#Including one with one of those asshole little boys who just like to be mean and violent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andysorbit · 1 year

Text

1 Corinthians 6:19 (M)

Church boy!Doyoung x church girl!reader Minors, fuck outta here Warnings: corruption?, some bible verses, Siwon is an asshole, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, light dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, choking, overstimulation Is this blasphemy??? Idk sorry to those who are religious? I mean if you're reading this then... ya know.

Word count: 7.2k?? I know it's a lot

"He's not gonna take the bait. He's got a crucifix up his ass," Jaemin says and rolls his eyes.

The church basement is quiet and one thing you've all learned from being in this... Holy Place... is how to successfully whisper in a room so quiet that even Hellen Keller could hear a mouse piss on cotton.

Joy leans in closer but never takes her eyes away from her Bible, "Y/n, he's not interested. You need to learn to quit while you're ahead. Siwon has him on a leash," she mutters.

"No, Jesus has him on a leash," Jaemin counters.

You pretend you don't hear them and turn back to Kun, "You got his cousin to give you a chance. He can't be that much different."

Kun looks across at Joy and smirks, "Don't say it like that... you sound like I used her," he mumbles.

Joy chuckles softly, "You were using me. You just didn't bank on getting used."

"And that's why I love you," he sighs.

Joy shakes her head, "You think you love me."

Your eyes wander back over to Doyoung's face and you watch him closely.

Sunday school is over for the day and you're all left to prepare for next week's lesson.

It's the same ritualistic pattern that’s posted on a bulletin board in Pastor Siwon's obsurdly perfect writing:

Sunday Schedule

Sunday school must begin at 8 AM and end by no later than 8:50 AM.

Breakfast/refreshments to be served from 8:55 AM to 9:15 AM.

Sunday school instructors are to work on next week's lesson from 9:00 AM to 9:45 AM

Everyone must be upstairs and seated in the sanctuary by 9:55 AM

Siwon's a bitch.

He hates women, gay people, and anyone he can't use God to manipulate. He also hates his brother Doyoung.

Siwon's father wanted Doyoung to lead the church in the event that he were to suddenly die. It was a discussion that had been talked about for years.

Nobody paid it much attention until, of course, their father did suddenly die.

The entire church- including Siwon's own wife- voted for Doyoung to lead but Doyoung, being an obedient little brother, declined.

"I'm just happy to be here and serve God with you all. Siwon hyung is more equipped to lead you than I am and I'm more than happy to continue teaching Sunday school with the little ones. If leading a church is my calling, our Savior will make me ready for that day but until then, let's just praise Him and do our best to show His glory."

That day, you were more than a little disappointed to say the least. You knew he'd look good in a clergy robe but here he is, still teaching the little ones.

Doyoung instructs the preschoolers, Kun instructs grades one through three, Jaemin instructs grades four through six, Joy instructs grades seven through nine, and you teach grades ten through twelve.

You don't enjoy it but you do it. You don't enjoy this church but you still come. Not because you feel obligated but because you don't want your funds cut.

None of you do.

Doyoung is the only one who still comes to church willingly, he prays with fervency, and cries during worship.

Sometimes, you wonder if he cries because he really feels God's presence or if that's his subconscious pleading for release from the Holy sunken place.

"I have to teach the kids about abstinence. I hate that," Joy mutters and snaps you out of your trance.

"Because you're a godless whore?" Jaemin laughs quietly.

Surprisingly, she nods, "I feel like a hypocrite."

"But you're not," You tell her. She smiles at you appreciatively.

"Ask Doyoung to help you. He's read the whole fuckin' Bible cover to cover four times already." Jaemin says.

You perk up when you hear Doyoung's folding chair softly drag across the concrete floor.

"Thirsty ass," Jaemin Snickers.

"Shut the fuck up," You hiss and drop your eyes back down to your Bible.

"Ask him for me, Y/n," Joy whispers.

"Hey, Doyoung?" You say as you close your Bible.

The room feels even hotter and you lock eyes with him.

He gives you the warmest smile, "Yes, Y/n?"

"Joy has to teach about abstinence and she needs help but she's not sure how to ask you. She's awkward about it," You tell him.

He smiles and nods at you then looks over at Joy, "You're such a jelly belly, Joy," He glances at the clock behind you, "Well, we have ten minutes. I finished early so I can help you."

He sits down in the empty chair beside yours and opens his Bible,

"I really like first Corinthians chapter six verse... nineteen. It.. speaks on how our bodies are temples and how they belong to God. I think that's a good way to start the conversation. You have to remember, Joy, your job is scratch the surface. They'll have a deeper discussion with their parents. You really don't wanna cross that boundary,"

Joy nods. This is her first go round with Sunday school. Yeri used to teach it but she just disappeared one day. There were rumors that she had gotten pregnant and that's why she stopped coming with her parents.

It's none of your business, though.

You sit and listen to him explain things so happily. His eyes light up and for a moment, you wish you were God just so he could make your own name sound so beautiful.

"I hope I was able to help you with this. If you need any help, don't be scared to ask. I'm here as much as I can be. Closed mouths can't get fed," Doyoung says warmly.

Jaemin snorts and masks it with a cough, "Sorry," he whispers.

Everyone gets up and Doyoung softly touches your arm, "Can I talk to guys before we go up?" he asks. You nod and watch as your friends glance at each other with befuddled expressions.

"Why don't you guys like me?" he asks and you feel your heart break.

"What? Who said that? Doyoung, who said that to you?" You ask him softly.

"My brother did. He said that... you guys talk about me behind my back and- I just wanna know what I did. I haven't made you feel uncomfortable, have I?" he searches your face for an answer and you can't believe he thinks that.

"Doyoung, we thought you didn't like us. You never sit with us and we thought you just preferred your own company," Kun says apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I- we never meant to make you feel that way. Especially me. We would love it if you sat with us," You say eagerly.

"Oh, yeah. Especially her," Jaemin agrees. You whip your head around to glare at Jaemin and he throws his hands up in concession.

You turn back to Doyoung and he smiles, "I know I can be a little closed off sometimes. Please don't hold it against me," he chuckles.

"It's no problem. We know you mean well," Jaemin says with a tight smile.

He's always been a bit stand-offish with Doyoung. How Siwon could have such a good brother perplexes him.

Doyoung smiles, "Okay. Next Sunday, I'm with you guys."

You nod, "I'm looking forward to it!"

Your week is slow and you're actually excited to be going to church. You pick Jaemin up on your way and he smokes as you drive.

"This shit better be aired out before we get there," You tell him.

He shrugs, "You say that every Sunday. Has it ever not been aired out?"

"Got me there," You concede.

Jaemin tosses his cigarette out the window at the red light. As you turn the block and into the parking lot, you see Doyoung get out of his car.

As always, he's neat and casual; opting for his usual solid-colored slacks and polo shirt. He looks so good.

"As much as I hate to say this, you're gonna have to stop picking me up if you're gonna get him to nail you to a cross," Jaemin says as you're parking your car.

"I hope you get lung cancer," You sigh.

Jaemin laughs, "You don't mean that."

When you get out, you see Doyoung leaning against his car.

He's waiting for you.

"Good morning!" he cheers.

"Good morning," You say back.

Jaemin gives him a wave, "He's trying to figure us out," he murmurs.

"Then stop cockblocking," You mumble back.

"I'm gonna head in. I have to help the kids with a few things. Thanks for the ride, Y/n," Jaemin says.

Doyoung squeezes his Bible and looks over at you, "So you never need any help with Sunday school. How is it?" He asks.

"It's good. The kids are great. Yeri took good care of them before they graduated," You tell him.

He nods, "Hey... uh... I was wondering if you wanted to um... go with me to the church picnic next month? Siwon's been..." he trails off because he's obviously trying not to badmouth his brother.

"Nagging you?" You ask quietly.

He freezes like a startled rabbit then nods, "Yeah," he whispers.

"You don't have to be married until you're ready. Besides... I'm not marrying you," You laugh.

Doyoung laughs too, "You know how he is... why he married Taeyeon and all that," he sighs.

"He just wanted a piece of ass and didn't wanna burn in hell for it?" You blurt out.

Doyoung, surprisingly, bursts out laughing, "Is he that obvious?" he says with an exasperated smile.

He's so handsome.

"Yeah," You say, "He is."

Sunday school is mundane as usual and when it's over, Doyoung comes to sit with you. Right beside you to be specific.

Jaemin smirks.

People in the congregation tried to rally for you and Jaemin to date and prelude to marriage but that would never happen.

Jaemin's gay and he's fucking the choir director's son Renjun but that, along with everything else that's sinful in this church, is none of your business. He's your friend and you love him but he's private about his affairs.

Everyone has a level of privacy they maintain in order to cover their own asses. He trusts you with his life but he stays discreet to keep your hands clean.

"It's my week to clean the church," Doyoung sighs.

"Tough luck," Joy laughs, "I had last week."

"I'll be okay," Doyoung says, "It's my own fault for staying up so late."

"Y/n can help you. It's not like she has anything to do later," Kun pipes up.

"No, that's okay," Doyoung says softly, "If she doesn't wan-"

"I really don't have anything to do later and you look pretty tired. I don't mind helping you," You say eagerly and Jaemin stiffles a laugh.

After service, you seek out Doyoung and he pulls you to the side, "Wait for everyone to leave. It'll make more sense once they do," he whispers.

So you say your goodbyes and avoid Siwon's leering eyes.

Once the church is empty, Doyoung smiles at you, "Come with me," he says cheerfully as he leads you to the sound booth.

"This is why it always takes me so long to finish."

He tinkers with his phone and when Higher Ground by Stevie Wonder begins playing, he looks over at you, "Doesn't it sound so good in the church? The way it echoes?" he says as he leans in close enough for you to hear him.

The chill that rushes down your spine sends you into a frenzy and Doyoung notices. Your voice fails you so you nod.

He doesn't say anything but he does hold your gaze. He's hard to read but you don't worry.

You clean and enjoy his playlist. One thing that hasn't changed is his love for Motown. As you clean, you sing together and when he's feeling extra playful, he keeps his eyes trained on yours and sings to you.

For a moment, you think that he wants you too.

When Doyoung comes to pick you up for the picnic, he's dressed in a seafoam green t-shirt, blue jeans, and white Keds.

He beams at you as he leans against the car, "What are the chances?" he says as he gestures to your seafoam green knee-length midi dress and white Keds.

"I definitely look better," You chuckle as you walk towards him. He opens the passenger door for you, "You look beautiful," he says as his eyes roam over you. "Thank you, Doyoung," You say as you hold his gaze, "You look really good too."

You can't look away from him and it's obvious he's losing the battle as well.

He draws in closer to you and hesitates. You reach out to gently place your hand on his cheek,

"I'm not gonna stop you if that's what you're waiting for."

Doyoung slots his lips against yours and kisses you slowly.

His kiss is essentially who he is; warm, gentle, wholesome.

He slinks an arm around to draw you closer, "Is this okay?" he asks you.

You nod and melt against the firmness of his body. He sets your insides on fire and the subtle strength of his hold on you sends a frenzied storm straight down to the pit of your stomach.

You can already feel your panties soaking.

He breaks the kiss and smiles at you then dips back down to kiss you once more,

"We should... get going," he says into your ear and it's so obvious that he wants to press a kiss to your neck.

"Let me go first," You chuckle.

He loosens his grip on you and smiles, "Whoops," he laughs softly.

"We're gonna be late," He says and it's more to himself because he's very much aware that he's the holdup.

You slip down into the car and look up at him.

He stares back at you and you can see his mind racing. He takes a deep breath and wets his lips with his tongue before closing the passenger door.

You watch him go behind the car and stop for a moment; bowing his head and closing his eyes, he prays. You know he's asking for forgiveness and strength.

He finally moves around to the driver's seat and gets in; he seems ready to pull off but he hesitates,

"Traveling mercies," he says softly and bows his head.

You follow suit and he prays,

"Blessed Father God, thank you for giving us another opportunity to live another day in your glory. Please be with us as we travel today. We're thankful as always for your love and protection. In Jesus' name, amen."

"Amen," You whisper.

He starts the car and his motown playlist picks up from the middle of Mama’s Pearl by the Jackson 5 and you smile.

As he drives, you both chat about work and sometimes stop to sing because the music is just too good.

"You're the only person who sings with me," he says as he pulls into the church parking lot.

"Am I?" You ask incredulously, "How could anyone not wanna sing with you?"

Doyoung shrugs, "I dunno... I don't mind. I think I prefer if it's only you anyway."

You smile at him and he puts the car in park before cutting the engine.

Your mind wanders back to when you were both younger and how close you were to each other.

As if he read your mind, he pipes up,

"What happened to us?"

"I don't know, Doyoung, but I miss you," You reply.

"I think I let Siwon steer me too much. He always said you were trouble and I'd be getting myself a one-way ticket to hell if I stuck around you..." he trails off.

"Ouch," You grunt.

"I'm sorry I told you that," he says apologetically.

"Don't be... I kinda already knew... but why the sudden change? Are you just trying to spite him?" You ask.

Doyoung shakes his head, "Not at all. I just... I'm tired of trusting him so blindly... he's not a good person."

You arch your eyebrows in surprise, "It's okay that you trusted him. He's your brother and you love him. There's nothing wrong with that."

He nods and then opens his door, "I'll get your door for you. Stay put," he says.

He comes around and opens your door. As you get out, you see Siwon pull in a few spots down.

He's alone.

He gets out of comes over with a confused smile, "Sister, your dress is mighty short," he says.

"And considering there's a dresses only code for a picnic, so is my patience," You say with a tight smile.

Siwon nods and stands down, "Fair enough," he concedes before looking over at Doyoung, "Is she your date?"

Doyoung nods, "We agreed to come together so yes... she is."

Siwon smiles. "Well it is time you started seeking out a wife."

Doyoung shakes his head, "It's not a job hunt, hyung. I'll know when it's time," he says sheepishly.

"Of course," Siwon says with a smile, "I'll see you guys 'round back."

When he leaves, Doyoung looks at you, "I'll leave early if you do."

"Definitely. How long should we stay?" You ask him.

"I say we give it about an hour. Eat light. I'll cook for you," he says with a shy smile.

"You're gonna cook for me? Get outta here," You say with surprised smile.

"It's a hobby... no big deal," he says coolly.

He's pulling you in.

You watch as Siwon stands at the grill and burns a fourth burger. It's a shame that hardly anyone is eating and those who are, obviously aren't enjoying the food.

You're close enough to hear him mutter to himself about it. Renjun comes over, "Pastor, I can take it from here." he says with a sheepish smile.

Siwon turns him away just as he has the others but Renjun doesn't back down; instead, he drops all pretenses of pleasantries and gently pries the spatula out of Siwon's hand, "Nobody likes your food. Look around," he says.

"They're burgers, Renjun. Taeyeon did this all by herself last year. How hard can it be?" Siwon scoffs.

"Rocket science since nobody can tell your burgers from a hockey puck now... move. Over," Renjun says shortly.

Siwon sighs and moves over, "Everyone's so mean today. First Y/n and her dress now you and these burgers."

Renjun flips the burgers with ease and rolls his eyes, "We're only two people- not the whole world and there's nothing wrong with Y/n's dress. She looks pretty. If you're feeling some type of way about her kneecaps then that's something you should work out with God. Don't put the blame on her for it."

Renjun looks at you and winks. You smile back and fight back your laughter. You take a sip of your soda and watch Doyoung come over to you.

"Ready to go?" he asks you softly.

You nod, "Yeah... I am."

"Head into the church. I'll count to seventy and meet you by the nursery," he says.

You nod and stand up.

You head inside and wait for him.

You send Jaemin a text:

Y/n: he's gonna cook for me 😳

Jaemin: CAN I GET TO DA YAMZ??? SWEET YAAAAAAMZ!!! 😩😩😩💦💦💦💦🍑🍑🍑🍑🍆🍆🍆🍆

Y/n: Why did I even bother telling you 🙄

Doyoung comes around the corner and you slip your phone back into your bag. He takes your hand,

"Come on."

Doyoung's house is a cozy one level cottage. He's big on earth tones.

"This is your house? It suits you, Doyoung," You gush as he unlocks the front door. The aroma of clove hits you and for only a breadth of a second, you imagine waiting for him in this very foyer after he's come home from along day of work.

"Is that a good thing?" he laughs.

"Yeah. Your house is really cute."

"You think I'm cute?"

"I don't kiss ugly men."

He turns to you and smirks, "That was... my first kiss y'know."

"No," You gasp.

He nods, "Yep."

"Doyoung, be serious!" You exclaim because there is no way in hell he could've kissed you that well if it was his first time.

"I am! Why is that so hard to believe?" he laughs.

"It was too good... just too good," You say incredulously.

He gives you a smug smile, "My ego's gonna skyrocket. Be quiet."

You stare at him with bewildered eyes and he waves a hand at you, "Come on. I know you're hungry."

His kitchen is decorated in shades of terracotta. You look around at the neatness of everything.

After you take turns washing your hands, Doyoung pulls a bowl of fruit salad out of his refrigerator, "I made this for the picnic but I forgot it so eat as much as you want because I don't want it to go to waste but I'm definitely not going back to drop it off."

You laugh and pop a grape into your mouth. His eyes linger on your mouth so you take the opportunity to pick up a pineapple chunk and bite into it slowly.

The blush spreads across his cheeks but he can't look away, "I um... what are you hungry for?"

"Whatever you wanna cook. I just wanna eat," You say between bites.

Doyoung smiles at you, "Do you want... rosemary chicken? I have a really good recipe and I still have fresh rosemary left," he rings his hands out nervously.

"That sounds so good!" You exclaim.

You watch Doyoung prepare ingredients and you make small talk and of course, he plays some music; this time opting for a soft jazz playlist.

"You like carrots?" He asks as he chops up a carrot.

"Eh... not raw," You say with a frown. You watch him hold a slice out for you.

"Do it for me. It's good for your eyes. They're too pretty to not be taken care of. Say 'ah'. C'mon," he says eagerly.

You frown a little deeper and pull back.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have to scratch you off my potential wife list. You're too disobedient. Yuck," he says with mock disgust and a sassy roll of his own pretty eyes.

You both cackle and you let him ease the carrot slice into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he hums.

You both freeze and the silence that hangs over his playlist is deafening.

"What?" You grunt.

"I'm so sorry I said that," he says just above a whisper.

"Why would you be sorry you said that?" You ask him as you pucker your lips suspiciously.

Doyoung blushes again, "I don't... know," he replies and pops his lips. He tries not to smirk but he fails and he gives you a gentle brush across your cheek with his knuckles.

You lean into his hand and he gives you a knowing look.

When the food is ready, Doyoung seats you at his breakfast nook, "Lunch is served," he says as he sets your plate down in front of you.

"Wow... Doyoung, it's almost too pretty to eat," You say as you look at the plate and then up at him.

He smiles and turns to get his own plate. He brings it to the table and sits across from you. He reaches his hands across to take yours,

"Will you lead us in saying grace, sister?"

He's definitely flirting.

"Um... dear Lord, thank you for this food we're about to eat, bless the hands of the chef, and bless us as we take privilege in enjoying this meal," You say softly.

Doyoung smiles and stands back up, "I forgot the wine," he says as he crosses the kitchen to retrieve it from the refrigerator before getting two wine glasses from the cabinet.

"So... bless the hands of the chef, huh?" he says as he pops the cork.

You watch him bring the bottle and the glasses over, "Yeah... you did a great job," You say.

He fills your glass and then his own, "Bless the mouths that enjoy it," he counters as he holds his glass up.

You clink your glass against his as you nod in agreement, "Amen."

You can't conceive how Doyoung's meal can taste better than it looks but somehow, it's possible. As you finish off your wine, Doyoung clears the table.

"Doyoung, that was the best meal I've ever eaten," You say as you lean back and sigh.

Doyoung's face lightens up, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Next time, I'll bake you something," he says and winks at you.

"Bake me something?" You gasp, "You're gonna bake for me too?"

Doyoung nods, "I told you, it's just a hobby."

"That's a great hobby. You're really good at it," You tell him.

"Siwon hates that I do this... he says it's menial woman's work but I like doing it and I like being useful. I don't want my wife to cook for me because she has to... I want her to cook for me because she likes me,"

You tilt your head "Because she likes you?" You ask him.

"Yeah," Doyoung nods, "Loving someone and liking someone are often two very different things. You can love someone and not like them. I love my brother but I don't like him... I want my wife to like me. I want her to smile when she thinks about me. I don't want what Siwon has with Taeyeon. I want my wife to see me as someone worthy of respect and not as someone she feels religiously obligated to respect."

You nod in agreement, "That's a good thing to want. There's nothing wrong with that." You reply.

Doyoung leans over the sink, "I don't want things to be traditional," he murmurs.

"Yeah?" You egg him on. You know the wine has him on the cusp of saying something that he normally wouldn't say.

"I- I don't... I don't wanna marry a woman who gives herself to me because the Bible says we have to reproduce. I wanna marry a woman who jumps into bed with me because she thinks I'm hot and I turn her on, I want her to... to think about me and squeeze her thighs together because I just do it for her. I don't believe that love has to be so... boring. Why would God even give us all of these feelings if we're supposed to just ignore them?" he finally says.

You sit in silence and Doyoung chuckles.

"Have I said too much?" he asks as he turns to look at you.

"No... of course not. I don't... see where you're wrong. You deserve that... Besides, if it's in us, it's meant to be enjoyed within reason," You say as you rise to your feet. You step closer to him and he reaches out for you.

"I placed bets that I'd marry you," he confesses as his lips find the corner of your mouth. He presses a light kiss to your skin there then his lips ease down to your neck.

"Yeah?" You sigh.

He hums as he kisses down to the base of your throat, "Yeah."

"Gambling is a sin." You laugh and he catches you lips with his own.

"I'm not always traditional," he sighs.

He traps you against the counter and the warmth of his body soothes you, "I won't do anything to you that you don't want me to do," he sighs as he kisses you.

"Do your worst, church boy," You whisper.

Doyoung slides his hands up your dress and cups your pussy. He moans, "Did I do that to you?" he purrs.

"Yeah... you always do," You hum.

He quirks up an eyebrow, "This is a regular occurrence for you?" he laughs against your lips.

"Uh huh... And sometimes when it gets to be too much, I touch myself."

"Y/n! No!"

You laugh, "Oh, yes!"

Doyoung tuts and dips his tongue into your mouth, "Such a dirty... dirty girl." He slips his hand into your panties and his fingers find your clit. For the first time ever, he curses,

"Fuck, you're soaked, baby,"

It sounds so hot and you whimper as he strokes your clit slowly.

"Doyoung!" You shrill.

"For what it's worth... I'm no better. You just do something to me and I... I can't control it."

He takes his free hand to bring one of your arms up to his shoulder and then the other, "Hold onto me," he says and his voice is low and steady.

You circle your arms around his neck and kiss him hungrily. His fingers massage you slowly, "Does this feel good?" he asks you.

"F-faster... please?" You plead softly. He laughs and easily obliges.

"Spread your legs a little more for me, sweetheart," he tells you softly; you quickly do as your told and he pulls back to smile at you,

"Good girl."

You moan a little bit louder and he pulls his hand out of your panties. His fingers find his way to his mouth and he sucks them clean, "Are you comfortable with coming with me to my bedroom? I can have you here next time."

"Next time?" You gawk.

"There will be a next time. You have stars in your eyes, Y/n."

He takes your hands and presses your knuckles to his lips, "Am I wrong?"

You shake your head, "No."

"Then let's go," he says and leads you out of the kitchen. Your head spins with excitement as he brings you along gently.

His bedroom is a cozy and comfortably cluttered dream. On the seat of his bow window, sits his Bible; it's opened to the book of Matthew. You try to see what chapter he was reading from but he guides you to his bed.

"Matthew, chapter five... verse twenty-eight," he says softly as his fingers begin to slowly unbutton your dress, "'But I say to you that everyone whose eyes are turned on a woman with desire has had connection with her in his heart'... I've battled with this far longer than I'd ever be proud to admit."

You smile up at him, "You're battling a sex demon?"

He laughs and covers his face with his hands, "Everyone has something that they struggle with! I mean, we're humans!" he laughs. He drops his arms down and smirks at you.

"That is true," You sigh.

Doyoung eases his shirt over his head and tosses it beside you on the bed.

It's your turn to freeze. As his hands find their way back to your dress, your eyes roam over his toned skin. He chuckles as he pushes the dress off of your shoulders,

"What demon do you fight, Y/n?"

"I have no demons... I'm a perfect vessel," You chuckle breathlessly. Doyoung pulls you to stand up and lets the dress pool at your feet, "I don't believe that for a second."

You step out of the dress and he picks it up. You watch him fold it gingerly before bringing it over to his honey colored easy chair and placing it down. He turns back to you. He's ambivalent and it's written all over his face.

"We can... put our clothes back on, Doyoung. We don't have to do this. We can just get dressed and act like this never happened," You tell him reassuringly.

He comes back over to you and pulls you into his arms, "You know neither of us wanna do that."

You nod in agreement and he kisses you. It's different. It's rough.

He eases you down onto the bed and as you scoot up to the middle, he hovers over you, "Tell me something... something wicked. Tell me something that will make me feel better about the things I'm going to do you."

Your body is somehow even hotter. He kisses your lips then licks a warm stripe across your neck before sucking on the tender flesh.

"I think about you all the time... I imagine you... bending me over in the church basement and fucking me until I can't stand," You whimper.

Doyoung groans and presses his hardness against you, "That's your fantasy? Being fucked in a church basement? Such a dirty girl... what else do you think about?" Doyoung kisses his way down to your chest before pulling you up. He reaches around behind you and unclasps your bra.

"I think about you overpowering me and- using me until you're satisfied... I just wanna be ravished by you," You whine as you both grind against each other.

He's invading all of your senses and neither of you has completely undressed yet.

"How are you even real?" he groans as he fumbles with his pants. He clumsily gets them off and kicks them off of the bed. Your bra is next to go then his briefs and then finally, your panties.

Doyoung kisses you with fervency. He pulls back and pins your arms over your head, "You wanna be ravished, huh?" he chuckles and dips down to take your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Uh huh," You sigh.

Doyoung slides down and nestles himself between your thighs. He peppers your skin with soft kisses. His mouth latches onto your clit and he sucks it softly. You cry out and buck your hips against his mouth.

He laps at you and teases you with his tongue.

"Doyoung... yes. Please... please," You gasp.

He continues his attack on you and you reach down to card your fingers through his hair and grind your hips desperately.

"Not enough, is it?" he asks as he raises his head to look at you.

"I... no... that's not it... I just want you. Come back up here... please," You whimper.

Doyoung laughs, "Do you miss me or something?"

"I do," You reply.

Doyoung comes up and presses a sloppy kiss to your lips.

You reach between your bodies and stroke him. He squeezes his eyes shut and grips the sheets.

"Want you in my mouth," You whimper and Doyoung flips you both over. He looks up you before propping himself up on his elbows,

"Have at it."

You nestle between his legs and grip his cock with both hands, "You're bigger than I expected," You say then lick from the base up to the tip.

Doyoung's tongue darts out to wet his lips, "Fuck," he sighs.

"Am I teasing you?" You ask him innocently.

"Come on... do something, baby," he sighs.

You smirk and drag your tongue back and forth over his leaking tip; collecting precum as you do, "Make me do something," You say softly.

Doyoung takes a fistful of your hair, "Don't be such a tease," he says and gently forces your head down. You moan and take him all the way into your mouth.

He slowly bucks his hips as the head of his cock repeatedly taps the back of your throat, "That's a good girl," he moans, "So fucking good."

You let him use your throat as you feel your own wetness slicking up your inner thighs.

Doyoung pulls you back up and kisses you, "Not like this... I need to be inside you," he says as he gets you back underneath him.

He teases your slit with the head of his cock and you whine desperately, "Ask me for it nicely."

"Please... give it to me," You whimper.

"You need me to fuck you?" he asks you roughly; his voice is coarse and heavy with desire.

You nod and that's all it takes for him to guide himself into you.

"Fuck!" You both cry in unison. You look at each other and laugh.

Doyoung dips down to press his forehead to yours, "You're so much better than I could ever have imagined... so fucking tight for me. We were made for each other. Don't you agree?" He says and his hips collide with yours over and over and over again.

"Y- yeah... I... I love this. Please don't stop, Doie... please," You plead. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, "I want you to fuck me forever."

"Forever?" he sighs and slows his pace, "You could take this forever, baby?"

You kiss him, "Uh huh," You pant.

Doyoung groans, "I'm... fuck, baby... I'm close."

You reach down to bring yourself closer to your own release.

He pushes your hand away and replaces it with his own, "No... that's what I'm here for... let me," he says as his fingers draw fervent circles into your clit.

"Doie! Yes, yes, yes! Fuck..." You moan as you both release together.

"That's it, baby. You sound so pretty when you cum for me. That's my girl," he praises you as his own orgasm rattles his body.

You cling to Doyoung and he collapses on top of you. You both tremble as you regain clarity. Once his breathing is under control, he rears up to press a chaste kiss to your temple then rolls off of you.

You turn to face each other and the air is still thick; he smiles, "I want you to know something..." he says as his eyes roam your face, "I don't want you because I just need a release... I want you because you're the only woman I've ever thought about doing this with... You're the only woman that's ever made me forget that God even matters."

You blush and bring your hand over to stroke his cheek, "I don't even think I could say anything to top how special that is but I can try," You say with a chuckle.

Doyoung smiles.

"I... I've kissed boys... maybe too many but... I waited for you. I didn't want anyone else," You tell him.

His face beams, "We waited for each other and didn't even realize it," he laughs.

Come Sunday morning, Siwon is privy to the way you and Doyoung engage each other.

"Sister, can I have a word with you?" he pipes up. Jaemin's eyes perk up and he's obviously ready to go to battle. You shake your head and smile at him before turning your attention to Siwon.

"Yes, Pastor?" You say.

"You've been very close with my brother. What exactly are your intentions?" he asks you suspiciously.

Doyoung is at your side before you even have time to react, "Her intentions are well, hyung. Better than yours were," he says coolly.

Siwon scoffs, "What?"

"Taeyeon hasn't been here in... three months now? She's not that sick. She left you and everyone knows she did," Doyoung says.

"Literally everyone knows," Renjun says in passing.

"I'm just worried about the choices you're making. You seem different," Siwon presses.

Doyoung shrugs, "My choices are fine. If I ever go astray, I'll do the work to get back on track. I think you should worry about your own affairs."

Siwon nods, "Well, if that's how you want it then that's how it'll be."

He excuses himself and Doyoung turns to you, "You're not his sin to overcome," he laughs.

That afternoon, while the sun hangs low in the sky, Doyoung tends to his garden, and you watch him as you remain on standby, ready to help him with his needs.

"Being married is gonna be a lot of fun... I like having you here to help me with the gardening," he sighs with a soft smile.

"Daddy's little helper," You mumble.

He straightens up and his eyebrows go up, "I- I- whoooo, what? What? Y/n, behave!" he gushes as he gently nudges you with his arm.

"You've never had that thought?" You ask him teasingly.

He nods, "I have but I'm busy right now and you have to behave yourself because this was supposed to be done three days ago and I don't want my garden to die so... sit there, be quiet, and don't touch me until I'm done."

"Okay, Daddy," You say sweetly.

Doyoung stands up and pulls off his gloves off, "On your feet. Come on," he says as he places his gloves in his supply box.

You stand up and follow him into the kitchen. He washes his hands and turns to you.

He's trying so hard to be firm with you but a smile shines through on his face, "You gotta... don't smile at me- you-" he laughs and pulls you into his arms, "You gotta behave yourself. You're failing the wife trial. Get it together!"

You hug him and press a kiss to his cheek, "I'll try harder tomorrow," You chuckle.

Before you know it, Doyoung is turning you around and pressing you down against the counter, "Why can't you behave yourself right now?" he asks you softly, his fingers pushing your shorts and panties down.

"Don't wanna," You sigh as his hand caresses your bare ass.

He lands a mild slap down and you gasp.

He laughs low and thick, "You like that?" he asks.

"Y- yes!" You whimper and wiggle your ass in an attempt to touch some part of his body.

"Well, you're not really supposed but... I guess that's okay for right now... I'll just have to find some other way to punish you," he says and slaps your ass again, this time a little bit harder. You moan and he slaps you once more.

"Daddy!" You whine.

Doyoung slides his hand down to your cunt and kicks your legs apart, "You're always so wet for me... no matter what's going on, I know that if I just... slide my hand between those beautiful thighs, I'm gonna get my fingers soaked."

"I always want you, Daddy... always," You sigh as he slides his middle and ring fingers into your pussy. He fucks you with his fingers and leans down to lick the shell of your ear, "Such a greedy little whore." he says softly.

You clench around his fingers and writhe. Moans pour from your mouth as he shows no signs of slowing up.

"Oh? You like that?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"You like it when daddy talks to you like this? Huh, slut?"

You nod furiously and clench around his fingers once more.

He tuts, "Can't hear you."

"Yes, Daddy! Yes!" You scream.

"That's my girl."

Doyoung eases his fingers out of you and pulls you up by your hair, "Taste yourself, baby," he says as he pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You hum as you suck them. Doyoung drops down to his knees and helps you out of your shorts, "Hold onto the counter,"

You do as you're told and he lifts your left leg onto his shoulder before devouring your pussy. You throw your head back and cry out as he brings you close to your release.

His tongue speeds up and slows down. He gets better each time and you mentally note his progress. Your legs give out as you cum against his tongue.

"Daddy!"

He pulls back and lets you sink down onto the floor in front of him.

He kisses you, "Was that good, princess?" he asks you.

You nod, too enthralled by the throbbing of your pussy to speak. He chuckles and his hand returns to your cunt, "Then you shouldn't mind one more, right?"

Doyoung brings his other hand up to circle around your throat, "One more time, baby... I know you can do it," he purrs as he tightens his grip just enough to make your eyes roll back. He chuckles at the effect he has on you.

You grip his biceps as he massages your clit and you try in vain to squeeze your thighs shut but he doesn't slow up and you're coming undone again.

Your thighs tremble violently and he just doesn't stop.

"You have the power to stop me, Y/n... you know I'd never do anything you don't want me to do so... go ahead... stop me," he whispers against your mouth.

You don't stop him. You can't. He feels too good and he brings a level of greed to your body.

Tears prick your eyes and a third orgasm rips through your body. You whine weakly and finally, his hand ceases.

"How's my girl?" he asks softly as he moves his hand from your throat to your cheek.

You can't speak. You collapse against him and he rubs your back, "Do you need anything?"

You shake your head and cling to him a little tighter. Your body slowly relaxes and he rocks you slowly.

When you finally come down, you give him a chaste kiss and he smiles.

Doyoung pulls back to look you over, "I stopped repenting y'know... for what we do," he says softly.

"Why?" You ask him. Your voice is still hoarse and he can't help but laugh.

"How can I when I'm not sorry?"

_____

yo if you got to the end of this, thank you!!

1K notes · View notes

yoon-kooks · 2 years

Text

darkroom | jjk

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, vampire!au, college!au

Summary: When you somehow end up in an advanced photography class that you definitely shouldn’t be in, you seek the help of shy nerdy boy Jeon Jungkook to preserve your 4.15 GPA. It isn’t until after you stumble upon him in the darkroom that you realize your cute little nerd is actually a super hot vampire with an icy cold stare and beautiful burgundy eyes.

Word Count: 10.2k

Warnings: minimal blood (just him sucking away), sex on school property, oral (f receiving), dry humping, orgasm denial, jk has dom vibes, he's an arrogant asshole at times, mention of hemophobia, switches to jk's pov 3 times

A/N: i wrote a vampire fic for jk's bday 4 years ago, and here we are again with another vampire fic;;;; enjoy!!!

“What do you mean I can’t drop a class I never signed up for?” Your head is about to explode. You’ve been fidgeting around in the most uncomfortable chair across from your counselor for what feels like ten hours, trying to get to the bottom of why you were placed into the Advanced Photography course when you have nothing to do with photography. “There has to be a way, right?”

“Sorry, this is already an under-enrolled course, which means the whole thing will have to be canceled if you or any other student drops it.” Great, he’s forcing you to stay for the sake of your professor and classmates whom you have yet to meet. That totally won't fuck up your 4.15 GPA at all.

“Okay, but I haven’t taken the prereqs for this course, and I’m not even majoring in photography.”

“Remind me what your major is again, Miss L/N.”

“Biochemistry?” You can’t even hide your disgust at this point. What an utterly useless counselor and waste of time. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude,” (you definitely mean to be rude), “but you’re basically setting me up for failure over a dumb mistake that I didn’t make. If I don’t get accepted into med school because of this, that’s on you, sir.”

You storm out of the counseling office and make it all the way to an empty hall in the art building before breaking down into tears. It’s not fair. You’ve worked so hard to maintain your grades in the toughest of STEM courses, but this one photography class is about to fuck you straight in the ass.

You’ve never been an artsy person, which is why you’ve always stayed far, far away from anything remotely creative. The one “artsy” course you’d been forced to take as a graduation requirement was a coding design class, and it was a pain in the ass even though you came out of it with an A. But the point is, you’re not cut out for a photography class, especially not an advanced one. And it’s shitty to know that you’re stuck in one for a whole semester.

After patting your tears away, you regroup and walk into the photography room. Your counselor was right about one thing: this course is severely under-enrolled. There are more empty seats than taken ones. You count seven other students when there are supposed to be twenty. They all seem to be chummy with one another (perhaps from all those prereqs they took together), but no one even bats an eye your way, including the professor. It would’ve been great if you were allowed to drop this class and have it canceled altogether. Every single one of these assholes would have suffered the consequences instead of you.

A minute before the first class starts, a boy scurries to the corner of the room with big round glasses and the darkest eyebags you’ve ever seen. He has the look of someone who’d spent his entire high school career staying up until 2AM to study for the SATs and never quite recovered, someone who forgoes hanging out with friends to make an essay ten pages longer than it needs to be, someone who takes on multiple internships and jobs at once, someone who cries when people undermine his hard work, someone who actually gives a shit about school and his future.

You’d know. You have that same look, that same aura. No one looks at him, either.

Your internal 4.3 GPA detector is going off.

“Welcome to the fall semester of our Advanced Photography course,” your professor begins, looking around at all the empty seats. “Since we have a small class this semester, it’ll give everyone more space to learn and expand on their photography skills. Let’s start by having everyone introduce themselves one by one, and just give me a brief idea of your experience with photography.”

You tune out as the first person is introducing herself because you really couldn’t care less about any of the assholes who ignored you and clearly already think they're above you. They all say the same thing anyway, reminiscing about their past projects from other photography classes they’ve taken. Yeah, you’re still bitter about the prereqs.

When it’s your turn to introduce yourself, you say the first thing that comes to mind. “I take photos for a popular Instagram model slash influencer.”

That catches their attention. It’s not a lie, either. Your 3-year-old black cat has 40,000 followers and over a dozen sponsorships with brands like Greenies, Chewy, and even your local coffee shop. Her passive income is what’s putting you through school right now. And you can’t let all her hard-earned money go to waste by failing this photography class.

“What kind of camera and equipment have you used for your Instagram photos?” your professor asks. It’s a valid question, but you hate her for asking it anyway.

“My phone,” you say in the tiniest voice. That earns you a few chuckles and plenty of eyerolls, and it kind of hurts your feelings. You want to disappear. If anyone asks who your model is, you’re going to run out of the room and drop out of school altogether. Your Instagram-famous kitty will support you financially for a while until you can secure a STEM job that can overlook your dropout status.

The only person not ridiculing you is the boy you thoroughly judged and profiled for having dark circles. He introduces himself as Jeon Jungkook, someone with a few internships and a professional photoshoot under his belt. Your 4.3 GPA detector tells you he’s being modest about his experience and achievements, though. His voice is soft, and he’s terrible at making eye contact, but something about him is comforting. Maybe it’s that his presence makes you feel as though you aren’t the only outcast in the room.

As your professor is busy lending out very expensive-looking cameras and a shit ton of equipment to each student, you investigate the camera you were given. Your lack of camera knowledge is so bad that you don’t even know how to turn it on, or if cameras like this even have power buttons. In the end, you just look like a boomer who can’t figure out how to turn off their iPhone. You’re overwhelmed by unfamiliarity while everyone else treats it like it’s second nature.

You’ve always been the one to reach out and help others in your STEM classes. But in photography, you’re the one in need of help, and you don’t know how to ask for it from people who probably don’t give a shit about you.

Oh no. You feel the tears coming back.

“So… who’s the Instagram model you take photos for?” Your back arches up like a cornered cat until your mind processes who that soft voice belongs to. You turn your head to Jungkook standing there with the round glasses and dark circles and a lot more piercings than you’d expect from someone who most likely carries a 4.3 GPA. Damn, you really need to stop profiling people like that.

“Her name is Stella.” You pull out your phone, open the app, and hand it off to your curious classmate. Showing him your collection of cat photos is only slightly less embarrassing than explaining it with words.

“She’s cute…” he says as he scrolls through the chaotic adventures of Stella the cat. His thumb pauses over a post of her loafing and blepping. The photo quality and composition might not be up to the standards of this advanced class, but at least you can say you have an adorable kitty companion on your side. “You really don’t have any other experience with camerawork?”

You shake your head. “I literally know nothing about photography, and I’m not even supposed to be in this class, but my counselor won’t let me drop it because he’s a dipshit.”

“What was the reason he gave?”

“He said if one student drops the course, the whole thing would have to be canceled due to under-enrollment as if that would guilt-trip me into staying. Not that he even gave me a choice.”

Jungkook’s big eyes spot the tear about to fall down your cheek. You blink it away as fast as you can. The last thing you want is to look pitiful in front of another classmate. School is where you’re supposed to thrive, not be defeated.

“Anyway, thank you for letting me rant.” You give the boy a half-smile as you pack the camera back into its bag. You’ll have to watch some TikTok tutorials later. Especially since your very helpful professor has just handed out your first assignment to take a photo of “something cool” and make a print in “The Darkroom,” whatever the heck that is. You’re pretty sure it has to do with the occult club, and everyone else in the room is in on the joke except for you. Because you’re the only student who didn’t have the luxury of learning about The Darkroom in the beginner-friendly photography courses. Those damn prereqs.

But maybe, with Jungkook here, you don’t have to go through this shitty class alone.

Just as you’re about to leave the photography room with all your equipment, you turn to Jungkook who also has his mouth open with something to say.

Jungkook’s POV

You were definitely about to cry. And as much as Jungkook would rather not get involved with a cuter-than-average human, you’re exactly what he’s weak to. Especially when you have that tiny sparkle in your eyes—not the sparkle from the tears but from the passion you have for school. Your counselor really screwed you over for no reason, and Jungkook just wishes you didn’t have to suffer the consequences. You don’t deserve that.

He’ll help you so you won’t have to cry anymore. All he has to do is scare that dipshit counselor a little—perhaps drain him of his blood until he agrees to wipe the class from your schedule… or he could stand in solidarity with you and threaten to drop the course as well. He’ll go with whatever seems more convincing.

“Um, Jungkook?” Shit. Your voice is so sweet like honey. He’d really like to taste you right about now. But he can’t. That would be inappropriate.

Jungkook nods slowly, still very much entranced by your beauty and innocence. He can’t even look you in the eye. If he did, you’d surely notice how red his irises are turning with lust.

“If it’s not too much trouble for you, do you think you could help me pass this class?” You look so weak and vulnerable like you’re being a bother to him for asking for help. You’re probably not used to asking others for help because you seem like the kind of person who tends to rely on herself. “A couple of study dates might be fun.”

He bites his tongue as his eyes travel down to the floor between you and him. How can he respond to that—to someone as cute as you? He doesn't hate the idea of study dates, but he can’t let himself do that. He’d get too carried away and end up hurting you. That’s what happens with most vampire-human relationships he’s heard of. Your blood probably tastes like sugar. You’d become his new addiction. As soon as he gets a taste, he won’t be able to resist you. That’s the power you hold over him.

“Or, I mean, they don’t have to be dates… I didn’t mean to assume you were single or interested in someone like me or—” You pause to study Jungkook’s face. He must be doing a horrible job of concealing his internal struggles. You probably think he’s a loser by now. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything. I’ll figure things out on my own.”

Your voice is shaky as you walk away. He needs to do something, anything to cheer you up. The thought of seeing you sad hurts more than a silver dagger to the heart.

“Y/N,” Jungkook finally speaks. “Which counselor rejected your request to drop the class? I just wanna talk.”

As you lay on your bed and stare at the empty wall, you don’t really know how to feel after leaving that cursed class. Jungkook said he’d state his intentions to drop the course to put more pressure on your counselor, which was a kind gesture. But the boy also rejected your study dates. And that might be what hurts most. It’s a reminder of why you shouldn’t ask others for help. You’re the only person you can truly rely on.

After spending the rest of the afternoon feeling sorry for yourself, you finally look into some photography tutorials and set up a mini photoshoot for your cat. She cooperates at first but leaves you with a big scratch on your cheek for taking too long and getting too close to her with the lens. Great, even your own cat hates you.

By the time you’ve captured enough pics, it’s already dark out and way later than you thought. That works out, though, because it’s unlikely that anyone else will be in The Darkroom at this hour. The last thing you want is for any of your classmates to see you struggling in there.

The campus is eerily empty and quiet at night, and it’s at times like this when you’re thankful your apartment is only a five-minute walk away. The art building is empty too, but it’s going to take more than all those premature Halloween decorations to scare you off. After all, this totally beats the awkwardness of running into your classmates.

You hum as you open the door to The Darkroom. As one would expect, The Darkroom is quite dark. The red lighting screams occult club, but maybe that’s just you and your ignorance of both photography and the supernatural. Everything is fine until you hear a few things being knocked over. You’re not alone after all.

“Sorry, I didn’t know someone was in here. I’ll come back later,” you say without seeing which classmate it is. You suppose you can kill time by doing your daily Wordle on the bench in the halls. In honor of the premature Halloween decor surrounding you, your starter word will be “blood.” But before you can make a u-turn, you hear a voice that’s both familiar and different at the same time.

“I’m done in here. You can use it.” The voice exudes confidence and mystery in a way that’s luring you in. You step inside and see two glowing eyes staring back at you. The lighting makes them look almost burgundy.

“Wait, I didn’t just crash an occult club meeting, did I?” You probably did. That’s the only logical explanation (besides the lighting) for this person’s glowing red eyes. He could be cosplaying as a vampire for all you know. Apparently everyone is celebrating Halloween early this year.

“What?” he asks with a hint of amusement in his tone.

You walk further and further into The Darkroom until you can finally see who you’re talking to.

“Oh, it’s just you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. It’s just Jungkook. If it had been a cosplayer from the occult club or anyone else from your class, you would’ve opted for Wordle in a heartbeat. “For a second, I thought the occult club was doing their thing in here.”

“Their thing?” The boy’s brow piercing lifts. It takes a second for you to notice he isn’t wearing those cute round glasses, and you almost confuse his lip ring for a fang. His hand is also covered in tattoos that you’re 99% sure weren’t there before. He looks so different in this lighting.

“You know, like summoning demons, talking to ghosts. Stuff like that,” you hum, walking around The Darkroom like you understand what any of that equipment is used for.

“Or hunting vampires?” he plays along.

“Exactly,” you laugh. God, he’s so cute and definitely your type. It’s a shame your study date idea got shot down.

As soon as you make your way back around, you catch Jungkook staring at you, almost shamelessly. It’s a lot different from how he avoided eye contact with everyone during class.

“What happened here?” He points to his cheek, mirroring the spot where Stella the cat had her big meltdown. You're surprised he can see the cut in such shitty lighting without his glasses.

“My cat lashed out at me during our mini photoshoot. Are all models such divas?” As ridiculous as it sounds, that’s the direction your life is going in right now. If you can’t get into med school because of this whole debacle, you’ll be stuck as your feisty cat’s photographer for the rest of your life.

Jungkook narrows the gap between you and him until you can see the tiniest features on his face, like the cute little dot hiding in the shadow of his lower lip. The back of your thighs hit the counter as he cups your chin in his tattooed hand. His icy touch gives you goosebumps. The Darkroom suddenly feels too small to hold the both of you, like you’ll suffocate if you stay in there. You should probably leave, but something about the boy is enticing you to stay.

“It’s dangerous, you know. Letting your cat scratch you like that,” he whispers against your cheek. Despite how cold he may be, you feel your whole face heating up with him so close to you. The fact that he’s worried about a tiny cat scratch is so fucking endearing. You didn’t know such a boy existed.

“Yeah, it’s kind of unsanitary when their litter box claws cut into our skin like that, but I’m used to it,” you shrug.

“But you’re bleeding.” Jungkook’s burgundy eyes follow your thumb as you swipe it over the scratch. The wound does still feel a bit fresh.

“A little bit of blood won’t hurt anybody. Unless they have hemophobia.” It suddenly occurs to you that the boy might not fare well at the sight of blood. “Ah shit, do you have hemophobia?” you ask with the most concerned look on your face.

The boy shakes his head. “A vampire wouldn’t last long if they were scared of blood.”

He grabs ahold of your wrist and brings your hand up to his parted lips. Your thumb grazes the metal ring around his lip and then the sharp tips of his canines. His tongue caresses your thumb until there’s no more blood for him to taste.

Your head is spinning as he lets go of your wrist. You don’t need a biochemistry degree or an occult club membership to know that the boy pinning you against the counter isn’t human. And the cutie you met earlier with the round glasses is someone much darker and more mysterious than you could’ve ever imagined.

“Are you really a vampire?” you ask, looking right into those bloodstained eyes of his. You really hope so. A vampire would be a lot more socially acceptable than, say, a demon.

“Why don’t you test your theory?” Jungkook pulls the camera out of your bag and hands it to you. “Vampires supposedly don’t show up in photos, right?”

He’s not wrong, but you aren’t trying to waste any more time with that cursed film camera. Instead, you pull out your phone and—

“Hey, no cheating.” He snatches the phone from your grip and hands you back the cursed cam. You swipe your paw at him in hopes of reclaiming your phone, but he pulls it just out of your reach. Why is he being a dick all of a sudden? You liked him better when he was all shy and cute with the round glasses. But you suppose that was just a facade to distract people from what he actually is. “I’ll help you develop your film and make your print. Unless you were planning on going to TikTok for help.”

He’s not wrong, again. You did watch at least twenty photography TikToks with your cat before coming here, and even then, you’re not super confident about pulling the whole thing off without any mistakes.

“Okay fine,” you sigh, snapping a shot without even looking through the viewfinder. For a second, the alleged vampire looks like a deer in headlights.

“You do realize the lighting is practically nonexistent in here, right?” Unimpressed, Jungkook pulls you into the photography room across the hall and turns on the light. You squint the same way your cat does when you wake her up in the middle of the night to catch the creepy crawlies in your room. “And let me make sure your camera settings aren’t all fucked up.”

Once your eyes are finally adjusted, you get a better look at the boy fixing your camera. The red in his eyes isn’t as intense now, but they’re still really pretty. His hair is all ruffled in a super sexy way as opposed to the neatly combed style he had earlier in class. And all those hand tattoos make you wonder if there’s a whole sleeve of ink hidden beneath his shirt.

If he was cute as a button before, he’s hot as hell now.

“If you’re done drooling over me, you can take the picture now.” He takes his seat in the corner of the room and rests his legs on top of the desk like a gigachad. His icy stare into the camera is the icing on the cake. Turns out he’s good at modeling too.

“I wasn’t drooling over you,” you hiss. If he teases you one more time, you’re gonna lose it.

“Sorry, I meant eye-fucking me,” he hums as if that’s less of an insult. Whatever. You have to remind yourself that this arrogant boy is the key to passing this class. You can’t get into a scrap with him now or else your 4.15 GPA is as good as gone.

When the impromptu shoot is over, you have a decent amount of film ready to be developed. Hopefully Jungkook shows up in the prints whether or not he’s a vampire because you put a lot of thought into each composition. You’d also secretly want to keep the best one for your eyes only because that boy is truly a work of art. He may or may not be your new guilty pleasure.

Back in The Darkroom, Jungkook goes through the process with you step by step. He clarifies a lot of small details that your TikToks missed, like when you ask about the parts that need to be done in total darkness vs the red safelight. And he’s actually good at explaining it in a way that appeals to your scientist brain with all the chemicals and variables involved. He’d make a fantastic professor whom you wouldn’t mind bothering during office hours.

“We’ll let the film dry overnight and do the prints tomorrow,” the boy says as he gathers up his stuff and throws his jacket back on. Tomorrow? It’s a little concerning that you didn’t know this would be a two-day process.

“So I won’t know if you’re a vampire until tomorrow?” You’d like to know asap so you can rule out demon as a possibility because demons are kind of freaky. Although you’re sure Jungkook would find a way to make demons as seductive as vampires.

“Or I can answer your question right now.” He strides over to you and presses his lips into the nape of your neck. The way he sucks on your skin is delicate enough not to leave a mark but strong enough to send a naughty little signal down to the spot between your legs. “I’m told I’m not very gentle, though.”

Rough. He’s rough. And he could be rough with you. You wish you weren’t so turned on by that thought. This handsome vampire boy is really stirring the pot in that sacred section of your brain where all your sexual fantasies are stored away.

“I can wait until tomorrow,” you say before you can change your mind. No one said it would turn into sex (except for your dirty little mind), but now you’re curious to know what vampire sex might entail. Maybe it’s better than anything you’ve experienced.

“It’s better I leave before you tempt me with your other cat scratches, anyway. Specifically the ones on your thighs,” he says, ushering you out of The Darkroom and toward the exit of the art building. You’d like to know how he knows you have cat scratches on your thighs. Either vampire noses are extremely sensitive to blood, he has x-ray vision, or he’s aware of The Feline Urge to jump into your lap and knead your thighs with those tiny little claws.

It’s much chillier outside now than it had been when you first arrived on campus. You didn’t think to bring a jacket, so you hug your camera bag in hopes that it’ll keep you warm on your walk home.

“Humans are so weak to the cold. It’s pathetic,” the boy says as if he doesn’t have any weaknesses of his own. Garlic? Silver? You make a note to yourself to compile a list of everything vampires might be weak to as soon as you get home. But instead of walking off like you’d expected him to do, he waits around and asks if you live nearby.

Jungkook’s POV

He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and let you walk home by yourself in the dark on this chilly autumn night. That’s what any other rational vampire would have done. After all, vampires know better than to get involved with humans. It’s statistically proven that humans are safer without vampires around. By that logic, you would’ve been better off walking home alone.

But he would never live it down if something bad happened to you on your way home. It doesn’t matter that it’s just a five-minute walk. Besides, you looked so fragile and needy the way you clung to your camera bag for warmth.

So after shedding his jacket off and throwing it over your shivering shoulders, Jungkook finds himself walking you home. The five-minute walk isn’t unpleasant, either. He learns that you’re a biochemistry major hoping to get into a good med school, though he doesn’t think it should be an issue for someone as bright as you. You also talk a lot about your cat Stella and all her little antics and how you firmly believe that black cats are good luck instead of bad. He’s never considered himself much of a cat person, but that tiny sparkle in your eye is making him reconsider everything. Maybe he’ll visit the animal shelter tomorrow (just to browse!) or spend the rest of the night watching cat TikToks.

The most intriguing part is that, even though you suspect he’s not human, you haven’t treated him any differently. Typically, when humans learn of his vampire roots, they either freak out or ask too many questions pertaining to Twilight. You, on the other hand, make him feel like less of an alien and more like a boy you have a crush on. And that’s something he hasn’t felt for as long as he can remember.

As the two of you reach the door to your apartment, you hand the jacket back to him and pause before heading in.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say in the most angelic voice. “For helping me with the assignment and walking me home and not letting me freeze.”

“No problem.” That’s not entirely true. There’s definitely one problem he can think of. Now that he knows where you live, there’s little stopping him from knocking on your door like a pathetic lost puppy whenever he’s craving your taste. He’s already struggling to control himself around you as it is. He would have bitten straight into your neck and sapped you of your sweet syrupy blood if you hadn't said you were fine with waiting to see what the prints show. Curse you and your patience.

A meow and some scratches from inside prompt you to open the door. Your eager little kitty completely ignores you and circles Jungkook like a shark. Her tail is extra bushy as she rubs her face against his leg.

“Does that mean she likes me?” he asks. He knows about cat language as much as you know about photography—not much at all.

“She likes you more than she likes me,” you say, wiping away a fake tear as you step through the doorway. “C’mon Stella, we have to let Uncle Jungkook go home now.”

Still ignoring you, Stella stretches her arms up Jungkook’s leg. He quickly picks up on the cue to lift her and cradle her like a baby. The warmth of the cat is soothing against his cold vampire body.

“She wants to come home with me.” His lips curve upward ever so slightly as the sleepy kitty purrs against his chest. If a seven-pound cat can emit this much warmth in his arms, he has much to look forward to when you and him—No, no. He shouldn’t be thinking with his cock at a wholesome time like this.

“Fine, you can be her new photographer. See if I care,” you say with a faux hmph. Two seconds later, you’re desperately trying to pry the stubborn Stella out of Jungkook’s arms. And although you eventually get the cat back, she flails around in your arms for the remainder of the farewells.

“It was nice meeting you, Stella,” Jungkook says, waving goodbye as he reverses out of your doorway and heads toward his apartment. “Oh, and Y/N, keep the vampire thing between you and me.”

“Sure, I won’t tell anyone,” you call out to him. He knew he could count on you to be a good girl. “But only if you agree to go on some study dates with me.”

Fuck. He should have known you’d put conditions on it. He already rejected your study dates once, but things have changed since then. He’d been scared of losing control and hurting you if he got too close to you, but you showed him that sparkle in your eye and now he’s committed to helping you succeed in any way possible. Even if that means going on a few study dates with you. He just has to learn how to keep his blood and sex cravings in check.

“Fine,” he says.

@jjk817263: Hey, meet me outside the art building in 20 minutes so we can finish your prints.

@fairycatstella: sorry stella isnt taking on any more sponsorship requests at this time thank you

@jjk817263: No, no. I’m not a company contacting you about a sponsorship. It’s Jeon Jungkook. From your Advanced Photography class? The one with the glasses. I helped you develop your film in the darkroom.

You burst out laughing at your phone screen. Even after the night you spent with him in The Darkroom, he really thinks you’ve forgotten about him already. He’s as awkward online as he is during class with the round glasses. Except you don’t think he’s just pretending to be awkward right now. It’s kind of cute to see him squirm.

@fairycatstella: youre seriously asking me out on our first study date by sliding into my cat’s DMs??

@jjk817263: You didn’t give me your number.

@fairycatstella: you didnt ask for it! smh

@jjk817263: Whatever. Stop calling it a study date or I’ll suck you dry🧛

@fairycatstella: you dont scare me btw

@fairycatstella: unless youre actually a demon. demons are 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

@jjk817263: What’s wrong with demons? What’d they ever do to you?

@fairycatstella: have you ever seen demon slayer

@jjk817263: Yeah, I’ve seen some demon slayers in my days.

@fairycatstella: 👁👄👁

@fairycatstella: nvm we can watch it together on another date. it’s good but too scary to watch alone

@jjk817263: I swear if you call it a date one more time, I’ll call up all my demon buddies and you can host a watch party with them.

@fairycatstella: DATE💋

You smile to yourself like an idiot. As much as you’d like to tease him about his cute little “threats,” you have a study date to get ready for.

When you arrive on campus, you immediately spot the boy with round glasses leaning against the concrete structure just outside the art building. It’s still early in the day, which probably explains why his dark circles are so prominent. That doesn’t make him any less cute, though.

“Hey,” you say, tapping on his shoulder. He looks up from his phone and nods, barely acknowledging your existence. Wow, you can’t believe you made an effort to look cute in your corduroy dress only for him to give you the cold shoulder. Literally. You suppose that’s where the expression comes from. “Ready for our study date?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes at the taboo phrase.

“Ready to meet my demon friends? I have a lot of them, you know. And they’re always hungry. That watch party isn’t going to be so fun when you see your grocery bill,” he throws back at you. He’s serious about it, too.

“Oh no, that’s absolutely terrifying,” you snicker. You honestly don’t care what kind of wholesome threats Jungkook comes up with next. Sounds like he wouldn’t harm a fly, like he’d catch it and release it outside instead of swatting it against the wall. So yeah. You’re going to keep calling it a study date until he completely loses it, bites you, and introduces you to the forbidden concept of angry vampire sex.

He shuts his eyes, rubs his temples, and mutters something along the lines of, “for fucks sake,” as he drags you into The Darkroom.

As soon as the two of you step inside, Jungkook removes the round glasses. His dark circles slowly start to disappear as the red deepens in his eyes. His tattoos creep onto his skin like they’re drawing themselves in. What a beautifully mysterious creature he is.

You’re suddenly reminded of something worth mentioning. “I’ve been meaning to ask why you downplay your appearance so much with other people.” Or whenever he’s not alone with you. You get that the darkness plays a role in altering a few of his physical features, but no one’s forcing him to wear those glasses.

“You mean why I look like the nerdy kid sitting on a 4.3 GPA?” It’s as if he can read your mind. Maybe that’s one of his vampire powers.

You nod, although you don’t mean it as an insult the way it came off when he said it.

“So people don’t ask me out on study dates.” He cocks his head with a smirk. Oh boy, he really knows how hot he is and how many people would ask him out if he looked like this all the time. He’s like the opposite of a catfish, except his “nerdy kid sitting on a 4.3 GPA” look was still cute enough to bait you into asking him out.

“What do you have against dates?”

He shrugs. As much as he likes to complain about study dates, he’s pretty quiet now.

Ah, shit. Maybe he’s aromantic and you overstepped. Or maybe he’s just not interested in you. Fuck.

To fill the silence, you start on the next steps in making your prints, whatever those might be. You must look like a lost lamb because you’re pacing back and forth holding things and not knowing what to do with them. Thankfully, the boy steps in to guide you the rest of the way. Crisis avoided.

As your first print sits in the developer solution, you watch the shape of the boy’s body fade onto the page—his hands clasped behind his head, his legs propped up on the desk, and his gorgeous eyes that still pierce through you in black and white. You should’ve guessed he’d show up in the print, considering you did see him in the tiny negatives that developed last night. Still, it’s not like you knew at which point vampires were supposed to magically disappear in the photography process.

Does that mean he’s not a vampire after all?

“Still drooling over me, huh?” Jungkook says as he monitors his own print soaking in the solution. His photo looks like a small pond, but it’s hard to make out anything beyond that until it develops more. “Don’t forget to move the print to the next solution.”

You do as you’re told and move your print into the stop bath. Perhaps you’re a little biased, but your photo of the boy looks like it’s coming out pretty well, composition and all. Or maybe he’s just handsome enough to make any lackluster photo into something extraordinary. It’s probably a mix of both.

After letting your print sit in the stop bath and fixer solutions, you admire the finished product of your first attempt at traditional photography. Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook is really, really hot, and he photographs well. You’ve already established that fifty times by now. But you’re also proud that you made some creative decisions and didn’t fuck it up the way you’d been half expecting. Maybe this advanced photography class won’t be the bane of your existence after all. And at the very least, you’ll come out of this class with some eye candy decor to liven up your minimalist bedroom.

“The whole thing about vampires and photos is just a myth, you know.” Jungkook walks over to your station and points at himself on your print. “I can confirm that this guy you’re drooling over is really a vampire.”

You nod, relieved that he’s not an evil demon prince or anything scary like that. At this point, it would’ve been a bit of a letdown if it turned out he wasn’t a vampire. It also puts your mind at ease to know there’s some sort of explanation for his fetish with your cat scratches, even if it’s not a scientific one.

The thought of vampire sex doesn’t even cross your mind. Until it does. For some reason, you imagine that cute boy with the round glasses losing himself in a desperate lust and longing for your body after getting the tiniest taste of your blood. You hope he’s as rough as they say he is.

To distract yourself from those wildly inappropriate thoughts, you look through your strips of film for more photos to print. You pick the one you took of your cat just before she pounced at you and another of the vampire that focuses on the details of his hand tattoos.

While you process those prints one by one, you examine Jungkook’s completed pond print. It gives off quiet, cozy vibes with a family of ducks out for a swim and a couple sitting in the grass with their sketchbooks out. How do you know they’re a couple? You don’t, but that’s the assumption from the onlooker's point of view. And it’s a tender moment that you wouldn’t expect from a guy who acts like dates are taboo.

“This might be a dumb question, but can vampires feel things in a romantic sense?” You really hope the question doesn’t come off as insensitive in any way. But you’re curious to know more. After all, he’s still very much a mystery to you.

Jungkook nods. “Unfortunately, yeah. We can feel whatever humans feel. Less of some things, like the cold. And more of other things.”

Heartbreak. You wonder if heartbreak is to blame for his dark response to your question and his distaste for dates.

“You asked what I have against dates,” he continues as you move your cat print from one solution to the next. “I don’t have anything against them. I just avoid them to avoid feeling certain feelings.”

“You don’t want to feel romantic feelings?” You finish the cat print and start on the one with Jungkook’s hand tattoos.

“It’s complicated for vampires.” He frowns at your cat print. It’s a cute pic of Stella’s dilated pupils, but the blurriness isn’t going to work for your assignment. You suppose you’ll just hang it up next to your eye candy decor. “And it’s especially complicated when said vampires let themselves fall for humans. You look like the kind of person who’s seen all the Twilight movies ten times, but you don’t need to be a diehard fan to realize the consequences of that sort of relationship.”

Perhaps he’s afraid of endangering the human he falls in love with. You don’t exactly know how much self-control vampires have over their lust for blood, but regardless, it’s in their nature to prey on humans. By avoiding close interactions with humans (ie. your bothersome study dates), nobody catches feelings, and nobody gets hurt. If you had to guess, that’s the reason why Jungkook tries to be so distant and cold with you. Because if he outright hated you, he wouldn’t waste his time guiding you through the basics of photography.

“First of all, how dare you profile me and assume I’ve watched the Twilight movies ten times.” You’ve actually seen them over twenty times each, but who’s counting? “Second of all, is the Volturi coming for us? Don’t answer that. And lastly, does a relationship really have to be off the table for you?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s situational.”

That’s true. You can’t always control how you feel or who you fall in love with, no matter how hard you try not to. But that’s all you really needed to hear from him—assurance that he’d give love a chance if that’s where his heart’s pointing him.

“Anyway,” he says, clearly ready to change the topic. You barely hear him because you’re busy humming away as you pull your last print from the fixer solution. “You look awfully happy making all those prints.”

“I think I finally got the hang of it.” You glance at the hand tattoo print and decide to submit that one for the class assignment. You captured the details of his tattoos pretty well, and the exposure is just right. It also helps that Jungkook’s face is out of frame so that your classmates can’t start any rumors. Mission accomplished.

“Weren’t you crying just yesterday about not being able to drop this class?” he teases you. You knew it. He’d seen the tears you tried to blink away, he’d heard your cry for help when you ranted to him about your dipshit counselor, and he did what he could to help you find your footing again after you’d hit rock bottom.

“That was before you agreed to my study dates,” you remind him. “Before you helped me realize I’m not actually terrible at photography.”

“So you’re saying I threatened your counselor into letting you drop the class for nothing?”

“You got him to change his mind?” Your eyes widen. Who would’ve thought that worthless counselor would have a change of heart. “What’d you threaten him with? A tea party with the boys?”

“The boys?”

“Your hungry demon buddies, obviously. I’m sure they’d love some biscuits and scones.”

“They prefer meat, actually. The expensive kind,” he plays along to your banter. “Are you taking notes for your grocery run before the big watch party?”

As much as you’d love to conquer your fear of demons, you don’t want a big watch party. You want it to be just you and him—a party of two that involves minimal watching and lots of touching.

“Well, regardless of your method, thank you for dealing with that headache of a counselor for my sake,” you say. He didn’t have to do that for you nor did he have to teach you everything you know about photography. But he did, and that means the world to you. He might act all cold and arrogant sometimes, but you know he’s still as caring as the bespectacled cutie you first met in class.

“So what’s the verdict? Are you gonna drop the class or stick around?”

“I would have dropped it,” you start off. If not for a certain vampire, you’d be running down to the counseling office as fast as you can to banish that class from your schedule. But since Jungkook’s willing to keep up these study dates for the rest of the semester, you’d like to think you can pass the class without jeopardizing your chances of getting into a good med school. You’re sure your cat’s influencer status will also benefit from all the photo tips and tricks you’ll learn along the way. “But right now, you’re giving me every reason to stay.”

“Good.” He eyes you up and down, more so out of admiration than lust. Looks like your efforts to look cute are paying off after all. “You’re the only one I can tolerate in that class.”

“Aww, you’d be lonely without me?” you tease with a big fat smile on your face.

“I didn’t say that.” Deny, deny, deny. You don’t buy it anyway. “It’d be a lot more boring, though. That’s for sure.”

Jungkook steps closer until you can feel the chill of his body robbing you of your warmth. He pulls the prints out of your hands and tosses them aside onto the counter behind you. With your hands now free to roam, you slide them up to his neck and comb them through the stubborn tuft of hair sticking up. His eyes are the reddest you’ve seen them. That’s not all, though. Under the red lights, everything feels more intense—the intimacy, the temptation, and the kind of danger you aren’t afraid to explore.

He slips the strap of your dress off your shoulder and strokes his thumb against a sensitive spot along the nape of your neck. The chills you get from his cold touch fuel the heat down below, right between your legs. You’re curious to know how good it’d feel to have his icy fingers all over your hot little pussy. Amazing, probably.

You feel something sharp and jagged graze your skin like a cat claw when Stella paws you politely for attention. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s also not cutting into your skin at all. The boy pulls back for a second to hold your gaze.

“It’ll hurt a lot more than a cat scratch, you know.”

“More than a cat bite, too?”

“Yes.”

“More than a lip piercing?”

“Yes.”

“More than a tat—”

“Y/N,” he puts an end to your rambling. You only shut up because you like the way it sounds when he says your name. “It’s painful, and I’m not just saying that to scare you. I won’t do it if—”

“I’ll be okay,” you assure him. You may or may not have cried once when your cat bit your toe in her teething days, but he doesn’t need to know that. The last thing you want to do is chase away the boy who’d avoided close human interactions up until this point.

He nods before spinning you around and pinning you against the counter with your ass facing him. You tilt your head to the side and let him grope one of your breasts from behind as he finds that sweet spot on your neck once more. Your grip around his arm tightens in anticipation.

Before you know it, all you feel is a rush of pain. The kind of pain you’d imagine if your cat evolved into a saber-toothed tiger and made you her next meal. You can’t tell if it’s his fangs sinking deeper into your skin or the rapid draining of your blood that hurts more. The boy bites down harder, and a whimper escapes your throat against your will. This one feels more like an injection with the fattest needle the doctor can find. A different sensation from pain quickly invades your body. It’s burning with intensity.

The two holes in your neck suddenly feel hollow as the boy pulls back to check on you. You look over your shoulder. His eyes are wide with concern, and his lips are beautifully plump and drenched in your blood. It looks more like a sweet strawberry glaze. Is it bad that you want him to kiss you with those lips?

“You okay?” He wipes the blood from his mouth and licks it off his thumb before it can drip down his chin. His tongue cleans up your neck as well. To your surprise, the pain vanishes, or maybe you’re just numb to it.

You nod. You might not have been okay a few seconds ago, but you are now. Your body just feels hot. Really hot. Like if Jungkook doesn’t get you out of your dress right now, you’re going to lose it.

You spin around to face him and press your body against his. Your fists cling to his black crewneck, your eyes beg for him to undress you, your body aches to be touched.

Finally, the boy takes a hint and slips your body out of the dress. He lifts you onto the counter and stares at you in your cutest lingerie, perhaps plotting where he might bite you next. Before he can think too much about it, you throw your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

His lips collide with yours. Your tongue gets tangled with his. It’s messy, dirty, loud, but you love every second of it. Not even the hint of blood you taste can spoil the moment.

“Mm, you're driving me mad, Jeon,” you whisper down his throat as you start grinding against his crotch. That big bulge in his pant has been tempting you for far too long. You wonder if anyone’s ever been kicked out of photography class for having sex in The Darkroom. Thankfully, there’s a lock so no one can walk in while you’re being fucked on top of the counter… or while negatives and prints are being developed.

You feel his hands sneak down from your waist. The tips of his fingers loop around your panties and slip them off your booty with such finesse. You’re ready to return the favor by freeing what you assume is a nice and swollen vampire cock trapped in his tight jeans, but he keeps on going with his own agenda. You’re not complaining.

He lifts one of your legs and leaves a trail of eager kisses up your inner thigh. His lips are so soft that you almost forget about his fangs. He could very easily bite you again, but he doesn’t.

As his lips get closer to your center, you can’t stop thinking about how desperately you need his tongue to soothe the unbearable ache between your legs. You haven’t even been touched yet, but you already tell that you won’t last long.

Before he goes in for a taste, he glances up at you helplessly pleading with your eyes for him to start pleasuring you already. Your face is so flushed with heat and sex, and it’s apparently distracting enough for Jungkook to stare at for a good minute instead of touching you.

Impatient and frustrated, you move your own hand down, but you’re immediately caught. He holds your wrist with a firm grip and gives you a devilish smirk. “I want to watch you squirm some more for me.”

You knew it. He gets a real kick out of torturing you in such an aroused state. You whine like a hungry little kitten as you roll your hips out of desperation, but there’s nothing to grind against, nothing to rub away your thirst for raw and rough sex. You’re so powerless.

“Good girl.” Pleased with your behavior, the vampire licks his thumb and strokes you once between your wet folds. You cry out in pleasure with your head thrown back and almost come on the spot. That’s how well your body responds to his touch and the sound of his voice.

“More,” you beg. You’re back to square one with nothing but a soaked pussy that isn’t being tended to. Who knows how long he intends to keep toying with you like this. “Please, more.”

He throws both of your thighs over his shoulders and pulls you in by the ass until he’s got the perfect view of your poor little pussy all drenched in your own lust. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your entire life.

You admittedly have a kink for guys eating you out, but all the other guys you’ve slept with had to be convinced to test the waters (they were shitty), and a few of them didn’t even bother hiding their lack of enthusiasm (they were shittier). So the fact that Jungkook’s mouth naturally gravitates down there is not only a pleasant surprise but also a huge turn-on. You wonder if he somehow picked up on that kink of yours, or if it’s a byproduct of being a vampire who lusts after the taste of his lover.

Without warning, his tongue presses into you and flirts with that swollen aching bud of yours. You grab a fistful of the boy’s hair the way you’d be clawing bedsheets if the two of you weren’t stuck doing it on campus. God, he must be so fucking good in bed where no one has to worry about knocking over expensive photo equipment or spilling chemicals out of the trays neither of you bothered emptying before things got physical.

The first time he sucks your clit between his lips, the raw and filthy moan you let out is comparable to the moans you usually reserve for the best orgasms. That’s how fucking good his mouth feels. Hopefully, the walls can block sound as effectively as they block light.

“Don’t come yet,” he warns, still very much into your pretty little pussy. You nod submissively even though he’s far too invested in eating you out to look up. There’s something so charming about a guy who likes giving oral as much as he likes being the dominant one. Jungkook clearly knows how to do both.

You really start to come undone when he feasts on your clit like a lollipop, working his tongue and sucking at the same time. It must be the best lollipop in the world because he’s really going at it with impassioned moans and groans of his own. Hearing him enjoy it only brings you closer to hitting your high. Your eyes roll back and your lewd sounds keep leaking out of you like a broken record, as if your body has completely surrendered to the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Fuck, Jungkook, please, I—”

There’s a knock at the door.

Your whole body stiffens. You’ve never been interrupted during sex. What do people normally do? You’d ask Jungkook, but he’s still busy with your lower half. And he obviously knows there’s someone waiting outside because he snorts at the muffled gasp you almost fail to contain.

“Um, we’ll be out in a minute, sorry,” you call out in as steady of a voice as you can manage while on the verge of coming.

A second later, the boy finishes you off with a soft and sneaky bite and a whole lot of tongue to help you ride out your orgasm. It’s probably the only vampire bite that’s all pleasure and no pain. You wish all of them could be like that.

Your sex sounds would have been much louder and filthier if someone wasn’t waiting on the other side of the door, but the soft whimpering you do isn’t exactly wholesome either. Even after the pleasure fades, you need to take a moment to catch your breath and come back down to reality.

Jungkook does the same, dropping your legs from his shoulders and licking your creamy lust off his lips. He waits at the door for you to straighten up and slip your dress back on since you were the only one on the receiving end. It’s an absolute tragedy that his cock didn’t get any action, but you’re hopeful there will be a next time.

“Would you have kept going?” you ask after the two of you escape The Darkroom. He’s walking you home without even offering.

“Did it seem like I was done with you?” He narrows his eyes at your ignorance.

“No… but I mean, how much longer were you going to make me wait?” If you had to guess, you’d say he had another solid twenty minutes in him. After all, he was savoring every bit of your taste.

“That’s for you to find out next time,” he says so nonchalantly. So there definitely will be a next time. Good to know. Now you have time to mentally prepare for the long and delicious torture ahead. “You’re gonna wish someone interrupts us again.”

Sounds promising.

Jungkook’s POV

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” you ask him with that dang sparkle in your eye. He nods, of course. “I think I enjoyed our quickie in The Darkroom more than any sex I’ve had in the bedroom.”

That’s because vampire fangs contain a special venom that temporarily enhances the sexual urges and pleasures of the humans they bite. Apparently, it brings their pleasure up to the same intensity that vampires feel (aka a lot more than the average human).

The problem is that Jungkook doesn’t know how to bring it up to you. You clearly didn’t handle the bite all that well, and he doesn’t want to sound like he’s just pressuring you into giving him your blood in exchange for a better sexual experience.

“Do the Twilight vampires have any special venom?” he asks.

“It turns humans into vampires, I think,” you shrug. “Why? Are you planning on turning me into a vampire?”

“No, no,” he waves off your valid accusation. That’s a loaded question for some other time. “The venom I injected you with—”

“You injected me with venom?”

“Yeah, but it’s harmless… kind of.” He’s digging himself into a hole. It’s probably better to just be frank. “It’s like a sex enhancer so humans can feel the same level of pleasure as us.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips in thought. Your duck face is quite adorable. “Is that why I felt so hot after you bit me?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I should’ve told you soon—”

“Wait, so are you actually bad at giving oral, but I just enjoyed it because of the sex venom?” Another valid (but rude) accusation. He can tell you’re just messing with him, though. You do this cute little nose scrunch thing whenever you’re being flirty.

“Fine, I won’t bite you next time.” All this talk about a next time. Hopefully you want a next time as much as he does. He’s already yearning for your body to be his again. “Then you can tell me how much you hate it while your wet little pussy rubs itself against my tongue and—”

“Okay, I get it. You’re a good lay with or without the sex venom,” you snicker. The way you keep referring to it as “the sex venom” is so endearing for no reason. Everything you do at this point is charming the fuck out of him. That’s how bad he has it for you, though he’d never outright admit it.

When the two of you arrive at your doorstep, Jungkook waits for you to pull out your keys and say goodbye. But instead, you stand there and blink at him. He blinks back.

“Do vampires need to be invited in?” You sound so shy all of a sudden. Maybe you like his company. Maybe you want someone to cuddle up to while watching that demon thing you won’t shut up about.

“Is that your way of inviting me in?”

“We could watch Demon Slayer?” you suggest as you open the door and usher him in. He still has no idea what Demon Slayer is, but he’ll watch it with you if it means you’ll never lose that mischievous little sparkle in your eye.

Jungkook nods. He’s starting to feel like what the kids these days call a “simp.” Except, the things he does for you are unconditional. He’s never looking for anything in return, not when he talked your counselor into letting you drop the class, nor when he decided to help you out in the darkroom. The only thing he’s made you promise is to keep the vampire thing a secret. And that just comes with the territory.

“Don’t invite your demon friends, though.” You throw your arms over his shoulders and give him a nice long kiss. God, he loves how good you taste. Kisses aren’t supposed to be sweeter than blood, but yours are. “I want you all to myself.”

He carries you to the bedroom, plays with your cat, and decides that Inosuke is his favorite Demon Slayer character. He even helps you hang up your new wall decor even though it makes him feel like he’s your new celebrity crush.

But his favorite part is the way you run your little fingers across his cold skin, the way you trace his tattoos and say you want one too, and the warmth you radiate when you’re with him.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts vampire smut #bts vampire au #bts college au #vampire jungkook #jungkook #bts

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ursuburbanmother · 23 days

Text

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Two

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Hi guys! Back with chapter two!! Thank you for all the love last chapter! You guys are too sweet! I hope you like this chapter as well, although we get a little angsty in this one oops. Also author note at the end!

Word count: 5k.

Find: Part 1

Enjoy!

December 17th, 1970. Still.

Paul Hunham didn’t think his luck could get any worse but then that moron at the Janie Patrick's Girl School had to go make his problems, his. Then at the young lady’s arrival Angus Tully practically had hearts popping out his eyes like those cartoon characters on TV. That would be an issue. An issue he had to deal with at once.

As the boys grumbled and moaned on their way to the infirmary, as if they were the Athenians sent to march to Marathon in 490 BC, he made his way to the kitchen, looking for a certain cook.

“Hello, Mary,” he greets. She sits at her desk with a cigarette between two fingers, writing something down in her notebook.

“Mr. Hunham. I heard you got stuck with babysitting duty this year. How’d you manage that?” Her tone tiptoes on the edge of teasing.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I failed someone who richly deserved it.”

“The Osgood kid? Yeah, he was a real asshole. Rich and dumb. Popular combination around here.”

“It’s a plague. Uh, and you? You’ll be here, too?” God, he hopes she is. He doesn’t think he will be able to survive as the only adult on the school grounds.

To his relief she nods her head, “All by my lonesome. My little sister Peggy and her husband invited me to go visit them in Roxbury, but I feel like it’s too soon. Like Curtis will think that I’m abandoning him, you know. This is the last place my baby and I were together, not including the bus station.”

Paul pursues his lips, unsure of what to say. “Well, maybe you won't be completely alone. How would you feel about letting a female student sleep in the staff common room? We could push some couches together, I'm sure. Make a nice bed that way.”

“Female student? What do you mean?”

“I’m unsure about the exact details, but I have been entrusted by the idiots across the lake with taking care of one of their students.”

“Ahh,” Mary is beginning to understand.

He nods, “Her name is Y/n L/n, I think she and Tully are in cahoots somehow. You should've seen the way he looked at her.”

“Oh no, don't do that though. You can’t have that poor girl sleep on a lumpy couch all break. She needs a bed.”

“I just want this whole ordeal to go smoothly. If I can keep those two as far away as possible, I believe all will be well.”

“Please that Tully boy wouldn't try anything. Sometimes he is the only one to say thank you when we place the food down on the lunch tables.”

Paul mulls it over for a second. “I suppose I could give it a try. Not that I think it is wise.”

Mary smiles slightly, “I know those kids are hard to handle but hold out hope for them. Some trust too. It's not too late yet. Their brains are still moldable or whatever corny crap you teachers say.”

Paul smiles slightly, his attention pulled to the bottle of bourbon on her desk, “You mind if I uh…”

“You want some of that? All right.”

“Thank you.”

“You know this is a necessity,” Mary says as she pours the liquid into a mug for him.

“Oh yes,” for life, love, pain or the next two weeks. Paul understands too well.

…

“Put the bed farther away Angus,” you say, your arms on your hips and you watch him struggle to drag his bed closer to yours.

“Why? Do I smell or something?”

“It's already a stretch to think he might let us sleep in the same room, he's definitely not going to let your bed be that close to mine.”

Huffing he begins to scoot it back to its original place, “Fine.”

Music has started blaring loudly from where Teddy and Jason are bunking in. Park and Ollerman are minding their business in their own space. You are across, what you think will be the place Mr. Hunham will stay in. Your hope is that him having an accessible view will make him more lenient towards you and Angus, despite his earlier warning of having you be on your own.

You situate your lavender near the window and begin to unpack your things. Angus does the same and you can hear his rustling get faster.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“My…” He trails off. Suddenly he storms off like a man on a mission. You ignore the magazine you were flipping through and let it fall on the floor as you get up to follow him.

You see him head directly towards Kountze. “Where’s my photo?”

“What photo?”

“I think you know what photo, and you stole it.”

“I resent that baseless accusation.”

“Give me my goddamn picture!” Angus shouts.

“Hey man, if you took the photo just give it back,” you plead exasperatedly to Teddy, already tired of his whole innocent act.

“Stay out of it Y/n, it's alright,” Angus assures you and you move back to lean against the doorway. You sort of hope Angus socks him.

Kountze leaps to his feet and stalks towards him, “You need your girlfriend to defend you now? Seriously, what's your problem, Tully? Homesick? Maybe the little boy misses his mommy?”

“Fuck you, Kountze. Leave her out of it. And hey, why are you even here anyway? Where’s your family?”

“We’re renovating our house. It’s all torn up. They’re storing the tools and stuff in my room.” “That’s what they told you? It’s winter, idiot. Nobody renovates their house in the winter. Your parents don’t want you around because you’re a fucking insecure sociopath.”

“Hey, take it easy, guys.”

You can see Angus getting angrier. His shoulders are tense and in a last ditch effort you go up to him and whisper in his ear, “Punch him later. In private. Hunham won’t even hear our reasoning for rooming together. He’ll punish you by punishing me.”

Misery loves company, right? That was the saying at least. In your mind, suffering with Angus was better than the alternative. You didn’t want to spend these two weeks inside a glass case. From what you had seen, Hunham would have no problem in making you sit at your own lunch table or study in a separate classroom. You know that is what Ms. Orchard would have done if she was forced to take in the boys. She would have locked you in your dorm and insisted it was because you would “distract” them.

You can see the gears turning in Angus’s mind. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally nods before turning back to glare at Kountze. “You’re an asshole. I just needed you to know that.”

He turns around to retreat back to the room only to run straight into Mr. Hunhams chest. Angus leaps off and leans his back against the wall. Your own eyes widened, you hadn’t even heard the man's footsteps.

He surveys the room and notes all your disheveledness. Teddy's face looks flushed while Angus is still trying to control his heavy breathing. Everyone is completely silent and too scared to even make a move.

“What is going on here?”

“They weren’t fighting,” Alex squeaked. Mr. Hunham only seems to grow more suspicious. He shifted his sights to you and his eyebrow begins to raise, “They weren’t bothering you were they.”

“No. We were just talking,” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What about?”

“Hmm?” You hum, straightening up.

“What were you all discussing mere seconds before I barged in on what, I am sure, was a highly intellectual conversation.”

“Shocking Blue,” you blurt out and Hunham turns his head as if asking for clarification. “The band that was on the radio.”

“Yeah, we love Shocking Blue,” Angus nods. The rest of the boys chime in, faking their agreement.

“They’re so good.”

“I listen to them all the time.”

Mr. Hunham continues to look unconvinced. Without a word he walks out, and you all collectively let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, you all stare at each other with giddiness. Like when you're a kid and get away with stealing a cookie from the cooling tray. You let yourself relax but shrivel back up upon the echo of Mr. Hunham's haunting voice, “Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n, in here. NOW.”

You frown, gazing up at Angus, “I think he found the room.”

…

After a stern talking to, Mr. Hunham begrudgingly agreed to let you and Angus sleep in the same room. He took a string of jingle bells that hung from a nearby Christmas decoration and tied it around Angus’s bedpost so that if he dared to move, he would hear it. You two were just fine with that.

Later you were escorted to the large dining hall. Mr. Hunham sat at the head of the table as the rest of you indulged in mindless chatter. You and Angus were on your third round of rock, paper, scissors, competing for nothing, when a lady came in to set down a platter of chicken, potatoes and asparagus.

“Lovely. Thank you, Mary.” the older man says.

You wait for the initial rush of grubby hands and pushing elbows to pass before you serve yourself, when you find that Angus already did it for you. He sets down the plate in front of you and then gets himself a serving of the green vegetable on his own dish.

“Didn’t we already have this for lunch?” Jason asks.

“And it was crappy then,” Teddy says through his eager chewing. You gag at the scene.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

The woman from earlier, that you now know is Mary, returns with some water. You give her a passing smile which she returns.

“Mary, maybe you’d, um, maybe you would care to join us,” Hunham stumbles through his words.

Kountze looks up from his food then glances at you with alarm. Like he can't fathom the idea of sitting with the cook.

You think Mary can sense his disdain when you notice her demeanor sour after a glimpse in his direction. “No, I’m all right. Thank you.” She escapes through the kitchen doors.

Teddy pipes up, “I mean, I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s getting paid to do a job. And she should do it well, right?”

The chewing and scraping of silverware halts. You and Angus gauge each other's reaction, both of you completely shocked and slightly horrified. That boy for some reason just never knows when to shut up and continues, “But I guess no matter how bad a cook she is, now they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up!” Mr. Hunham yells loud enough for you to flinch. He slams his fork and knife down. “You have no idea what that woman has… For most people, Mr. Kountze, life is like a henhouse ladder -- shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat!”

…

You're on your bed and catching up on some reading and soaking in the orange hue that the bedside lamp offers you. The boys are still getting ready for bed, and you were graciously offered the first shift in the showers. You’re waiting for your hair to dry when Angus walks in with his pajamas on, and a towel draped over his shoulders.

“You look very dapper,” You smirk.

“Thank you,” he plops down into his mattress. “You think Walleye is still mad?”

“Probably. I don’t blame him.”

“It made for a pretty awkward evening though.”

“Not one of the worst dinners I ever had. I’d rather endure another night like this than any dinner with my parents.”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, “Your parents... You never did tell me the reason why you’re here holding over.”

You shuffle around in your bed and bring your blanket up to your neck, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on, it's just me now. Tell me. I told you!”

“It's no big reason, just small ones. They didn’t specify. I didn’t want to go home. It's complicated.”

“Okay you just gave like four different excuses right there. What happened? Is it super embarrassing? Did they forget about you or something,” he laughs.

You wince at his words and pray that the world opens up and swallows you whole. Realization dawns on his face, “Oh shit. Did they?”

You nod solemnly and begin picking on the thread of the blanket, trying to make the threading come undone.

“How could they do that? The same assholes who always make a huge deal about RSVPs and invitations. Seriously?”

“It’s alright. I’ll live. I mean what would I have done if I was there? I’d be in my room and waiting for them to drag me out so they could introduce me to people. They’d act like doting parents, ditching me a second later to play blackjack with their friends.”

“I’m sorry. I wish you would have told me, we could’ve… I could have done something.”

You smile, “I didn’t tell you cause I know you. You would’ve cursed them out the minute you had hold of them. Anyways, maybe it was faith to get stranded at Barton.”

“Or bad luck,” he quips, “maybe the universe wants us to die of mundanity together.”

“Either or,” you grin. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to bed.”

Angus nods and spreads his long limbs across the bed exaggeratingly before turning to face the wall. “Whatever you want. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight,” you go to turn off the lamp, wondering if you're being paranoid in sensing something off in the way he says your name.

…

Day 4 - December 20st, 1970

The last few days had been the same grueling routine. Mr. Hunham would wake you up with the banging of bedpans and you would groan and try to shove yourself deep into your pillows.

“All right, you fetid layabouts,” he would say, “It’s daylight in the swamp. Arise!”

In the quad you were all forced to run laps. You hadn’t anticipated doing exercise, so you were forced to wear some joggers from the lost and found. You had been able to convince him that walking would be better suited for you and your imaginary cramps. His face had completely paled, and he hadn’t even let you finish speaking when he said you walking would be just fine. Men and their immaturity, you think.

When Angus and the rest of the boys would pass by you, he would glare jokingly at you while you would stick your tongue out and wave him goodbye as he flew past you.

During study hall, you would read some more and ignore the ongoing feud between Kountze and Angus. In the span of the last few days, you must have read three entire books. There was a lot of downtime in between recreational time with Mr. Hunham and dinner.

Today you had all decided to walk along the river. You can hear the church bells in the distance signaling the fact that it is the afternoon. Angus is swinging around a branch while Teddy and Jason pass around a football. You steer clear of both. You walk in sync with Alex and Ye-Joon. You’ve taken a liking to them. They remind you of the little sibling you always wanted but never got.

“What about your car?” Angus suggests, “We could take it, go somewhere. Boston maybe.” Jason shakes his head, “Nah, we’d get in so much trouble. Face it. We’re stuck.”

“If we just had some way to get out of here. Just split,” Angus kicks a pile of snow.

“Well, you could put a chopper down right in the Quad.”

“A what?”

“A helicopter, dumb ass,” Teddy snaps, “His old man’s CEO of Pratt & Whitney.”

“Got his own bird,” Jason confirms, “Takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our backyard. Pilot’s name, Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon awes.

“Yeah. Flew up to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me,” he shrugs.

“Flying with presents, like Santa Claus,” Alex comments with glee.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistles and tilts his head for Teddy to “go long.” They play catch, getting farther from the group as they go.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar,” Alex reminisces. You smile sadly at the boy.

“That sounds so nice,” Ye-Joon agrees.

Kountze runs back suddenly and grabs one of Alex’s gloves and throws it into the river.

“What's wrong with you?” You intervene.

“Hey!” Alex says simultaneously.

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, little Mormon,” Teddy laughs, not an ounce of regret at what he just did. You tap Angus’s shoulder as you go trailing after the young boy, “I’m going to go help.”

“It’s gone! My glove’s gone!” Ollerman shouts. You continue searching for it through the clearing.

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose. Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more,” Angus shouts back.

Ollerman looks to be on the verge of tears. He stares down at his hands and starts walking down a snowy ramp. He throws the other glove before you can do anything to stop it. He watches it disappear downstream as you make your own way down.

“Did your mother make you that?”

He nods. “It’s alright. I know where he keeps his wallet. We’ll steal it and buy a new one.”

You manage to bring out a muffled laugh from him. You consider it a win.

…

Angus wakes up in the middle of the night to see you knitting. He gets up from the bed to see your progress.

“Oh hello, grandma,” he scoffs. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Girl scouts before I quit. You guys had a bunch of yarn just rotting behind your auditorium stage. Did you know that?”

“No? Are you making that for the kid?”

“Yeah, I feel bad.”

“That looks like crap,” Angus chuckles as he messes around with the gloves fingers. You swat his hand away.

“I never said I earned the badge. Besides, it's the thought that counts.”

“I’m going to get a glass of water. You want some?”

“No thanks.”

Angus leaves the room, only to return a couple seconds later.

“Ye-Joon is crying,” he whispers. You furrow your eyebrows and get up to follow him. His cries become louder, and you turn the corner to see the poor boy shivering.

“Are you all right?” You ask.

“I had a nightmare,” You crouch down so you can hear him better.

“Don’t worry we get nightmares too. Right Angus?”

“Yeah, I’m always falling. Or drowning.”

“Also, I had an accident,” he weeps.

You motion for Angus to check. He doesn't have to look far.

“Yeah, you did. Shhh. Stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends,” he sobs full-on. You hush him gently.

“You have plenty of time to make friends. You’re like a freshman, right? I would start worrying when you're fifty and living vicariously through your kids.”

“Yeah man. You could have a thousand friends and not like any of them. What would be the point of having them then,” Angus adds.

“We’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right?” You wipe his tears with a tissue from a Kleenex box nearby. “Find a dry spot and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Park smiles consoled. Before going back to bed you ask him one last thing, “Hey do you like gloves?”

Ye-Joon gives you a quizzical look. …

Day 5 - December 22, 1970

Once again, you’re all studying in silence in a fancy room with portraits of dead white guys on the wall.

Mr. Hunham clears his throat loudly and Jason leans in to mutter in disgust, “Are you kidding me? It’s only eleven and he’s already lit. I can smell the whiskey on him.”

“Can you blame him? It’s freezing in here. It’s fucking Greenland in here,” Angus retorts.

From outside you hear the faint whirring of a machine. Not a car but something else. You all approach the window and spot the helicopter flying above the trees. It lands in the quad just like Jason had said it could. An older man steps out and he looks like one of the men you imagine roam Wall Street.

“He finally caved, the big softie!” Smith exclaims. He all but skips to the door and turns to you all, “Hey, any of you guys like to ski?”

You and Hunham stay behind as the rest go racing after him, filled with hope for what must be the first time in days. He goes to subdue the riot they make as they whoop down the hall, but you stop him by grabbing a hold of the end of his sleeve.

“Uh, sir? If Jason is inviting us, would you have to call our parents?”

“That would be proper protocol, yes.”

“Oh. Is there a way I could stay here then? I never cared for skiing and my parents would say no anyway.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I’d have to ask Woodrup about this first. Come on along,” he clears the path for you.

Grumbling, you find your way to the administrative offices. Hunham, Jason and his father shut themselves in a room. The boys along with Angus all try to listen in on the conversation by pressing their face as close as humanly possible against the glass. You watch from the sideline as Jason gives you guys a thumbs up. The hallway erupts in cheers and a minute later Mr. Hunham steps out with an announcement, “Gentlemen, good news. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents. Most of them, anyway.”

Paul glances at Angus and you. Angus expression falters.

As the rest pack, you find refuge in your room. You can, however, hear Angus’s pleads.

“Try calling again. Just one more time. Please.”

“There’s no point. The desk clerk said no one’s answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

“Excursion,” he repeats.

Mr. Hunham scoffs, “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so. I could be spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Maybe they’re back by now. Just call again.”

“Okay,” he gives in and marches down the corridor.

Ye-Joon had wished you goodbye a moment ago and now does the same for Angus, “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you.”

“Take care, Tully.” Smith follows Park, giving him a pitiful pat on the arm.

You catch Alex as he is about to exit. You’ve wrapped the gloves you worked on endless last night in newspapers. “This is for you. Try not to get them stolen by Teddy again. I don’t think my fingers can handle another round of knitting.”

Ollerman smiles genuinely, giving you a hug you didn’t expect. You’re unable to return it as he has your stiff arms completely glued to your side. You follow him out, and Angus scowls in your direction.

“Why aren’t you more upset about this? That was our only way out and we blew it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Did you really want to go skiing with Kountze that badly?”

“No, I wanted to get out of here badly. Your parents seriously didn’t answer either?”

“Um-.”

“Hey, you know what! Maybe Hunham can call them again and they can take us both in!”

“Angus no-,”

“Yeah, come on! Let's go ask,” he tugs at your hand to get you through the corridor.

“No Angus. I don’t want to.”

“What, why?”

You run your hand through your hair, “I asked Mr. Hunham not to ring them.”

“Wait. So, you didn’t even try to leave!”

“No! I thought I was clear the night we talked about why I didn’t want to go back to that house. If they answer they’ll pull the victim card and be all ‘I can’t believe you guys kept my child from me! Who do I sue?’ before coming to fetch me and berating me all the way back.”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything because I could tell you were upset but you could have at least let them know for both our sakes. Then we could have spent the holidays in a hotel in Boston or something! We didn’t have to stay with them.”

“I knew you were off that night!” You curse the way you’ve managed to read him. “Anyways, with what money? To do what?”

“I don’t-, I don’t know… we could have figured it out.”

“I can’t believe you're getting mad at my decision.”

“It’s a pretty selfish one,” his eyes widened like he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth.

You gasp and hit him harshly at his side. “Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re being an asshole right now. I’ve never been madder at you in my entire life.”

“Really? What about that time I spilled mashed potatoes all over your dress? Your face was beet red,” he mocks.

You go to swat at him again only for him to dodge you. You try once more and fail, almost falling onto the floor but stopping yourself by putting your hand on the nearest wall. If you weren’t so angry this would have reminded you of the times you would wrestle when you were eight. Especially now and the way he holds you back by putting his hand on your forehead to keep you at arm's length. You give up with a huff and you b-line to your room.

“Tell Mr. Hunham I won't be at dinner tonight!”

You hear him groan behind the door you slammed shut and then the sound of his footsteps fading. In your solitude you collapse on the bed, letting out a scream into your pillow. Even though it's muffled, you hope Angus can feel it from where he is. That it reaches him and causes goosebumps to arise all over his stupidly long arms. …

You had skipped out on dinner like you said you would. Although Mr. Hunham had been polite enough to bring a plate down to the infirmary. As he handed it to you, he said lowly, “I’m not sure what that little deviant did, but I’m sure it's related to his foul mood and your absence tonight. Let me know if I can do anything.”

You almost wanted to cry at his politeness. Later he invited you to the kitchen common room and claimed there was a TV there. Considering you had only stared at words on a page for the last few days, you jumped at the offer. You saw Mary there and to your displeasure Angus had been forced to tag along so that Mr. Hunham could supervise him.

Your eyes were glued to the television, not letting Angus’s burning stare get the best of you. They were watching “The Newlywed Game” and drinking from mugs. It was not half-bad. In fact, it was starting to get pretty good to see these couples have their relationship crushed within a thirty-minute runtime with ad breaks in between.

The boy had begun throwing pieces of balled up paper at you and you picked them off your hair and tried your damnedest to not pay him any mind. You could hear him tear a new page from that magazine of his and finally you snapped at him. “Will you stop it? You’re wasting paper.”

“Thank God. You’re talking to me,” he stood straighter in his seat. “Here's the thing, I'm sorry. I should have never said that you were selfish. Cause you’re like, not. You’re honestly the most unselfish person I know.”

“I don’t want your apology right now. I’m watching TV.”

“I just got caught up in the moment is all. The truth is that-.”

“Angus, I said I don’t want to hear it!” You raised your voice loud enough to catch the attention of both Mr. Hunham and Mary.

“Everything alright back there?” Hunham takes the pipe out of his mouth to ask.

You get up, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “Can I be excused. I’m pretty tired.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” You pick up your discarded book from the nearby coffee table before leaning down and whispering in Angus' ear, “Don't follow me.”

As you stomp away you hear Mary say, “We need to get those two onto this program. Win us a trip to Bermuda.”

Mr. Hunham lets out a suppressed chuckle, embracing it soon after along with Mary. You roll your eyes at the pair and their drunkenness. You’re comforted by the fact that they’ll have a big headache tomorrow. …

You’re shaken at a frantic rate. You went to sleep early but were awoken now by a mischievous looking Angus. He dangles a set of keys right in front of your face.

“What are you doing?” You squint under the harsh glare of the flashlight.

“Inviting you on a night of adventure. Walleye is completely blacked out. He won’t even notice us gone.”

“No thank you,” you turn away from him and drape your blanket over your head. He tugs it back down.

“Come on. Please?”

“I’m still not in the mood. Plus, now I’m tired.”

“Y/n,” he whines.

“If you find a cookie in a pantry somewhere you know what to do,” you murmur, already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth you feel under the covers.

“Y/n,” he says more seriously, “I am sorry.”

“I know,” you sigh. Maybe you had been too harsh. You prop yourself up on your elbows, “It’ll be better tomorrow. We will talk then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He embraces you tightly in a hug. As he parts away, you two are face to face. You’re able to notice his eyes gleam under the light of the moon. You wonder when his eyes got to be that dark of a brown. Those same eyes flicker to your lips. You stare at him wearily as he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. He walks backwards to leave, his back bumping into a nearby lamp. “Shit. Sorry. Uh, goodnight. Bye.”

You were probably disorientated. Sleep deprived most definitely. Or maybe that secondhand smoke finally got to you. Surely you were just seeing things. Because surely, your best friend hadn’t just looked at you the way songs and books always seemed to describe love.

a/n: Thanks again for reading! Just to clarify some things, obviously Y/n knows about Angus’s dad, but just like in the movie, he doesn’t let it show how much it affects him. That’s why Y/n is unaware of why Boston is such a big deal. Anyways bye :)) until next time. Let me know your thoughts.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers

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ironbatpaperturtle · 16 days

Note

How does Lucifur get close to Adam in your modern au? Does he 'coincidentally' go to the same spots as Adam does from what Lilith has told him before?

It's just Lucifur at the mall menacingly staring down adam from the food court as Adam is in some record/music store browsing albums or replacement string.

That's so funny lol. What I imagine is that Lucifer and Adam would coincidentally meet fr fr. But as time goes on Lucifer would start stalking Adam.

Wait lemme just

_____

Lucifer started his car, Lilith at the passenger side, fixing her makeup. Not like she needed makeup.

"I can't believe you had to meet my ex like that" Lilith sighed shutting her compact mirror.

"Hmm? I mean his fine, not that his fine, yknow, fine looking? Well he wasn't as ugly as I thought -- but uhh y'know I'm uhh . . . SUPRISED! Cause you were able to bag him or no its the other way around. How, HE, was able to bag you"

Lilith giggled "you are so cute Lucifer" Lililith dipped down, catching Lucifers lips into hers. Before they could turn the innocent kiss into a full blown make out session a loud honk was heard.

"HOW BOUT YOU MAKE A PORNO VID TOO!" The honk belonged to Lilith ex. He was in the drivers seat, the coy smirk he had made his piercings glow. He cackled before driving off.

"Ugh one of the reasons I broke up with him"

----

The 2nd time Lucifer met Liliths ex was when he was getting a smoothie. Only this time he wasn't with Lilith.

"For Adam!"

"Move it, christ!" Adam cursed pushing through a crowd of people, including Lucifer. He grabbed the two smoothies, bringing it to an empty table. He proceeded to shove the straw inside then sipped, grabbed the second smoothie and did the same thing.

Maybe it was because the man had the last word when they first time met, or because he was disrespectful to his girlfriend that Lucifer found himself walking towards the man's table.

"Both of those for you? Careful, I'm pretty sure jeans have a size limit"

Adam, who was busy scrolling through his phone and sipping his first drink glared at the perpretator.

Lucifer expected an insult or a snarl but was suprised when the mans face brightened with recognition.

Adam detached from the straw with a pop. Something Lucifer didn't find attractive.

"Lilith's little boy toy? You stalking me?"

"More like your presence causing a disturbance"

"Yeah I get that a lot" Adam teased using his legs to bring a chair near Lucifer. Lucifer reluctantly sat.

"I'm feeling pretty malovelent so I'm going to give you free advice" Adam started, leaning back. "Back off kid, I know Lilith's a baddie but she's to old for you"

Lucifer's never felt more insulted. Did this guy really think he was a kid? Usually he'd feel happy that he doesn't look his age, even in his fourties he still looks like his in his prime.

"Kid?! How old do you think I am?!" Lucifer exclaimed banging his palms on the table. One of the smoothies to shake from the force, Adam steadied it with his hands.

"Jeez kid, no need to feel so butthurt, I don't know 20, 21?"

What the fuck

"For Lucifer!" Lucifer jolted at the mention of his name turning his attention at the cashier.

"Lucifer huh" Lucifer whipped his head back to Adam, the same coy smile plastered on his face. Adam stood up grabbing both of his drinks "Bye Lu-lu"

Adam turned around and walked off. Lucifer too stunned from the nickname couldn't bring himself to get the last word. Also shit that ass.

"FOR LUCIFER!"

The 3rd time Lucifer met Adam was when he was at the music store. His fiddle needed new strings. The store he frequently visits were underconstruction. So with his trusty google maps he was able to locate another music store.

He watched as Adam restocked some strings, humming to a rock song blasting from the speakers.

This time, this time he'll get the last word.

He entered and a chime was heard "What can I-- heyo kiddo here to buy strings for your violin lessons?" Adam snickered at his own joke.

"Ha! It's a fiddle not a violin asshole"

Adam snickered again, what a dweeb. "Cool kid knock yourself out"

And so, almost everyday Adam and Lucifer would coincidentally meet. Adam always getting the last word.

One day Lucifer was so frustrated with himself, especially when he visited the music store again, he didn't even know why he comes back when his usual store was done with construction, and didn't see Adam. Just a random guy named Peter.

Like what the fuck, he should be happy, he should feel happy.

Lilith must've sensed his frustrstion since she told him to get ready. For where? He doesn't know. He only knows that they were taking an uber instead of his car.

They landed at the club, something something Eden. Not that it matters. Because when they had to double check Lucifers ID to confirm his age, the only thing Lucifer remembers was Adam's teasing words.

"C'mon Luci loosen up" Lilith massaged her boyfriend's arm, "dance with me"

"Let me get us a drink first" Lucifer smiled at Lilith, detaching himself from her grip. His girlfriend was literally right there why tf was he musing about Adam. Not like the guy did anything extra ordinary, he wasn't even nice to Lucifer. All he did was tease him.

"What can I get you"

"One-- four shots vodka"

Lucifer downed the 3 and took the last one intending to give it Lilith. Tonight he'll focus on Lilith, no more thinking of her ex. He saw her dancing with a girl.

"Lucifer meet Eve!" Lilith exclaimed with a giggle, tucking a strand of hair to her ears.

Eve had wide innocent looking eyes, the countless piercings made her look off. It was like mixing two different genres together. She was a brunette, a bit off from Adam's usual brown hair but eh.

"Nice to meet you!" She exclaimed shaking the hand that wasn't holding the shot of vodka.

"My boyfriends going to play in a while, you two should watch it!"

Just in time, the lights began to dim. Fake smoke releashed from the stage

"AND NOW: EXORCISTS"

Lucifers eyes widened, on the stage was Adam, and others, but it was Adam. He was holding a guitar, wearing a black cropped shirt, leather jacket with spikes, leather pants, combat boots and a chocker. Adam was . . . Oh no.

____

When the song ended Lucifer excused himself from Lilith and Eve.

____

"Sup Lulu, you faked your ID or something" Adam snickered at his own joke. The amount of times he teases Lucifer never gets old.

Adam waited for Lilith's boy toy to give a sorry excuse for a comeback. Honestly he can't see the appeal.

"You were beautiful" and Lucifer, he doesn't even know, he doesn't know why he said it in such a love-struck voice, why he enjoyed the way Adam's blushed at the compliment. How his blush reached his ears, making the silver earrings shine.

Lucifer watched as Adam turned his head, saving face. But Lucifer kept his gaze on Adam, this time he didn't have his jacket.

He observed the belly button piercing, how his croptop was skin tight revealing the outline of nipple piercings, and when Adam turned and practically walked away, Lucifer kept his gaze on the two dimple piercings on his back.

----

Anyways after that night, safe to say Lucifer would start stalking Adam, he'd also try his best to make Adam flustered again.

---

I wrote this in the gym so sorry if its wacky. I JUST ARGHHH. SOMEONE PUT A COLLAR ON ME.

#hazbin hotel adam #adamsapple #modernAU

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 1 year

Text

#361

“Hey what’s going on?... Yeah I recognize you. You’re the cocksucker who knows how to take care of my fat hog. You been up here for a while? You get any loads? Yeah this place has no cruising during the day. Ever since they switched my schedule around, I am up here around 7:30 in the morning. It’s been dead every time I stop. I now only pull off to take a piss before heading back on the road; it’s the only good spot to do it. I figured with me leaving the office three hours late that there would be some activity, some hungry boy needing some daddy dick…. Boy, I see you licking your lips. You’re hungry for dad’s cock. Aren’t you? You remember where to go?... Not, yet. We are going to do it a little different today. When you go to the other side of the truck, before you kneel in position, I want you to strip naked. Naked means everything comes off including your glasses and watch. Wait with your eyes closed and your mouth open. I’ve got to make a call….

“...I spoke to dispatch, and I told them that I won’t be able to deliver this camper to them until well after closing. We got plenty of time. Keep your mouth open and your eyes shut. Keep still…. Too bad I don’t have access to the keys to the camper.

“Ahhh. There we go…. I told you I had to take a piss. It just needed a few moments. I said keep your mouth open; when it fills, drink it down. I want you covered in it. Fuck yeah boy.

“You look natural down there. Hell yeah. You are going to smell like a fuck urinal. My fucking urinal. Damn! You are covered! And don’t you fucking insult me by wiping that off. It’s to dry there.

“I remember, you used to eat my ass. It hasn’t been tongue scrubbed in a long time; most likely you were the last boy to do so. Get in there. It’s probably nasty back there. Work called me in on my day off, and I left the house this morning without showering. It’s probably real rank back there.

“Oh fuck! Your tongue does not care. It feels so good. You know how to treat a man’s asshole right. Get that tongue in there.

“Don’t worry. I’m watching if anyone pulls off the highway. Your focus should be on sucking yesterday’s sweat and musk from my ass crack.

“You like eating dad’s hole? I can tell. I wish I had one of those toilet seats on legs. You could slurp my ass for hours…. What? In your trunk? You have one in your trunk?... You really are a whore. Go get it.

“No leave your clothes here. Take your keys, I want to see you go across the lot naked….

“Fuck yeah boy! Don’t cover your pecker. Let it swing….

“…Hell yeah. If it was up to me, you would be kept naked pretty much all the time. Go on set it up right here on the asphalt. In fact, I want you to lay in my piss puddle like a good little pig. You really want my ass don’t you?

“Go on eat. Tongue fuck me. And leave your pecker alone. You are here to satisfy my needs not yours. In fact, reach up and play with my nips.

“Oh shit, an SUV is pulling in. Stay put. They can’t see you. Fuck. I knew it; as soon as I sat down…. Don’t move. They appear to be turning around and pulling out.

“This probably isn’t the best thing to be doing right here. What’s your schedule like for today?... What about tomorrow? So you are wide open. Wanna ride with me to San Diego? The company is paying for a motel. I’ll fuck you all night. I can cum multiple times. In between I’ll rest by sitting on your face.

“There’s a 24-hour Walmart at the next exit. We can store your car there. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll drop you off there with a stretched out hole and a belly full of piss and cum.

“You want to?... Good. Put that toilet seat on legs in the back. But first. I have to say. I’m a demanding prick with a demanding prick. I am in full control of both your holes. I plan on using them without asking you first. You come with me, you will be agreeing to that. I don’t know if you remember how I fuck, but I go right to the root on the first thrust. You better be lubed up and cleaned out. Are you?... lubed up and cleaned out? Good, good. Let’s do this. Get up….

“Where are you going? Get back here. Bend over. Hold on to something. I am not going to drive five hours all horned up with full balls, especially with a boy’s ass a few feet away from me. Let’s get you loaded up.

“I thought you said you were lubed up. Oh well, son, it’s your hole that’s going to bleed, not mine.”

386 notes · View notes

solarwonux · 10 months

Text

Business Proposal || knj (5/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst lots and lots and lots and lots of angst. Jealousy.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.3 k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

prev || next || m.list

a/n: I’m sorry I’ve been taking so long to respond to all the lovely messages I’ve gotten on this story. Also I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to upload, but thank you to those who have stuck around. And thank you for for the 3k! It means so much to me!

Anyway I hope you enjoy this part, pls lmk your thoughts I’m late at responding but I read them all no matter what!

Ever since you can remember, Jimin has always been by your side.

He’s a constant. He’s comfortable. He’s the same.

Nothing much has changed about him, other than the obvious. He grew into his features, he’s leaner and muscular. But nothing about him has changed. He’s still the same person you grew up with. He’s passionate, stubborn, and funny in his own way. You suppose he is a bit more outspoken and confrontational–in a good way, but those are add ons to traits that were already there. He marches to the beat of his own drum but never falls out of line.

He’s always been warm, generous, and familiar.

Jimin was the little boy on your first day of school with the sixty-four pack of crayola crayons. He was the little boy who sat in between you and Taehyung and shared said crayons because his parents always taught him the importance of sharing. He was the boy who wanted to make everyone feel included. Who kissed both you and Taehyung at your seventh grade dance to eliminate any humiliation, because that was the year first kisses were the only subject of conversation amongst your peers.

It was the year the words “prude” and “goody two shoes” decorated everybody’s vocabulary.

It was the year the “no kiss list” went around with yours and Taehyung’s name on it. To your surprise Jimin’s name was absent. Which prompted a very confusing and anger inducing conversation between the three of you, because first kisses were monumental. They were a right of passage and how dare he not tell the two of you that he kissed Ariana–the prettiest and most popular girl at school in a kissing booth at the local state fair.

To save face he decided to redeem himself. The rumors that came out afterwards were far worse than the list, but at least the three of you weren’t lip virgins anymore.

Seventh grade was also known as The War of The Hormones year. Somehow everybody was confused, everybody was angsty, everybody was horny. Bodies were changing, feelings were changing, and Jimin realized that maybe he liked you a little more than a friend would like a friend. But like always, Jimin was nice. He knew about your crush on your school's star athlete so he kept his feelings to himself. Until eventually the flame blew out.

At least that’s what he thought. Junior year of college was a confusing time for him. The two of you had your fair share of “relationships” that should be more appropriately categorized as “flings” because they never really went anywhere.

Except for one–your ex–someone he never liked. There was just something he couldn’t really pinpoint, but he was strange. He would tell you he loved you but he never demonstrated it. You always argued that he had his own way of showing you love. It angered Jimin because to him you were the brightest person in the world. You deserved someone who shined just as bright as you. You deserved someone better.

His suspicions were proven right when you called him before your tutoring session with Namjoon crying. That bastard was a good for nothing asshole who knocked everybody down in order to rise to the top.

It seems like you have a type, because he can’t completely understand why after everything that has happened you have decided to marry Namjoon. He can’t completely understand when, where and how it all happened? He just knows that he doesn’t deserve you, hell, Jimin is fully aware that even he doesn’t deserve you.

Still, Jimin knows you. He knows how calculated and meticulous you are. So, there must be a good reason. At least that’s what he was telling himself the entire two weeks he decided to build a bridge between the two of you. He’s turned every possible answer in his head for nights on end, and he always ended up coming up short. He supposes it’s because he can’t–no–he doesn’t want to face the truth.

That you will never choose him.

Yet, in this very moment as he toys with his mint chocolate ice cream–an acquired taste he admits watching as you hum in delight with every spoonful of Twinberry Cheesecake. He can’t help but believe that maybe this time you did choose him.

The prominent question is aching at the tip of his tongue. He wants to ask, but you’re finally back on Earth and not running lost somewhere in your thoughts. Your tears have dried up and although your eyes are still a bit swollen the sparkle has returned to them. He’s afraid that if he asks you’ll return back to your gray cloud.

“I moved in with Namjoon.” You decide for him as the comment sparks his interest. He digs his spoon into the melting ice cream ball and looks up. He’s aware the hurt is evident in his eyes, but he’s run out of tools to mask it.

“So, you’re really marrying him.” The dry chuckle escapes him and he cringes. He didn’t mean to sound so mean, but he’s past the point of carrying.

You shake your head, putting your spoon down. “Not necessarily. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Jimin’s patience is wearing thin. Maybe that’s the one thing that has changed about him. Ever since the facebook status notification, he finds his patience regarding you diminish with every passing day. “Then explain it to me because I am not following it.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in front of you. “If you weren’t so pissy the day you came into the flower shop you would know the truth. It was Taehyung’s movie night. I was going to tell the two of you that night but you came in with your accusations and speculations and didn’t let me talk.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“You could’ve listened to me.” You respond sadly, moving around the last bit of your ice cream in the cardboard cup.

He sighs defeated and leans his body forward. “I am listening now.”

“We are engaged but we aren’t getting married.” You start slowly. Jimin can’t hide his confusion and it almost makes you laugh. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so exhausted over everything that has happened these past weeks. “It’s all for show. His dad is dying and he wants Namjoon to get married before he passes. Otherwise he will write him out of the will, and his job and inheritance is somehow tied to this. Basically if he doesn’t show signs of settling down any time soon he can kiss his livelihood goodbye.” You finish. It’s the best you could do to explain it in easy terms, because if you were being honest there are things you didn’t understand yourself.

Jimin squints, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. The way he did whenever he was thinking hard on something. “Okay, so, how do you fall into this?”

Quickly, you eat a spoonful of your ice cream. The sugary sweetness does little to hide your nerves. This is the part you didn’t want to explain. Although your decision to accept made sense to you, you’re aware that it won’t be the case for other people. And sometimes Jimin can be unpredictable, but most of all a little bit judgmental.

Behind his calm and warm exterior laid a nasty monster. He had no filter sometimes and he could be a little bit brutal. It’s one of the reasons why you couldn’t see him as more than a friend. You needed a partner who understood you whether right or wrong. Jimin was not that, he’s so ingrained in his thoughts and beliefs that he has a hard time trying to understand anything outside of that.

“I’m a professor at HYBE U.” You whisper, looking down at your now melted ice cream. The cheesecake chunks are just floating around while the twinberry syrup swirls into the milk. It looks like how you feel. Rough.

Jimin’s eyes look like they’re about to fall out of his sockets. He knew you applied for the job a month after spending months perfecting your resume. He feels a sense of pride rise in him but it’s soon replaced with confusion. “Congratulations, but I’m not following what does that have to do with Namjoon?” He tilts his head pushing his own cardboard cup away.

“He’s the one who offered me the job, and the one who is paying for half of my student loans and the one who is giving me a house.”

It’s hard to catch Jimin off guard. He’s always suspecting and waiting for the next person that’s hiding behind the corner. But you’ve always managed to leave him speechless. This time it’s different. He’s not speechless because of his infatuation for you. He’s speechless because this is something he never once expected from you.

“So he’s basically your sugar daddy.” He deadpans, shaking his head in disbelief before crossing his arms in front of him. “I can’t believe you. I commend sex work that’s fine but I never once thought you’d be one.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your cup away and leaning forward. Maybe if you close the gap between the two of you he will understand that not everything a woman did to get ahead in life involved sex. It’s an argument you’ve had with him before.

“I’m not fucking him. I literally just live with him now and act like his fiance in front of people. Otherwise he lives his life and I live my life separately.” You spit out, leaning back into your chair when you’re done.

Jimin sighs running a hand down his face, This conversation was a lot more taxing than he thought it would be. “Got it.” He raises his hands up in surrender. “But that still doesn't explain why you called me in the middle of a panic attack tonight.”

You nod, “He kissed me. We were arguing and he kissed me.” You flat out say. Jimin closes his fist, gripping the fabric of his jeans. He won’t lie, he wants to runway, scream, or punch something. Anything that will help him release the overwhelming stream of emotions that are running through him.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” He seethes and he’s about to stand up, but you grab his arm and pull him back down. He’s never seen a more serious expression on your face. You look more ready to kill than he did.

“No you’re not. It was a mistake. The two of us just need to cool down and then hopefully we’ll talk about it. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me Jimin.”

“So, you’re just going to go back to living with him?”

“Where else am I going to live Jimin? That’s my home for now.” You exclaim throwing your hands up in his head.

“But he took advantage of you remember the las–”

“I reciprocated.” You interrupt and before he can get anymore of his comments in you continue. “I don’t know how to get you and Jungkook to know that what happened last time won’t happen again.”

He was a fool to believe that you had finally chosen him.

His heart breaks even more than the night at Taehyung’s party when he confessed his feelings to you. It breaks even more than the morning he woke up to the facebook notification. He didn’t know there was anything left to break and yet here it was shattering into millions of little pieces.

For years he’s had you tucked into his wing afraid of seeing you hurt again. For years he’s prided himself in being the only person you let into your bed and touch in a way exclusively reserved for lovers. For years he’s believed that one day you will be his.

He’s been lying to himself for years. As much as you don’t want to admit it. Your heart has always and will always belong to Kim Namjoon. That is something he will just have to live with. If there’s anything he has learned in the past two weeks where he’s distanced himself from you, and in the past thirty minutes that he’s had this conversation with you.

Is that you’re stronger than what everyone believes and that having you as a friend was better than not having you at all.

“Okay.” He acknowledges with a slight nod of his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” You finally smile up at him and he hates how it makes his stomach do summersaults. “But can I ask you for one more favor?” You pout, batting your eyelashes at him and he laughs.

“Go ahead.”

“Can I sleep over until Monday?.”

“Sure but you’re taking the couch.”

In the end, you ended up sleeping in Jimin’s bed. It was a petty argument that lasted about five minutes. He insisted you take his bed while he took the couch. Which neither of you did because you ended up sleeping together in the same bed. In a very friendly and platonic kind of way. With a pillow in between and different comforters.

It felt a little strange for the two of you to not be locked in each other's arms. But it was a boundary that needed to be implemented. As much as you and Namjoon like to tell yourselves and each other that this was just all for show.

Jimin knows better. He’s witnessed the two of you grow into each other from the sidelines. Your feelings for the other party were there and even if Namjoon liked to believe otherwise. His feelings were there, only hidden deep, deep, deep within him.

It’s the reason why Jimin was so angry with the way he handled your confession. It was unfair to you. You weren’t crazy and you weren’t reading into things. His actions were those of love not of friendship. Maybe this time, he’ll be able to finally admit to himself that you were always the one for him.

At least that’s what he hopes. He can’t promise staying away if he lets you go this time around.

“Do you have everything?” Jimin taps his steering wheel with his thumb. You’re in his passenger shaking from nerves.

It’s now Monday, your first day of school. The dreadful day being one you thought you left in the past when you graduated. Though, this time it’s different. This time you’re an educator. The first day of school butterflies were shaking you to the core.

You smooth down the hem of your checkered wool skirt. Unfortunately you had left a lot of your winter clothes at Jimin’s house. So, a nice wool jacket and skirt duo, with one of Jimin's black satin dress shirts was what you had to work with for your first day of school outfit.

You’re praying you don’t die of heat.

“I think so.” You say checking down your mental checklist. “I’m only missing my laptop but my office has a desktop so I’ll be fine today.” You nod, slightly slapping your thighs to hype yourself up.

You feel bad as you made your best friend wake up early to drive you to work, a full hour before you had to actually clock in. You feel bad that you’ve made him sit in the parking lot, witnessing it fill up with sleepy students arriving for their morning classes.

“Alright, if you need anything I’m a text away. And don’t forget you’re meeting Tae for lunch. He’s going to have your head for not telling him everything sooner.” He chuckles, reaching over and squeezing your shoulder gently in reassurance.

You roll your eyes, playfully shrugging his hand away. “How was I, the two of you are two peas in a pod. If you’re pissed he’s pissed and vice versa.” You grumble, grabbing your coat and bag. You’ve been doing this at least five times.

Jimin has asked you the same question literally five times. A tiny hint that it was time for you to finally leave. Not that he was annoyed with you, he was just worried you’d be late. Jimin might not have attended HYBE U but you and Taehyung did, and he frequently visited the two of you when he could. He knows how big the campus is and he knows that the two of you are on the completely other side of your department.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever I’ll text in an hour to apologize again.”

He receives a pointed glare before you open his car door. He guesses you've finally talked yourself up long enough. Unless, you’re going to close the door again and then that will bring the two of you back to square one.

“I’ll call you if anything.” You say and step out, shrugging on your coat and grabbing your bag.

“Good luck, you’re going to fucking kill it.” He smiles giving you a thumbs up. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks dad.” You joke, rolling your eyes as you close the door. His laughter rings just as loudly as it would have if the car door was open. You look at him one last time, giggling as he sends you numerous finger hearts. That’s all the motivation you need to finally break through the barrier of nerves. You send him a heart back and turn around, adjusting the leather strap of your purse, hardening your features.

The show must go on.

Your office isn’t big, but it isn’t small either. It's the perfect size for you. As an added bonus it overlooks the beautiful view of the student parking lot, and it’s on a different floor than Namjoon’s. Which means it’s perfect because you can prolong seeing your fake fiancé for as much as possible.

At least that’s what you thought.

After your first class of the day, which went amazing. You forgot all about your nerves the second you stepped into the gloomy classroom. You assume you were well received by your students given that they laughed at all of your stupid little jokes, and didn’t hesitate to add into the class discussion, which was more than what you could ask for. On your way back to the office you were still reeling on the high of standing in front of at least twenty rhetoric students.

The minute you entered your office to get ready to make a few tweaks to your lesson plan. The infamous philosophy professor was standing behind your desk, looking out of the window, hands in the pocket of his slacks, while he tapped his foot against the outdated carpet.

When he heard the door close behind you. He turned around a stoic expression on his face. The high you were feeling from earlier, quickly morphed into the little prickles of your nerves, traveling up your arms and spine.

He looked like he was ready to kill.

“You left this at home.” He broke the silence, taking one of his hands out of his pocket, extending it out to you. He unraveled his fist revealing your engagement ring. “Wouldn’t want people to talk when they don’t see you wearing it.” He added, circling around your desk and walking closer. The only thing keeping the two of you apart was his extended hand, a free invitation to do what you wanted at this moment. He was giving you the choice, an out. You weren’t sure if it was good or bad.

You decide quickly and take the ring from him and silently slip it onto your ring finger. “Thanks I–”

“How was your first class?” He cuts you off, taking a few steps back until he is leaning against one of the burgundy lounge chairs in front of your desk. He crosses his arms in front of him and looks away from you, around your empty office. For some reason this action makes you feel a little self conscious. There’s no personality, except for when you’re inside, but it still screams amateur.

You cough to clear your throat, clasping your hands in front of you. “It went well I had a lo–”

“When’s your last class?” He interrupts you again. You have to tighten the grip of your hands to prevent yourself from yelling out at him. Why was he being extra annoying today? And most importantly why was he acting so strange?

Maybe he still hasn’t cooled off from what happened on Saturday night, because there’s no other reason as to why he would be keeping himself occupied with his surroundings rather than focusing his attention on you. As much as you and Namjoon didn’t get along, he never avoided eye contact. He always felt that it was rude to be looking somewhere else when having a conversation with someone. Yet, here he was keeping himself occupied with the one plant Jimin gifted you sitting on your empty bookshelf. His gaze zeroing in on the little handwritten note.

Fighting, Princess. - PJM x

You can almost hear the audible scoff he lets out when he picks it up to read it closer.

“Four,” he looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “My last class is at four.” You clarify and he nods, carelessly throwing the card onto your desk and pushing himself off the chair.

“Mine is at eight. I’ll see you at home.” He clears his throat, and buttons up the suit jacket. Without so much as a glance he exits your office. It’s not until your door is closed when you finally let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding in the entire time. But you’re confused, it’s like a newly built wall has surrounded him. He’s harder and tougher, there’s nothing on his face that gives off the indication that he’s lightened up since Saturday or that he is still upset.

There’s nothing.

Namjoon lied.

His last class wasn’t at eight. At least not on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesdays, Fridays. His last class on those days was at two. They were his favorite days because he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted after work. The possibilities were endless, and useless because if he wasn’t at work he was at the gym. If he wasn’t at the gym he was locked up in his home office working on his research.

Research that he was behind on because his mind was occupied on other things.

Other people.

You and Jimin.

Ever since you left on Saturday, Namjoon has tried to do what he does best.

Avoid, avoid, avoid. Bury his head in his research until he can no longer take it. Until it suffocates him enough that he has no other choice but to come up for air. Well…at least that’s what he tried to do, but every time he sat in front of his laptop, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, surrounded by books, journals and notes. His thoughts always zeroed in on the exact moment you ran into Jimin’s arms.

That’s when he starts to spiral, and he ends up seeing nothing but red. The anger consumes him until he’s breathless and sweating, his body consumed with exhaustion, on the floor of Jin’s boxing gym.

He supposes he should be thankful that the overzealous trainer didn’t pry him for questions when he showed up at his doorstep both Saturday and Sunday morning and night. Instead, he wordlessly let him in. Led him to the empty ring and helped him take out his frustration. Each punch he landed brought upon a different emotion.

Anger, confusion, and sadness.

Each punch that he received brought out a different core memory he had kept tucked away. His mothers death, Jungkook and his mother suddenly appearing in his life, the pressure he felt to be perfect, his first love, his first heartbreak, you.

He was exhausted from putting up a facade all the time. He can’t remember the last time he let his walls down, so after being practically beaten up by Jin numerous times he decided that enough was enough. That he would at least try. It is why he was waiting in your office. Namjoon is smart enough to know that a clean slate with you would never be possible. There’s too much history between the two of you. Too many words that were said and left unsaid.

He finally came to his senses after Jin scolded him in a headlock and Namjoon decided to offer you an olive branch.

Then he saw the plant, the handwritten message, and the initials. Instantly he was seeing red again. His plan to welcome you into his home—your home—again flew out the window. His plan to cook you the only dish he knew he couldn’t fuck up—spaghetti aglio e olio—lay forgotten in the back of his mind. Along with the jittery trip to the only grocery store by his house that was still open past two in the morning. And the talk he planned to have with you, to lay it all out in the open. But it was all left in the abyss of his mind the minute he locked eyes with the stupid plant.

He couldn’t even explain the proper care routine you would need to adopt to keep it alive because his pride was bigger than his ego. So he came up with an excuse more for himself because he needed to calm himself down before seeing you at home.

Now, it’s close to lunch time, and he’s hiding out in his office trying to grade the student papers he’s put off for the past week. He saw you in the student parking lot while walking back from grabbing his instant coffee packets he had left in his car. You were getting into a forest green Lamborghini.

Taehyung’s car. It only made his anger worse because the one thing Namjoon truly knows about Taehyung without a shred of a doubt is that wherever he goes, Jimin goes. You used to express your annoyance over it back in college because you always felt left out. The bond they had with each other was one you could never understand, and to be fair Namjoon never understood where you were coming from. FOMO wasn’t a thing he ever suffered from because he didn’t allow himself to have a friendship similar to yours with Taehyung and Jimin.

Yet, now he thinks he can begin to understand why you were always in a bad mood when they went on best friend dates without you. He thinks he’s suffering from the same thing because a part of him craves for your attention. He wants you to be laughing at something he says instead of whatever you were laughing about while getting into Taehyung’s car. He’s never seen you laugh that way, so genuine and full of spirit that his stomach begins to twist again when he remembers what he witnessed almost an hour ago. So much so that he’s been reading the same fucking paragraph for thirty minutes.

Namjoon’s thoughts are stuck on the plant, the laugh and the kiss he stole from you Saturday night. He knows he shouldn’t have kissed you at the same time. The part of him he never lets shine doesn’t regret it. That part only regrets the way it happened.

That part regrets ever letting you walk away in the first place.

“So, how does it feel being all boo’d up?” Taehyung questions, cocking an eyebrow. His way of teasing you makes you roll your eyes.

It took him exactly twenty minutes since he picked you up to ask. You should’ve known lunch with Taehyung was going to turn out to be as destructive as it was currently going.

Not only did he drive through the streets like he was in a game of Grand Theft Auto. He’s been doing what he knows how to do best. Stick his perfect nose in everybody’s business.

He scoffs when instead of answering his prying question you take a bite out of your Banh Mi sandwich. “Come on, you have to give me something. It’s the least you can do for lying to me.” He pouts, crossing his arms in front of him.

You swallow. “First I didn’t lie, second, I’m not boo’d up, and third you’re annoying.”

“That’s not fair. I saw a movie where two people were fake dating and then they ended up together.” He retorts, jabbing a finger in your direction before taking a bite out of his burrito.

“That’s a movie.” You deadpan.

He shrugs, looking at you as if you’re the one being irrational. “So?”

“So, it’s never going to happen?” You say exasperated. Maybe agreeing to go on a lunch date with your hopeless romantic of a best friend truly was a bad idea. Hey may be a player and a very eligible bachelor, but he loves love more than anyone you have ever known.

His inability in finding ‘the one’ whatever that means to Taehyung is what feeds his struggling artist persona. It’s the main reason why he hasn’t settled down even if he wanted to. He’s afraid of losing his art, the thing that keeps him alive.

“You’re in denial. There’s history between you and Namjoon. Someone is bound to break first and by what Jimin told me. It will be him.” He says mapping out with his hands like it’s the most complicated concept in the world.

Your eyes almost fall out of their sockets from how wide they get. You should’ve known Jimin would tell Taehyung everything the minute he got the chance to. “That rat.” You seethe.

Taehyung laughs, reaching his hand across the table and patting your palm lightly. “There, there, it’s not your fault he told me. I was drunk on Saturday and I needed a ride home but I didn’t want to wait for a cab. After he told me he couldn’t. I basically accused him of sleeping with someone and he broke. But like what else was I supposed to think. Little man hasn’t been getting out there since he found out he was in love with you. So I wanted to congratulate him, you know.”

“If this is your way of making me feel better… it’s not.” You send him a glare which makes his smile get even bigger.

“Maybe I want you to just feel a little bit guilty because I told you so.” He smirks, playing with the friendship ring your wear on your thumb.

The three of you have one. Made it together the weekend of his party. It was the day he finally came to terms with the semantics of yours and Jimin’s confusing relationship. If he had known the events that would unfold that night, he would’ve never pushed Jimin to confess his true feelings for you in the first place.

Maybe the real reason why he had avoided you after the whole Facebook status update was because in part he felt guilty for his best friend’s broken heart.

You weren’t the only one he had avoided.

When you don’t retaliate with a snarky comment he squeezes your hand. You’re looking down at your unfinished food and he knows your appetite is gone. Despite learning time and time again to keep his mouth shut he never seems to get it quite right.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know you and Min talked it out and I know why you’re going through with the whole fake engagement, but please be careful.” He expresses turning the ring over in slow circles. “I know I don’t know Namjoon as well as you and Kook do but I know he’s not the easiest person to be around. He seems to be as emotionally constituted as a roach. And I don’t want my other best friend to be broken-hearted too.” He ends, retrieving his hand, setting it on his lap.

You grin, nodding your head. “Do roaches even have emotions?” You tilt your head to the side.

His famous boxy smile sneaks its way onto his face. “I don’t know, that’s why I said it.”

You giggle, raising your hands in defeat. “Noted.” You pick up your sandwich and take a bite out of it.

“Now enough about your sexy philosophy professor fake fiancé. How was your first day of school sweetheart, make any new friends?”

You roll your eyes, smiling brightly. Finally a subject you’ve been dying to talk about.

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

There was an upside to staying at work past hours. At least that’s what Namjoon kept telling himself when he was finally able to breeze through all his grading. Time went by as the stack of papers lessened, but the hammering in his heart only increased. His mind wouldn’t stop and it didn’t help that he was on his third americano. Sure he could’ve let out some steam at the gym, but his body ached and Jin had basically banned him for a week.

“You can’t always avoid your problems Joonie.” Jin had said out of breath, hands on his knees while he looked at him through sweaty bangs.

Namjoon hated that the self-proclaimed chef slash boxer was right. Yet, there he was pacing around his office. There weren’t any more papers to grade. It was past eight, and Namjoon could only hope that by the time he got home you would be locked away in your room.

That way he could continue to avoid his problems. Or avoid the problem he had created.

The only issue was that Namjoon wasn’t born lucky, just privileged. When he got home you were in the living room following along with an at home Pilates workout video. The aircon was off so you were dripping with sweat. Namjoon had to physically swallow the lump that had formed in his throat three times. But you were too distracted to notice so he assumed he could pass through his living room and into his office unscathed.

Wrong.

Namjoon bumped into the corner of his couch. Then stubbed his toe against the corner table, which caused the small vase containing a single yellow tulip to come crashing down on his hard wooden floor. The broken glass pieces scattered everywhere, cutting off your concentration and instantly finding his alarmed gaze.

Not only was Namjoon born unlucky. He was also born an absolute klutz. And not the cute quirky ones the jocks in every teen movie fell for. The kind that destroyed everything in its path.

Exhibit A: the vase.

Exhibit B: your trust.

“You’re back.” You say, sitting crossed legged on your baby blue yoga mat. The video was long forgotten playing in the background, while you tilted your head waiting for his answer.

“Yeah sorry for bothering you.” He said, leaning down, starting to slowly gather the pieces of broken glass. He tried to keep himself busy to avoid your presence but then he spotted the single droplet of sweat drawing a path down your neck, the middle of your chest and eventually disappearing behind your baby blue workout tank.

He swallows thickly.

For the second time that day he mentally cursed out Jin for banning him from going to the gym. Namjoon could physically feel his body shake and start to overheat. He needed to let out some steam and sort out all these confusing thoughts he’s been having since seeing you in the morning.

Namjoon always thought you were pretty. Like the innocent girl next door type of pretty. He never saw you as anything more or harbored any sort of sexual attraction towards you. The thought absolutely repulsed him back then because you were like his little sister. He could easily fall asleep next to you and wake up fine. He could talk to you about anything and everything and be your friend because there was nothing there.

In simple terms you weren’t his type and that was okay. So, Namjoon can’t really understand everything that’s happening. He can’t understand where the kiss, the jealousy, the lust, and the anger is stemming from. You are the same Plain Jane he tutored back then. The only slight difference is that you’re a little more confident and your hair is shorter. Your sense of style has matured a little but it doesn’t lack the fun and casual you sometimes opted for. It’s what makes you look younger than what you really were. You had this young aura surrounding you and Namjoon had never been attracted to that.

He just thinks he needs to get laid, and fast. Maybe he’ll text that pretty brunette chemistry professor. What was her name again? Rochelle, Rachel, Ray? Whatever it was he wasn’t planning on doing much talking. She’s kind and his type, familiar and most importantly she’s out of the loop. Keeps her head in the books and cares a rats ass about faculty gossip. He tries to reason with himself as he finishes picking up the glass pieces. To add on he tries to tell himself that you have Jimin so why couldn’t he also have a friend to run to?

“Don’t worry, I was almost done.” You interrupt his thoughts. He watches as you grab the remote from his couch and pause the video. He swallows a fifth time watching as you stand up, bend down, and roll up your yoga mat to then rest it against the foot of his gray couch. He begins to panic when you move to his black marble coffee table that you’ve pushed to the side.

Quickly, almost as if his body was on autopilot he placed the glass shards he’s picked up onto the corner table and scurries to where you were ready to push the table to its rightful place. He too finds himself bending down, and somehow his eyes land right where the top of your breasts are peaking out. He can’t see much, you’re still modestly covered, but the little that he does see. He finds himself staring at before looking away as if he were being burned by the rays of the sun. He swallows two more times.

God, he’s really to send Raya—that’s her name—a text the minute he locks himself in his bedroom.

“It’s not that heavy Namjoon.” You point out as you lift up your side of the table. Namjoon follows in suit and the two of you move it the five inches to the middle so it’s back in its designated spot. “Thank you anyway.” You stand up dusting your hands, giving him an appreciative smile. It somehow worsens the sweat that has formed in between the crevices of his long fingers. As well as the beating in his heart.

He needs to get a fucking grip. Namjoon doesn’t want to admit that he wanted to help you because you’re right the coffee table is not as heavy as it looks. Otherwise how would you have moved it in the first place?

You walk past him, patting his shoulder along the way. He watches you make your way to the kitchen and he has to restrain himself from letting his eyes travel any lower than your upper back. He’s annoyed that he’s acting like a hormonal teenager rather than a full grown adult who has had plenty of sex in his lifetime.

“At what time do you get out of work tomorrow?” You ask moving through his kitchen like it’s familiar. As if you were doing this for months rather than just a day. He hates how satisfying it feels, and he finds himself sitting on one of his kitchen barstools.

You look through his cupboards with vigor, somehow knowing exactly where he keeps his plates, cups, and his pans. Well…your pans. He watches while you turn on the gas stove and wait a while for things to heat up and open up a tupperware full of leftover fried rice. He guesses it’s what you had made for dinner earlier in the night.

Namjoon feels his stomach twist. He is unsure if it’s a good thing but he realizes that he is getting nervous again because it’s finally settled in that tonight would be the first night you will actually be sharing a house. That tomorrow morning when he wakes up he will find you enjoying a cup of tea or coffee in his kitchen. That he will have to share a bathroom with you. And drive you to work and home. Repeat. Until it becomes too much of familiarity and one of you cuts the other off again.

Then he comes across his second? Third? Fourth? realization of the night and ignores your previously asked question. “How did you get home?

“Jungkook I called him knowing he was free today which worked out perfectly because your mother gave him some kimchi to give to us. So, I made kimchi fried rice for dinner with all of the leftovers in your fridge.” You nonchalantly shrug your shoulders, before plating his meal. “Which brings me back to my last question. What time do you get off tomorrow?” You move around the kitchen as Namjoon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and the green jealousy bubbling in the pit of his stomach disappears.

At least it wasn’t Jimin. He finds himself thinking. He shakes his head along with the thought away.

“Five tomorrow.” He finally answers when you set the plate out in front of him, along with a glass of water. “Why?”

“We need to go grocery shopping. Your fridge is practically empty, I used up all the ingredients that were going to go bad in the next few days.” You say sitting at the barstool in front of him and resting your chin on the palm of your hand. “Do you ever eat at home?”

Namjoon shakes his head, busying himself with his utensils before he takes a bite out of his food. A little part of him was hesitant because he knew you weren’t the best cook. Or worse you could poison him out of hatred. But he’s pleasantly surprised when the flavors instantly hit his tongue. It was delicious. Probably the best kimchi fried rice he’s ever had in his life. It almost seems impossible because this isn’t remotely a difficult dish to make. Yet, you’ve exceeded his expectations. He’s so enthralled with each bite that he forgets you’re still sitting in front of him.

“Do you like it?” You bite your lip in anticipation. When Namjoon looks up he fights the urge to reach over and tap your chin to get you to release your bottom lip. But he keeps himself grounded because he’s already crossed to many boundaries, and he doesn’t want you running back to Jimin.

Speaking of a boundary he shouldn’t cross but he still does, “Where did you spend the weekend?”

You push yourself back from the counter and release a sigh. “Jimins.” You look anywhere but him and it somehow annoys him.

“Your fuck buddy.” He stares blankly, setting down his fork. He could still eat more but you look mortified beyond belief and it makes his stomach churn.

Namjoon seems to just never learn.

You inhale deeply before responding, “I guess we should talk about that then.”

“No thanks I don’t care about who you’re fucking. It’s not like we’re exclusive, or steady or whatever we are.” He shrugs, proceeding to pick at his food with his fork. He really needs to shut up before he says something he knows he’ll regret later.

You roll your eyes, taking his glass of water and downing it in one go. He watches as a single droplet runs past your lips, down the side of your chin, and eventually your neck. He would’ve shamelessly continued to follow its path if you hadn’t slammed the cup onto the cloth coaster. It startles him and you look livid.

“I’m not fucking Jimin at least not anymore. We finally talked it out like civil adults and agreed we were better off as friends.” You spit out crossing your arms in front of you. “I know this is all fake, but the only way we will be able to keep up this act is if we both agree to not see anyone else. Otherwise that would create an even bigger mess than the one we have already.” You finish, and Nmajoon’s appetite is officially gone for the night.

Now, he feels guilty for even entertaining the idea of texting Raya. Only a little bit. There was some logic to what you were saying and he was being irrational earlier.

“I guess you’re right. I’m sorry for assuming.”

You have to blink a few times trying to process everything. This was rare. Namjoon was never known to be someone who apologizes unless he truly feels sorry. You almost leave the conversation at that, afraid that he will take it back the second you say someone he doesn’t want to hear again, but he speaks up, “How do you propose we from here then. I mean we are both humans with needs and if we can’t, you know…release those needs with each other because I don’t see you like…in that way and I’m assuming you don’t either, and it’s not part of the deal.” He breathes out before continuing. “What should we do then?” He finishes with a sigh, picking up his fork again, and waits for you to answer.

You’re caught off guard, the argument that was sitting at the back of your throat dies down. You didn’t expect him to admit defeat so early on. When the two of you were friends, the petty arguments you got into lasted for hours; but here he was showing you a different side of him, and you aren’t sure what to think of it yet.

“We will cross that line when we get there. For now I think we need to start small and just move on from our past. Maybe go on small friendship dates. Like the ones we used to go on every time I passed my tests.” You shrug. It was the only option that made sense. “It’s why I asked you when you get off work tomorrow. We can maybe go grocery shopping together. Start there.” You point out, watching as Namjoon goes back to eating your food.

It’s a weird feeling but watching him eat makes your heart feel a little warm. Back when you started living alone, you were an absolute mess in the kitchen. You burned your chicken to make sure it was thoroughly cooked for crying out loud. And after you set off the fire alarm one too many times, Jungkook decided to teach you all the easy ten minute recipes he learned on YouTube. This was one of the dishes you were the most confident in making. It also happened to be one of Namjoon’s favorites, and maybe that’s why you had made it. To soften the blow a little because you knew you were asking too much of him.

To you it seems like it had worked because he wasn’t nearly as angry as you assumed he would be. In fact he wasn’t angry at all.

Namjoon swallows his last spoonful and looked back at you. His face was blank but his next words completely went against the coldness hiding behind his eyes. “I’ll be in front of your office at five. I need to finish imputing a couple of grades into the system. And then we could head to the market together.” He nods firmly before standing up and picking up his plate, taking long strides to the dishwasher.

You watch him in silence while he put on the hot pink rubber gloves and grabbed the sponge, pumping a decent amount of soap on it. It was all so domestic and oddly comforting.

He was about to turn the hot water on when he stopped, placing his palms against the counter. He quickly turns to face you, his eyes find yours instantly and for the first time in a long time he did something he hasn’t done in years.

He smiles.

“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

Your heart almost stops but you pushed away the butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach. They weren’t real, they didn’t mean anything, Namjoon just has a smile that can light up worlds. So you ignored it and quickly responded “you’re welcome.” Before making your way to your room, so he couldn’t see your blushing cheeks. Or realize that he had made your heart start beating ten times faster than its usual rate. The closer you got to your room the faster you started to walk and before you knew it you had made it inside and closed the door behind you, resting your back against it and quietly releasing the little school girl squeal you were holding in.

God, you were pathetic.

Back in the kitchen, Namjoon is trying to occupy himself with the dishes. He can’t stop himself from giving into another realization. It seems like tonight he was full of them, but this one scared him the most.

Maybe he was at a crossroads and he had already unknowingly crossed the line because he was feeling something deep in his heart. Something he didn’t know he could possibly feel. Though that’s not what had initially scared him. He was scared of his fear and how it consumes him to the point that he talks himself out of situations. Just like it did all those years ago when you had confessed to him.

It’s something his pride and ego won’t ever let him admit.

Yet, deep down Namjoon knew better. The line had been crossed the minute he had entered Taehyung’s apartment. The minute he told you all about his plan. The minute he had placed his mothers engagement ring in the palm of your hand underneath his parents patio table.

The line had been crossed when he proposed to you. When he had asked you to move in with him and when he kissed you.

How does he come back from that?

291 notes · View notes

deadbydangit · 2 months

Note

hi! i would like to request a prompt.

how do you think the killers would react to a survivor!reader who screams extremely loud when injured?

I think I can do that. I'm sorry this one is a little shorter. I had a hard time coming up with ideas. Please enjoy.

With a Reader who is very loud when injured: Ghostface, Trickster, Pinhead

Ghostface

Danny actually enjoys watching people get hurt.

To an almost unhealthy level.

Like, seeing people fall down and get mildly hurt?

To him, that's hilarious.

But he takes it several steps further.

He's the guy laughing at horror movies when people are getting stabbed to death.

"Ha! It's funny cause they were stupid."

He'll say some dumb frat boy shit like that.

He really enjoys the sound of people screaming in pain.

The louder the scream, the funnier it is.

He finds a sick sense of humor in it.

You can ask him why, but he'll give you the same answer every time.

"Uh, because it's funny."

He's kind of an asshole.

But you?

"Okay, babe, I know I said I like the sound of people and pain and screaming at all but, like, chill. Okay?"

"Seriously, there's loud. And then there's you."

"I came out to have fun and kill, and now I can't hear shit."

But, he uses your scream as an excuse.

He won't ever go after you.

And if you ask why?

"Your scream is like, torture. I'll take my chances with the Entity."

Well, he isn't exactly lying. So you can't get mad at him.

He calls that a win-win situation.

Trickster

The sound of screams?

Music to his ears.

If you thought Danny had a sick obsession with screams and people's pain, you haven't seen anything yet.

Ji-Woon lives for the sound of people in pain.

So much so that he uses it to create music.

"The last sound a human ever makes? It's a beautiful sound isn't it?"

He gets way too excited about it.

Your screams?

He'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.

You'll always catch him covering his ears when you scream.

Unlike danny, he'll still hunt you in a trial if you're in one together.

But, he won't record your screens for his music.

Don't take offense to it though.

He'll make sure to show you and tell you all the other ways you're special to him.

So what if you don't have pretty sounding screams?

You have so many more great qualities to you.

And, if you ever feel humiliated about not sounding pretty enough for him, he'll list all the other reasons why he loves you.

If you feel left out because you aren't in any of his songs, he'll find a way to include you.

Just, you know, not your atrocious screams.

Pinhead

You know what they say.

Pain is pleasure.

That's kind of his whole thing.

Elliot loves the sound of your screams.

He loves the sound of all screams.

As long as they are screams of pain, he's happy.

In fact, he seems to like yours more since they convey more emotion.

The more agony and suffering in the person, the more he enjoys the sound.

It's only to be expected of Hell's high priest.

Now, just because he likes the sound of your screams, doesn't mean he's going to go out of his way to attack you during a trial.

You'll be given a fair chance just like everyone else.

And, if he happens upon you, then it's up to skill after that.

He finds himself very fascinated by her screaming.

He didn't think a normal human could scream that loud.

Or that intensely.

He would love to experiment on it more.

However, he will refrain from causing you unnecessary pain.

Even though he likes the sound of your pain. He knows you don't like it.

And he loves you enough to respect those boundaries.

Even when you're screaming at the top of your lungs and pain, he'll hold his laughter back.

He wouldn't do that for anyone else.

It's a bizarre way of showing affection.

But, hey, it's a start.

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd ghostface #dbd trickster #dbd pinhead

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 3 months

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Eddie Munson's Defense Squad the complete one shot

A/N: Halfway through writing this, I realized that I was accidentally basing Poppy on a girl I went to school whom I admired. I realize now that I had a crush on her. Different name, same personality. Also, there is a Carol in here. Her name is Carol Watson, and she's completely different from Carol Perkins.

Poppy Blake smacked her gum obnoxiously as she listened to her parents rant about Eddie Munson, the three of them sitting around the dinner table as they did so. This was complete and utter bullshit.

"You guys have a lot of nerve for talking shit about Eddie when you have no clue what kind of man he is," Poppy said. "And it's hypocritical coming from a mixed race couple who have to deal with the stares and the comments in this assbackward conservative town who can't seem to tell what year it is."

Her mother's green eyes widened. The green eyes and the freckles Poppy got from her mother. Everything else, including the hair and the dark complexion she got from her daddy. Thanks to her mom, her skin was much lighter than his. Maybe she was a bit of a narcissist, but she loved the way she looked, how she was a perfect mixture of both her parents. She especially loved how her hair had its own personality, and she was grateful that she didn't have her mother's bright orange coloring. Not that she had anything against redheads. It's such an odd shade that whenever Poppy asks if she dyes it, Clara Blake just laughs. She never answers.

"He's a drug dealer," Clara said.

"And so is Daddy," Poppy said.

"Pharmaceutical salesman," Tony said.

"They sound like the same thing to me," she replied.

"Well, Poppy, one's illegal, and one is not," Clara said.

"Weed doesn't kill people, Mom! It's just bullshit propaganda. I mean, not unless it's laced with something, but Eddie would never do that. Some of those drugs that Dad sells should be illegal," Poppy said. "I mean, alcohol is more dangerous."

"You seem to know an awful lot about his weed," Tony said, suddenly amused.

"Dad, I regret to inform you that your precious little girl smokes," she said, and Clara gasped. "Do not act like this is brand new information. You and I both know that bag of oregano that you found was not, in fact, a bag of oregano. Now, tell me why someone would kill his own customers when he could keep them alive and earn a profit?"

"That's true," Clara frowned.

"Mom, I know how scared you are, but I know he would never kill Chrissy, Patrick, or Fred. I know, just like I know that you would never," Poppy said. "Mom, you know I'm a good judge of character."

"We both know that, baby," Tony sighed. "I suppose we both did sound ridiculous."

"Thank you," Poppy said, blinking back tears. "And you know, Hellfire, despite its name, isn't a cult. They're just playing a game like the boys play basketball."

"Well, even we know that. I suppose it's the fear of the unknown that's got us so scared," Clara said.

"I totally get that," Poppy said.

"By the way, why are you so sure?" Clara asked.

"I don't know. It was the look in his eye when he talked about his mom, and it was just like pure love in there when he talked about her. I mean, he can definitely be an asshole but in the way that cousin Mark is and we all still love him. He respects cheerleaders too much to kill them, even the ones that really hate him," Poppy said.

The sound of the front door opening loudly startled the three of them. Kayla Fielding, her best friend in the whole world, ran into the living room. Her blond hair was in disarray, and her bright blue eyes were blown wide with alarm.

"Kayla, we were just about to have dinner. You're welcome to fix yourself a plate and join us," Tony said.

"I, uh, actually needed some last-minute help on a project. I read the directions wrong, and it's due tomorrow," Kayla said. "I was hoping that Poppy would help me."

"Do you mind, Mom?" Poppy asked. "I had a late lunch, so I'm not very hungry."

"Go on," Clara said, her eyes twinkling at them in amusement. "Keep the door open, though."

"Um, okay," Poppy said, looking at her mother in confusion.

They quickly moved up the stairs and into Poppy's room.

"Uh, I think your mom knows, Poppy," Kayla said.

"My mom doesn't know shit," she said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, what's this about? Clearly, there's no project."

"I just heard that Jason has started a town wide man hunt for Eddie and the rest of Hellfire. I heard that they were heading towards that creepy looking house on Morehead Street," Kayla scowled. "This is so fucked up! Eddie doesn't deserve this, and neither do these kids. I've always hated Jason, but I never thought that he would take it this far."

"We need to do something," Poppy said. "Stop them. We need to gather the others and get some weapons."

"Do you really think we can do this?" Kayla asked.

"My parents always taught me to do what's right, to stand up for people when they needed it. Although, I think they were talking about when a kid gets bullied or something," she replied. "It fits in this situation, too."

Poppy wasn't proud of it, but she ended up breaking into her dad's gun locker to grab a shotgun that her dad taught her to use. He always wanted to make sure she was prepared. Not that he actually needed to teach her. She figured it out pretty quick. Poppy tried to hand Kayla the Smith & Wesson, but she quickly shook her head.

"I don't do guns, remember?" Kayla asked.

"Right, well, I'll just grab it for the other girls," Poppy said. "There's a baseball bat in my room. You can use that."

She zipped up the shotgun and the other gun into a bag as well as some ammo to go with it. They stood up at the same time, reminding Poppy just how much taller she was than Kayla and how much Kayla liked that.

"This is sort of thrilling," Kayla admitted, licking her lips.

"We don't have time for that, Kay," Poppy smiled.

"Right."

They quickly snuck back into Poppy's room and stuffed the bat into the bag. Poppy opened her window as quietly as she could.

"Okay," Poppy whispered. "You're going to go down the trellis first, then I'll lower the guns down to you, okay?"

"Okay, see you on the other side," Kayla said as she straddled the window sill.

She grabbed Poppy's face and pulled her in for a deep kiss. Poppy sighed and leaned into it, kissing her harshly. They both broke the kiss, breathing heavily, their lips swollen. The giddiness never really goes away whenever Kayla kisses her. It always feels like the first time. Poppy smiled as she watched Kayla maneuver down the side of her house. Using her bedsheets, she lowered the bag down to Kayla. She climbed down the trellis herself and followed Kayla into her car, placing the bag in the backseat. When she sat back in her seat, Kayla was grinning at her.

"I guess I'm your partner in crime," Kayla said, grinning. "Get it? Because I'm also your romantic partner, and we're also committing a crime by hunting down a bunch of asshole jocks."

"I fucking love you. Never stop being a dork," Poppy laughed and kissed her. "Step on it, baby."

Kayla tied her hair up with a scrunchie, turned on the radio, and sped off toward the houses of the other cheerleaders. Most of the cheerleaders would be with her on this one, seeing as Poppy was the one to spread the story about Eddie's mother. She had been the one to go to him for drugs when the others were too chicken to do it. He had been nice and funny, a perfect gentleman. Looking into his eyes, Poppy could see how sweet he was. Unlike Jason, whose eyes screamed psychopath and she wouldn't be surprised if Jason had been the one to kill Chrissy. . . and couldn't stop at just one. Patrick was one of the nice ones, the one the girls got along with most as well as the new guy, Lucas Sinclair. Steve Harrington was much the same, but she hadn't talked to him in a while. They didn't hate all jocks but enough of them got underneath their skin. There were other cheerleaders who didn't see it their way. They absolutely loved Jason and hated Eddie. They couldn't see beyond their own attraction. And if Poppy had any interest in men, then she certainly would have gone for Eddie rather than Jason.

Hungry Like the Wolf was still playing in Poppy's head when they pulled up to the creepy looking house. It sent a shiver down her spine as she looked at it. Poppy quickly handed over the bat to Kayla and the other gun over to Taylor, who didn't bring a weapon. A gust of wind suddenly appeared, and Taylor's short brown hair hit her piercing hazel eyes. There was anger there. Taylor took the gun from her and thanked her as she loaded it. Everyone else had their own weapons: bats, crowbars, and someone even had a broom handle.

"Let's kick their ass - "

A scream interrupted Poppy, and they all ran in that direction. Andy was on top of what looked like an eleven year old girl, and he was getting ready to pummel her. Oh, fuck that.

"ANDY!" Poppy yelled and raised her shotgun.

"You've got three seconds to get the fuck off of her before I put a round in you," Taylor snarled as she raised the gun.

If anyone had more reason to do it, it would be Taylor, considering he once put his hands on her without her consent. Taylor didn't even bother counting when Andy raised his fist. She pulled the trigger, and the round went through Andy's shoulder. He fell to the ground with a yell. Taylor ran over to him and pressed the heal of her boot into his shoulder. He screamed.

"I'm sorry. Should I have asked first before stepping on you?" Taylor asked.

"YOU BITCH!" Andy screamed.

"Says the guy screaming like one!" Taylor exclaimed.

"You shot me!" He sobbed.

"Yeah. I did do that," Taylor grinned victoriously.

Poppy went over and helped pull the girl away.

"Are you okay?" She asked, and the girl nodded. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Erica Sinclair," she said.

"Are you Lucas's sister?" Poppy asked.

"Yeah, he's inside. I think I saw Jason go in there," Erica said, looking worried.

"We'll handle it. You stay here with Carol. We like to call her Mother Hen. You'll find out why," Poppy smirked. "I'm Poppy, by the way, and that's Kayla."

Poppy and Kayla left just as Carol Watson started to fuss over Erica. They went into the stairs and went all the way up to the attic where Jason was pointing a gun at Lucas. Some girl was sitting on the floor in a trance. Lucas was pleading with Jason.

"You're lying! Chrissy would never have gone to him if she was in trouble! She would have come to me!" Jason exclaimed.

"Well, that's not just fucking true," Poppy said causing Jason to whirl around and point the gun at her. "She came to me, Jason, and then I sent her right to Eddie. All I knew was that she was stressed. She was under pressure from something. It was either her mother or you. I thought that maybe Eddie could help her."

"You sent her to Eddie? You're the reason she's dead?" Jason glared.

"No, Jason. I don't know what happened, but Eddie's not a killer. He's a good man. Better than you are," Poppy said.

"Eddie is a killer, and I'm trying to protect this town from him!" Jason yelled.

"No! We're trying to protect this town!" Lucas yelled out.

Jason whirled around and pointed the gun back on Lucas. Poppy gripped her shotgun and took a step further. Kayla did the same, gripping her bat. Lucas was scared, and all it would take was Jason pulling the trigger once. Something in Lucas's face changed.

"You know, I wanted to be like you. . . popular, but all I see now is a full blown psychopath," Lucas said.

He bent down at the right time as Jason took the shot and dove into Jason's stomach. The gun was knocked out of Jason's hand, and pretty soon, they were both throwing punches. Poppy cursed. She couldn't shoot Jason now without risking shooting Lucas.

"The Walkman!" Lucas exclaimed.

Kayla was quick. She rolled and grabbed the Walkman before Jason could stomp on it.

"What are we supposed to do with this?" Kayla asked.

"Max! Put it on Max! Running up that Hill!" Lucas yelled.

It was difficult for Kayla when Max started lifting in the air. Holy shit! Poppy reacted quickly and put the headphones on her. They stared at Max and didn't notice that Jason grabbed the gun again until he was pointing it at Lucas. Poppy pointed her shotgun at him.

"Jason! Don't do this!" Poppy exclaimed.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Poppy!" Jason exclaimed. "Instead, you're siding with these. . . Satanists."

"There are no sides! There's only living and dying. Which one are you going to choose?" Poppy asked.

Jason paused for a moment, and it almost looked like he was lowering it. His face hardened, however, and he turned the gun on her. He had chosen.

"You're Tigers!" Jason said furiously.

"Oh, honey, no. We're fucking wolves," Poppy said as she thought about the rest of her 'pack' outside. "Who protect their own."

She pulled the trigger. Jason screamed as the gun fell to the ground. He clutched his bloody hand, crying. Max fell to the ground. Lucas rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Max said, and he helped her up. "Jesus, what the fuck happened?"

"Uh. Poppy Blake shot him," Lucas said, and Max looked at Poppy in surprise.

"Most of the cheerleaders hate Jason, Andy, and Connor, but we love Eddie," Kayla said. "There are a few who refuse to look past their looks. Gah!"

Poppy shared a look with Kayla and her eyes twinkled back at her.

"Well, it's a good thing that we don't like men, baby," Poppy said teasingly.

"Hey, if I were into men, it'd be Eddie or Chief Hopper," Kayla said, and Lucas looked at her when she mentioned Hopper. "Oh, I like tall people. Preferably tall women."

"Lesbian warrior cheerleaders?" Max asked in amusement.

"Yes! I want that on a shirt," Kayla said.

They left the room, and the house with Jason still bleeding out on the floor of the attic. When they walked out of the house, they found a few more jocks had arrived late to the party. Several of them had her cheerleaders on the ground, including Taylor and Carol. Erica was nowhere to be found. Poppy made sure it was clear before shooting her shotgun off to the side. The jocks stopped and dropped them. Every single one of them were bleeding but not too terribly.

"Hey! Your leader is upstairs bleeding to death. I suggest you get him some help and get the fuck out of here before I give you matching wounds!" Poppy exclaimed.

The jocks ran upstairs and came out carrying Jason. Poppy and the cheerleaders all glared at them with weapons drawn until they drove away.

"Are all of them cheerleaders?" Max asked.

"Yeah," Poppy replied.

"Holy shit," Max said. "Does Eddie know he has his own defense squad?"

"He will now," Kayla said.

"Where's Erica?" Poppy asked.

"Shoved her into my car when those assholes showed up," Carol replied.

Erica hopped out of the car, carrying a first aid kit.

"Found a first aid kit, and it looks like some of you are you going to need it," Erica said and looked at her brother. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Carol took the box from Erica and started patching everyone up. Just as Poppy was about to open her mouth to ask Lucas what the hell was all that about, an RV drove past honking loudly.

"Shit! Eddie's in that RV. We have to follow!" Lucas exclaimed.

"Alright, wolves!" Poppy whistled. "You heard him! Move out!"

They all climbed into their respective vehicles, with Lucas and Erica crawling into the back of Kayla's car. They followed the RV to the hospital where the door burst open. Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley came out carrying a bleeding Eddie in their arms. A crying boy with curly hair was following them.

"Oh, shit," Lucas muttered.

The group followed them into the hospital, where they delivered Eddie to the doctors. They immediately wheeled him away onto a gurney. Nancy, Robin, and Steve stared down the hallway in shock. Lucas approached the curly hair boy who was now crying.

"Dustin, what the hell happened?" Lucas asked.

"Lucas! Max!" Dustin exclaimed before pulling them both in a hug. "The bats. . .they got to Eddie! . . . Who are they?"

"Dustin, Steve, Nancy, Robin. . .meet Eddie Munson's defense squad," Max said.

"What?" Steve asked and then he squinted. "Poppy?"

"Hey, Steve. You look like shit," she said. "Now, who's going to tell me what the fuck is going on in this town?"

Two days later. . .

It was hell getting questioned by the police but in the end, what they said helped Eddie. There was too much evidence against Jason Carver to keep looking at Eddie, especially when Chrissy's diary resurfaced that revealed the bruises that Jason left behind when he dragged her around like a trophy. Chrissy wrote down how he and the other jocks had it in for Hellfire, how she tried to stop them. She even told Principal Higgins, but he didn't believe her, and when she saw the bennies in his desk, he blackmailed Chrissy. Jason Carver was arrested as were the boys who were involved in the manhunt. Principal Higgins was also arrested. It looked like they were going to need a new principal as well as a new basketball team.

"Maybe we can fill it with more nerds," Poppy nudged Lucas. "Change it from the Tigers. We can be the Hawkins Dragons or some shit."

"No, honey, we're the fucking wolves," Lucas said and Poppy laughed.

They were surrounding Eddie's hospital bed as they waited for them to wake up. They were only just now allowed back in. Of course, they allowed Wayne to spend time with Eddie, but now they were guarding his bedside along with the party. To Poppy's dismay, they hadn't been allowed their weapons. Even though all had been dealt with, Poppy still felt unsettled. She knew the court of public opinion would be the hardest to sway. She was worried that they would go after him.

"So. . .you did all of this for Eddie?" Steve asked.

"I know what you're thinking, but I'm not into dicks," Poppy said.

"Eddie's not a dick!" Steve said defensively, his cheeks turning red. "He's a great guy!"

Poppy and Kayla shared an amused look before giggling. Kayla nodded at Poppy, who nodded back.

"Steve, we're lesbians," Kayla said. "I'm her girlfriend."

"Oh, shit, sorry," Steve said, his whole face heating up.

Robin shoved her knuckle to her mouth, laughing. Meanwhile, Poppy gave Steve a knowing look.

"Me too," Robin said. "Lesbian."

"Nice," Kayla said. "Tall lesbians are the best."

"So are short ones," Poppy said.

"I'm not short, I'm just vertically challenged," Kayla said. "Gravity hates me because I'm so cute. It just keeps pulling me down."

"Idiot," Poppy said affectionately, kissing her.

"Your idiot," Kayla said.

"Well, I guess since we're all being honest," Steve said. "Bicycle. Goddamn it, I mean bisexual!"

"I don't know. Bicycle works, too. If you're into that, there's definitely riding involved," Poppy said with a smirk.

"Children present!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Hm, on the way here, you were saying that you didn't need a babysitter anymore. So which is it? Child or grown-up?" Steve asked, and Dustin closed his mouth. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Suddenly, Erica popped her head in.

"Jock out on bail incoming!" Erica shrieked.

The squad immediately jumped into action and formed a wall around Eddie's bed. Meanwhile, Steve and Robin stood in front of Lucas, Max, and Dustin at the door. Erica looked out the door while Robin kept a hand on her back.

"Coast is clear!" Erica exclaimed, closing the door.

"Am I dead or alive? What is this?" Eddie's called out, and everyone jumped. "Why are there cheerleaders surrounding my bed? Oh God, Jason sent you to finish me off."

"First of all, if we wanted you dead, you'd be dead before you woke up," Poppy said. "And second of all, Jason is rotting in jail for his crimes and Vecna's. No bail for that asshole."

"They're your defense squad, man. They heard that Jason and the others were going to come after us at the Creel House, so the cheerleaders came and kicked their ass for you. The cheerleaders like you, man," Lucas said.

"Seriously?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, Poppy shot Jason, and Taylor shot Andy," Lucas replied.

"You did this for free drugs, didn't you?" Eddie joked.

"Ass, I did it because I like you. Platonically," Poppy said. "You're a great guy. Bit of an asshole but a great guy."

"Why?" Eddie asked.

"The speech about your mom told me all I needed to know about you," Poppy said. "Plus, after your little meeting in the woods, Chrissy wouldn't shut up about you."

"She wouldn't?" He asked.

"Look, she's been unhappy for a while, and we've done everything we could do to help her, but when she came out of those woods, she was the happiest that I had ever seen her. You did that for her. You made her happy in her most darkest and cursed moment of her life," Poppy said, tears in her eyes. "She was our friend, and you did that for her."

Eddie was crying now, his bottom lip trembling as his eyelashes grew wet.

"She made me happy too," Eddie said. "I played for her down there, I wanted. . . I wanted her to hear me play, and a little part of me hoped that it would somehow bring her back. Stupid, huh?"

"Not at all," Poppy said.

She took his hand and ran her fingers through his hair as he cried. She would do whatever it took to protect this man and judging by the looks on the others' faces, they would too.

"Thank you," Eddie whispered.

For the first time in his life, instead of fighting against him, people were now fighting for him.

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