearly gives into your body language, nose moving over your clit, fingers pumping in and out, breathing into your pussy hotly.
But he has other plans. He wants to see your damn tears; wants you to unleash all your desperation. So, just when your sounds change, less pauses between them, high-pitched, heavy breathing, he stops.
Draws back, watching you press your ass into the wall, head suddenly hanging low. You whisper, “No…” as he looks up in satisfaction, waiting for you to say more.
You’re out of breath, exhaling through half gritted teeth, a palm on his chest as he rises again. You declare, “I’m going to blueball you, too.”
But the adrenaline has poured buckets of confidence over Jungkook already, and he’s drenched in it as much as in your scent, cocking an eyebrow as he challenges, “You can try.”
“I’m gonna suck your dick so fucking slow.”
“Do it,” he keeps the mask up, wondering how much of the effect you saw upon gracing him with such a provocative image, “let’s see if you make it this far. Might just fuck you into space before that, you know?”
He lets out an unsteady breath, a strand of your hair swaying upon impact. His hand taps at your thigh, testing whether you’ve closed your legs again; and as he realises that you haven’t, much to his pleasure, he palms your pussy, heel of his hand pressing against your clit.
“You’re trying to set me off, because you know you can, right?” he questions, for a split moment distracted by the teeth gnawing at your lower lip. “Smart of you. You are truly smart, babe… but you’re also mine tonight. So don’t play games.”
A slap lands on your vulnerable pussy, and he understands your frustration as you open your mouth, the lower lip previously captive rolling back into place. Soft and gorgeous.
No matter the fading distance, there’s still something inexplicable in the air, as if he can’t really separate a dream from reality. As if he needs evidence that this isn’t yet another figment of his imagination; the ones he’s awoken from several times, underwear threatening to burst.
The hand just torturing your cunt wanders up your body and settles around your neck, like a chain or a necklace or a motherfucking leash. He feels home here, just like this. With your fingers on his wrist, gulping under his touch.
Pinned firmly against the wall, he looks down to where you’re dripping and he’s standing tall, gripping the ever-twitching length that is begging for more. Begging for relief. He’s doing this to himself — because his body is burning up, as if scorched by sun flares.
He’s doing this to the both of you.
The kiss underneath your ear as he leans in. And the still harmless yet sinful touch between his tip and your folds. How he holds the shaft firmly, leading the head between your pussy lips, teasing until just an inch intrudes your awaiting hole.
He moans the moment you do, moving, fucking just the first of the tip into you; scrambling his own thoughts as he says, “God, I could just slide in… you’re so, so wet.”
“What… why say this if you won’t do it?”
Guess you’ve figured him out well enough. Guess that’s the cockiness you implied when you called him a fuckboy in that stupid museum. Or how you kept a safe distance — because thinking about it, maybe Jungkook could be someone to break somebody’s heart.
No. He knows he is. But…
He shakes the thought off his brain, returning to this very moment where you’re waiting for his answer, a heart made of steel. You won’t let him hurt you; you know better than that. You could dodge him easily.
Mentally, at least. Physically, you’re under his mercy.
So he uses this weakness, muttering under his breath, “I will, I will… but not here. We can do better than here.”
Wasn’t this just a pit stop after all? What he’s seeking is still waiting in his bedroom, soft sheets spread over the cold mattress, waiting for a body to warm it up. Or two.
Already hot and bothered, Jungkook lets you go entirely; and the next minute happens in a blur, as though he’s struggling with recognising his own apartment. Suddenly self-conscious about everything and nothing at once.
With you in his grip, he walks along the dark, small corridor; then past the paintings, through the door, into a well-managed, tidy bedroom until he’s sat your ass down. It happens within the tiniest moment — he could narrate how you got here but he can barely recall it.
Dick at the same height as your mouth, he wraps his hand around it. You don’t initiate anything of what you promised, looking into his eyes with a question; he knows you want to avenge yourself and provide the same vanity, but you’d rather skip to the best part.
He wants to, too.
So he doesn’t ram his cock into your mouth, hitting the farthest spot until you gag. Instead, he relishes the image mentally and quietly, fantasising about the warmth of your spit, about the tongue swirling around.
And then… then he goes a step further and imagines the even extended pleasure if he dug into your pussy now, maximising whatever your mouth could make him feel.
Are his thoughts too straight-forward? If he spelled them out like this, one by one, would you find him weird? Too eager? Obsessed?
Maybe he should slow down. Just a bit.
Which is why he holds his shaft closer to you, still surprised when you don’t open up, hints of the past confusion alternating with your confident, mysterious, teasing self. It’s weird to witness. But your eyes are still hazy at least. You don’t seem to want to stop.
God. He can’t figure it out. Not figuring out is agitating even in this moment.
But… good energies. Good energies. All the pent-up frustration needs to be morphed into sheer craze. He can do that.
“Spit on it,” he orders.
You only hum. Something in your gaze changes again, eyelids fluttering, as if awoken from trance. But you’re willing. Immediately mimicking him as you bring a thumb to a mole on the protruding veins. Tracing them, all the way back to his balls until you touch them just lightly, but enough for him to nearly lose his shit.
“Fuck, I said,” he reprimands, though delighted by the sudden rapture, “spit on it.”
You nod as if carrying out a task given by your manager; perhaps used to the last days and weeks when he’d command you around. Ask for another meeting, or for your opinion on a song, or just to keep him company to keep him productive.
Or, to keep you close to him. Lost in thoughts. Many thoughts. And even though none of them became a reality in that room, none of the equipment shoved aside to sit you on the desk, this… this right here is more than enough.
You suck in your cheeks, collecting spit, and when you lean forward… you make such a mess. Spitting onto the tip, a string still connecting your lips and his dick, leftover saliva dripping down your chin and then on your tits.
The view is… worth diamonds.
Do you even know?
“Okay,” he utters, no real direction in his mind, no real sentence to utter. “Okay.”
But you’re equipped with ideas, immediately getting onto the trail you left, spreading the spit over his cock, down to the base. The tip and the slit glisten, traces of precum mixing with your drool, but it’s not enough to cover his length all over.
So he mutters a mental, “More,” to himself, tapping your lips until you open, sticking two of his fingers in and pressing against your tongue. Lubricating his digits, he rolls them over your tongue, far enough to nearly make you gag until he draws back.
Watching you work on him rolls a wave of satisfaction over him. He’s proud, enduring like this. Because judging from the creature you are, as if jumped out of dark mythology, he truly expected to give up way earlier.
But he remains steadfast; eager to not explode until he’s filled you up first. Drawn out your own highs.
“Sweetheart, aren’t you a good one?” Jungkook praises, helping you out with whatever his fingers gathered in your mouth. Then, grabs your wrist, pushing you away, hovering above you with a, “Turn around.”
You gulp again. Then shift back on his bed, sighing as you feel the soft silk underneath your skin, kissing and hugging your body. The sight is gorgeous, with you fleeing to the back of the mattress, obliging so easily. Prey.
And…
“Holy fuck.”
Holy fuck, how you look when you finally get into position. Ass up, upper body down. And the arms over your head? What in the world.
Okay… okay…
Wait. You’re saying something.
His knees dig into the mattress, hand unconsciously pumping his cock — he doesn’t even know when he started — as he moves closer, over your body. Kisses your shoulder, bringing his ear close to hear before, “Huh? What’d you say?”
“I’m already so spent.”
“Ah… do you want to stop?”
“No… you made me feel spent. But you’re not done, are you?”
Pause. Bright smirk. Then, “Of course not. Does it feel like it?” Another kiss to your shoulder, wet this time. “Condom or not?”
“Oh.” Seems you hadn’t even thought about this yet. Kind of nice. “I’m… I use an IUD. Have you… slept with many people lately?”
No answer yet. He thinks. Thinks back to the several weeks since he met you. Should he say it? Would you back away if he did? Years ago, there’d be no debate about it — he wouldn’t have told you. Kept it to himself.
Perhaps there’s still a part of him that’d dodge your question, but he somehow feels like you’d see through him. Hear the insincerity. 
Fuck, is that selfish? Maybe. Doesn’t he already know that he is? But he’s not bad; and people are selfish.
So a second later, he truthfully admits, “Once. Two or so weeks ago. Nothing special though, just dumb, drunk shit. Some girl from a club. And I tested after.”
As soon as the sentence finishes, he wonders if you deem yourself just another one of those. But… in all honesty. She was a one night stand whose sounds, name, dirty talk did nothing to him.
All he could imagine was you. Perhaps not out of loyalty, but surely out of curiosity.
He can’t fathom his thoughts into feelings yet; he still wouldn’t describe his attitude towards you as falling in love or anything. That’d be too far stretched. But he thought about it — that maybe he liked you too much.
Yet, his heart remained empty; but his body never did. He feels bad; and still, he won’t deny whatever his skin and mind whisper to him.
Other than that, he could probably declare with quite a firm certainty that you don’t feel any different about him. You can’t be.
So maybe this is good enough for now.
“But know what?” he says, voice lower, repeating his thoughts. “Could only imagine what it’d be like if it was you. This pussy,” strokes his cock along your cunt, “and this body,” touches the small of your back, “these thoughts got me going. And you’re so much better in reality.”
“Mmmh,” is all you utter, nearly hiding your face in the pillow before you say, “maybe… maybe we can still use a condom then.”
Shit. Expected it.
But okay. Okay.
Where are the condoms again… bedside table? No. He used the last one ages ago, before he knew you. He gets up; walks to the closet; somewhere near his socks, there must be a new pack. A moment to think.
For a second, he looks back at you. You’re still the same, only with the ass having dropped again, losing balance and energy. And maybe, you’re still drunk, too — probably, because even he still feels the world spin, careful not to close his eyes for too long.
Okay. One… no, two foils out. As he turns back to you, nearing you, his head is just a little calmer than a minute again, and he wonders… were all the thoughts his own? The past half an hour or however much passed, didn’t he spiral more and more?
Did you notice? He shakes his head. Who cares?
Not him, not right now. He keeps telling himself that with a goddess waiting in front of him on all fours, he probably doesn’t need to worry about anything unless there’s a reason to. You’ve been cooperative and the night has been successful, minus the strange gazes you keep throwing at him periodically.
“Alright, baby. Up you come,” he mumbles, bringing your ass back to his crotch. His hands are already trained and incredibly skilled; doing work on the condom doesn’t take him more than a couple seconds. “I should tell you now.”
You pause. Suck in some breath, as if expecting something in particular. You agree with an unmatched thirst for knowledge, “…Tell me.”
“I don’t tend to go easy. If you need me to be, you’ll have to tell me. ‘Kay?”
“I… I can take a lot more than you think.”
Fuck. He’ll wreck your shit. “Perfect. You’re honestly a good one, huh? Such a good girl for real, no— no, you’re the best.”
Is he just saying whatever now? Perhaps he should stop boring you and get to it. Right? Please, the goddamn, blood-filled tower down there is desperately imploring him to.
He collects spit like you did before, targeting your glinting pussy, one blob right onto it. Then, he brings his fingers back to where they love to be, distributing the filth between your folds. And then, two fingers into the tightening hole.
Right before moving north, between your ass cheeks, thumb rolling over your other clenching hole. 
And you tense immediately, without saying a word, taking it quietly. Then… then he finally starts.
Brings the annoying rubber to your soaked pussy, poking for a second before he gets serious and eventually dips in. The free hand raises your ass some more, and he shifts forwards, your butt backwards, helping him get in further.
He hears the reaction. Hears the almost-screech in a second, nails biting into the pillow over your head. You hold onto it for dear life as he slowly bottoms out, your sporadic breathing and high-pitched moans mingling with his own bursts of lust.
Deep creases appear between his eyebrows, lips bitten sore, and once his waist has finally connected with your ass, he takes a deep, long inhale. Watches your face disappear deeper into the pillow, sounds muffled.
Enjoys it for a moment before he starts moving slowly. Out, in. Concentrating before he might spill too early. Beads of sweat shimmer on his forehead, dampening the hanging strands of hair. You feel good. Too fucking good—
He wants to go off right away. But… focus.
“How’s that?” he asks.
“Stop… stop talking.”
Oh. Bold. But a good sign, isn’t it? If you wanted him to stop, you’d say it. So he keeps going… dares just a little more, courageous, encouraged by your cooperation. Explores your ass and what lies between the cheeks more, groaning before he says, “You stop that.”
His hand reaches for your wrists, keeping you from tearing his pillow and leading your fingers to where his touched your ass before. You keep your touch there, unmoving until he says, “Keep them apart.”
And you seem to understand. His thumb returns to your unoccupied hole as his cock impales your pussy whole, still going at a tormenting pace. Thick and soaked, he’s splitting you in two; maybe that’s why the slow plunges are such a plague. Because both of you know there could be more.
Pulling your ass cheeks apart, you remain with your face in the sheets, arms trembling as he circles your hole again. He doesn’t know if you’re into this; doesn’t know if you’ll protest. So far, he’s been pretty obvious with his intentions, and he’s sure you must understand this one, too.
And you’re not fearful; if something bothered you, you wouldn’t hesitate to voice your displeasure. So he spits one more time, right onto his thumb, using the lubrication to carefully, curiously dip the tip of his thumb into your ass.
You yelp immediately; as your hole tightens around the little bit of his thumb, your pussy narrows around his cock, too, and he nearly loses it. Nearly drools onto your back as his mouth drops open, blinking rapidly for a second.
God, your body reacts with such intensity. Still, he makes sure, “Too much?”
And you, candidly, reply, “I don’t know. I… think so.”
“Okay. Then I’ll sto—”
“No. No, wait… I want to— I want to know what it’s like.”
Thought so. He knew that underneath all the chic charade, you crave just as much as he does. And if it’s him that you long for, then what even stands between him and the rocket shooting his ego to the sky?
This feels good. Really good… not just physically. You lift his spirits.
Ready with an exhale, he dares his thumb deeper, letting more of it disappear in you. Out of all the women he’s ever been with, not more than a handful has been willing to venture into this part of sexual desire. Most of them can’t stand the discomfort, and some of them don’t feel any particular way about it.
But you lay open to him in every way possible. An open book for once; easy to read, as if calculating how you wind, planning how to sound, guiding him fearlessly.
Soon, he’s adjusting his thrusts to your moans, and you’re adjusting your moans to his thrusts. Synchronised, the two of you groan and cry out together, and he makes sure to keep you filled to the brim, reducing the pauses between the shoves bit by bit.
Until…
“Hey,” he whispers, waiting for you to react, but as he pumps into you, slowly yet balls-deep, you don’t do anything much but scream into the pillow. So he just continues, “How much do you think you can take, baby?”
“I… I’m—”
You’re attempting your best, but you’re tongue-tied. With each push, he catapults your body forwards, but your mind is long lost in the stratosphere. With gritted teeth and a rising, heavily breathing, golden chest, he leans in close to you, hand snaking under you and around your neck as he retries, “So?”
“I don’t know,” you blurt, and as you raise your head and look back at him, he sees a sight to behold — mascara underneath your eyes, lipstick smeared, a quivering chin. He’s fucking you so good; he must be, because you soon add, “Just do an—and I’ll let you know.”
“Good idea. Very good idea.”
He’s fucking you good. But it’s not all he’s got; not all he’s wanted for days and weeks.
No. If he unleashed all he’s been fabricating in his mind, he’d drench your cheeks in tears. And now that you permitted him to, he might just go ahead, right?
Right.
Which is why the next steps come easy to him, naturally, as if you pressed a button he’s been waiting to smash. A big, red one, like the ones in games urging you to not touch or you’d lose. But by God, right now, he’s not losing.
If he looked into his reflection in the dark window, he’d see a winner through and through.
A fiery rage courses through his burning veins. A face contorting when he lets you go, only to move his fingers back, wrapping them around the back of your neck. Shoving you into the mattress, ramming his cock into you, once more keeping the familiar pace and then—
And then he closes his eyes. Matches an expression to your yelps. Drives into your deepest core and picks up speed until, all of a sudden, it turns jarring.
Jungkook doesn’t get enough. He doesn’t know if he ever will; damn the approaching end of this. There shouldn’t be one; he should be capable of ruining you forever. Maybe he will be.
For now, he directs his thoughts fully on how you feel and how you sound, uncaring about the jagged breathing that burns up his chest. Leaning forward, he attempts twice until he catches your ears, nibbling at your earlobe.
At first, he doesn’t know if you register the touch, given that he’s occupying you with far crazier sensations. But then you reach out a hand, panting into the pillow, grabbing a patch of his hair. 
And he, fired up and insane, leans back, gripping your wrist, removing it from his mane and pinning it to your back instead. Your face moves to the side, not muffled by the pillow anymore, and you gasp for air before you beg, “Please, I’m about to—”
That’s all you get, because he soon interrupts with a cheeky, “You can hold on for a bit longer,” pausing on purpose. He wants to see you when you come. Wants to wipe more of your make up across your face. Wants to kiss the colour of your lipstick onto his own lips.
Letting your orgasm fade, he waits, just a couple seconds, allowing you to catch your breath until your eyebrows furrow. You blink repeatedly, then looking up into his eyes, and it’s all he needs to feel his patience dissipate again.
Jungkook gets into a new position, leaving one knee deep in the mattress while angling the other leg, planting its foot on the sheets. He keeps his cock from falling out, leading the tip and the shaft back in before he resumes to fuck you wound.
Your arm is still hostage to his grip, the nails of your other hand gripping the sheet for dear life. It’s gorgeous, the view from where Jungkook looks down at his meal. Crazy how you purr and whine when he leans in, touching your swollen clit, electrifying you. And he keeps looking at you.
At the upper body waving a white flag, too weak to keep yourself upright anymore. And then, the ass in the air staying firmly at its place, his dick aiding you, the flesh of your cheeks wobbling with each thrust, like an ocean wave. Whenever it collides with his hips, the slaps resound temptingly, and Jungkook soon mimics it by letting his hand fall hard on your ass.
You mewl, calling out his name twice, the second cry half uttered, half of the Jungkook omitted. And when you catch the tiniest of your breaths, still working with drying lungs, you say, “L-let me come, please—”
“Wait,” he says again, still sadistic, still masochistic, absolutely out of his mind before an idea lights up his mind. “This isn’t it yet.”
The finger working on your nub was an evil tactic, he’s got to admit. Perhaps he led you to believe something he’s not ready to give you yet, and once you seem to realise, you let out a sob.
And he’s positively delighted once he stops. Lowers his head to look at you. Sees the dark, smeared mascara on his pillow when he digs his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back as he says, “I know. You thought we were done, right? We’re not done, though.”
“Wha—”
He lets his body fall onto the mattress, right next to you, and pulls you in, back against his chest. Hand under your tits, pressing against them, moving them up and down before pinching your nipple once.
“I said,” he repeats, probably unnecessarily, because he doesn’t think you actually demand an answer, “I’m not done. Understand?”
And as expected, you don’t nod or answer. You only push your body further into his, and he reckons that’s a mighty sufficient implication already.
As you lay sideways with a breath as heavy as his, his exhales hot against your ear, you let out sounds reminiscent of marathon runners. You’re exhausted, sweaty, and so is he — but neither of you are finished, and he’d be damned if he permitted the night to end like this.
Diligently, he throws your quivering leg over his; your impish remarks have lessened since he took over, and in turn, his own insolent emotions are reigning supremely. He leads his submerged, rock-hard, twitching cock to your battered cunt, pushing in so easily he thinks he’s dreaming.
It’s like putting a key into its lock.
“Ahh, fuck.” It’s hard to fully bottom out in this position, but he can touch you so much better now. He lets his hands explore your bare body, fondling with your tits, kissing your ear and jaw. “Hold tight. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.”
It’s cruel, he knows; the gentle praises as he wreaks havoc down there. He crosses your wrists against your tummy, holding them tight, and you close to him. Fucks you dumb and stupid as you wail in his arms. Moves to your clit and gives it pleasant, gentle rubs, so opposite from the rest of his ministrations.
And the pressure builds. His balls, hard as steel, prepare to shoot their load into you, his cock impossibly stiff, but… but…
You haven’t come yet. And this position won’t do. Can’t do, won’t do, he needs to see you.
So he echoes, “Won’t do,” as he gets up again, keeping the previous position short lived. Doesn’t stay away for too long before he’s on his knees, pulling your legs apart, after the briefest interruptions deep inside again before he leans into you.
And then, everything happens crazy fast.
How he keeps you from wrapping your arms around him; instead, capturing your wrists once again, raising them next to your head. How he moves to kiss you for the first time after quite a while, intertwining your tongues, moaning hard as he feels his high approach.
The fast pace changes a little as he loses his mind and focus, one of the strokes stopping as he almost pulls out, and then plunges in again. Your fingers curl in, nails sharp enough to dig into the digits that hold you, and he cries out in delight, letting a breathy chuckle fall.
He says, “Alright, yeah. Next time… we’re tying you up. Love how you whine.” He lets one hand go, gripping your face again and you move your touch to his shoulder immediately, gasping. “You always p-play the mysterious girl, huh? But you’re so pathetic right now.”
The inhibitions are out the window. The overthinking, too. Whatever he thought might make you run away from him has long exited his mind, because he’s got you right here, under his control, nearing the end.
There’s no going back. No return to his yearning, because you’ve satisfied it so thoroughly.
Time to give it all back to you. One last time before he submerges himself in all his glorious egotism.
“There we go,” he says as he watches your expressions change. You open your mouth but don’t say anything. He doesn’t know what your orgasm feels like, but he knows you’re going through it. “Let it all out. Cream my cock, I fucking dare you.”
He’s saying whatever now, he knows. But he doesn’t have the capacity to think much as creases appear on your forehead and between your eyebrows, tongue mingling with his for a short moment when he goes in for another kiss, barely succeeding.
You’re trembling, lifting your hips as much as the weight above you allows, wanting more friction, more of a touch inside your pussy, on your clit, everywhere. And then, when you do come… when he brings the stars from the sky into your eyes…
Yours roll back into your head. Throwing it back, giving him access to your neck. Lips still apart, and he uses it to push a finger into your mouth, on top of your tongue. And fuck… how your pussy constricts. How it tightens so fucking much.
He’d be lying if he said it didn’t affect him.
So much so that his head spins; and as he feels himself getting dizzy, he buries his face in the pillow next to your head before moving it to kiss your shoulder. Barely looks at you anymore; doesn’t care, it’s his high now, he wants to fucking come, and that’s it.
Finally, finally he’s gotten to this point.
Will he hate himself for these thoughts later? Is this too over the top? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, doesn’t care.
His thoughts are occupied, alright, don’t need another string of questions to intervene. His attention remains resolutely on his movements, vigorous, rhythmic, your sounds perfectly matching each of his strokes.
And your hands, the poor little palms, unsure where to settle. This isn’t new; across this broad back of his, every girl’s touch wanders like this. Your nails scratch the small of his back, then up his spine, across the muscles of his shoulder blades.
The fact that you’re a goner as much as him, giving yourself to him is probably the last of reassurances he needs — as if any more were required. Because still panting into your skin, eyes shut tight, he works towards the peak of his sanity, exhausted but eager as he relishes the wet tightness of your pussy; surrounding him just right, still clenching, unclenching from your orgasm.
And then—
“Ohhh, fuck,” he whispers.
His voice is shaking uncontrollably; he barely recognises it. Which… must mean this is new, right? Experience be damned, apparently you spark off phenomena nobody has ever acquainted him with before.
And oh, how you make it worse once he finally emerges again, as if catching his breath after holding it underwater for too long. Your eyes are hooded as he gets on his knees over your body, caging your hips in between his legs. Gripping one of your tits, you nibble your lower lip for a second before letting out laboured breathing, nose flaring.
It’s all he needs. All that’s left when he rips off the condom and envelops his filthy cock with his veiny hand, stroking immediately and hard. Close to the end as he rushes to ask, “Where do you want it?”
You understand what he’s asking, and nod, back to yourself when you utter mysteriously, “Anywhere but inside…” Okay. No time to ask why not — but he wouldn’t have anyway. He obliges, giving his all, one more second left before you tell him just in time, “Here.”
Your palm rubs across your skin, moving over your tits and your stomach. So he’s quick to opt away from your face and redirect his aim to where you pointed, moaning out a couple last, broken vocals before he finally spills.
Milky white, multiple blotches scattered over your skin, like a modern art painting. He’d rather draw these all day than be stuck with you in a museum restaurant, staring from afar, wishing he could reach out under the goddamn public table.
Going until he’s empty, he senses a relief unknown to him thus far, mind suddenly vacant. Once again, the ocean; he feels like the ocean. Like the water as it stills and calms after a thunderous storm. You lifted the waves of his sea high above and have now turned him into a lazy, peaceful lake.
God, he should fuck you more often; you make him a poet.
Okay. Okay, where was he?
When did he unfocus? Dizzy all of a sudden. He puffs out a breath. Then takes another look at you. Watches as you spread the sticky substance over your mounds, touching your nipple, so indecently messy.
The smirk is unintentional but inevitable, reaching far as he shakes his head at you. You smile back wordlessly, and he lets his fingertip run over his cum, too, bringing it to your lips as he asks, “Taste?”
You don’t answer. Thinking for the barest second before you scoff, stretching out your tongue before he puts the finger on it; closing your eyes, sucking it clean. He groans at the feeling; luckily, he’ll be immobile for the foreseeable future, or he���d bend you over again.
“Okay. That should be enough for now,” he breathes, letting himself fall next to you. “I promise I’m a lot more energised on other days. But…” He turns towards you, pinching your chin, bringing your face close. “God, did you take me out there. I’m beat.”
He doesn’t kiss you; only drops back, still filling his lungs with new oxygen. Pity — he still wants you, but his muscles are aching. Eyes shutting.
Then opening again when he hears you laugh, right before you say, “You don’t need to prove your endurance to me. I’ve got a pretty good idea of it now. Besides— let’s be honest. I didn’t do much.”
“Oh, you did more than enough, sweetheart,” Jungkook retorts with a snicker, giving his eyes some relief. He sighs, and then adds, “Your existence did it for me already. Wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
He shoves his arm under his head, the other untidily covering the two of you with the blanket; whatever. He’ll wash it tomorrow. For now, the two of you should probably get some rest. Although—
Did you say you wanted to stay? He didn’t catch it if you did. Perhaps he’s also just inattentive; suddenly remembers that he still has a long way to go socially, remembering that permission is courtesy. Selfish, selfish, selfish.
“Uhm,” he starts; this is awkward. He doesn’t do this often — not many stay overnight anyway. Strangely, he didn’t question it with you; maybe because he wants you to. “Do you want me to bring you home?”
“In all honesty, I… I don’t think you can drive tonight. We’re both not sober yet, so I’ll just leave in the morning. Need to be in the office by noon.”
“Ah? Why?”
“Meeting with Tae. I forgot that he wanted to go through a few organisational things for the upcoming concert.”
Concert preparations. Organisational things. The company.
Jungkook forgot about it all. Responsibilities still exist. Of course, he needs to be in the office tomorrow afternoon, too. This is his dream, his goal, everybody’s eyes on him, the biggest source of entertainment in the country.
Feels so stupid, forgetting you’ll leave at some point. That he can’t flip you over again all day tomorrow, that you’ll be occupied somewhere else, with someone else. Jungkook grits his teeth.
“You wanna come over again tomorrow night?” he asks.
And all of a sudden, despite the last hour, you seem lost in thoughts again. Probably tired, but he can’t help but overthink. You don’t answer immediately, keeping him on the edge, and as he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, he looks over, seeing your eyes open when you say, “Don’t know. Might have a couple things to tend to.”
Ah… okay. Sure.
Where’s your mind right now, he wonders?
Maybe circling around work. Maybe your urge to go is as little as his? All these things, they don’t sound too delightful right now, do they?
Concert preparations. Organisational things. The company. Tae.
When did you start using his nickname like this? Weird. Didn’t know the two of you were so close. Then again, does it matter? No. He shakes his head.
Shakes it slowly, making sure you don’t notice, sighing again before he breaks into a smile. It’s okay. You’re next to him. Not next to Taehyung. His friend. You’re covered in him. So he doesn’t let another’s name fog his brain, instead seeking peace and succeeding until—
“Don’t worry, another time,” you say, following up with a goosebump-inducing, “I’ll stick around until my feet tingle.”
Somewhere… at some point in his life… under probably not the best circumstances— 
Wait.
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THE FIC ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼
as always, tumblr hates content creators and has a 1k block limit. which is why you can read the rest of the story in this reblog hehe we're almost at the end <3
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deathc-re · 10 months ago
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your older!bf who has really opened your eyes to the world of mature men. who truly listens when have a complaint and works to fix it. who shows you that he adores you, even in his own strange way. who goes out of his way to spoil you and pamper you; who always makes sure you have the best of the best.
older!bf who literally is the best sexual experience you've had in your whole life. who does things you didn't even think were possible. who makes you feel levels of pleasure you'd only read about until this point. who pays such close attention to ever twitch and flinch and gasp and abuses ever spot that brings you pleasure. who reaches places so deep inside that you're surprised feels good instead of painful. who goes above and beyond with aftercare, making you feel so safe and secure. who makes sure you're well feed and clean, your favorite show or song playing as he cuddles you close.
older!bf who wastes no time to show you off and shower you in praise. who compliments every aspect of you, some you didn't even notice about yourself. who respects and knows you as a person. who is secure enough in himself and the relationship to know that even tho you're together, you're your own separate people and is fine with it.
older!bf who is protective of you and takes the extra measures to make sure you're safe in every situation he can, no matter what.
older!bf who loves you :(
LAW, corazon, sir crocodile, bakugo, aizawa, FAT GUM, sung-jin woo, andy, GETO, and my man <3
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andypantsx3 · 11 months ago
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contents: general bakugou x princess reader; 1.1k, fem reader. lowkey dedicated to the loml @ofmermaidstories even tho there's e2l undertones.
thinking about being a princess forced into a political marriage. your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry.
already several of the more prominent families are forming factions; those with eligible sons are desperately trying to engineer opportunities for themselves, those without are amassing foot soldiers and weapons.
you cannot stand any of the pompous, greedy, egocentric princelings put forth by the noble families; men who care nothing for the country or its people, men with no thought for policy or justice—men who would gorge themselves on wine and women as the country crumbled at their feet.
even with a husband, there is no guarantee against a coup, not unless your husband is formidable enough to suppress one.
there is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne, one man with a head for strategy, a sense of duty, and a reputation strong enough to suppress the growing threat of political discord.
you find general bakugou katsuki in his quarters in the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep for your nerves.
"princess," he rasps, opening the door in nothing but his breeches. your face burns as you're confronted with the sight of a man's naked chest, miles of bare skin, golden in the glow of the torch lights.
"general," you say, resolutely raising your eyes to his face. there is no time to dance around the issue. "i need you to marry me."
bakugou's blonde hair is bed-rumpled, his manner sleep-soft, though his gaze is sharp. he watches you for a long moment before answering.
"'s an awful unromantic proposal," he says, an eyebrow raising.
despite his honorability, he's always had a way of grating on your nerves, and he knows it. you can't stop the reflexive scowl that paints your mouth, nor the irritability that seeps into your tone.
"i am being serious," you say, crossing your arms.
bakugou's eyes follow the movement. you are suddenly all too aware that you've marched through the castle halls in nothing but your night rail, too overcome with the thought of what must be done to pay the appropriate attention to your wardrobe.
"what, you lookin' to consummate it now?" he asks, gaze almost burning through the thin cotton of your shift.
your ears go hot. "can you stop being the most obnoxious man on earth for one moment."
bakugou leans an arm against his open door, bicep flexing with the movement. you try valiantly not to notice the way the shadows pool in the divots of his muscle, the way his trousers sit against the plane of his toned stomach.
"if you want me to say yes, you're gonna need to be a little nicer, princess," he says, mouth flicking into an awful little smirk.
"general—bakugou," you hiss. "do you want to watch the country you've spent years defending dissolve into nothing at the hands of these narcissistic, coddled fools?"
"rich words for a princess," bakugou says, his voice nearly a growl in the dim.
you are aware that you are sheltered as a royal. you are aware you are soft and naive. but you are educated, you are strong-willed, and you care. you may not be a son to your father, but you know you know have studied harder than any man on your father's court. you want to do your best for this country.
"do not mock me," you command.
bakugou's scarlet gaze trails over you, hot and liquid in the flickering torchlight.
"no? then what d'you want me to do to you?" he asks.
you fight down the furious flush of humiliation. "i want you," you repeat through gritted teeth, "to marry me."
bakugou's golden eyelashes dip as his gaze slides back over your crossed arms, then lower, all the way down to your bare toes. you feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutiny, even more knowing you are already at his mercy.
"you're serious," he rasps, eyes cutting back to yours.
"unfortunately," you grit out.
that draws another flicker of a smirk out of him. "and y'came running down here at midnight in your little nightdress because you were too scared you'd chicken out, is that it?"
that is absolutely it, and you hate that he knows it.
"will you marry me or not?" you demand, even your nose feeling hot now. "i don't know what my nightdress has to do with the question!"
"your nightdress is gonna have a lot to do with it if i say yes, angel," bakugou says.
you hate him. maybe it's better to just let the country fall to ruin, let some jumped up coalition of families amass power and overwhelm bakugou and his soldiers. with any luck maybe they will stab him.
you'll have to come up with another plan.
"fine," you hiss, turning on your heel. "message received."
but a hot hand closes on your arm before you can take another step, yanking you back to him. you stumble, barely catching yourself before bashing your nose into his chest.
"you know what you're asking for?" bakugou demands, leaning in to look into your face. "you know this wouldn't be easy."
"i know," you say begrudgingly. "but you are the country's best option—my best option. none of the men put forth are acceptable."
"don't like pretty boys, princess?" bakugou asks.
"you're plenty pretty," you bite out before you can think. horror overwhelms you when bakugou's smirk grows wider, a sharp white knife in the dark.
"think i'm pretty huh?" he says, his tone gloating.
"i think that you are awful and maybe i'd rather take my chances with a coup," you growl, trying to pry your arm from his grip.
but bakugou's hold tightens for a moment, and he leans down, close enough that his breath ghosts over the collar of your night rail.
"then if you're sure this is what you want, princess, you can have it," bakugou says. his thumb smoothes over the skin of your arm for just a moment, soft and feather light before he lets you go.
you step out of his reach, skin tingling, face flaming. there's no reason to delay, then. "fine, we're agreed. i'll see you in the morning. we'll announce it then."
you spin on your heel, bakugou's grunt of acceptance following you as turn back down the hall.
"see you in the morning, angel," he drawls, suddenly all agreement.
he may be the general between the two of you, but you know when it's time for a strategic retreat. you ignore his response and flee—your ears burning all the way to your chambers.
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casuallyanidiot · 3 months ago
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The crows I've been feeding have started leaving me money as gifts lol. It's got me thinking about Yandere crow hybrid who likes to hang around your home. You feed the local birds, just tossing out seed every night, and you never really expect much to come out of it.
MDNI! Dead dove do not Eat!
Tw. Noncon, stalking, monsterfucking, yandere, size difference
Yandere crow who creeps around in the dead of night while you aren't paying attention to you balcony or yard, lest you see the looming, unnerving figure of a large man with shifting obsidian feathers and too sharp teeth. He's patient and only creeps out from beyond the treeline when the sun starts to set, the smaller birds get their fill for the most part, and you aren't able to see him.
At first he didn't care for you all that much, thinking of you as just some faceless human, but then he started to lurk around your house more and more. Maybe you thought that there were more birds coming than there actually were, because Yandere Crow noticed that you were putting out more seed than usual. You were just attentive like that.
Yandere Crow found himself lurking around your windows more often. He liked to peer in and watch you move about your little home. Your home looked so cozy, and his feathers ruffled at the thought of having such a warm, inviting nest. He felt an odd itch to add his own touches to your house. After all, this was his territory. No other corvid was going to come to this specific place unless he allowed them to, and he was feeling a bit protective of this little feeding spot. It totally wasn't because you were so tiny compared to him, or the fact that you were all alone without him there to guard your property.
Yandere Crow who starts to leave you little shiny trinkets. You think that some of the other birds brought them for you, but despite the fact that he knows you're unaware of him, he finds great pride in you laying out the shiny rocks, coins, ribbons and shells he so meticulously picked out.
Yandere Crow who starts drooling and imagining how pretty you'd be cuddled up beside him with soft downy feathers, blankets, and glittering objects surrounding you both. It was such an alluring fantasy that it almost made him forget that you were human and not just another, regular potential mate.
Yandere Crow who starts fucking his fist and cums on your windows, walls, and doorstep. He hopes that once you smell the musky scent, you'll start getting used to his presence.
Yandere Crow who can't take it anymore, and he breaks into your house one evening. He stands there in your kitchen, drinking in just how sweet and perfect you smell. His feathers rustle and brush up against doorways and walls as he follows his nose to find where you are all curled and fast asleep. He croons softly and looms over your pliant form. The talons on his feet tap impatiently on the ground, clunking against hollow wooden floors. He was shifting and shuddering in excitement. He's never been this close to you before, and now that you were here, face cradled in his claws,
You start to stir. Your eyes flutter open, and they widen in shock. He can see the terror filling out your features, and he feels his cock stiffen. Even as he clamps his hand over your cheeks and mouth to stop you from screaming, you're perfect to him. Maybe he wished you were a bit stronger instead of the cute, fragile little thing you are, but then he wouldn't be able to pin you down and hold you like this, would he?
Yandere crow who thinks you look so pretty in the moonlight. It makes you look like you're glowing as he spears you on a dick that's nearly the size of your whole torso. He purrs praises into your ears as you squeal and cry out.
"Shhh, you have to get used to it," He chides and thrusts his hips into you. Your poor, twitching entrance is stretched out past the point of what must be comfortable, and he does feel a twinge of guilt. He didn't properly court you, nor did he really prepare you to be fucked so thoroughly. He nuzzles his face into your hair in an apologetic manner. "But you're doing so good already for me. Just keep taking it."
Yandere Crow who keeps you trapped like that for hours. He likes being lounged across your bed while he holds you tightly against his chest. His favorite sight is the one of your fucked out, drooling face being smushed up on his chest. He can't help but chirp happily. He's made you cum so many times, and your hole is all sloppy and stuffed chalk full of him cum. It's so much that you can't reasonably clean it all out, and the thought fills him with a sense of satisfaction.
Yandere crow who is perfectly happy knowing that of all the birds you've cared for, he's the only one who's been able to get this special treatment from you.
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jimilter · 3 months ago
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the ferrari guy | jjk.
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You hire an assistant – and Jeon Jungkook loses his mind. Is that irrational of him? Not when the guy you’ve chosen flirts like a hooker, looks like a runway model and dresses like he’s Giorgio Armani himself. 
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pairing: jungkook x reader rating: pg-15 genre: humor | fluff | chaebol!au | fwb!au | ceo!jungkook warnings: swearing + implied sex + jealousy + insecurity + a certain loml charming everyone’s pants off <3 word count: 3 k note:  helloooo fam! i am alive and still writing apparently lmao. jimilter is still a safe space, a wonderful escape from real life and i have no plans of quitting this in near or far future (: no comments on the occasional disappearances tho bec real life has been hectic af! anyways, enjoy this humorous lil drabble from jk's pov (set between part 3 & 4) while i work on the massive angst in part 5! <3
— masterlist | feedback!
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↝ the damsel & her knight ⁘ 01 02 03 [3.5] 04 05
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On Thursday evening, while leaving work, Jeon Jungkook finds a flashy, bright red Ferrari convertible blocking his car in the parking lot of his office. An office in a building his father owns. 
Needless to say, he is beyond mad.
"Who the heck even drives a Ferrari in our company?" he barks into the phone, scowling when his secretary gives an exasperated sigh.
"President ma'am interviewed some people today, sir. Maybe it's one of the candidate's cars?" 
"What kind of a douchy person comes to a job interview in a convertible?" Jungkook is still scowling at the vermillion vehicle when his brain catches up with the rest of the information Haeri imparted. His mouth dropping open, he raises his free hand up in front of his face, as if to stop time. "Hold on – did you say President ma'am?"
"Uh, yes, si—"
"She interviewed people? Why? What for?" he cuts his secretary off, frowning.
"She is hiring an assistant, sir."
"Wha—why does she need an assistant?"
Haeri is quiet for a while. Then she clears her throat. "I would suggest you to not ask her this, sir."
Jungkook sighs. Haeri is always so straightforward with him. Sometimes a bit too straightforward. But she’s always guiding him around making stupid decisions, and maybe that is why he's had her in his office for nearly two years now. The longest he’s had a secretary ever since he joined the company as the CEO. 
There’s also the fact that Haeri actually has a boyfriend and is immune to all of Jungkook’s charm… Not that he’s actually tried them on her, per se. He’s been otherwise occupied in that department for a while. Very happily and proudly so. 
Clearing his throat, "Yeah, sorry," he grumbles to the girl, turning around to eye the offensive car again. "I'm texting you the license plate number, will you make an announcement on Prez's floor?"
"Sir, I—"
"Good. Thanks, Haeri, you're a gem!"
Even as a security guard comes and removes the obstructing vehicle within minutes and Jungkook is free to leave, his mind doesn’t feel settled. At all. He isn’t sure what it is that irks him about you hiring an assistant, but it is something for sure. Maybe he fears you’d pay him even lesser attention at work than the scant amount you do now. Maybe he thinks you won’t need his help with the integrated Firewall-VPN project anymore. Maybe he… Well, he isn't sure.
But something about this just usettles him. Which is what has him texting you close to midnight, casually dropping his question without offending you with a ‘why’ just like Haeri instructed him to.
↪ hey prez ↪ heard you’re hiring an assistant?
Your reply comes exactly ninety-four seconds later. Yes, he counts.
You heard that in the middle of the night?
He bites his lip, rubbing his reddening cheeks against the cold cotton of his pillow in embarrassment, but doesn’t lose hope because you’re still typing.
I have actually already had the interviews today The guy joins tomorrow You wanna drop by with a welcome gift basket? :)
His glare stays fixed on the little, taunting smile for a long while, before it moves to the word ‘guy’ in your text. You’ve hired a guy assistant.
Jungkook wonders if the bile suddenly roiling in his stomach has any correlation with the explicit images his brain suddenly conjures up of you and a faceless male making out in your office.
God, he’s going insane.
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The next morning, Jungkook is barging into Yoongi's office with a frown. "Prez hired an assistant."
Min Yoongi very slowly looks up from his computer screen, gaze wary. "Good morning to you too, Jeon. I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”
Jungkook ignores the man’s sarcasm and instead drops into one of the couches placed on one side of his office, groaning. “It’s a guy.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Head whipping up faster than the blink of an eye, Jungkook gapes at your Creative Director. “You have heard?”
Yoongi gives him a tired look. “My office is on the same floor as hers, Jeon. I have more than just heard.”
“Have you seen the guy?” he quickly rushes out, wide eyes boring into Yoongi’s disinterested ones.
“Met him. Kid’s jovial and efficient. She’s gonna love him.”
What? Jungkook stalks up to Yoongi’s table with a scowl. “Kid?”
“Oh, he’s probably older than you.”
“Jovial?”
“Yeah, always got a smile on his face; not a word out of his mouth without giggles.”
Giggles? Jungkook's pinky finger twitches in irritation because giggling is supposed to be his thing. How dare you.
“And he's really freaking efficient too, man." Yoongi continues when Jungkook has stayed quiet for too long. "He's got a typing speed of 96 wpm, can speak five languages, is capable of charming every guest with a grin and some sweet words—oh! And he’s quick on his feet! Delivered five coffees on two different floors with the steam still coming out of the cups.” Yoongi has a fond, dreamy look on his face, and if it wasn’t for the wedding band on his finger, Jungkook would have assumed the guy has fallen in love with your new assistant.
Which doesn’t sit well with Jungkook at all. Teeth gritted and fists clenched, he gazes out of the glass doors of Yoongi’s office to yours. 
You aren’t in, yet. Should he pay your oh-so-wonderful assistant a visit before you are?
You’d surely have his head if you catch him threatening the dude – not that he plans on it; he just feels like he might – but it’s a risk he is very much willing to take.
And so, over Yoongi’s protests, Jungkook marches out of the guy’s office and, crossing the long corridor, lands at yours.
There’s an additional table placed perpendicular to yours within the glass cabin and Jungkook wishes he had laser vision so he could incinerate the damn thing in its place. He looks around the office for the guy of the hour, grunting at the small trinkets he finds adorning the new table.
Who keeps a freaking potted plant on a desk? What if it fell off and died?
Jungkook doubts this guy is as efficient as Yoongi talked about him being. He chokes in the middle of the accompanying scoff, though, because his eyes suddenly locate, well, keys.
Sleek, black, no bigger than a matchbox, with a silver, galloping horse engraved on the obviously custom made leather surface. Keys to a Ferrari. What are the odds?
“Ma’am, you’re in earl—oh…”
Jungkook twists on heels at the voice, coming face to face with a guy that honestly doesn’t look much older than him despite what Yoongi said. His eyes are wide and lips rounded, brown hair brushed off his forehead to display the perfect arch to his thick eyebrows. He wears a – Jungkook hates to admit – gorgeously tailored dark brown suit that Jungkook knows to be Armani because he just made the same purchase a week back.
The guy, simply put, doesn't look assistant-material at all. He could be on Vogue's cover with those plump lips and shapely eyes of his. Or perhaps pose for swimsuit commercials with that bubble butt. Or walk the ramp for Armani, Patek Philippe or Chanel, given the brands Jungkook can spot on him.
But he isn't in any of those places – he is here, in your office, as your assistant.
“Good morning, sir!” he suddenly exclaims, and here’s the jollity Yoongi talked about. “You must be Mr. Jeon, the CEO?”
Jungkook gives him a jilted nod, hating the flawless mannerism the guy displays and the accompanying subconscious twitch his lips give in response, and inches back towards the door. “Um, yeah… I was just leaving…”
Your assistant’s smile falls and a concerned look overtakes his face. “But you just got here?”
And something about the innocent pout with which he looks at Jungkook has him rooted to the place. In wonder? Confusion? Shock?
Awe?
He can't freaking tell.
“I can get you some coffee, if you’d like? Everyone’s been telling me I brew a killer espresso!” He flashes a proud smile while Jungkook just helplessly gapes. “I can also get you some snacks? Sandwiches? Cookies? Ooh, would you like some pastries? Our office canteen has some amazing Danishes, would you like one? Ah, your forehead is all misty. Here!”
Before Jungkook can react, the guy is in his face with a tissue, dabbing the sweat away from Jungkook’s arched eyebrows. His smile is blinding, dear God, Jungkook cannot articulate a single word out of the storming confusion in his head. Since when do men have such pouty lips? 
When he steps back, he immediately gestures to a couch. “Make yourself comfortable, sir! May I lower the temperature? You still haven’t said what you need.”
Finally, finally able to collect his thoughts, Jungkook releases a long exhale. 
Who the actual fuck is this guy? A witch? A siren?
Jungkook needs to get out of here and he needs to talk to you.
“Uh, no, thank you, none of that. I, um, I’m good.” Quickly flashing the guy a tight lipped smile, Jungkook slips out of the doors. “I came to see Prez, but she's obviously not here, so… I’ll – I'llcome back later. Good day.”
Even as Jungkook immediately storms out of the office and rushes to the elevators to hurry back to his own floor, your assistant calls out a very happy sounding, “You have the best day, sir!”
Well-mannered, fashionable, charming in a very alarming way. Dude literally had him gaping for a whole minute with his head pretty damn empty. Jungkook's head is never empty.
This guy is so weird and… dangerous. Where did you find him?
And, in fact, why did he come here?
The guy's obviously rich, given all the brands he wears like second skin, so why the heck does he want to work as your assistant? In the same office as you?
Jungkook roughly swallows as the images he conjured last night make a return to his head – this time, with your assistant’s regrettably very handsome face on the previously faceless guy you were making out with. 
He wants to punch a wall.
What he does, instead, is shoot off a text to his secretary, telling her he isn’t feeling well and is going back home. And then another one to you, asking you to pay him a visit tonight. And possibly stay the night because he bought some extra alcohol.
He hasn’t, but the first stop he makes after leaving the office will be to pick up some expensive red wine.
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Everytime Jungkook pulls out of you, spent and sweaty and satisfied, after the deed is done, he is left in disbelief. Every single time. Is this really happening? Are you really sleeping with him? Do you actually feel attracted to his body?
He is smart enough to not delude himself into thinking there's more to it, but it doesn't matter because whatever there is between you both is enough to astound him every time the two of you have sex.
Right now, as you sit with your back to him, pulling on his t-shirt over your bare frame – Jungkook's mind is caught onto something a little different than his usual daze of disbelief, though.
And even though he’s risking it by questioning the ‘why’ despite his secretary’s warnings, Jungkook can’t help it when he brings it up. "So… Hiring an assistant. Why so suddenly?"
You hum and give a noncommittal shrug. "I can't be in the office all the time. It's high time I hired one, don’t you think?"
Jungkook doesn’t think so. But he’d definitely be dead meat if he said it out loud. “Sure… What tasks will you give him?”
That earns him a confused look from you over your shoulder. “Do you wanna tell me something, Jeon?”
Wide-eyed, he gapes at you. “What?”
“Did something happen with Haeri? Is that why—”
“Oh, no,” he exhales, beyond relieved, then shakes his head with a smile when you continue to eye him suspiciously. “I just… Well. I’m always making Haeri pick up after me as if she’s a babysitter and not an office worker, you know? So I thought I could use some tips from you…”
You nod at that, turning back around to pull on your panties, and Jungkook breathes easier. He has sold his lie and you’ve bought it. “That’s actually thoughtful and mature of you. Where was this maturity when you had me running after you, though?” you grumble with a playful glare, and he just laughs. 
“It is because of all of that that I’ve finally learnt to be mature, Prez.”
Straightening after having covered your lower half, you inch back on the bed and rest your back against the headboard. “Well. To be fair, he has been running around for tiny errands for the two days he’s been here, so I can’t really lecture you, right now,” you admit. “But I wanted someone in the office for the meetings-season that is about to arrive as we near the launch, you know? Both you and I will be busy with the project. Poor Yoongi will need all the help he can get.”
Jungkook frowns. “Why doesn’t Yoongi hire an assistant then?”
You snort at that and gesture to the bottle of wine on the nightstand. “Why’re you pressed about it? You said you need tips, right?”
“Ah, yes, of course. I just want some tips.” Quickly catching his slip, Jungkook pours you a glass and settles next to you, bare, with the covers thrown across his lap for modesty. “So… will he be accompanying you to meetings, then? Or fill in for you while you’re busy with other stuff?”
“Well, initially he will shadow me for a week or so. And then when I get busy overseeing the launch event and coordinating with the Lims and other investors, he can switch between locations around the city to ensure everything is in order because Yoongi can’t be doing everything, you know?” You take a sip from your glass of wine and shrug a shoulder. “He’s our Creative Director, he needs to hold the fort while everyone runs around like headless chickens.”
Jungkook sips at his wine and musters a thin smile. Because yes, it definitely makes sense why you needed to hire an assistant. Speaking of, Yoongi probably needs one as well. 
Damn, when he used to work as a Software Analyst at a different company, he had no idea the executives of a company had so much to do. It always looks like an easy life looking in from the outside. But as CEO, he has come to learn that if someone in a higher up position makes a mistake, they initiate a dominoes’ fall all the way down.
“You met him, didn’t you?”
His surprised eyes fly to yours at the question. You’re looking at him with a smirk, and Jungkook’s heart gives a thump at how sexy you look. Your question, though, throws him off. "I… How did you—”
You roll your eyes. “He told me you came in to see me and then left. I checked in with Haeri and she said you weren’t feeling well.”
Wow. They both snitched on him. Just great.
And now you're looking at him with barely contained laughter as if you know how jealous he feels. Who is he kidding, of course you know how jealous he feels. You always know this kind of stuff, ugh.
“Don’t be getting insecure, Jeon, my assistant will remain only an assistant.”
He doesn’t know why you say that, but he appreciates it all the same. The twinkle in your eyes expresses playful adoration and the way it makes his heart race kinda scares him.
But then you lean in with an exaggerated kissy face to press a wet smooch on his mouth. When you pull away, he looks at you with a slight pout on his lips. You tilt your head to the side with a squint.
"What?"
"It's… Why did you pick the Ferrari guy?" Jungkook sounds a little whiny, but he can't help it.
You look at him over the rim of your glass, eyebrows nearing your hairline, amusement spilling from your gaze. "Uh, what's wrong with the Ferrari guy?"
"Nothing, of course, that's not what I meant," he tries to amend with a chuckle, but given the way you narrow your eyes at him before putting your glass away to cross your arms, you probably don't buy it. So he speaks on. "It's just that he doesn't look like an assistant, you know?"
"I… don’t actually. What does an assistant look like?"
Are you being purposely difficult or is Jungkook being completely weird? He's not exactly sure how to explain it better, but he's definitely sure that any other way would have been better than what comes out of his mouth next. "I mean, a bit… less… flirty, I guess?"
"What? What the hell did he do to you?"
He groans at your excited expressions. "Dude had me gaping at him for fifteen minutes while he talked about God knows what, because I couldn't focus on his words! I don't even like men like that!"
You give a loud snort and then break into loud peals of laughter. "Well, Jungkook, maybe you do! Maybe you just haven't had your awakening yet!"
"Not funny," he grunts, even as a humored smile slips on to his face at your loud giggles. "What did you say his name was, again?"
You raise an eyebrow. "I didn't."
He rolls his eyes. "Well, my dear Prez, what is your new assistant's name?"
"Park Jimin." Your smile turns goofy and eyes almost dreamy. "Pretty name for a pretty man. Right?"
He rolls his eyes at your suggestive wink, grumbling as he finishes his glass of wine in a large gulp.
You give a small sigh. "He's a nice guy, give him a chance. Heart of gold, or whatever they say."
Jungkook decides that he, for reasons way beyond his supposed homoerotic awakening, absolutely hates Park Jimin's guts. He's going to convince you to fire him. And soon.
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© jimilter | 2024
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fancyperfectionsweets · 13 days ago
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❤️‍🔥 Astrology Observations 3❤️‍🔥
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🔮 the more charts I observe, the more I understand that the houses the planets are placed in are equally important as the zodiac they are placed in. Let me explain. A virgo venus in 8th house will have the qualities of both virgo and scorpio (since scorpio is the 8th sign of the zodiac). How will it manifest? Your want would be to experience love as a scorpio/understand love as a scorpio (obsessive partner that understands you deeply) but how you go about it would be virgo-nian (not giving in early, paying attention to your partner's finer details like moods, words, actions).
🔮 I have kemdrum yoga in my chart. It's not auspicious, lol. This happens when your moon is sitting alone in a house and the adjacent houses are also empty. It is said to make the moon lonely and since moon needs the sun to reflect light (a.k.a, of highly dependent nature), it makes the person lonely. However, to me it doesn't make me "lonely" but rather harder to adjust in a social space for a long time. I literally am the person who runs out of social battery easily. And if I force myself to be social for a long time, it affects my daily routine (moon is in the 6th house which is the house of daily routines, pets, etc.)
🔮 a debilitated mars doesn't make you incapable of standing up for yourself. It makes you passive aggressive 😭. It makes sense why mars debilitates in cancers. Cancers are the kings and queens of passive agression.
🔮 when it comes to appearances, I've kind of found astrology inconsistent. Many people use nakshatras to predict "features" but even though I have a shravana on my first house, I feel like I embody vishakha more (my sun nakshatra)? The most accurate depiction I could find is the first house appearance reading. Cap rising makes my stature small but my face has the strongest influence of the three planets in the first house that conjunct my ascendant capricorn: Jupiter (enlarged features), uranus (asymmetrical features) and Neptune (doe eyes). Your rising sign signifies your height and your planets influence your appearance.
🔮 I'd always be thankful for my gemini moon for helping me detach from situations and viewing my emotions from a third person perspective. 😪
🔮 pluto conjunct moon in synastry is all about the pluto person wanting to baby the moon person?
🔮 also, men who have lilith conjunct my ascendant are... Ummm... Always tryna be weirdly protective? Like I can come across as scary and bossy to the entire line of men and there will be that one guy who just thinks I need to be "protected" (I love the attention tho🤭)
🔮 moon + neptune + rahu (north node) = delulu pro max of the themes of that house. Worse, moon in the area makes you emotionally vulnerable too
🔮 money placements according to astrologers that I've heard: 11th house and 2nd house connected in any way (e.g., 11th house lord is Capricorn = Saturn's zodiac and Saturn is sitting in the 2nd house, the if the lords exchange positions, that's even better), moon + mars sitting together (called laxmi yog), exalted moon or moon sitting in the second house, Venus sitting in the second, sixth, eleventh or twelfth house, Jupiter in second or eleventh house, ketu in 5th-rahu in 11th (not good for relationships but good for money), if your seventh lord is sitting in either 2nd or 11th house, it indicates to your spouse coming in with money or you get money when you get married
🔮 pluto/scorpio in 7th house or 7th lord in the 8th house/scorpio often points to painful transformations after marriage. If not painful, I've seen people sacrifice their jobs and move for their partners or change job lines or give up their education for their partners.
🔮 I know someone who has a very well adjusted chart (exalted sun, moon, jupiter, mars, uranus, venus, ketu) and the ascendant in Aries. The planets are also in the houses they exalt in: Sun in 1st, moon in 2nd, Jupiter in 4th etc. I gotta say, she's easy to be friends with everyone, is successful with whatever venture she's in, is the favourite child of her parents and a very nice person overall. Her only issue is that she sometimes let's other people take advantage of her kindness even when she KNOWS they're hurting her.
🔮 Moon in Libra, moon in 7th and 19 degree moons is such an attractive person placement. Adriana lima, ariana grande, Megan Fox, Marilyn Monroe all have these placements.
🔮 Mars darkaraka men are toxic imo. Most of these men like toxic women. They seek these women out, feed their toxicity and then act like THEY are the victim in public. Their type is literally "pretty women but toxic". A lot of times these women are "toxic" because these men have painted the women in public like that. 🙄
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d3stinyist1red · 4 months ago
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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɴᴇʀᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟸
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yan nerd who gets put into a group project with you and some other npcs, as he calls them, not paying any attention to neither of them, rather going to practically sit on your lap and cling onto you the whole period.
yan nerd who annoys the other members of the project bc hes js there helping you, letting only you copy, and they could literally hear the down bad things hes whispering in your ear (hes doing it on purpose bc he thinks they want u and he needs those bitchs to back off)
"Hey (nerd yan name), why arent you helping us as well? We literally having zero fucking clue what to do." One of the members asked, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion.
yan nerd who ignores them and goes back to acting cringy to you as you look as if hes holding u hostage.
yan nerd who is an absolute loser that prob has greasy fried hair, ofc he calls u his alpha and its him and u against the world.. uhm so! this is insane!
yan nerd who literally hyperfocuses on anything u like, making himself liking it aswell. Js so he can “accidentally” bring them up in conversation, and see the way ur eyes lit up in surprise at the fact he remembered ur interests. Whenever you talk about anything you like, he quickly talks about it himself to make him seem more likeable to you,
yan nerd who in the middle of class, day dreams abt you literally with roses and hearts in background as you say "Your so hot~" (hes delusional pls..)
yan nerd who has had one gf but that was the start of his obsession with you and he was trying to stop himself with being obsessed
lets js say it didnt work bc when he was making out with his gf, he kept whimpering and moaning out your name...😭
yan nerd who tries to impress you with fun facts as he puts up his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s the type to text you random facts throughout the day, just to remind u of him
ɪʟᴜᴠᴍʏɢғʏ/ɴ
did u know that dogs have dreams?
I just wanted to let yk so when we have 10 kids, 3 dogs, and a cat together baby <33
yan nerd who over analyzes everything, every convo with u leads him to be in the dark of his room, smiling and delusionally think u need him in ur bed and that u def want him bc u looked at his lips for 0.01 secs
yan nerd who even practice conversations in their head before seeing Y/N again, trying to make sure everything goes perfectly. Though, whenever he go infront of you and actually try to talk to you, he loses all composure and says the first thing to mind. "Can u sit on my nos- I mean!"
yan nerd who lowk has rizz tho
“Hey, did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep, so they don’t drift apart? Kinda like how I wouldn’t want to drift apart from you, baby" He says looking at you with the most down bad eyes, rubbing your thigh under the table as you try to pay attention to the math lesson
"bro unhand me"
"If i do, will you bounce on it?"
yan nerd who, nvm does not have rizz
yan nerd who is a loser who spends most of his time humping a body pillow of u <333
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MORE COMING OUT SOON!!!!!
RESQUESTS ARE CLOSED
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jj-one · 11 months ago
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HATE YOU
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this is smut, do not interact if under 18
pairing: enemies to lovers ? (sorta one-sided tho), college au, fuckboy!jungkook x f!reader genre/tags: smut, angst, alcohol usage, dirty talk, lowkey perverted!jk, fingering, piv, unprotected sex (oof), drunk sex, public sex (reader & jk do it at a house party), riding, video recording **pls don’t do none of this irl LMAO words: 2.7k
**old repost from my deleted blog
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Hate is a strong word— at least that’s what people try and say. You meant it though, it was a word you didn’t use lightly. Especially when it came to your opinion on 99% of the male population at your school. You couldn’t stand most of them, they all just wanted one thing. Getting into your pants.
You despised hook-up culture with a passion and it didn’t help that most guys who tried talking to you were all the same. You had a special hatred for a particular individual the most though— Jeon Jungkook from your physics class. He was the most arrogant, conceited, egotistical person you’ve ever met your whole life.
Every class he would have a different girl with him wrapped around his arm, walking him to the door like he’s some kind of royalty. The way almost every girl would swoon over him just because he’s good looking was baffling to you. Yeah he may have a pretty face but does that cancel everything else out? Of course not. You’ll never understand why these women would choose to go after someone like him, you felt embarrassed for them honestly.
“Jungkook, meet me after class I’ll be waiting for you!” Some girl shouted through the door to get his attention.
He was sitting two seats from you, looking at his phone while paying no mind to the obvious screaming being directed to him. He was so full of himself it was ridiculous.
“Hey y/n, what’re you doing tonight?”
That voice startled the hell out of you. Who gave Jungkook the right to even be speaking to you right now? Looking over in his direction, you give him an empty stare.
“Why do you care?” You said harshly.
It makes no sense why he would even try talking to you, you’ve never given him any indication you liked him.
“Sheesh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he chuckles, “you should pull up to my party tonight!” You wanted to almost physically gag at the wink he just gave you.
“I’m good.” You shut him down quickly and try moving on but he doesn’t let you off that easy.
“You sure? The whole schools practically gonna be there, you don’t wanna miss out on all the fun do ya?” That annoying smirk on his face was really starting to irritate you.
“I said I’m good, I’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties.”
“I think you got me mixed up with someone else, my parties are always lit. If you have a change of heart though, I’ll make sure to show you a real good time.”
You scoff, utterly disgusted by his last comment, just about everything he said had sexual undertones to them. His humor was weird and extremely perverted which heavily pissed you off. You couldn’t wait for this class to be over.
“We’re almost here!” Yuna exclaims in the passenger seat.
You were in the back with two of your other friends as you were headed to a party. You weren’t totally up for partying tonight but ultimately your friends were able to convince you to go. You don’t even know where the party is but maybe it’s good to get your mind off things.
“Oh, by the way who’s party is this?” You ask suddenly as Lisa pulls into a driveway.
The car got silent for a second, no one answered your question. It was a bit odd to you the way they all froze up.
“Actually… it’s Jungkook’s party…” Lisa finally spoke, her eyes kept trailing away from you.
“What the fuck? Of all places you choose to go you pick him?!” You felt so betrayed.
They really drove you all the way here just to trick you into coming and now you have no escape plan. They all begged and pleaded for you to suck it up and let loose for just one night. You finally agreed but only under the condition that you want to be far away from him as possible.
“Why do you even dislike him so much? You would think he had murdered someone or something!” Your friend asks.
“I just think he’s a pretentious asshole that doesn’t deserve all the hype he gets.”
They just shrug your opinion off and get out the car. You huff as you open the door and head to the party with the rest of them.
You instantly felt claustrophobic once you go inside. There were crowds of people everywhere. Jungkook was right, everyone at the school was practically here. Loud rap music was blaring through the speakers, red solo cups scattered the floor, people getting sloppy drunk or stoned; the perfect stereotypical house party.
You haven’t seen him yet so that was a good sign and you go up to the kitchen to get drinks with Lisa. 20 minutes pass by now and Lisa was left out of your sight. You have no idea where she could’ve run off to and now you have to search the place to find your friends.
Heading outside into the backyard, your balance was becoming unstable from the alcohol in your system. You were taking shots of Hennessy back to back and it caught up to you faster than you could blink. You sat down on one of the lawn chairs since your head was starting to feel really heavy. You felt a sudden tap behind your shoulder and hear a voice that even when you’re drunk, you can sense with disdain.
“Well, well, well if it isn’t little miss ‘i’d never show up to one of your dumb ass parties!’” Jungkook teases while coming from behind you.
“Get the hell away from me!” You lean away from him to leave you alone but he only came closer.
“This is my house so I don’t need to go anywhere, if anything I think I should kick you out for being so mean to me.” His face inched towards yours further, putting you in an uncomfortable position.
You don’t know why your body felt paralyzed though, it was probably just from all the alcohol inebriating your mind.
“You know, I never understood why you actually hate me. I never hurt you did I?” He says, slightly cocking his head to the side.
His tattooed hand landed on your knee, just planting it there while keeping strong eye contact. You couldn’t speak for some reason, it was as if an enormous lump has formed and got caught inside your throat. He looks down at the skirt you’re wearing and bites his lip, playing with his lip ring.
“Why aren’t you talking? You usually have a lot to say to me, why so quiet now sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?” He continues speaking in that condescending tone of his and you’ve had enough now.
“I fucking hate your guts Jungkook, I absolutely despise you. You’re a cocky, perverted fuckboy that needs to be humbled and finally put in your place!” You snap back at him while pushing his hand away.
“Woah girl chill out, that was a bit harsh don’t ya think? Also, I’d love for you to put me in my place any day.” Yet again, he never fails to make a sexually charged comment.
“You’re disgusting, seriously get help!” You attempt to get up from the lawn chair but he pushes you back down.
“You know, I’ve always liked my girls a little feisty. I find it hot when girls yell at me.”
Either this man has a humiliation kink or is just plain stupid— either way you don’t want to be anywhere near him but he wouldn’t let you leave.
“Please just go away Jungkook, I don’t want you in my sight anymore.”
“Really? Because if that were true then you would’ve been left already,” his hand went to stroke the side of your hair “seems like you really don’t want me to leave.”
His other hand went back to your knee again but slowly trails up to your thigh and goes under your skirt this time. You were surprised within yourself that you were even letting this happen. He leans in to your face, being just a few inches away from his lips. You became almost in a trance by those pink, pillowy lips. You don’t know what came over you but you grab his face and messily kiss him. The movement of your lips colliding and syncing together as he deepened the kiss. He sensually touches your thigh while you moan into the kiss and he squeezes your thigh tightly in response. Looking around to see all the people still here when you pull away from him; you can’t fathom you just made out with Jungkook in front of all these goddamn people. You just lost all respect for yourself.
“You know I’ve always secretly had a crush on you y/n?” Jungkook admits, “I kinda like it when girls are mean to me. Or maybe I just like it when you’re mean, I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Let me show you how mean I can get then.” You reply, staring up at him with hungry eyes.
That cheesy grin never leaving his face as he hears you speak. The tension only grew thicker and he wasn’t about to waste another second.
“Sit on my lap.” He uses his hands to maneuver you and leans back in the chair.
You drunkenly stumble on top of him, feeling him against you. Your body heat raised through the roof but this time you were sure it wasn’t because of the liquor. You straddle his lap as you go back to hastily making out. His wandering hands kept slipping down to your ass to squeeze it and you were starting to feel dizzy from the way he was kissing you. You feel his touch under your skirt to play with you some more, not caring if anyone’s looking at this point.
“I don’t think we should be doing this.. not here at least. Too many people.” You say when pulling away from his lips.
“I really don’t give a fuck, it’s my party let them watch. Let’s put on a good show for everyone, yeah?”
You know this goes beyond against every moral you’ve had before. You’re about to do the one thing you told yourself that you’d never do.
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Agreeing to go along with his narrative.
He lets you in charge now, letting you have full control over the way you get to ride him. You push your panties to the side and he undoes his pants to free his fully hard member. You didn’t realize how much of a nice cock he has, it was well groomed and had the perfect size/width.
“You have a really pretty dick, must I say.” You still can’t believe these words are being said to Jungkook.
“Thanks baby, I can’t wait for it to be in that pretty little pussy of yours.”
He drags two of his fingers down to your core and swipes in a circular motion, smearing the wet slick as he watches your mouth open wide with pleasure. His digits sink into your cunt harshly, pushing them deeper and deeper.
“Fuck! Your fingers feel too good…” you hid your face in his shoulder as he splits you open.
Your eyes hung low and your mind was hazy. Unable to think straight, you just wanted to feel Jungkook inside of you already.
“Need to fuck you nowww!” You yell, almost sounding a bit whiny.
“So do it then cutie. Come fuck yourself on my cock.”
He withdraws his digits out of you and licks the juices off them one by one. His grin would only get wider as you lowered yourself on his cock. You were so soaking wet you sunk down on him easily while resting your hands around his shoulders to brace yourself a bit before moving. Once you regain focus you slide up and down on his shaft nice and slow; making him bite his lip, moan, and curse under his breath.
“Your pussy feels so good… so tight… fuck..” his mind was going blank as you pick up a steady pace.
You were so out of it by now that you were bouncing on his cock in a frenzy. He roughly thrusted his hips back into you while you sloppily rode him. The way he filled you up felt like you were in heaven. You open your eyes for a second, forgetting that you were at a party. Almost everyone was looking at you, some people even took out their phones to record the scene in front of them. It was probably all the alcohol you drank but you didn’t even care anymore, you continued savagely riding him. You’re moaning louder as you slam down into him harder, pulling his body closer to yours. He loudly grunts from your walls aching around him, his cock was throbbing so intensely he felt himself wanting to burst already.
People were beyond shocked to see this happening, it was a wild party but they weren’t expecting all this. You try not to pay attention to everyone and focus on Jungkook so you can make yourself cum. Then out of nowhere, he spontaneously lifts you up while you’re still on his cock. Engulfing those large hands on your ass cheeks to keep you balanced and thrusts into you deep while he’s standing up. You had your arms wrapped tightly around him, you weren’t too scared of falling since he had a strong grip on you. You were taking his cock with each harsh stroke he gave, screaming out his name over and over so the whole party could hear it.
“Fuck yes Jungkook! Keep fucking me just like that, you’re so good!!” You could feel yourself coming close and so does Jungkook. Wet strands of sticky hair cling to his face from all the work he’s putting in, his eyebrows furrowed to concentrate solely on making you cum.
“Gonna cum on this cock for me baby? I feel you getter tighter ‘round me.”
“Yess, wanna cum on your cock so bad please!”
He was hitting all the spots in you just right, the slight curve of his shaft fit so perfectly in your core. Your mouth was back to being jaw locked again, feeling the heat wave of your orgasm coming through. It hit even harder when you were drunk, you felt like you were going to fall out of his arms but he noticed you slipping and pulls you up into a firmer grasp. While shutting your eyes you feel your release take over, cursing and moaning his name repeatedly like a broken record.
“I’m ‘bout to cum ….” He pulls out of you and sets you back on the lawn chair, “look up and open wide for me.”
You open your mouth eagerly for him, he gives his cock a few pumps before releasing his white creamy load into your mouth. You swallow every drop of his cum and stick your tongue out for him to show your empty mouth. He smiles at the pretty sight of you and goes in to kiss you once again.
“This is fucking insane!” One of the random people at the party says.
You recognize the person since they’ve been watching you from the start. To say that you and Jungkook left everyone at that party speechless was an understatement.
“You know people were taking videos of us right?” Jungkook says cautiously.
“Yeah… it’s probably going to end up all over social media now, if it hasn’t already. Oh well, like I care!” You shrug nonchalantly.
Oh you’ll definitely care when you sober up.
“Let’s get outta here?” Jungkook zips his pants back up and takes his hand out for you to grab.
You hold onto him and balance your wobbly legs to stand up. You were both severely drunk but he held his liquor way better than you did. For the rest of the night, the party continued and you ended up finding your friends. They soon found out about you were doing and how you fucked Jungkook in front of everyone there, they were all completely taken aback. You went from hating his guts to him destroying yours— guess that’s one way you can end a burning hatred for someone.
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insomniadreamzz · 2 months ago
Note
G!p Jinx popping the cherry? 🤭🤭
I love that idea 👀👀
——
Distraction
G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader (Dom!Jinx)
TW// G!P, NSFW
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Ever since you came into her life, Jinx had a reason to fight for. Not trying to blow herself up anymore every time it looked like she would lose.
In you, she saw a woman that loved her just the way she is and who didn’t judge her. Of course you had your moments where you would fight when she got a bit too crazy about some things, deep down you only wanted to protect her from harming herself accidentally.
The more time passed, the more possessive she got over you. Wanting to blow everyone up who just looked at you a little too much. Her being very clingy towards you wasn’t a big secret in Zaun tho. One wrong move or look and she will show them that you are hers.
Today was one of those days. Jinx being all exhausted at the end of the day but she still didn’t stop tinkering on some new weapons. You sat there on her couch, looking at her working for hours now.
„Don’t you want to rest already? You seem very tired.“ You told her but she didn’t pay attention at all as usual.
„Jinx?“ You call again but nothing.
You didn’t like when she was working without a pause because you know how tired she actually was. So you got up with a huff, walking towards her and sitting on her lap without caring what she was working on now.
„Ugh…really Toots??“ She said with a frown, dropping the tools in her hands on the table. „You didn’t listen to me so I need to get your attention in that way.“ You explained yourself, your hands wrapped around her shoulders.
„You need to relax, you can work on that tomorrow okay?“
Jinx responded with a sigh to your words, her hands now resting on your waist as she looked at you. „Mh…how can I focus on my work when you straddle my lap like that??“ Her voice changed to a more husky one, you knew she liked that way of distraction the most, making you smile as your attempt worked, getting her whole attention now.
„Thats the plan. I want you to relax and focus on me now.“ You whispered into her ear, exactly knowing that it turned her on when she felt your warm breath against her skin.
„Come on, you know the teasing is my part.“ She said with a little chuckle, sounding innocent but she wasn’t innocent at all.
You leaned back again so you could look at her, noticing in her look that she desperately needed you to continue your distraction so you did, leaning in for a kiss. The kiss quickly turned into a more passionate one as her tongue quickly found her was into your mouth, gaining soft hums from you. Jinx was more the rough kisser and you didn’t mind it at all, letting her bite and pull on your lower lip, sometimes she even bit a little too hard to make your lip bleed.
You both got more and more excited during the kiss, your hips moving automatically to grind against her crotch, soon feeling the bulge in her pants grow bigger.
„Mn…fuck…“ She cursed between the kiss, her hands traveling down to your ass, her nails digging into you.
You both pulled back to catch your breath, looking at each other lustfully, her beautiful pink eyes shimmering. You were always amazed by the beautiful colour they got because of the shimmer in her.
„You know…maybe it is okay to leave my work for now, I have to do my girl now.“ She said in between her soft panting and with that you both decided to continue it on her couch to be more comfortable.
On the way Jinx took off her pants, letting her already hard member free before sitting down, you follow her actions, also taking off your clothes and wanting to get closer to sit on her again but she stopped you in your tracks.
„No…you don’t get what you want that quicky. You need to deserve it. I want you on your knees for me.“ She commanded and you got the message, getting on your knees, your hand wrapping around her shaft.
You didn’t need more words, knowing already what she wanted and so you did, leaning forward to drag your tongue over the tip while your hand was gently moving up and down her shaft, noticing her body tensing up a little at your actions. Patience wasn’t one of the things that Jinx mastered well so you didn’t plan on letting her wait any longer, wrapping your lips around her and letting her cock slide down your throat.
„Fuck…yes keep sucking my cock baby…“ She moaned out, her hand tangling into your hair, making you hum softly.
You didn’t stop bobbing your head, getting faster and gaining soft moans from your lover, signaling you doing a good job.
All of this was making you throbbing wet. You used your free hand to touch yourself, running your fingers through your wet folds.
„Ah..what are you doing here?? No touching, that will be my job.“ Jinx pulled on your hair, signaling you should stop touching yourself, making you whine at the feeling. You stopped, resting your hands on her thighs as she thrusted her hips up into you, using your mouth just like she wanted.
„A-Ah…fuck! Your mouth feels so good! I am gonna-…ngh!“ With a grunt she came into your mouth, making you swallow everything of her cum before letting go of your hair, letting you pull away.
„That’s my good girl…“ She panted softly, calming down from her high but her eyes were still filled with passion as she made you get up on your feet and pushing you down on the couch, now she was on top of you, her still hard member all wet from your spit.
„Now…it’s your turn. You deserve it.“ She spoke with a lustful voice, rubbing her tip against your entrance, painfully slow. „P-Please…“ You whimpered underneath her, wanting her so bad. „Please what?? I want to hear it. Use your words.“ She was teasing you so much you couldn’t wait for any longer. „Please Jinx. Please fuck me.“ You begged, making her groan in response at you being so desperate for her, how could she deny you.
Actually Jinx couldn’t wait either, being glad you were such a good girl for her and begged so she moved inside of you easily since you were already so wet, you both letting out a moan at the feeling. You felt like losing control of your own body as she thrusted into you, filling her hideout with sweet wet sounds of your bodies and your moaning. „Fuck…so wet for me. You feel so good Toots!“
Jinx leaned down, kissing you hungrily as she thrusted into you before traveling down your neck and leaving hickeys there, her teeth feeling so good on your skin. „Ah! Fuck! Yes please harder!“ You whimpered in between your moans, driving Jinx crazy, making her move her hips harder, hitting your womb with her cock with each thrust.
„Hnn…I want to cum inside my pretty little girl…I want you to take all of it.“ She said as her hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing it lightly. You had a hard time looking at her, the pleasure being too much but you still tried your best, wanting to look at her. The way her lustful gaze drove you even more crazy, the sight of her body crashing against yours, her beautiful sweaty body, you just couldn’t hold it for any longer anymore.
„Ah! Yes please. Please cum inside me.“ You begged again, letting her do whatever she wanted in that moment and so she did. A few more thrusts and Jinx finally came, together with you. As soon as you felt her cock twitch inside of you, releasing her warm cum, you reached your orgasm as well, legs shaking because of how intense it was, eyes rolling back into your head.
Her thrusts became slower until she stopped, pulling out of you and letting herself fall down beside you. You both were still breathing heavily. Jinx pulled you into a tight hug, making you smile happily. You loved how sweet she was after sex, her habd caressing you so gently as you nuzzled into her, slowly coming to realisation. „Did we just-…“ You started, earning a giggle from her. „Yeah…we did. And I don’t regret it at all.“ Jinx coos softly, knowing what you meant but she didn’t care about the consequences.
„I love you.“ You mentioned, making her grab your cheeks and kissing you. This time the kiss was soft and loving. „I love you too.“
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leviismybby · 10 months ago
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Bad Idea
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Levi Ackerman x fem!reader, nsfw 18+, mdni, virginity loss, age gap! Levi is in his 30s, the reader in her 20s, oh this is rough filth
Levi didn't care about the assigned rooms, his mind focused on the upcoming mission. His grey eyes follow the building where he will be staying for the next few days before heading outside of the walls. He heads inside, looking for his room number, he wonders if you're ready there and what you think about having to share a room with him. He knocks before entering just in case, the last thing he wanted to do is make you uncomfortable. When you say that he can come in, he does, carrying not but a single bag with him. The room was small and it had a single bed. Great. Just perfect.
You look at your Captain before your eyes fall on the bed, there was space for the two of you but it didn't make the situation any less tense. "I can sleep on the floor." That makes Levi look at you as he closes the door behind him, if anything he is the one who can sleep on the floor or the chair, he has a hard time sleeping anyway. "Nonesense There's room for both of us." He adds, setting his bag down on the bedside table, you don't speak on the matter further, he is the captain and questioning his orders is a bad idea. You nod not knowing what to say next, you don't know him that well.
As the sun set you were getting ready for bed, you had an early day and couldn't wait to get under the sheets, even of they are the same sheets your captain will be using too. After changing into your pyjamas and brushing your teeth, tou came back into the room which was now dimly lit as Levi sat at the desk writing at the paperwork with a candle burning next to him. He pays you no mind continuing to do this thing, you don't want to disturb him but you had to ask. "Ugh captain, which side would you like?" That catches his attention and he looks back at you, his eyes checks you up and down quickly before answering. "Who fucking cares. Sleep where you want." With that he turns back to finish the paperwork, he sighs slighty, you were a pretty girl in his eyes and it irritated him. "And please call me Levi."
Getting under the sheets, you try to make yourself comfortable, the only noises in the room are the quill Levi is writing with. You close your eyes trying to get sleep to wash over you but it doesn't, instead you turn and twist in the sheets, he makes you nervous, incredibly nervous and you would never admit to anyone just how much you're attracted to him, he was good eight years older than you and that added to the appeal. You rub your thighs together slighty, this wasn't a place to think about those things, he never even looked at you differently, it was ridiculous to get these naughty thoughts especially now when the man was in the same room as you. And you don't even know what it feels like, you were never with a man, sure you had your kisses but your first was something you want to give someone special.
After sometime of tossing in the bed, Levi sits on his side, your back in turned on him but you can hear him take his boots off. Was he going to sleep in his uniform...? Levi lays down on the other side, keeping his distance, he knows you're not sleeping and wonders what is keeping you awake. "Can't sleep?" He asks after sometime, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "..no...my thoughts won't let me." You say with honesty, it was the truth however you definitely aren't telling him what kind of thoughts tho, he doesn't need to know. Levi looks at you, your back still turned on him, you look around the dark room, waiting for him to reply. "Your thoughts huh? Or is that you don't want to share the bed with me?" Levi can tell by your body language that something is up, you don't seem all too comfortable.
"What?? Not its not that.....I am not uncomfortable it's just-" You cut yourself off, not wanting him to think less of you. Taking a deep breath you continue to talk. "I have never shared a bed with a man." Those words are said quickly and quietly but Levi hears them all. A slight curiosity runs through him, it shouldn't, you were his subordinate, he really shouldn't be thinking what he is thinking right now. "Is that so? Never had a boyfriend?" There's something about his voice that sounds mocking, almost as of he is teasing you. "Not really." You mumble, it wasn't that you didn't want a relationship, it's that all the men your age seem....immature. "I just- I guess men my age aren't exactly-" "Your type?" He cuts in, already seeing what you're trying to say. "No, not my type at all." You shiver as the thought of being with him runs around your mind, you should really get that fantasy out of your head.
There's a shift in the air, you feel as if he can read all of your mind and exactly what you're thinking of. Levi scoots closer to you, you feel his body coming closer to your and you freeze. "What is your type?" He runs a finger down your back and you have to hold back a moan you aren't pulling away, you don't want to. When he sees that you aren't stopping him, he moves even closer, he removes your hair to expose the back of your neck. Leaning closer, you can feel his breath on your skin, another shiver running down your body. His lips make contact with your skin, he nibbles gently on your neck, his hand move down to your waist, his hand running under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach. Levi wants to hear you, wants to hear your moans, what's to make you beg. He bites into your skin and that causes a moan to surpass your mouth, Levi groans, it's even sweeter than he thought, he needs more.
"Turn around." He says, voice filled with lust, you do as you're told, turning around to face him. Levi is still in his uniform, his straps are undone and his cravat hang around his neck. You feel your panties get wet a little more, slightly embarrassed you look away but before your head can turn, Levi grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. Levi's thumb runs across your lip, your eyes shine with desire and he loves it, craves it. "I'll ask you this only once so answer honestly. Do you want me to fuck you?" His words surprise, Levi isn't sugercoating it and he clearly isn't a romantic, that makes it all so much more appealing. You swallow and then answer. "Yes." It's a desperate tone but not enough for Levi. "You can do better than that." He needs to hear it from your pretty lips. "I want you to fuck me, Levi." You don't look away, looking him straight in the eyes and you swear that he smirks for a second. "Good girl."
He kisses you, his hands pull you closer into his body. You follow his movements, kissing him the best you can while your hands wrap around him. Levi turns you onto your back to get on top of you, his kisses growing more intense, his tongue enters your mouth, a slight moan escaping you as his fingers spread your thighs apart so he can lay between your legs comfortably. You can feel his boner pressing against your clothed pussy and without much thinking, you roll your hips wanting more contact. Pulling away from the kiss, he growls. "Mhh there you go." He kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trace of open-mouthed kisses, his hands start exploring upwards, eager to undress you. You're supposed to be nervous but you aren't at all, all you want is for him to take you, it's even better than what you imagined.
You start to get braver with your hands, they wonder around his upper body before pulling on his shirt wanting it off his body. Levi gets message, he bites into your neck, leaving a mark behind before pulling away to get rid of his shirt. His naked upper body comes into your view, you have seen it before when he was patching up his wounds but this was different, those perfect defined abs and biceps, the v line running down into his pants, you bite your lip, your fingers running down his abs. Levi kisses you again, it was his turn to have you undressed, your hands run down the muscles of his back, his hips rolling into your as he kisses you sloppily. His hands are roughly pulling your shirt over your breasts, he doesn't take it off entirely, he doesn't need to. His lips move to your neck again, he kisses over the red spots he left earlier on it, Levi starts to move lower kissing over collarbone before reaching your breasts. His eyes lock onto them, admiring them for a second before he looks at you, your eyes are telling him all, you want him even more than he let on.
"Fucking perfect." Whispering under his breath, he takes the plush flesh into his hands, massaging them. A loud moan comes out of your lips, your hand fall to grip the sheets. Levi's mouth closes around your nipple, he is still holding your breasts in his hands, pushing them together. "Mhh Levi!" You whimper his name and in return Levi swirls his tongue around your swollen bud, you gasp, hands flying to his biceps. He pulls away from your nipple, his saliva connected to your nipple. "So fucking eager aren't you?" He sucks on the other nipple, his fingers playing with the other one, pinching it between his fingers. Your head falls to the side, the pleasure is overwhelming and he isn't even touching you where you need him the most yet.
Levi sucks and plays with your nipples for a few minutes and you feel like you can cum just from that. Starting to stir, Levi bites into your bund playfully, making you dig your nails into his bicep. He moves on, kissing your stomach and biting here and there, leaving marks that will remind you of the fact that he got to have you first. Not some useless boy your age, him, your captain. His lips reach the rim of your pants and he teases you by licking across your navel and than up your stomach, he bites into your breast, leaving a hickey there too. "Levii!" Again, you sound desperate, wanting him to move on. "Begging are you sweetheart? How cute." He is definitely mocking you now, his teeth bite into your other boob, sucking on the flesh even more intensely.
When you start to stir, Levi slaps your thigh lightly as if telling you to behave. After marking your breast, he finally moves on, he takes the hem of your pants and pulls them down, revealing your panties. He immediately sees the wet spot on the fabric, spreading your legs he goes lower, his face directly in front of your core. That gives you a shiver, your legs threatening to close but Levi is quick to spread you open again. "No, no. Keep them open for me, understood?" You nod, that's not enough, he wants to hear your voice. Putting one of your legs over his shoulder, he bites into your inner thigh, once again marking his territory. "Understood, Captain!" You say, your fingers treading through his raven hair. "That's a good girl."
His bites reach closer and closer to your wetness, when he reaches your pussy, he presses kisses on the wet spot over the underwear. Your hips buck slighty, another sound emerging from your swollen lips, this was all so new and Levi was doing it so good. He kisses the spot again before hooking his fingers around the fabric and pulling your panties down, he throws them on the floor next to his shirt. Your legs close again on instinct and Levi is quick to spread them open again, his eyes glued to your folds and he watches it it twitches under his gaze. "All this wet pussy for me huh?" He leans down gently licking your slit, you tug on his hair, your hips bucking more, this feels so good, better than anything. His grey eyes shoot up to your face, every expression you make fuels him up more. He starts to eat you out, his tongue skillfully working on your pussy, you start to move around, gripping onto anything you can, his mouth feels amazing.
"You like that don't you, sweetheart?" His fingers grip your thighs leaving marks on the flesh, he moves his hand to your stomach, leaving it there while skillfully working on your wetness with his mouth. "Yes! Oh fuck Levi!" Your eyes start to roll back, Levi groans against your cunt, the sound sending vibration all through your heat. Levi's tongue finds your clit, he starts with slow licks, driving you crazy, the moans you're letting out are music to his ears. "So fucking sensitive." He uses his fingers to rub your folds while he sucks on your clit, he needs to prep you for the real thing. His fingers enters you and that causes your back to arch, rubbing more against Levi's mouth. Its certain that other can hear how loud you are but Levi could care less, the louder you are, the more turned on he is. The fingering starts off slowly, his finger pumping in and out of you. "Fuck you're tight. Can't wait to fuck this wet cunt."
Levi spits on your pussy and then starts to eat you out again, his jaw moving faster and his finger moving more gently, its a perfect combination. Sometimes starts to built up in your stomach, it feels like butterflies are flying all over your abdomen, like a burning fire but the fire is pleasure instead of pain. Adding a second finger, Levi's hips start to rut into the mattress, he needs release soon but this is all about giving you a night you won't forget. "Levi! I am-hhhghh!" He starts to finger fuck you faster, his fingers reaching that gummy spot as his mouth works on you. And the sounds, oh they are nasty wet and loud but Levi isn't slowing down, his mouth pulls away, his fingers still pumping into you. "Yeah? Gonna cum aren't you? Be a good girl for me and cum." His head rests against your thigh, his mouth and jaw are glistening with your jucies. You pull on his hair, a loud moan od his name comes out of you, your hips buck, legs shake, it's the most intense thing you have ever felt, your walls clench toghtly around his fingers and you cum, completely overcome by pleasure.
Your head falls back against the pillow, your breath heavy as you calm down from your high, Levi pulls his fingers out slowly. He puts them in his mouth, teasting you once again, kissing up your body again, Levi's hands massage your thighs. When he gets to your face, he kisses the aide of your face. "Need a moment?" He asks, nibbling on your ear, his fingers interlocking with yours and you nod. After a few moments you open your eyes looking at him, you're cheeks are red, mouth wide open, he wants to revish you, fuck you until the only thing you know is him and him only. He kisses you on the lips, the kiss as sloppy as the previous one, you kiss back, your fingers squeezing his hands as he has them pinned above your head. Eventually when he let's go, your hand runs down his body again and this time your tug on his belt, undoing it for him. "Good girl, so eager to get fucked." You bite your lip at his words as his belt comes off. Levi helps you, pulling his pants down with his underwear, he gets rid of it and again throws it on the pile of clothes on the floor.
Curiously, you take his hard cock into your hand, rubbing it up and down. Levi grunts in response, your hand felt so warm and perfect. You pump him in your hand a couple of times before letting go, giving him a sigh that you want him inside of you. "I want you inside of me, Levi." He kisses the side of your neck, you feel his hair brushing your skin. "You'll get me, sweetheart. I can't wait to fuck you." He grabs the base of his cock before positioning it against your entrance, you whimper feeling hic cockhead rub aagsint your wet opening. "Fuck....you want me huh?" Levi wants you to beg for it, he needs it all. "Please Levi! Please! I want you to fuck me." That's all he needed, he pushes his hips forward, his cock pushes past your walls, you gasp, hands gripping the sheets as you close your eyes. "Oi! Eyes on me, let me see you." Looking at him, you watch as his face narrows slighty and then his hands grab your hips. "Can I move?" Despite the list in his voice, there is care there too and you nod, grabbing the mattress even tighter as you feel him move.
He starts to fuck you, enjoying every single moan and response of your body. It's slighty painful but the more he moves, the better it feels. Levi starts to thrust harder inti you, your moans get louder, it feels so good. "You're so..fucking...tight. You feel so good, baby." Your hands run up and down his back as he continues to ram into you, his cock feels like it was made for you. Levi hisses when your pussy clenches around him, he lifts your hips up slightly to get deeper inside of you. "Fuuuck Levi!" Your nails dig into his back, his cock hits that deep spot inside of you, causing you to almost see starts, you won't last much longer before cumming again. Levi starts to pund you faster, letting out rough grunts and groans, you feel so good, so right, it's driving him mad.
Before you can react, Levi pushes your knees up to your chest, folding you and then slams into your harder, your moans are swallowed by his lips as he kisses you passionately. He moans agasint your lips when you keep clamping down on him, your body arching more into him, his nails dig into the back of thighs, he keeps you spread, fucking you harder. You pull away from the kiss when his cock hits your cervix, it's painful but feels so good at the same time. Levi grabs your hair making you look at him. "Keep those pretty eyes on me while I fuck you, baby." His forehead presses agsint yours, his thrusts get messy, he is getting close and so are you.
The knot in your stomach is creating again and this one is somehow more intense than your last climax. "Shit..I'll cum deep inside this cunt.." He fucks you in a slower pace and you feel as his cock twitches inside of you, that's nrouhh for you as you feel yourself cumming around his cock. "Atta girl. Cum for me, cum around my cock." His hands are gripping your hips so hard you're sure they will leave bruises but you don't care, not now. Levi fucks you through your orgasm, he tries his best to hold back as much as he can and he knows he shouldn't cum inside of you however it's irresistible to him, he wants you filled with his cum.
With one last groan, Levi slams hard into you and then cums deep inside of you. Your nails are still digging into his back, his cum feels warm filling you up to the brim. Levi kisses you on the lips as he finishes cumming, he pulls your body closer and let's go of your legs. The sheets are ruined beanth you but that's not a worry for either of you right now. You return the kiss, your fingers gently running down back, feeling the scratches you left behind. Both of you pull away and Levi looks at you, his eyes looking over the marks on your body, he almost feels bad, almost, he is proud of his work. Proud that you trusted him enough to let him do this. And now the mission is that much more exciting.
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