#i called him like Twice this past two weeks which is a LOT more than usual | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toruro · 1 year

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love you twice — j. wonwoo — part three

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

description: in which your extremely hot and sexy one night stand turns out to be your son’s teacher. naturally, chaos ensues, but you might just find love as your life continues to take an unexpected turn.

warnings/tags: sexual content (18+), oral (f receiving), phone sex, mentions of past toxic relationships, thigh riding, wall sex, use of pet names (mostly angel and good girl)

w/c: 8.3k

a/n: so sorry this took a while to get out! i’ve had lots of work and just finished up traveling soooo writing this got pushed back but! that gave me time to brainstorm since i honestly never expected this story to be more than two parts LOL! but i appreciate all the love and support <3 all your comments and messages have made me so happy, and i hope you like this!

“Hey Kei-Kei!” you call out, walking out to the playground to watch your son play with his friends. It’s Friday, and of course that means fun day. You sit down at a bench crossing your arms over your chest as Kei makes his way from the slide to run up to you.

“Hey Mommy, I can play today, right?” he asks with a hopeful smile. You reach down to ruffle his hair a little, nodding.

“Yeah of course. I’ll wait here, so come to me if you need anything, okay?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, before running back to play with his friends. You smile contently, leaning back into the bench when you see a familiar figure approach from the corner of your vision.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets cooly, sitting down next to you. It’s been a week since your fourth date, and you haven’t seen him since. Your fingers are aching to reach over and hold his hand, yet you hold your touch, glancing at Kei.

“Hi, how was your day?” you ask casually, turning to him to see him better.

“It’s great. Fridays are always great, aren’t they?”

“I guess you’re right about that. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t happy that it was Friday,” you murmur to yourself thoughtfully before turning your attention back to Wonwoo. He’s about to respond, but then you both hear a familiar voice calling for you.

“Hey Mommy,” Kei greets, running up to you from the side without noticing Wonwoo sitting next to you. “‘m getting tired now,” he says admittedly, and you pay on your lap to invite him.

“Is that so…” you murmur, “You gonna say ‘hi’ to Mr. Jeon?” You raise your brow and crook your head toward the man next to you, Kei turning slowly to realize who it is.

“Hi Mr. Jeon!” he exclaims happily, jumping onto your lap and waving brightly at his teacher. “What’cha doing here? Aren’t you on your weekend? My mom hates being at her work when she’s started her weekend, she always complains when her boss calls her on the evenings on Fridays.” Your cheeks burn as Wonwoo laughs, and you turn away.

“Is that so?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at you with a teasing glance. “Well, I can’t say I call this work, Kei. I enjoy talking to your m—“ he pauses to glance at you. There’s something thick in the air, as if there’s a line he doesn’t know if he should cross. “—I enjoy this,” he chooses to say.

Kei, in his young innocence, doesn’t pick up on Wonwoo’s hesitance. “Hmm, okay,” he says, placing a finger on his chin as if he’s thinking.

You look down at him, placing a hand on his head. “Do you want to go home now?” you ask him, eyes flickering at Wonwoo and sending a sympathetic gaze his way—you aren’t fond of cutting your time with him so early.

“Aren’t you talking to Mr. Jeon?” Kei asks, and your heart nearly melts at his consideration.

“Yeah, but if you want to go home we will,” you reassure. Kei frowns, and Wonwoo chimes in.

“If you’re tired you should go with your mom, Kei. Playing is nice, but you should always listen to your body,” Wonwoo explains, standing up.

Kei’s frown deepens, and you furrow your brows, peering down at him. It’s not often that Kei is pouty like this, so you aren’t sure what’s going on. He’s motioning his hand for you to come close, and you figure he wants to tell you a secret. Leaning in, Kei brings his face up to your ear.

“I wanna talk to Mr. Jeon,” he whispers, and you have to bite down on your lip to hold back your grin as you pull back, giving him a small nod.

“Why don’t we talk together Wonwoo?” you suggest to the man standing next to you, and you can tell his eyes light up at the idea as he sits down.

“Yeah of course. What do you wanna talk about, Kei?” he asks, leaning an elbow on his knees to lean forward in interest.

“Okay so in class today you were talking about pie but I was wondering why you…” Kei continues to talk on his own tangent as you find yourself being into your own thoughts. Your heart swells at the sight, and it’s a wonderful reminder of just why Wonwoo is a teacher and why he has such a good reputation.

After a few minutes of Kei going back and forth with Wonwoo with his curious questions, you take note of the chilling air around you, and so does Wonwoo. “Anyways Kei, it was so nice talking to you but it’s getting a bit cold. You shouldn’t be out here for too long,” he says, standing up.

Kei pouts once more, and while you did cave once, you aren’t keen on doing it again. “He’s right Kei-Kei, I don’t want you to get sick…” you murmur, voice trailing off as you watch the look of defeat on your son’s face. A thought crosses your mind as you catch the look on Wonwoo’s face.

“Hey Kei, we can go to that restaurant tonight,” you tell him, enjoying the way his face lights up. “And…” you mumble, looking up at Wonwoo who stands above you, “maybe Mr. Jeon would like to tag along?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen, and for a moment you’re scared that you’ve crossed the invisible line—it’s not as if you've made anything official, or talking about bringing things up with Kei, so this is all unknown territory. It’s silent, and you’re about to turn away and retract your idea before Wonwoo speaks.

“I’d like that,” he says, and you can tell he’s trying to hide your excitement. Your body courses with relief, and you look down at Kei for the final confirmation. As expected, there’s a grin adorning his face and you break out a smile of your own.

“Yay!” he squeals, hopping off from his seat on your lap. You purse your lips as you stand up and turn to Wonwoo slightly worriedly.

“Is this okay?” you ask quietly, as Kei runs across the playground to grab his backpack.

Wonwoo gives you a stern look, and you feel like you might go cozy from how intense his gaze is. “Are you okay with this?” he shoots back. “You’re his mom. Don’t do this if you don’t want,” he tells you more softly this time. “Don’t rush for me. I can wait. I will.” Your stomach tumbles at the words and implications—that Wonwoo is here, that he will be here, that he will be patient.

You let the words sink into your mind for a moment. You like Wonwoo—like really like him—and you want to tread carefully. You don’t want to make a stupid mistake by rushing into things, ruining the one good thing that’s come to you after Kei. Yet again, your gut feeling is nearly always right, and right now your gut is telling you that nothing but good can come out of this dinner between the three of you.

So that’s pretty much how you end up at your and Kei’s favorite diner, you and your son sitting side by side at the booth while Wonwoo sits across, his hands neatly folded as Kei continues to talk to him. You aren’t sure what’s possessed him—it’s really cute, honestly—but he’s never this talkative and you wonder just what it is about Wonwoo that has Kei so comfortably chatty.

“What do you like to get from here Kei?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward in your son’s direction. Kei bounces up in his seat, pointing down at the menu, you and the man in front of you sharing a fond look before turning back to him.

“I like the chicken sandwich and the macaroni and the vanilla cake is so yummy even my mommy likes it and she doesn’t like vanilla and then I also like the chicken nuggets and—” You place a hand on his shoulder, and Kei stops to look up at you.

“Slow down, Kei-Kei,” you tell him. “One at a time, okay?”

“Okay Mommy,” Kei replies absentmindedly before turning back to Wonwoo to continue, “so then there’s chicken nuggets and I also like the milkshake and my mommy’s favorite is the fries but I don’t like them that much and I also like…”

Kei’s voice trails off in your head, your mind being pulled into some other world as the scene in front of you sinks in. You feel warm, you feel comfortable, you feel happy.

You’re floating in an off land world, and suddenly all of your worries have disappeared. All you see is bright white and three shadows. It’s a silent promise to yourself, you realize, and as you focus back on the banter between your son and your boyfriend, you become even more determined to follow through with it.

The evening ends with Kei not once halting his immersive conversation with Wonwoo, and if anything, you’re surprised that the latter still has it in him to listen so carefully and attentively. As he walks you two to your car, you’re hit with the slight disappointment that you can’t quite give him the goodbye kiss you would want to, but you both settle on sharing a long and intense few seconds of eye contact that sends you the message you both need to hear.

Arriving home, you wash yourself and Kei up, and after tucking him into bed you’re met with a text from your one and only.

i had fun

You grin.

i did too

It’s the next week, and you are once again in a rush before another date with Wonwoo. This time at least, you prepared your outfit ahead of time, but you spent maybe a little too long trying to find where you kept your favorite set of earrings which set you back about twenty minutes.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to make you guys some food,” you grumble to Jun once you have everything in your home in place, looking at your cousin exhausted.

He chuckles, “It’s alright, don’t worry, I’ll get us takeout or something.”

“I’ll make it up by making your favorite next time,” you promise, leaning against the counter. You spent the last few moments rushing around the house trying to find Kei’s stuffed animal that he insisted on having with him every night, eventually finding it stuck behind the fridge (how it ended up there, you still don’t know).

“I like the sound of that. You got a date tonight?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“So,” Jun says with an eyebrow raised. His voice is unusually teasing, and you give him a wary look as you take a sip of water. “Wonwoo, huh?”

You choke on the water, coughing and sputtering liquid everywhere over your counter as you turn to look at Jun with wide eyes. “How the fuck do you—“ you gasp out, before wheezing once more.

“He’s friends with Minghao you know,” Jun explains with a smirk as he leans back onto the fridge. “Me and him have met up a few times for dinner with friends and Kei was just telling me how you had dinner with Kei and his teacher…and so I asked for his teacher’s name and when he did it rang a bell and well…I put two and two together.”

You hardly blink as Jun finishes up his tangent, the words processing in half speed. Jun chuckles at your state, patting your shoulder lightly. “Wonwoo’s a great guy. It’s kind of funny though. How you’re like dating Kei’s teacher.”

“Shut up!” you shriek, punching his shoulder. “Don’t bring that part up, it’s embarrassing.”

“Hey, you kind of brought this upon yourself. Definitely unexpected, but I guess it’s a funny story.”

“It’s not funny,” you murmur solemnly, burying your face in your hands. “It’s so stressful Jun.”

The humorous look on your cousin’s face is now replaced with one of concern as your voice lowers. “Okay, I’m sorry for making fun of you. I’m happy you’ve found someone you like, and that he’s like, actually someone decent,” he adds, alluding to your previous past failed relationships.

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Wonwoo is great…it’s just complicated. For Kei, you know? How am I supposed to bring things up with him, if things do end up going further.”

Jun looks up thoughtfully before responding. “I think…you should listen to your instincts. You haven’t really dated since Seojun—hey, don’t give me that look—“

“Do you have to bring him up,” you groan, throwing your head back. Jun shoots you an apologetic look but doesn’t relent.

“Look, I’m just saying that the fact that you’re even with Wonwoo right now is a good sign that you’re ready. You’ve never done anything without putting Kei first, and I know that you’re thinking about him every step of the way, so trust yourself. And Wonwoo is great—dude he’s literally a first grade teacher.”

“Yeah, I know, but he’s Kei’s teacher,” you emphasize. “Like imagine how confusing that is for him.”

“I guess, but like if you’re confident about your relationship or whatever with Wonwoo then I think you should trust that.”

“I dunno,” you sigh, walking out of the kitchen.

Jun follows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder so you can look at him properly. “Trust me, and trust yourself. It’ll be fine.”

Fuck, you think to yourself, because you sure hope so. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you find Kei in his room, giving him a quick hug and bidding him goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay Kei-Kei?”

Focused on his own little drawing, he waves back with a small smile before turning his attention back to his drawing, saying something along the lines of, “Bye-bye Mommy!” Retreating back to the doorway where Jun stands, you check your phone for the time before picking up your purse and heading toward the door.

“Have fun with Wonwoo. I’ll be sure to ask him how it goes,” Jun says with a smirk as you turn the knob, glaring at your cousin.

“Do it and I’ll tell Minghao how you used his toothbrush on your last trip because you forgot your own,” you threaten.

Jun laughs as you walk out into the apartment hallway before worriedly calling out, “Hey you wouldn’t actually do that. Right? Right? RIGHT?!”

Wonwoo’s car is parked out in front of your building, his windows down so he can watch you walking out. When you recognize him and his car, you smile brightly and Wonwoo thinks his heart damn nearly pops out of his chest as you bound toward him.

“About time,” he greets with a smile, unlocking the doors as you approach the passenger seat. You roll your eyes at him as you open the door and slip in. Instead of responding, you choose to lean over the midrest and press a firm kiss onto Wonwoo’s lips, pulling back just as quickly as you dove in.

“Is someone complaining?” you retort, reaching back to put on your seatbelt, grinning at the way the tips of his ears turn pink and he turns back to look at the road.

“Not at all,” he replies quickly, and you’re surprised that he doesn’t sound as flustered as he looks, making it a personal goal to embarrass him just a little more the next time you have the chance.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the radio playing in the background and small conversations about the view as he drives you to the spot he took you on your first date. Pulling up into the field, you grin at the familiar scene. The evening air is warm but the breeze is cool and refreshing on your skin, oranges and pinks painting the sky as you help Wonwoo take out the picnic blanket from the trunk and lay it out on a flat patch of grass.

“So,” you begin, sitting down across from him on the blanket as he pulls out some packed food. Handing you a plate, you grin, watching him settle down himself. “Jun?” you ask curiously, wondering the extent of his friendship with your cousin.

Wonwoo looks up at you with an odd look, one eyebrow raised. “Jun? What about him? You know him?” he asks all at once, causing you to giggle.

“You know him?” you counter, and he scoffs.

“Of course I know him. Him and his best friend are basically joined at the hip—he never shuts up about Jun,” Wonwoo groans as he stands up to walk back to the car to grab something.

“Minghao?” you call out, eyes trailing his figure.

“Who else, babe, who else?” Wonwoo mutters sarcastically, bringing out a bottle of champagne, much to your delight. You chuckle at his response, leaning back on your hands. “So, how do you know Jun?” he asks, sitting back down cross-legged in front of you.

“He’s my cousin,” you say casually, holding up one glass he’s brought down so he can pour you some. Wonwoo seems to falter in shock for a moment, eyes flickering at yours to confirm that you aren’t joking before pouring out the bubbling drink.

“Really? I didn’t expect that.”

“Are you surprised?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if that’s the right way to put it,” Wonwoo replies with a shrug, pouring his own glass and holding it up to yours so you can clink them together with a small ‘cheers.’ “I’m not that close with Jun. I guess you can say it’s a pleasant surprise, you know? We’re connected.” Your heart flutters at the words, scooting yourself closer to him. “How’d you know I know Jun?”

“Well,” you trail off, grabbing your fork and popping one of the fritters Wonwoo brought into your mouth, “Jun actually figured it out first. Apparently one day when he was babysitting Kei, Kei let it slip that we had dinner together and Jun asked for your name and…well he isn’t stupid so he got it.”

“Kei told him?” Wonwoo asks, and you can hear the twinge of worry in his voice. Reaching out a hand, you give him a comforting look.

“Yeah, I told him not to tell other kids at his school but obviously that doesn’t include Jun so he just mentioned it,” you explain.

“Oh thank god,” Wonwoo mutters. “Imagine the earful I’d get from the principal if word got around the parents that I was taking my student and his mother out for dinner.”

“I can imagine the earful you’d get from other moms to have their own dinners with you,” you murmur, huffing at the thought. Wonwoo gives you a funny look. “Okay don’t give me that look, you know they think you’re hot.”

“But I am hot,” Wonwoo replies smugly, and you glare at him as you pull your hand away from his to cross them over your chest.

“Whatever,” you grumble, turning your head away. Catching onto your sulky mood, Wonwoo reaches out on his own to grab your forearm to tug you towards him. You stumble over your knees a little, but within seconds his arms are steadying around your waist and pulling you next to him so you can rest your body against him.

“Okay sorry,” he tells you sincerely, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t control how they think, but I can control how I think, and I think that you’re the hottest person alive.”

Your cheeks burn, and you squeeze your eyes shut in his hold. “Shut up, don’t be corny.” Wonwoo laughs, holding up a sandwich to the front of your lips, encouraging you to open up. As you heed his silent requests, Wonwoo responds.

“You know you love it.”

Mouth full, you grumble something about telling him to shut up again, which has Wonwoo laughing more.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks after some time spent finishing your food and bickering, and you can tell from the way his voice is an octave deeper that this conversation is taking a different turn.

“Yeah, of course,” you say as you shift your head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

“And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he adds and you furrow your eyebrows, looking up at him. His expression is unreadable, but you have an idea of where this is going.

Thinking for a moment, you reply, “It’s about Kei’s father, isn’t it?”

Wonwoo frowns. “Am I that readable?” You smirk slightly at the way his cheeks tint pink, continuing, “Like I said, you don’t have to answer. I’m just curious.”

“No it’s okay, you deserve to know,” you quickly tell him, shyly adding the last part before turning back to look at the meadows in front of you. “Since you’re like, actually my boyfriend now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wonwoo,” you breath out with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay, sorry just tell me.”

“Kei’s father and I dated in high school and college, but it was mostly on and off. It was weird. He was kind of weird.”

“Weird?” Wonwoo asks, raising a brow.

“We just didn’t match. Would get into arguments and break up over stupid shit and get back together for god-knows-why,” you explain, reaching for one of Wonwoo’s hands to play with as you recount the story. He lets his hand relax as you run the pads of your fingers over his palm, tracing them over the lines absentmindedly as you recount.

It’s a story that you haven’t often had to tell—you haven’t had anyone to tell—and the words feel odd on your tongue. The story of you and Seojun—no, actually, it’s the story of you and Kei—is one that you’ve mauled over in your mind for the past five years, spending endless tears to the point where even if you wanted to cry right now, you wouldn’t be able to.

“What’s this guy’s name by the way?” Wonwoo asks, interrupting your thoughts.

“Why do you wanna know?” you ask teasingly. “Gonna kick his ass or something?”

“I might,” he responds playfully, suddenly holding your hand that’s playing with his, bringing it close to the warmth of his body.

“Seojun. I think me getting pregnant was his kind of reality check that he wasn’t meant to be, as ironic as that sounds. Probably realized that fatherhood wasn’t for him, and so I wasn’t either,” you chuckle to yourself, and for the first time in a while, you laughing at yourself isn’t bitter, it’s light-hearted.

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo tells you sincerely, and you can tell when you look up at him that his eyes are searching for the right words to say. “That must have been hard—to go through that alone.”

“I managed. I had Jun helping me anyways.” There’s a silence, and you feel there’s more Wonwoo wants to ask, yet he’s holding his tongue. You realize now that this might be an awkward topic for him to ask about, and you squeeze his hand tightly in reassurance. “Is there anything else you want to know? I told you, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Wonwoo sighs, looking down at you with an expression that is more solemn than anything. “I don’t want to probe.”

“You’re not. I’d want to know too,” you clarify. “I’m not upset about this or anything. I got over it a long, long time ago, so this isn’t really like an uncomfortable topic for me. Honestly, I was never even upset about Seojun in the first place, I was just upset that Kei wouldn’t have a dad.”

“What does Kei know, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nothing really. I guess he’s kind of aware that most people have two parents,” you murmur. “He doesn’t ask any questions though, I’m not sure why.”

“Kei’s smart,” Wonwoo tells you, letting go of your hand to run it through your hair soothingly. “Both academically and emotionally. Maybe he just knows when and where he should ask certain questions.”

“He’ll have to know sooner or later. I’m guessing later it is,” you say, rubbing your eyes a little from having them open for too long. “I guess this just makes my job easier. I have more time to think about it.” A thought crosses your mind, and you look up at Wonwoo with wide eyes. “Why do you want to know all this? I don’t mind, I’m just curious.”

Wonwoo chews on his lip, and you take a mental image (fuck, he looks hot, but now isn’t the time for that), before he responds, “Well you know I’m serious about you,” he begins to explain, and right off the bat do you feel something bubble up in your stomach—butterflies. “I just wanted to know the situation with Kei, so I have an idea of where that places me, you know?” You can tell he’s trying to be casual about it but the slight waver in his voice gives away his anxiousness.

“Mhm,” you agree. “It’s confusing, for me too. I think we should just go with the flow. If you really want to know more though,” you say, tossing him a playful glance, “Seojun isn’t going to come back any time soon. Or ever, for that matter, so you don’t have much to worry about.”

“Not much…so there’s still stuff to worry about?” Wonwoo chuckles nervously.

“Well you still gotta get through Kei—he’s the toughest judge, you know?”

“Is that so?” Wonwoo murmurs. “I guess I’ll have to start picking favorites in class now.”

“What a biased teacher!” you gasp dramatically, pulling back from his hold to turn and face him. “I’ll have to report you to the principal!” You crawl into the spot in front of him and place your hands on his chest, pushing him lighty.

Wonwoo grins, circling his hands around your wrists in front of him before replying, “Can you seriously blame me? I’m pretty sure every teacher would have favorites if their students had moms as hot as you.”

Your face burns and you drop your head to his shoulder so Wonwoo can wrap his arms around your torso and pull you onto his lap. “Ugh, you got me there,” you murmur, pulling back and placing your hands on his shoulders before swooping down for a kiss.

It hardly takes more than ten seconds before his tongue is sliding into your mouth, your hips pushing down to meet Wonwoo’s pelvis in an erratic mess. He’s pulling back just as quickly as he dove in, and the feeling of his lips leaving yours makes your head go dizzy.

“While I do love this, I don’t like the idea of doing anything in the car again,” he says casually, putting some space between you two. You frown, but nod along.

“So…” your voice trails off and you’re giving him that look and Wonwoo thinks he might just go insane.

He sighs, pursing his lips into a smile. “So…I guess this just means I’ll have to take you to my place. Again,” he adds, referencing the first night you two spent together after the club. You grin at his words, scrambling off of him and quickly trying to grab the picnic blanket to put back into his car.

“What a shame,” you reply sarcastically as Wonwoo hops up too, the tent in his boxers being ever so prominent. You force yourself to tear away your lustful gaze on the sight and turn back to the car.

Wonwoo gives you a warning look. “You don’t want to?”

“N-no! I never said that,” you mumble, shoving the blanket into the back seat before slipping into the passenger seat. Wonwoo trails slowly behind you, getting into the spot next to you as he starts the engine.

He scoffs, backing into the road. “That’s what I thought.”

As soon as the door shuts behind you when you enter his apartment, Wonwoo is trapping your frame between him and the wall. Your back being pressed up against the wood has the air of your lungs forced out of you and into his mouth as he leans down for a fervent kiss. Whining, you wind your arms around his neck, pressing his lips even harder into yours.

Your tongues meet in a sloppy mess but somehow your uncoordinated movements mesh perfectly in a hot mix of saliva and desperation. This is what you’ve been waiting for, you think.

It’s hard not being able to touch him, kiss him, hold him whenever you want. It’s hard not being able to mark him as yours whenever you please. You know Wonwoo is yours, yes, but it’s hard to hold yourself back when you see him from the corner of your vision when you pick Kei up from school.

Desperate nights in the middle of the week where you stand in the shower, hot water running down your even hotter body, and shove a hand between your thighs as you try to mimic how Wonwoo’s fingers curl into you in all the right ways.

It never feels the same, never, but the mental image of Wonwoo when you’re between his legs, cock stuffed in your mouth, is enough to bring you to the edge. Only barely, of course, and the aftermath of your orgasm always has you leaning against the cool tile in shame and desire.

You couldn’t control yourself one night, calling Wonwoo up at the dangerously horny hour of 11 p.m., not really expecting him to pick up. When he did, you nearly jumped in ecstasy before the breath caught in your throat when he asked if everything’s okay in that sweet tone of his and—fuck—you’re really fucking desperate.

When you bashfully admitted that you were needy, that you were ‘thinkin’ ‘bout him,’ Wonwoo had asked you, ‘thinkin’ about what baby?’ to which you meekly confessed that you were in dire need to feel him, feel the stretch, feel his cock.

He chuckled, and that was your plunge into reality—realization that you fucking called Wonwoo when you were supposed to be asleep, nearly begging him to get you off some way, some how, confessing to him that he’s the only way you can have an orgasm that’s actually worthwhile. Realizing how insane you might have sounded, you almost hung up, but then there was Wonwoo talking and his voice was an octave lower and there were sparks flying through your body.

Wonwoo, all low and hoarse, was murmuring filthy words through the phone, demanded that you stick your pretty fingers in, and rub your clit like the good girl you are until his voice alone was throwing you off the edge. You spasmed around your fingers while Wonwoo worked you through on the other end, whispering praise and sweet nothings until epiphany hit and you started apologizing profusely to him for being needy.

That night, Wonwoo assured you that it was okay. That it was okay you were so needy you needed to beg him for his help to make you cum. That it was okay you couldn’t be patient for him like a good girl. Tonight, you aren’t sure how much of honesty was laced in those words, at least, not with the words he’s spilling into your ear now.

Pinning your hands above your head in a tight hold, Wonwoo mutters, “You’ve been wanting this, huh?”

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you gasp when he latches his mouth to your neck, sucking and biting until there are are deep red and purple marks that are bruising your skin. Swiping his tongue over the tinted skin, you feel every part of your body throbbing, aching under his touch.

“Thinkin’ about me in the night,” he continues, letting go of your hands so you can let them fall to his head, gripping tightly onto his hair. Wonwoo brings his own arms to your waist, hiking them up your shirt and looping them through your belt loops to yank down your shorts. You shuffle your feet out of the loose clothing, managing nothing more than a moan when he wedges a thigh between your legs.

The hard muscle flexes through the denim of his jeans, Wonwoo’s hands on your waist helping you grind your throbbing core down on him. “Wonwoo,” you choke out, grabbing aimlessly at his shirt, tugging, pulling—anything to get it out of the way. It’s the first time you two have done anything since your first date, and it’s been even longer since you’ve seen him shirtless, thinking back to your first fateful night together. You briefly ponder on how things have changed in only a matter of a few months since then, and the rush of it all has you feeling dizzy and your knees growing weak as you lazily rock your hips against Wonwoo’s thigh, watching him peel his shirt off.

You suck in a break when you catch sight of the valleys and mountains of his chest—the curves that hug him so well and the abs that trail below, causing your eyes to be directed at the filthy v-line which disappears under the waistband of his jeans. “Like what you see?” Wonwoo grins, grabbing your chin and pushing you into a kiss as he slips one hand under your shirt. You choose to help him out when you pull away, quickly pulling the shirt over your head, letting it fall to the ground.

“Of course I like what I see,” you say without a hint of shame, your words coming out in pants as you feel a low pleasure grow as Wonwoo starts to bounce his thigh slightly. You whine when he lets his thigh fall, feet hitting the ground as you swivel your body in hopes to chase the feeling, causing him to chuckle at you.

“Patience angel, you’ll get what you want soon enough,” he eases, pulling away from your body slightly.

You pout. “And how do you know what I want?” you retort, immediately regretting your bratty choice of words as Wonwoo narrows his eyes at you. He doesn’t say anything as he sinks to his knees in front of you, watching you give him a confused look.

Tapping on one of your thighs, you lift it slightly only for Wonwoo to grab it and throw it over his shoulder, the realization that his face is dangerously close to your cunt finally sinking in. “Huh…” he breaths out, bringing his lips close to your soiled panties. “You don’t want this then?” he murmurs, not breaking eye contact with you throughout.

“N-n-no, I do,” you say hurriedly, shifting your position slightly so that you can balance yourself better against the wall. Your other leg has its heel pressed into Wonwoo’s back, and if it’s hurting him, he doesn’t say a thing. All either of you can really focus on right now is the smell of your arousal intoxicating Wonwoo’s system, and the intense gaze of his eyes on yours.

“Good girl,” he mumbles, and you press your eyes tight because you feel you might cum at the sight alone.

“Wonwoo, fuck—ple—”

Wonwoo shuts you up real tight when he licks a hot stripe over your panties, and you cry out his name from the unexpected pleasure. Fingers flying down, you grip on his hair tight, causing him to groan into your clothed cunt.

“Easy, angel,” he warns, but you can tell he doesn’t really care. Not when he only rewards your behavior by sliding the soaked fabric aside, revealing your slick folds to the cool air around you. “Holy shit, you’re dripping,” Wonwoo mutters, and your ears burn at the comment.

“D-don’t stare,” you mutter out, breaking your eyes away from Wonwoo under you, the scene causing your entire body to heat up.

“Can’t help it. So pretty,” he tells you, bringing one hand up to rub against the folds. “Can’t believe this is all it takes to make you a mess…” “Wonwoo—”

He continues, “Just lettin’ you fuck yourself on my thigh for a minute and you’re already so ready for me…”

“Shit—”

Wonwoo looks up at you with dreamy eyes. “You deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“God yes.”

Wonwoo smothers himself in your folds as soon as the words of confirmation leave your lips, and the rush is so strong you’re in awe at how you don’t fall. Tangling your fingers in his hair once more, you let yourself grind down onto his face as his tongue digs through your wetness, tasting—exploring.

He goes back and forth, taking a few moments to let his tongue run through your folds before moving his mouth up and wrapping his lips around your clit. He throws out some flicks of his tongue and then sucks hard, causing you to slam your hand over your mouth to prevent any one of his neighbors from hearing such ungodly sounds.

“Don’t do that,” Wonwoo growls, halting his work on you to glare up at you.

“Sorry,” you squeak out, letting your hand fall to your side as you chew on your lip at the sight of his lips and chin all glossy and wet from your wetness.“Angel,” he mumbles before diving back and bringing his own hand up to rub against your hole. He teases for a few moments before catching the way your voice wavers when you beg for more, deciding to plunge in two fingers at once. He’s knuckles deep from the get-go, giving you hardly a moment to adjust to the overwhelming amount of pleasure before he’s easing them in and out of your tight cunt.

Between the thrusts of his hand, he’s curling his fingers against your walls just as he did a few weeks ago in his car—it's been so long since then that if you weren’t so dizzy from pleasure, you’d be amazed at how he still remembers just what gets you to your orgasm embarrassingly fast.

“Wonwoo—fuck,” you moan when he sucks against your clit while finger fucking you mercilessly. “K-keep doing that—’m gonna cum—fuck, gonna cum!” you cry out in shock as you feel your belly tighten up when he’s hitting that one spot inside of you that has your knees buckling.

Wonwoo only hums against your clit but that’s enough—with the vibrations and his warm tongue and his fat fingers, you’re writhing against the wall as he rides you through the orgasm that you’ve been aching for for weeks.

Coming down from your much awaited high, Wonwoo slowly slips out his fingers out of you, and you finally notice the way your arousal not only coats his hand, but drips down into a filthing fucking mess all over his forearms. Slightly appalled with how dirty this all is, you lift your hands from his hair as he starts to stand up, bringing them to cover your face.

“What the fuck,” you murmur with a hoarse voice, only releasing your own cheeks when Wonwoo forcefully grabs your wrists and yanks them down.

“Stop,” he instructs, before cupping your cheeks himself and kissing you deeply so you can taste your wetness on his tongue. “That was hot,” he says casually as your eyes rake over his body, finally landing on the bulge that pressed against your stomach.

“Felt so good…” you praise, hands ghosting over the imprint of his cock over his jeans, drinking in the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Can I repay the favor?” Wonwoo watches you intently for a few moments and then shakes his head, causing a frown to make its way onto your face.

“Wanna fuck you,” he clarifies, and the crude choice of words has your cunt clenching and gushing once more. “So where do you want it…” Wonwoo asks before listing his offers, “bed, couch, counter…?”

Your vision trails over his apartment that you haven't ever really had the chance to look at properly at his place. You aren't really keen on doing any inspecting now though, especially now that an interesting thought comes to mind. “Can we…can we do it here?”

Wonwoo looks at you like he just fell in love at this moment, and in his head, he thinks he might have just done exactly that. “You're insane,” he grunts, unbuckling his belt and shoving his boxers and jeans down in one go. His cock springs free, and you can’t control the way you instantly grab out for him, fingers scooping out the leaked precum as it swipes over the tip. He curses lowly under his breath, grabbing one of your legs to hook it around his toned torso.

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you pull him down for a sweet kiss as he slides his fat cock through your folds as a way to lube himself up in your slick. “You’re insane,” you finally shoot back, lifting yourself on your tippy toes so it’s easier for Wonwoo to line himself up with your entrance.

He’s pausing with his tip barley inside you, reading your face. “You ready?” When you nod up at him with thick lashes, you certainly aren’t expecting him to pull you down onto him, and you’re even further shocked out how he pushes up into you simultaneously, his cock filling you up balls deep in one go.

“Wonwoo!” you cry out, head thrown back as it hits the wall. The pain on the crown of your head is dull, but the stretch you feel from your cunt overtakes anything else you might be able to feel in your body. Your thighs tremble as Wonwoo stills, his rough fingers rubbing gentle circles onto your waist and ass as peers down at you, allowing your pussy to relax around him.

He’s big. He’s big and his cock is fat and the tip is already kissing your cervix yet the pain is addicting and you want—you need more. “Wonwoo,” you repeat, looking up at him with big doe eyes that have his insides churning in fondness. “More…can you give me more…please?”

Wonwoo grips your waist tightly, and you can tell he’s holding back. “Angel—”

“You said you wanted to fuck me, Wonwoo, right?” you plead needily, weakly moving your hips towards his to chase the feeling on your own. He stops you, gripping your hips so tight there’ll probably be bruises the next morning.

“So needy,” he grunts, and you think he might just get irritated with you but then he’s pulling his hips back and before you know it, his cock is ramming back into you. Back arching off the wall, your jaw goes slack and you can’t even find the voice to say a thing.

Each time Wonwoo slams back into you after a painfully slow drag of his cock, he punctuates the slap of skin against skin with a deep, guttural groan and low mutters of your name and angel, whispering broken sentences about how good you feel and how you’re squeezin’ him so good.

Your body throttles against the wall with each snap of his hips, and if you were in your right mind, you honestly would have complained about the faint pain. The thing is though, that you aren’t in you’re right mind.

You aren’t thinking clearly, and it’s because Wonwoo has successfully fucked you dumb. So dumb you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t complain, can’t think anything but Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo.

“God, making a mess on my dick, huh angel?” Wonwoo coos as his thrusts become more sporadic. You’re clenching him so incredibly thigh, warm and gummy walls hugging him so incredibly tight that he thinks it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum yet.

The only noise echoing through his apartment is the squelching of juices that mixes where his cock meets your cunt, skin slapping against skin, and soft pants for hair, until finally you’re tightening your hold around him, moaning, “Wonwoo fuck—I can’t—fuck—feels too good.”

“God, fuck, I can tell, you’re so fucking tight—squeezing me like a vise,” Wonwoo moans into your ear. “Finest fucking pussy, I swear,” and the words are so filthy yet so sweet that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails digging into his back.

“Wonwoo,” you intend to cry out, but the syllables fall just short of a whisper when he pulls you down and rams his cock up into you so hard it’s punching the air out of your lungs. Bringing his hand down, Wonwoo roughly rubs at your clit as he stills himself inside of you while rocking yourself against him, twitching at all the stimulation that’s being thrown your way.

You cum, and you just know that this has been the best orgasm of your life. Pleasure hits you like a truck and you’re left almost crying, your entire body shaking against Wonwoo’s who bites down on his bottom lip so hard it nearly draws blood.

Feeling you cum around him, your wetness coating his thighs and pelvis, as you whine out his name in your moment of heightened pleasure, intimacy, vulnerability has Wonwoo’s vision going foggy and heart growing in his chest. The second he senses your orgasm has finally withered away, he’s pulling out and fervently jerking himself off as you stand limply, the only thing holding you up being the force of Wonwoo’s body pinning you to the wall.

But now, you’re both exhausted and your leg around him loosens so you fall to your knees. Your face landing right in front of his pretty tip, and you focus your hazy vision on the full length of his cock. With your position from before, you couldn’t really look at it without craning your neck at an unnatural angel but now…

Now you can see his dick up close and in all its glory while simultaneously watching Wonwoo fall apart in front of you. Bringing up a hand to help him out, you wrap it around the base of his cock and massage his balls with the other hand as you lift yourself on your knees and open your mouth wide, not once breaking eye contact.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wonwoo grunts one last time with a few sloppy flicks of his wrist and then his eyes are shut tight, eyebrows pinched together as hot white ropes paint your face. Some lands on your tongue, some on your cheek, some on your chin, and you lap up what you can as you watch Wonwoo ride out his own orgasm with a few last pumps of his cock.

When he finally opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of you running your tongue over your lower lip to scoop up his cum, and he feels he might get hard just again by watching you. Taking a deep breath, he steps back, holding out an arm for you. Reaching up, you’re taken aback by how frail you feel when he pulls you up and you stumble into his arms, an ache beginning to take its spot in your lower body.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo finally speaks when he hears you let out a small gasp of pain. He’s walking slowly, leading you in his arms to a room which you now recall as his bedroom. Wonwoo pushes you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall back, the tall man flopping on top of you.

“Mhm,” you finally respond, letting him roll over or lay beside you. “A little bit sore,” you add, and you hit his bicep when you hear him trying to muffle a laugh. “Is my pain funny to you,” you grumble.

Wonwoo shakes his head, turning to face you. “Of course not,” he tells you, but the smug smile on his face doesn’t match with his words. You narrow your eyes, and he continues, “Okay. Maybe it makes me a little happy.”

“My pain makes you happy?!”

“It just means my dick game is great!” You huff, turning away, and Wonwoo laughs, spooning you from behind before saying, “Okay I’m joking. Are you in a lot of pain?” He presses kisses into your shoulder, light and feathery as he awaits your response,

“Not a lot…” you murmur, scooting your body closer to his. “Feels kinda good…” you admit, and you damn near feel him smile into your skin at that comment.

“You sure? Anything you want me to do?” Wonwoo asks sincerely. Turning over to face him you purse your lips.

“Buy me cake before dropping me off?” you suggest, before thoughtfully adding, “and extra cuddles?”

Wonwoo grins, kissing you sweetly. “Cake and cuddles it is.”

Which is how you end up getting dropped off at your house two hours later with cupcakes in your hands for Jun and Kai. Helping Kai sit down at the table to serve him the dessert, you catch Jun giving you a funny look.

“Why’re you walking like that?”

Your face burns and you avert your gaze quickly and then Jun is laughing, picking up his phone and texting someone. “Who are you texting?” you demand, walking up to him in an attempt to grab his phone. He pulls it away quickly, dangling it above your head.

“No one,” he says in a sing-song voice.

“Liar.”

“It’s just Hao.”

“What’re you telling him?!” you nearly shriek before lowering your voice, looking back at Kei who is still happily eating his cupcake.

“I’m just telling him Wonwoo’s date went well! He was curious.”

“How’d he know?!”

“I told him, of course,” Jun deadpans. You roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Well did I lie?”

You glare at Jun before biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. Because as much as you’d like to strangle Jun right now, he in fact, did not lie, and the way you giddily text Wonwoo, ‘i had fun,’ tonight when you go to bed is testament to that fact.

a/n: im sorry i had to rush the ending idk i am not super happy but .... :/ the next update might take just around the same amount of time because i have a lot going on right now, but i hope you all enjoyed what ive written so far :c please like and comment and reblog, they literally make me so happy! anyways, i hope you enjoyed and please have a nice day <3

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hollandorks · 5 months

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised.

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug.

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements.

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up.

They wanted her to know that they could get to her.

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes.

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–”

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night.

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her.

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment.

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.”

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce.

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home.

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach.

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers.

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–”

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?”

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez.

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes.

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!”

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.”

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.”

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock.

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–”

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again.

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!”

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would.

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?”

Y/n barely noticed him leaving.

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything.

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.”

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?”

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–”

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say.

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.”

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.”

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out.

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.”

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook.

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.”

“How about I get your statement instead?”

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.”

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly.

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.”

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.”

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed.

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later.

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home.

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe.

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived.

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome.

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now.

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone.

Next Chapter

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arlathavellan · 1 month

Text

Phantom Pains | II

Fandom: ACOTAR

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Reader: she/her, (3/4-High Fae, 1/4-Tartera), Y/N used

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.8k

Something is... wrong. Time missing, memories missing, thoughts missing. Wondering where things both big and small disappeared to, like the dress you were working on or even the past seventeen hours of your day. Something is very wrong, and the thought seems to slip your mind as soon as it comes. || Azriel has been a part of your life for years now, and has been courting you since the fall of Hybern. Only, things don't seem to be as simple as you'd both assumed they'd be. It seems someone thought you were the weak link-- the easy ticket to infiltrating the inner circle through its spymaster. And maybe you are.

|| Previous Part | Next Part (wip) | Masterlist ||

While there hadn’t been a repeat incident, you never could remember what happened during that near hour you had been standing in the street. The next few weeks passed by like a fog, and Azriel was more dutiful than ever when walking you home, even when you assured him you were fine.

Though, of course, he had his responsibilities. Inevitably, he was going to be called in for a mission that would pull him away from you. Which was how you found yourself in this situation.

"Morrigan," you greet, dipping your head slightly.

She takes the basket from your arms just as easily as your Illyrian, a lighthearted laugh lighting up the street. "Please, it's just Mor. Especially since you're going to be seeing a lot more of me."

That piqued your interest. "Oh? Is Azriel alright?"

"He's alright, it's just work. Duty calls." Her expression gives away nothing to the contrary.

The walk is filled with small talk, mostly carried by Mor. You'd only met her twice before, but she carried herself as if the two of you had been friends for years. It was reassuring in a way, keeping your mind off the melancholy that followed you when Azriel was absent. Even your shadows seemed in a good mood, dancing at your feet and twirling around your legs as you walked.

The conversation drifted into stories about the three Illyrians, mildly embarrassing stories you were certain you'd never get from the shadowsinger himself.

"Of course, Cassian would deny everything if you were to ask," Mor jokes, "though Az might come clean if you bat your eyes at him."

You can't stop the giggle from bubbling in your throat, bringing your hand up instead to cover your mouth. "And the High Lord just… let that happen?" You ask, finding your voice.

She sends you a near-conspiratorial look. "Let? Rhys planned it."

This time she joins you in your laughter, and you can't help but wonder the last time you'd felt such a lightness in your chest. As your shop door comes into view, you clear your throat to calm yourself.

"Well, here I am," you say.

Mor adjusts the basket in her arms, motioning for you to lead the way. You weren't too sure what to expect from the woman, but she slipped in easily as you held the door open for her, making her way to the back to set the basket down on your work table.

"Would you like some tea before you leave?" You can see her perk up, sending you a smile over her shoulder.

"I'd like that very much."

-----

The High Lord's cousin is easy company. She seems accustomed to carrying a conversation, and handles any lapses of silence with a careful grace. The look in her eyes, however, occasionally pricks the hairs on the back of your neck.

She's looking for something.

It makes sense, of course. You hadn't had many interactions with Azriel's family, and this was a casual enough situation to try and understand who you are. Even then, there was a nagging at the back of your mind, a feeling of something lurking in the shadows, trying to hide from her gaze.

Whatever her goal, she gives you a warm smile when her cup runs empty.

"I'll let you get some rest," she says, standing smoothly from her spot on your couch.

You rise as well to walk her to the door. "Thank you, for walking me home and keeping me company."

Mor's eyes soften, and her warm hands rest gently on your upper arms. "I do hope you can talk Azriel into bringing you around for dinner. I know everyone would love to officially meet you."

Heat rises to your face, and your shadows react in a swirl at your waist. The cold skin of the back of your hand is all the more apparent as you press it against your cheek, and she smiles at the gesture.

"Please, don't be afraid to let me know if you need anything." She finally lets go with a reassuring squeeze, making her way to the door.

Something in the back of your mind stirs, like a desperate hand reaching out for her from the darkness. But you simply smile with a hand raised in goodbye as she turns around, and it drops as the door shuts.

You find yourself very, very tired.

-----

The next day follows your usual routine as always. Amaria joining you shifted your schedule slightly, but every day still felt the same as the next.

"You know," you joke one evening as the two of you work on mending, "pretty soon I might have enough money to take a vacation. I should have hired another pair of hands sooner."

Amaria laughs, her hands ever steady despite the slight shake of her shoulders. "You wouldn't take a vacation even if you could. You'd miss working too much."

The smile that splits across your face is almost painful as you laugh with her. "I'm serious, Amaria. I'm going to pack a bag and pick a court. Maybe I'll go to Adriata and spend some time by the sea."

"And pick up some new fabrics while you're at it?" She asks. You look up in time to see your friend and co-worker roll her eyes with a slight smile, and a warmth blooms in your chest as she reads you like a book.

"Summer doesn't trade with us like they used to," you defend yourself. "They have beautiful fabric that you can layer easily—"

"—without bunching or overheating," she recites.

After less than a month, it was as if Amaria had been there forever. Her light and airy laughter echoes in your mind, and you wonder how you managed to do this all on your own the past decades.

She carefully folds the shirt she was working on before stacking it in the basket. "Are we doing deliveries tonight?"

Narrowly avoiding pricking yourself as you push your needle through the breeches you're mending, you nod in response. "We'll be closing earlier than usual, I promised Az I would be careful while he's gone."

"Oh?" Amaria says. "Is he away?"

A smile tugs at your lips as you think about him, your shadows twisting around your legs. "For the next few days, yes. Unfortunately, I can't keep him all to myself."

"I don't mind going home on my own if you'd like to be back before dark," she offers.

You shake your head as you tie off your thread. "Nonsense. He's a little overprotective, but I still know the city better than you. The last thing I need is to send you off into the night on your own."

Amaria laughs as she grabs her coat from its hanger on the wall. "Oh, of course not. How will you ever afford your vacation in Summer without your star employee."

Eyes shining in mirth, you shoot her a playfully scathing look. "Exactly! So you'd better keep yourself out of trouble and make us good money."

The two of you laugh, and she picks up her basket as you prepare your own.

The walk around Velaris is calming, especially as you go from the more populated areas to the more residential ones. Conversation with Amaria is light as ever, and you find yourself quietly appreciating the atmosphere of Velaris for most of the walk. You'd lived in Velaris most of your life, and you hoped she would come to love it as much as you did.

Though, of course, you couldn't fault her for the occasional melancholy that fell over her face when she was deep enough in thought. The Night Court was a very long way from Spring, and you couldn't imagine a shift like that. You wondered just how long she had been away from wherever she considered home.

As the two of you come up on her apartment complex, the light of the setting sun breaks through the buildings you're walking past and lights up her pristine braid like strands of copper wire. Her hair is long, the tail of her braid swinging at her hips, and you find yourself captivated by the motion.

You wait under the tree in the courtyard as she bids you good night at her door, and take a deep, steadying breath before adjusting the baskets on your arm and making your way home. For hundreds of years you lived in Velaris on your own, but Azriel seemed to sweep you off your feet in no time. It was like a crucial part of your day was missing if you didn't get to speak with him, as if he'd always been there.

Instead, you find yourself walking home alone.

The setting sun keeps you company, its dwindling warmth settling on your shoulder like a comforting hand. Knowing it won't be gone for some time, you let yourself walk slowly.

When you come up on the shop, a familiar face is waiting for you. She perks up as she notices you, raising a hand in greeting.

"Morrigan," you greet, dipping your head slightly.

Something flickers across her face as she lowers her hand, but it's quickly replaced with a smile. "Are you just coming back from deliveries?"

You raise your baskets slightly with a nod. "I wanted to walk Amaria home, so we left earlier than usual. Would you like to come in for tea?"

Mor seems to relax at the offer, readily agreeing and following you into the shop. Setting your baskets down on the table, you head into the kitchen to make some tea for you both.

"Azriel is due to be back tomorrow," Mor says, making herself comfortable on the stool beside your island counter. "It's almost a shame, one more day and it would have been Cassian's turn to keep an eye on you—he was really looking forward to it."

"I never would have considered that the Inner Circle of our great Court had so much time on their hands," you say lightheartedly, filling your kettle with water. "As much as I appreciate it, I haven't had another episode like that night."

Her voice is soft when she responds next, like she can sense the approach of a sensitive subject as you set the kettle on the burner. "If anything, it gives Azriel some peace of mind and the rest of us the chance to get to know you."

You falter as you open your tea cupboard. Gaze scanning each box, you lift and read labels looking for the container of your favorite evening tea. "That's odd…" you mumble to yourself.

Mor made an inquisitive hum, but you shook your head and grabbed a box of a similar blend to brew instead. "You say Azriel’s returning tomorrow; I assume his mission went well? He’s alright?"

“It did, and he is,” she responds happily, as vague as you expected. “I don’t know much he tells you about what he does—”

“Not much,” you interrupt before she can say more that she should. “I suppose he prefers it that way, and I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Mor laughs lightly, before leaning over the counter to continue. “I hope you don’t take it personally. It’s for your own safety more than anything.”

A heavy fog weighs down on your mind as she continues to reassure you. You’d never doubted Azriel’s intentions in keeping his work secret from you, but for some reason hearing it now has a nagging feeling stirring in the back of your mind. He doesn’t trust you, the voice insists. You need to know. You need to know. The overwhelming sensation nearly drowns you, cut only by the whistling of the kettle. You take a few steadying breaths, blinking to clear your hazy sight as you prepare the tea.

“Are you alright?” Mor asks, concerned.

“Yes, of course. Just a bit tired.” A reassuring smile over your shoulder ends your response.

Though she doesn’t seem too convinced, she doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she redirects the conversation to something lighter. Court politics have never been your thing, but you can easily see how she was the third-in-command of your High Lord. Her presence is comforting, like a tether to the docks keeping you from being swept out into the waves.

As the night dwindles and you try to gather your thoughts, its as if you find one long-lost, shoved under a dusty shelf in your mind. “Oh, your dress!”

She startles at the outburst, but recovers smoothly. “My dress?”

"The dress you commissioned for Starfall! I should have it done by tomorrow night if you wouldn't mind staying for a fitting."

Her brows pinch as she examines your face, and you feel something dark stirring at the back of your mind. "My dress. For Starfall."

Your head tilts slightly as confusion settles in. "Yes, the one you asked for last month? It's felt like I haven't been making any progress on it, but it's nearly done now. Do you still want it?"

Anxiety builds in your chest, squeezing your heart tightly as you try and decipher the expression she's wearing. Suddenly, she's smiling again with her hands clasped in front of her. "Oh, of course! Do you think I could see it now?"

"Absolutely!" The shift in demeanor almost throws you off balance, but you manage to regain your professionalism and return a smile. You lead her back into your workshop, head spinning like you just got off a swing. The backs of your cold fingers press against your forehead as you try to ground yourself, counting the steps to the dress form.

"I wanted to get your input on how the bodice hangs," you start, lifting up the sheet covering the dress. "I know you mentioned you wanted a draping that was loose and flowy, but I was worried the fa—"

"—fabric might snag on my jewelry," she says, breathless.

You perk up as she finishes your concern. "Exactly!" As you turn to see her, however, the harrowed look on her face stops you in your tracks.

Her eyes trail the near-finished dress, and you feel a creeping dread as you clasp your hands together in front of your chest. "Do you… not like it?"

The silence that stretches between you has alarms sounding in your head, as if something horrible is about to happen. A voice in the back of your mind is screaming, cursing the dress, telling you to send her away, get her out now, it’s just a damn dress. Morrigan's gaze meets yours, and it feels as if you're made of stone. "Y/N, how long have you been working on this dress?"

"I… off and on since you ordered it. It isn't finished yet, I know it's—" her hands clasp onto your upper arms gently yet firmly, cutting off your rambling.

Her next question only serves to worsen the cacophony in your mind, your teeth gnashing as you sway on your feet. "How long ago did I order this dress?"

"About a month ago, I think?" Her hands tighten their grip, enough to keep you steady but not enough to hurt. Something about her expression is scaring you, something soft and scared that tells you something is very, very wrong.

“Y/N,” she says, quiet and gentle like talking to a spooked horse. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

This isn’t working. We’ll try something else, you useless girl.

The pain hits you at once. Jaw clenching, knees buckling, eyes rolling back into your head as you slam your palms into your temples. Just barely, you can hear the sounds of her shouting something incoherent over the tidal wave of screeching in your head. It’s all encompassing, as if you were submerged in it. Something cold and hard supports your body, and you can vaguely make out the grey stone floor pressed into your cheek.

Dark shapes rush towards you, wrapped in a suffocating power you’d never experienced before. You can feel that tell-tale twist in your gut that came from the rare occasion Azriel would winnow with you in tow, and realize Mor had taken you away from the shop. One of the figures stoops down, though you're unable to focus your erratic gaze enough to see their face. A hand covers your eyes, and everything goes quiet. Nothing but your ragged breathing and heart pounding in your head. Then, the feeling of something requesting entry to the forefront of your mind.

Don’t be afraid, Y/N.

Fear grips you regardless as the same manner of voice fills your head as before. But instead of whispering from some dark corner, this one spoke plainly, as though it had no reason to hide. Your chest tightens, and all you can think of is Azriel. He had been so worried that something more had happened to you, but you had brushed off his concerns like always. What had you done?

“Please,” you manage, barely more than an exhale.

I can get them out, if you let me in.

The weight of consciousness leaves you as you succumb to the encroaching darkness.

I will be quick. Rest, Y/N. Azriel will be here when you wake.

----------

Am I just going to pretend it hasn't been about half a year since I posted part one? Yes, because this is about my fifth rewrite of the overarching plot. Thank you for your patience <3

TAGLIST (comment or message to be added/removed)

@pellucid-constellations @horneybeach1 @hyemishii

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #arlathavellan: fanwork #arlathavellan: acotar #arlathavellan: phantom pains

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

throttle - jjk | four

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - smut, a lil dirty talk over text, titwank, lil spit, lil degradation, lots of praise <3, handjob, showers, vaginal sex, (1) reference to you up?, jungkook cums 3 times in this one, the oc.... does not. CURIOUS. jaykay is soooo smitten :( Busan is proposed!! oh how our throttle couple luv busan <3, the angst is about to go from a 2 to a 6, jk is the pied piper, jk and cc play the desperation olympics, and they both lose!! namjoon is the worst (calls the oc a sket (twice!))

word count - 10.8k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

"Look what the cat dragged in," you smile, all big and bashful as soon as you see him.

It's been a little while; too long, you think. Different schedules and busy personal lives have kept you apart - but none of the distance ever matters. It always melts away with one flash of his pearly smile, which he often tries (and fails) to contain around you.

"I wish," he groans, flopping onto your sofa. You're on the floor, typing away on your laptop, indifferent to the way he just lets himself into your apartment. It's been this way for a while now. "Haven't been near pussy in ages."

You gag, as if he's your brother or something. "Shut the fuck up, Yoongi."

He's dressed down in a pair of jeans and a shirt two sizes too big for him, but you can smell his laundry detergent from where you're sat. He's made an effort.

"You started it," he snorts, eyes not on you, but on your television. It's playing some muted drama that neither of you care for. He knows this, even when he asks you, "Whatcha watching?"

"Dunno," you hum, as predicted. "Just had it on for company."

Yoongi nods, understanding the desire.

He does it too; leaves the television running just so that he doesn't have to be alone with his thoughts.

Things are better these days. He's not as scared as he once was. It's been a couple of weeks, and after all, time heals. Eases. Pacifies.

Yoongi asks what you're doing, and pretends to be shocked when you tell him you're stalking.

"Who is it this time?"

"Just a guy."

"It's never 'just a guy'."

It's morbid, the curiosity that Yoongi forces himself to endure. It's like your nails have a grasp around his heart, and with every beat of it, they sink further into the muscle. The more attached he becomes, the deeper the pain runs.

You don't realise quite how profoundly his blood turns green. He's good at feigning indifference; good at pretending like it is just a crush.

And so he asks questions because he wants to hurt himself a little bit more. Wants his heart to ache. Wants to feel the discomfort he so closely associates with love. It's reached a point where he thinks love has to hurt, otherwise, it's not real.

"Since when has a guy ever been more than just a guy," you toy back. None of your past lovers have ever lasted too long. You doubt Jungkook will, either. Just the way the cookie crumbles.

"Since you fall in love at the drop of a hat," Yoongi smiles. His eyes are slightly clouded, the sombre vapour of burnt-out desire smoking in them.

"I've never been in love," you retort a little too quickly.

It's not a lie, but it makes way for the admittance of something else instead: you just love the attention that comes with men fawning after you.

And so you let Yoongi think that you have the capacity within you to love, because you fear that the love he has for you is conditional; transactional.

You just have to trust that the intentions behind acts of love are pure. You have to trust.

This issue with trust is that it's earned, not owed; and nobody has ever earned your trust. Never. Serpents lie beneath roses, and you'll be damned if you pick one either way, 'cause if it ain't a fang, it's a thorn that'll get you instead.

"Anyways," you hum, not wanting to dwell on the topic. All of your searches of Jungkook's name have garnered minimal results, nothing of which you can be sure relates to him. Now, you need a distraction and Yoongi is as good as any. Your knees click as you stretch out, and Yoongi winces at the sound, before you plonk yourself down on the sofa next to him. "What shall we order for dinner?"

There's a howl of wind sneaking between the cracks in your window panes; a stark reminder that winter is still here, and it's still as bitter as ever. Like the river you walk across on a near-daily basis, your heart will take a while to thaw.

But as with all seasons, winter will mollify; and perhaps so will the ice chains that wrap themselves around your warmest muscle. Maybe. The way Jungkook hugs around your chest when he takes you from behind already has the ice weeping in the dark of night. You think it's just some kind of placebo effect. Best not to get carried away with sensation.

Yoongi says something, but you're not listening. All you can hear is the soft splatter of water dripping from the ice; right down onto the chime that's oscillating in your stomach again. Fuck.

Across the street from your apartment complex sits a black SsangYong. It lurks in the shadows; silent, sinister, stalking.

A curt snap echoes through the car, as Namjoon breaks a Pepero stick in half, much to Jungkook's annoyance.

That's literally not how you eat them, he seethes internally. His nostrils are a little flared, and his eyes are hard as they stare out the window and across to the stairs that lead up to your entryway. It has a plain end for a reason.

Namjoon knows this, obviously. Doesn't care. Can sense the way it's getting under Jungkook's skin, so he does it again.

"No point in us being here," Jungkook eventually huffs, channelling his disdain into something - anything - that isn't how fucking annoying Namjoon is. It's been nearly an hour.

"Whoever owns that heap of shit has to come out, soon," Namjoon says of the Mini parked outside of your apartment block. He mutters under his breath for what must be the millionth time, "Fuckin' Ajumma's car."

"It's a John Cooper Works," Jungkook says a little flippantly. He's not impressed, not by any means, but he knows it isn't something to turn his nose up at. Might look like the kind of thing his mother would have loved, but it packs a punch. Limited edition, factory-grade. One of only two thousand. A mean little beast that'd give his Pony a run for its money, even with the mods.

"Okay? Tell Mr John Cooper that it's still an Ajumma's car," Namjoon shrugs. He doesn't give a shit about imports. They're all weak in comparison to the homegrown beauties he likes to drive. Jungkook could argue for days that he's wrong, but Namjoon simply wouldn't bother to listen - so what was the point? "Anyways," he continues, snapping another chocolate coated stick. It's about now that Jungkook wishes Peperos would have sharp ends so that he could stick them in his ears. "Either the fucker who drives it comes out now, or he says inside and carries on railing the sket until the sun comes up. Doesn't matter which. We've got a car to keep tabs on."

"You don't know he's fucking her-"

"We've both seen her," Namjoon scoffs, mouth half full, a little biscuit dust puffing out from his plump lips. "He's screwing the absolute fuck out of her."

"What does that even mean?" Jungkook's nose really is upturned, now. "You're just being vulgar for the sake-"

"Oh, give over. What was the first thing you said about her?"

"I-"

"Prissy bitch," Namjoon imitates. "Stick up her ass - pretty good ass though."

It almost makes Jungkook laugh, because while his former self isn't wrong (he thinks your ass is a gift from the Gods), he knows that it's your tits he could worship all day long.

If it were him in your apartment, he knows he'd be doing just that. Praising you; Worshipping, devoting, revering. He's never believed in God, not really. Never prays, never looks to the sky and mumbles words of desperation; but when he's beneath you, he finds himself beseeching. Imploring the man in the sky to let him feel the way that he feels when he's inside of you forever. Sometimes he wonders if you must be what heaven feels like. Knows he'd sacrafice himself for it. For you.

In theory, at least. Fears if he tells Namjoon this, he'll have to experience it in practise. He's not ready to, not yet. Just in case he's wrong, and he really does lose the closest thing to heaven that he's ever known.

"I just think we're going to an awful lot of effort for this," he deflects. "The more we know about this girl, the more variables we have to consider, and the less likely it is that we can actually get this shit done."

"We knew less last time," Namjoon says without skipping a beat. He knows this game better than most. Knows that it's imperative that they resolve the mess they made in the gas station as quickly as possible. "And look at where that got us - beating up some fuckin' dude who didn't have a clue what was going on."

"You didn't have to go so hard on him."

"I did. You know I did."

Silence resumes, and remains that way until Namjoon whacks Jungkook on his chest with the back of his hand a few hours later. His attention is diverted from his phone, which drops to his laps as his neck almost snaps to look in the direction of your apartment.

You're laughing as you walk down the stairs from your entryway. Jungkook thinks he can hear you.

He can't. He just remembers. Know the way it almost sounds like you're hiccuping when you start struggling to draw more air into your lungs, too happy to focus on keeping yourself alive.

Your body leans into the guy you're with, and there's an ease to the way you are together, one that has Jungkook feeling all uneasy. He adjusts in his seat - earns himself a hiss from Namjoon for being 'distracting' - and tries to focus on anything but the way you pull the guy in for a hug. It's not necessarily anything more than platonic, but it's not the hug of a stranger, either.

"It's him," Namjoon's voice is low, barely a vibration between his lips. "Guy from the gas station. Sket is shitting where she eats." He laughs. "Un-fucking-believable."

Jungkook says nothing. It's a little hard to speak with the weight of the world crashing down on your lungs, though.

Instead he simply nods, and reaches for his phone.

꾹: i gotta see you.

꾹: think i'm going crazy without you.

You don't reply until you're inside, clearing up the remains of the food you'd shared with Yoongi.

You: i'm not a therapist :/

꾹: please.

You: my place or yours?

꾹: mine.

When Namjoon asks who Jungkook is texting, he lies.

"Just Jin. Says if we have a visual on the driver, we're good to go."

"Good to go?" The question is asked an octave or so higher than Namjoon's usual deep drawl, surprised at such an instruction. "Thought we had to tail?"

Jungkook shrugs. "Change of plan. Says Kang ain't around to report to, so it doesn't matter what we do."

His lies will catch up with him eventually, but not today.

Today, Jungkook gets to pretend like everything is okay for just a little while longer. He's lucky that Jin trusts him enough to get the job done. He won't ask questions, will just know that whatever reason Jungkook had to lie will be worth it in the long run. He's a good worker, part of the team. He'd never intentionally sabotage them.

Or at least, he was a good worker. Was part of the team. Was never one to sabotage. Was one to play by the rules, and always win.

But Jungkook is playing games with trick dice, now. Rolling doubles every single time. He's gonna be the first to reach the exit line, but he's gonna reach it alone.

"Alright," Namjoon sighs, starting the engine up. The lights from his headlamps flare in front of the vehicle, flooding the desolate road. It's always quiet around these parts after it hits midnight.

A little off the beaten track, your place is on the backstreets; somewhere inconspicuous. Somewhere easily hidden. Concealed. The daughter of a politician disguised in breadline poverty.

Jungkook kind of hates that he knows where you live.

Not because he doesn't want to know, but because you haven't shown him. You've always gone back to his. He wouldn't suggest anything else, for fear of being caught without reason down around your side of town. There are only so many times he can lie about late-night boxing sessions without someone catching on.

"What a waste of an evening," Namjoon huffs a little more. He's a smart guy, smarter than Jungkook and probably every other fucker who congregates at Old Kang's place, but he's credulous to an absolute fault when it comes to the fuckers he runs the streets with. Would never betray a single one of them - not even Jungkook.

"It was past your bedtime, like, three hours ago. Consider yourself lucky that you got to stay out and play for this long," Jungkook ribs.

See, Namjoon's partner doesn't like him staying out so late. They worry. Blow up his phone, not to control, but out of concern. They've seen the dark side of the business that the boys are caught up in, and don't want that darkness to stain the colours of the man they love.

It's a mean jibe, and between close friends, it would have been funny -but the pair of them haven't laughed together in weeks.

Not since Jungkook fucked Namjoon's younger sister.

He hadn't meant for it to go as far as it had, but she was keen and he was horny. What's a boy to do?

They'd been in the same year group at school, so it's not like it was the most absurd pairing in the world. Never been friends, not really, but knew each other well enough that they always managed to strike up a conversation after a few drinks.

She was always hanging around the bars the boy went to, and Jungkook had been letting his hair down; one last night of freedom before he had to knuckle down and start the job Kang was assigning them.

He'll never admit it, but your assumptions about him on the first night you met were right. The KNJ on his phone was a FWB turned far too clingy: Kim Naejeon.

Needless to say, Namjoon hasn't exactly been Jungkook's biggest fan since he found out. Such is life.

Jungkook's phone buzzes in his lap, and he's relieved to see two little c's on the screen where the message ID is.

You: time?

꾹: just on my way home.

꾹: lemme send a taxi to yours.

Sat on your floor again, laptop open with your last search - jungkook, daegu, pony - on screen, you find yourself deafened by the chime in your stomach. It rings like the theme to a studio ghibli film, all pompous and ridiculous, and warm and lovely.

You sound like a banshee, squeaking with badly handled excitement. The shrill noise that escapes your lips as you throw your phone onto the sofa is borderline psychotic.

You never get like this over a boy.

You don't actually think you've ever squealed over a boy before, but one small act of chivalry - the bare minimum - has you doing somersaults.

It's funny, because it's not like he's the first guy to ever suggest sending a taxi your way. Unlike all of Yoongi's offers, though, you accept. You play it all cool and coy by simply sending him through your address, not like he needs it.

꾹: on its way.

꾹: i can't wait to see you.

You're not really sure how to deal with such a declaration. It's needy and pathetic and if it were any other boy, it would have you throwing up in your mouth - but it's not just any boy. It's him.

You: someone's a little desperate.

You don't have it in you to play nice, even if your grin is wider than the river behind your apartment block. Jungkook doesn't expect any less. In fact, he smiles when the message comes through - and quickly stiffens his cheeks again, not wanting Namjoon to make a comment.

꾹: desperate?

꾹: i'm not sure this is a game you want to play, CC.

Oh, how wrong he is.

You: i love games.

The double-entendre isn't lost on him, but any ability to not let you affect him is. Blood pumps around his body faster. Harder. It rushes, almost, with a single destination in mind. Makes him adjust ever so slightly in his seat, his spare hand coming to rest between his legs. He used to think he had self-control, but you're constantly surprising him.

He's learnt more about himself since he met you than he has in years. Realised that he isn't maybe who he thinks he is. Doesn't dwell on it, though, 'cause he enjoys the way it feels when the crotch of his trousers gets tighter.

꾹: i only like them when i win.

You: i only ever win.

꾹:we'll see about that tonight.

You: oh?

꾹: see who really is the desperate one.

You: its you :) x

The taxi arrives far faster than you expect, but Jungkook is pleased when he checks the app and sees the car en-route to his. He takes a note of the number plate and the registered driver. Doesn't trust the drivers around here. They're too fast without enough skill, he always thinks. Has lost count of the number of busses he's seen rear-end asshole taxi drivers. Luckily the roads are dead at this time of night, but he'll be damned if anything happens to you.

꾹: sure about that?

꾹: i know a few ways to get you a little desperate.

You: you don't know shit.

꾹: i know you get a little desperate when my hand is round your throat.

You: bullshit.

꾹: i know you get incredibly desperate when my fingers are in your mouth.

You: your fingers have never been in my mouth.

It's a lie. Of course it is. It's kinda become rare for the two of you to fuck without them being in your mouth at some point or another, whether it's to clean them off or just to give him a visual of just how devoted you look when he does it. He loves it and so do you.

꾹: no?

Jungkook almost ignores Namjoon as he asks, "what are you smiling at?", only to tell him that it's none of his business, lowering the brightness of his screen and clicking through into his camera roll.

He's a visual guy. Likes the things he can see. Tangible stuff. The photo that comes through to your phone has you flustered.

It's just the lower half of your face, and Jungkook's distinctive, tattooed hands in your mouth. There's a sheen to your lips. His fingers, too.

It's alarming how quickly you've become so comfortable with him. You barely know the guy. Shame that the alarm bells are always muted by the chime in your stomach.

You: must be some other girl ;)

꾹: told you already, CC.

꾹: i'm not interested in any other girls.

꾹: i only wanna see you.

When a picture of your legs, crossed and poised prettily in the back of the taxi, comes through to his phone, he's pleased. You're wearing tights. It's one of his favourite things a girl can wear - though he's not really sure why. He just loves how soft they are, how smooth they feel against his skin. Has him thinking about running his hands up and down them, and the way he knows you'll be looking all smug when he does so.

You: i'll see u soon x

You: desperate ;)

Jungkook thinks about locking his phone. Thinks about leaving you hanging. Thinks about the fact it will probably put you on edge a little if he doesn't reply - but he's weak. Knows that not replying will just put him on edge instead.

꾹: will it make you feel better if i admit it?

You: yes.

꾹: fine.

꾹: been thinking about you since the moment you left my apartment last.

꾹: impossible not to when my fucking pillows smell like you.

꾹: think about you when i smell gasoline at kangs.

꾹: think about you when i stop at red lights.

꾹: also think about how fucking wet you were the last time we stopped at one.

꾹: i'm at a red light right now.

꾹: god, i gotta fuck you.

You: told you you were desperate :)

꾹: i am.

You: how do you want me tonight?

꾹: naked.

You: that goes without saying, no?

꾹: naked and begging.

You: i don't beg.

You: not for any man.

꾹: c'mon, CC. a little reciprocation goes a long way.

꾹: you got me on my metaphorical knees.

꾹: be nice of you to get on yours.

You roll your eyes as the taxi rolls to a stop downtown, just by Jungkooks place. It parks on the wrong side of the street, but you pay it no notice. Chalk it up to a GPS error on the app.

You: i'm pulling up to yours now. you home yet?

꾹: not yet. be about 5. let yourself in. code is 0901.

There's a casual intimacy to the way in which Jungkook trusts you with his door code. It's an act of convenience, not anything to read too much into, but you're a creature of habit. Assumptions are your bread and butter. If there are conclusions to be jumped to, you're getting your pole vault out. Setting a new PB. Going for the world record.

So no, it doesn't have to mean anything. You know it probably doesn't - but you indulge in the 'what if' just for the hell of it.

His apartment is cold, the ondol off, one of the windows cracked open ever so slightly to let the air out. Winters are dry round these parts, and Jungkook has an odd paranoia around developing black mould in his apartment. It's not unwarranted - he's pretty sure his last place made him sick because of it. Knows for certain that it made his mother weaker before she passed. Refuses to let history ever repeat itself.

You're unaware of this, though, and slide the window shut. It's the height of winter, and he knows damn well if he's gonna get lucky tonight that it's gotta be a little bit warmer in his apartment.

You take a moment to refamiliarise yourself with his place. There's not much. A little furniture, some prints you recognise from the market downtown up on his wall. There are no personal artifacts, though. No more clues as to who Jungkook really is. You'll have him naked tonight, granted, but you won't have him naked. He won't be vulnerable; laid bare.

But you're not exactly gonna complain when you have him bare in the other sense.

In fact, you think you much prefer it this way. It'll be easier to let him go when the time inevitably comes.

You toss your coat on his desk chair and your shoes are kicked beneath it, not caring much for neatness. The rest of your clothes follow suit, and then you're waiting, all desperate and pliant, just like he asked for.

Though you're not one to beg, you're aware of how nicely he had requested - and how hot and bothered he had gotten you en-route to his place.

There's a thrum in your chest, and it beats to the same harmonious melody that the chime in your stomach produces.

Back straight, feathers smoothed, you're a songbird waiting for someone to hear your call. It only takes a few moments, the beep of Jungkook's keypad echoing through the door as he punches in the code adding a new layer to your song.

"Hey," he calls through, his voice muffled slightly through the sliding partition doors. The glass is frosted, but you can make out his silhouette as he kicks his shoes off by the door. "Just been on a job. Emergency at an office building downtown. Some bad wires. Tripped."

The lies roll off his tongue like butter in a hot pan. They sizzle. Spit. Burn you and scar you with the portrayal of a man who isn't who he pretends to be.

Thing is, Jungkook is exactly who he pretends to be.

He really does get too hot in the night, and genuinely does find videos of kids falling over far funnier than he knows he should. His hair sticks up on end when he wakes up, and he loves his car more than life itself. The way he winces after taking shots, and his dimples, which form in moments of contemplation beneath his cheeks, are entirely natural to him.

None of it - none of him - is a lie. At his core, Jungkook is the idea in your head; the yellow of midafternoon sun before it sets.

He's the amber light that flashes before fading into red.

That's his issue, though. Inevitably, he will always, unavoidably, turn red.

Jungkook likes to tell himself he's not a bad person. He just does bad things, occasionally. But don't we all?

Yeah, the voice in his head would rationalise. But bad things are sneakily not paying for plastic carrier bags at supermarket self-checkouts, or failing to tell a friend they have food stuck in their teeth. Not petty violent crimes and conspiracy to-

"Took your time," you flirt.

It takes him longer than he'd like to get from his kitchen and to where you are, his laces proving to be a bit of a bitch when he's in a hurry. He's dressed down, a pair of light wash jeans clinging to his thighs for dear life, a baggy grey sweater hiding that itty bitty waist of his.

You find yourself smiling, his presence bringing more than just the promise of satisfied desire.

It's dangerous how you can't hear anything other than the chime in your stomach whenever you see him. Might deafen you one day. Or maybe you'll hear it so often that it will just fade into white noise. Not a favourable outcome, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"Holy fuckin' shit."

You tilt your head and feign confusion, as if you don't know why he's salivating like a dog being offered a bone. You're on your knees, as requested, palms flat on the tops of your thighs; not naked, but you may as well be. A lace red set leaves little to the imagination, one of his flannel shirts draped over your shoulders to keep you warm - but also 'cause he seems like the kind of guy to eat that shit up.

So while you're right where he wanted you, as he struggles to form a coherent sentence, he's exactly where you wanted him.

Finally, he finds a few words.

"Desperation looks good on you, CC."

Arrogant son of a bitch, you think, but there's a grin on your lips that you just can't hide.

"Mmm," you flirt, not caring to drag things out. You want him so badly that hard to get seems like a dumb idea. "Maybe - but I think you'll find I look better on your dick."

His shoulders pull up towards his ears, head dropping as a small laugh vibrates in his throat at the boldness of such a statement.

"You're not wrong - but I like this," he says, closing the space between you. His voice is soft, as one of his hands cups your cheek and angles your jaw upwards so that you're looking directly at him. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and - almost like you've been conditioned - your lips part for it to rest on your tongue. "I like this a lot."

Your lips close around it, tongue massaging his thumb as you slowly suck on it.

It's gentle, and warm, and - fuck - he's spent so long thinking about the way your mouth feels but it never compares to actually experiencing it. Your lips vibrate as you hum, satisfied with the effect you seem to be having on him.

His lips are parted, eyes void of all thoughts, as if you've bewitched him. Maybe you have. He wouldn't put it past you. There's something dark behind your eyes, something he doesn't quite understand. Something he knows better than to let himself study for too long.

Jungkook's room is dark, the glow of his fairy lights dousing him in soft reservoirs of gold. The light from his kitchen pours in behind him, his back to the clouded screen door, a halo circling around his darling blonde waves. Your eyes must be betraying you, you think, 'cause there's no way a man this heavenly exists. It's impossible.

"Bet you're wet, aren't you?" he toys, voice low, a teasing grin on those pretty pink lips of his. He may look like an angel, but there's a pair of horns hidden beneath his curls.

There's no hesitation as you nod, vocalisations cut short thanks to his thumb remaining snug between your lips. Why lie? He wants you desperate, so he's getting exactly that. You think he deserves it. Think he always makes you feel good, so why not indulge him in this little fantasy? You can play desperate, if he really wants.

"Show me," he says so quietly it's almost a whisper; almost as if he doesn't believe he's asking you to do such a thing for him. It's not like it would be the most outlandish exchange the pair of you have had together, but the vulnerability is never easy.

Never easy to ask for, never easy to give. Especially not when Jungkook is harbouring secrets that he knows would shatter the fortress walls he's built up around the pair of you.

You're unaware of this as your hand creeps between your thighs, to where a mess is pooling in your panties.

It annoys you just how eager you are for him. You wish you weren't; wish he had to work for it. The tips of your fingers push against your entrance, but it's all just for show - you've been wet since the moment he first messaged you that evening.

You let your eyes fall to his crotch. It's strained, the pale denim doing an awful job at hiding how hard he is. He's been plump the entire journey home, but now that he's here - now that you're looking like that - he's solid.

He watches you, the way you move, the slight heave of your chest, and knows that you're down just as bad as he is. You wouldn't be on your knees if you weren't. In fact, you wouldn't be here, full stop.

You reach for his belt and set about getting to work immediately. His jeans are pushed to midway down his thighs, boxers following suit. The way his cock springs out of them, all fat and proud, has you salivating.

And so it's only fair that you take it in your mouth as soon as you can.

He reaches behind you and tweaks at the clasp of your bra. It loosens almost instantly, and you hum in approval of how easily he managed to do that. You let the straps slide down your arms, his cock still in your mouth as you toss it to the side.

"Between them," he instructs.

It's tempting to just do as he says. Irresistible, almost. You want him between your tits just as much as he wants to be there, but you want him more vocal. Want him begging. It's his own fault for getting you into such a submissive position. It's a flaw, the way you need to level the playing field, but one that he never fails to deliver on.

"C'mon, CC," he whispers, voice dulcet, trapped in his throat as he suppresses a moan. "Put my cock between your tits."

Your hands fall from the backs of his thighs to play with your breasts, your nipples hard and eager for him. Vibrating around his mouth as you moan, you're pleased with the grip he has on your hair. It tightens, and when he speaks, you're convinced his voice could make you cum alone, "I'm not gonna ask you again."

His cock takes a few more strokes of your hot mouth before you withdraw, stiff and flushed in front of you. He encourages you up so that you're sat on your knees, ass up instead of resting on your ankles as it had been. There's a string of your slick running from your heels to your pussy, the mess desperately seeping from you. Jungkook can't see it, isn't aware of it, so before you do anything, you dip two of your fingers between your folds to gather it up. He watches with laboured breaths.

You don't drop contact with his eyes, not even when they're trained on your fingers. He watches as you hold them up, glittering from the reflection of his fairy lights, before your tongue licks them clean. His cock jerks, the visual stimulation building his need to come undone by tenfold.

There's a little bit of your slickness still on your fingers when you pump his cock, once, twice, three times.

"Sorry, baby," you toy with the term of endearment, the groan he exhales when you say it confirming that you need to call him sweet nothings more often. "Where did you want your cock, again?"

He's been avoiding touching your chest, not wanting to take control of the situation, but your shoulders roll back just a little, your soft mounds his for the taking. His grip drops from your hair, the tips of his fingers ghosting your chest. He runs them delicately across your stiff nipples, his touch so minimal that you feel yourself leak, pussy throbbing, desperate for more.

Resting perfectly between his index finger and thumb, your nipples are pulled ever so slightly, before he finally indulges himself and cups your tits like he so desperately wants to. He holds them together and wobbles them, obsessed with how soft they are. He edges closer, the tip of his cock nudging against your cleavage. There's a small trail of precum leaking from his tip, the sheen now coating your skin. "Right there."

Spit gathers and pools in your mouth, lips pouting as you let it drip onto your tits. Jungkook groans, his hips pushing his cock further onto your chest. You hold your tits apart, his leaking crown kissing your sternum before you angle him upwards. The soft, pillowy cushions press around his thick shaft, keeping him firmly in place.

"That's it, baby," he mewls as you spit again, this time onto the head of his cock. You drop your gaze and lower your head, tongue flat as it licks the tip, spreading your spit. His hips are jerking against you, his foreskin nestled in place, cock tugging against itself.

"Look at me," he says quietly, as dulcet as the atmosphere in his room. Your eyes meet his, as your hands firmly jiggle your cleavage. His mouth hangs ajar, brows knotted in such a way you think he looks like his mind is all tangled up. You're not wrong - he can't think straight like this. All he can think about is how much he wants to fuck you in every single capacity he can. "That's it."

You grin, but try to hide it. "You like my tits, huh?"

Jungkook wants to roll his eyes, and almost does - but then you spit again, the pace of your jiggling hands quickening, and he finds himself doubling over.

"Fuck," he whines, completely undignified. Any strong, stable demeanour he has feigned is lost as his cock gets slippery, covered in your spit, being massaged by your tits. "Spit."

The momentum is retained, but it's getting sloppier. There's limited friction, your spit acting as the perfect lube for him to fuck your tits. He doesn't really know what to do with himself, how to withhold himself from spilling onto your chest, but he's all hot and bothered. He isn't gonna last long.

"Bed," he husks, pulling away from you, not even registering the fact he's helping you up. He just kind of does it, his mind entirely on where he wants to be. "On your back."

You do as you're told, your bare back hitting his freshly laundered duvet as your head nestles into his mountain of pillows. His legs straddle either side of your chest, movements frantic as he traps his cock between your tits once more. He's in control, the pace entirely set by him, his large hands gripping the flesh of your chest like he normally does your waist.

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuckin' love your tits."

Your hands grip his ass, encouraging his movements, before one of them roams to toy with your clit. The change in your moans is noticed by Jungkook, who glances back to check you're doing what he thinks you are. Suspicions confirmed, he laughs. "Dirty bitch," he keens. "Love being owned by my cock, don't you?"

You pause, and Jungkook notices a look in your eyes. It's one he knows well; one he enjoys. Nonetheless, one that panics him when he's in such a compromising position, because it looks like you've just been challenged.

With a pathetic, pouty mewl, you push your fingers into yourself. It's quick, your fingers pumping frantically to build enough slickness on them to wipe the smirk off Jungkooks face.

The hand that's still on his ass squeezes, your nails indenting him ever so slightly. He hisses, a lopsided grin on his lips as he continues to fuck your chest - until the feeling of your soaked fingers stroking his taint has him stuttering.

You apply a little pressure, the pump of his cock slow between your tits. His breaths are laboured. It almost sounds like he gasping for air, unable to concentrate on anything but the sensation of you.

Brows furrowed, eyes wide, you pout. "Thought I was being owned by your cock, baby?" You tease him, and are met with him cursing you out, a saccharine smile on his lips.

"Fucking hate you," he laughs, abs shuddering as your fingers trails further up. They're stroking, caressing, toying - and they don't stop. Not until they reach the tight muscle of his that you're just dying to penetrate. He's silent now. Doesn't want to tell you that he wants it, but fuck it, he does. He pulls back, eyes on yours. There's a hint of a nod, but you're not gonna do anything too daring unless he explicitly asks for it.

Your soaked finger presses against him, cautious not to take it too far. You're still learning each other; what you both like, and you aren't sure where his limits lie.

"Yes? No?" you question, eyes earnest. His ass has never been explicitly discussed between the pair of you, but he also never ruled it out, either.

He's quiet, but smiles when he shakes his head. "Not yet, C. Another time, though."

"I'll hold you to that," you tease, curious about his desires. You wanna know all the ways you can get him off, and you think you'll be willing to do almost anything. In fact, you know you will. All he has to do is say the word, and your tongue will be wherever he wants it.

His eyes roll back, and so do his hips. "And I'll hold you to the offer."

It's a rarity, he's found, for girls to be so bold. He's always had to be the one to initiate his own pleasure, or to just finish quicker than he'd like because his partner was already done. He likes this about you. Likes that you like to fuck. Likes that you apparently, for whatever reason, seem to especially like fucking him.

It's thoughts like these - something about luck, fate - that plague his mind as he pushes his cock between your tits again. It's fast, and it's sloppy, and it's wet, and soon enough, he isn't thinking at all. All he can do is feel - your warmth, your softness - and then all he can feel is how fucking good it is to be with you.

When he comes, he comes hard. It hits your throat, coating you in everything he is. A moan catches in his throat, eyes closed, hands pushing your tits so tight together that it fucking hurts - but he's shaking, and you know that his orgasm has him unable to realise just how strong his grip is.

It's not till he looks down at you, all breathless and blushed that he realises. There's a sheen on your chest, and he knows better than to dirty you all over again - but he's a creature of habit. His grip loosens, chest heaving as his hands begin to stroke at your tits. They fill his palms, overspill blooming between his spread fingers as he gently remedies them of his strength. It's unintentional, though not minded, how he spreads his cum as he does so.

You try and keep a straight face, but it's impossible, and then you're both laughing. It echoes around his room like the missing instrument to the song in your stomach. You aren't really sure why you're laughing. Nor is he. You're just happy. The pair of you remain this way for a moment or so, casually enamoured with how easy things are; how easy they could be.

"C'mon, CC," he speaks fondly, but spanks your titty for the fun of it regardless. "Let's get you cleaned up."

There's a tender nature to the way Jungkook moves your body. So docile, he's a world away from the version of himself that you'd just had in his bed.

This Jungkook - the one gently pulling your hair back so it doesn't get too wet while you wait for the shower to fully heat up - is so well mannered that you couldn't imagine him cursing, let alone calling you a bitch during sex.

Something about it, about him, has you feeling far more infatuated than you should be at this stage.

You're not ready for all this. Not prepared for the way you're feeling. It scares you. Gets you wanting to grab the towel and make a swift exit - but then he kisses your neck, hands on your hips, chest pressed into your back, and you realise that there's no place you'd rather be.

He reaches out to check the temperature of the water that's steaming into his bathroom, and decides it's just right. It's not that the water is particularly hot, just that his bathroom is bloody freezing.

Your reflection in his mirror is a vision of beauty; eyes trained on him, skin tainted by what would have been his legacy. Part of him doesn't want to wash it away. Just wants to marvel at you. Study the way your skin dimples and bumps when you're cold; then remembers that you can't cum when you're cold, so you probably aren't enjoying this as much as he is. He lifts the showerhead from its holder, and lets the water pour over you, and you alone.

The warmth has your shoulders easing almost instantly, and Jungkook feels a little guilty for having kept you cold so selfishly.

He's quiet as he rinses himself from you, contemplative dimples perching themselves beneath his cheeks. He barely utters a word for the entire shower; just peppers your shoulders in kisses.

It's not till you turn to face him, taking the showerhead from his hand and begin rinsing his body that he finally speaks up.

He takes a moment to study you first; watch the way your eyes glaze over his body, following the trajectory of the water, making sure you don't miss a single inch of his skin. Your lashes are dark, hiding your eyes from him, and he doesn't like it. Instinctively, his hands cup your jaw, bringing your eyes to his.

"Thank you."

His lips are on yours, soft, no pressure - and then they're not. They're trailing down your neck instead, as if he can't decide which part of you he wants to devour.

'All of you' is the correct answer, but he eats for pleasure, not for sustenance.

Easily, he could have you for everything that you are within a few seconds - but he wants to savour you. Wants to hear the way your breath hitches as his tongue flicks against your earlobe; feel your fingers dig into his scalp as he paws at your round ass. He wants the memory of your body in his hands, 'cause he fears you're like sand, and that his grasp won't be able to keep hold of you forever.

His bathroom is cramped, more like a wetroom, and the same grey tiles are on the walls that are on the floor. Shower attached to the sink, it's the standard for one-room apartments around these parts.

Yours is the same - but you do have the added luxury of boujie conditioners and loofas to soften the blow.

Jungkook has a 2-in-1 body wash and shampoo combo, and doesn't see the point in fancy scrubs when the labour of his job leaves his hands all rough anyway.

In your right mind, you'd moan about it. Tell him that he's such a boy, or that next time, he's coming to yours for a shower - but you're distracted by the hardness of his cock against your stomach and his hands cupping at your chest while he kisses you. The stream of water makes it borderline impossible to open your eyes, so you revel in the way it feels to be overwhelmed by everything he is.

"Again?" You mumble into his lips, to which you're met with a nod.

You slip your rings off and hear them clink against the porcelain of his sink, praying that your aim is correct and they won't end up down the drain. He hums a small purr of confusion, questioning your actions, and then groans an 'oh' into your mouth when your hand clasps around the base of his cock.

"Gentle," he reminds you, still sensitive but desperate for you once more.

His lips leave yours, head tilting back as he revels in your touch. Neither of you speak, but there's really not much to say. You'd just be making noise for the sake of it.

Regardless, there's a weight in your chest, clamping down on your lungs, that makes talking seem impossible. Might be trepidation. Might be nothing at all - but it sure does feel like something.

You marvel at the column of his thick neck as it stretches back, and think how pretty it would look covered in purple and pink, the bruise of your intimacy staining his skin just like it has done your heart.

Your movements pause when you realise you're thinking about your fucking heart. You're not sappy. You don't attribute sex to love, and the idea of even falling in love has you wanting to run for the hills.

It's been said before that the heart is just a muscle. It has no real bearing on your emotions, nor your amatory exploits.

But when the thoughts of your feelings cloud your mind with dainty pink vapours, all sparkly and strawberry scented, you can't help but feel like you're in danger.

In your chest, you can feel your heart ache.

So yeah, it is just a muscle, but muscles get worn out.

Jungkook notices your hesitation. He casts his eyes down to check you're okay. His crown rests against the wet tiles, water-saturated hair stuck to his face, lashes damp and lips all pouty. The man is a vision. Naked, bare, vulnerable. Yours for the taking, or so it seems. His eyes are heavy-lidded, deep brown; sweet as chocolate, sinful as straight whisky.

"You good?" He asks quietly, only for you to nod and pick the pace up again. His eyes stay on yours as a laboured grunt escapes his lips, brows pinching together. The way you feel around him is so good. Not too tight, just the way he likes it. Fingers all dainty, nails painted red, it's a sight he thinks about when he's alone more than he cares to admit. He's thick and hot in your grasp, working his foreskin up and down his shaft.

There are goosebumps on your skin, body positioned just out of the shower stream because you wanted to look at him; watch as you wound him up, just to make him unravel again. He pulls you closer, hands cupping your jaw as he kisses you, until you're beneath the water again.

His tongue is in your mouth as his hand drops to meet yours. So much larger than your own, his fingers clasp around yours and joins the effort, speeding up. He doesn't say anything else, but he's struggling to kiss you, now. His lips are ajar, resting against yours, little purrs of satisfaction finding a home on your tongue.

"Yeah?" You encourage a little breathlessly, as if you're the one moments away from ruin. "That's it, Kook."

He nods, as the hand that isn't on yours tangles in the back of your hair to keep you close. His hand works to increase the pace, making it a little rougher. There's a wetness between your legs that isn't from the shower, but you're too focused on him - on making him feel good, on being what he needs - to bother doing anything about it. He'll return the favour later, you're sure. He always does.

His grip on your hand loosens, leaving it up to you to finish the job. It only takes a second or two, and then you're milking him, thick white cum desecrating your hand and spurting into your stomach. There's not much, most of it spent on your chest earlier. He shudders, one of his legs a little more so than the other, his moans lost in the pitter-patter of the shower until they become nothing more than hot, heavy breaths.

And then, because quite frankly he doesn't know how to articulate how good, how fucking precious, how god damn infuriatingly beautiful you are, he kisses you again. Though his tongue is soft as it strokes against yours, his piercing is hard - much like his cock which is still firm against your stomach. He encourages your arms up and around his neck, hugging tightly. Your chest presses to his, nipples hard, tits pillowy and soft, and Jungkook swears he'll risk it all for you.

Thinks it would be worth it.

He'd do this wherever with you; in his crappy apartment, in a hotel he'll pay far too much for, in a derelict motel that hides you both when it inevitably becomes time to run.

Thing is, he knows you now. Knows you'll never run with him. Knows that when you find out, he'll never get to do this ever again. It makes him want to cry. Makes him wanna get on his knees and beg for forgiveness before you even know you're mad at him.

You don't forgive. You don't forget, either. You wouldn't be working in a shitty GS25 if you did. He knows this. Knows that as soon as the truth is out, so is he.

And so Jungkook lies. "Come to Busan with me."

Your noses are nestled together, and you can feel his words against your lips. The shower keeps on pouring, but it won't cleanse him of his sins. The water still runs red, even if you can't see it.

"Busan?"

He nods, steals a kiss, and begins to build upon the weak foundations he's formed. "I gotta go visit home. Been putting it off. Think it'll be more bearable with you there."

You kiss him back. Partially because you want to, but mainly because you don't know what the fuck to say. Your heart rate has doubled. Trebled. In fact, you're not sure it's beating anymore.

Family isn't a subject either of you has divulged in, not really. You fear that him opening up requires reciprocation, and that's just not something you're willing to give. Not to him, nor anyone else for that matter.

"When?" You finally murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away to slip your rings back onto your fingers.

He doesn't want you to meet his family. Doesn't want you anywhere near them - but when the time comes, he needs you to know why he ended up here. Needs you to know that everything he's done, rightfully or wrongfully, has been for them.

Doing right by them means doing wrong by you, but he didn't know you when all this started.

Didn't know that you're the type to point out every trash cat you see, or that you make up little songs to soundtrack almost everything you do (regardless of the fact you're tone-deaf). He didn't know that you drank peach tea like it's water, or that you'd somehow taste a little bit like it too. He didn't know that you'd become his favourite flavour, or that the scent of your perfume would have him hugging his fucking pillows for days after you slept over.

He didn't know.

Didn't fuckin' know.

And now he does. And it's tearing him apart.

He's a good liar, though, so you don't notice just how cut up he is when he shrugs and twists the shower tap off. He reaches around for the towel and begins to wrap you up when he says, "Next weekend?"

When he's like this - voice soft, skin bare, tucking the top of the towel over against your chest - it's like you've got the upper hand. There's no battle being fought between the pair of you, and yet you don't feel like equals. Feels like the balls in your court. You just don't realise you're playing different games.

There's pitter-patter beneath your feet and a chime in your stomach. You shuffle between his feet, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressing a kiss against your hair.

"I'll have to check the rota," you say, but you know you'll just ask Yoongi to swap shifts if you are scheduled on. "But I haven't been to Busan in a while. I'd like to come."

His eyes are hot as he presses them shut, chin resting on your head. You think the stutter in his chest is just a hiccup, so you smile. Without the sound of the shower, he can hear his phone buzzing, vibrating on his desk in the next room over.

"Gotta get that," he says, squeezing you before loosening his grip and reaching for a small towel that barely covers his ass. The air is cold against his skin as he opens the bathroom door. Steam gushes out of the room, and so does the hazy, cum-drunk atmosphere the pair of you had created. You miss it the second your skin begins to pebble, goosebumps chilling you, the hair on your arms stood up on end. Almost like someone's walking over your grave.

Maybe just leading you to an early one. Either, or.

You hear him as he mumbles on the phone - "Jin. Yeah? What's up? Cool, can do." - but ignore it. Steam has fogged up the mirror, creating a cloudy canvas for you to do your worst upon. It's childish, yes, but nothing stops you from drawing a little something on there to remind him of you next time he showers.

An uneasy weight sits on your chest when you look at what you've done. It's nothing bad, but part of you thinks you'll regret it - but that part of you is silent when he calls through for you.

When you emerge a few moments later, you're casual as you ask him who was on the other end of the line. He says 'a friend,' and then clarifies that it's 'one of the boys' because he doesn't want you to think the worst. It's an answer you accept.

Dropping the towel, you're unbothered by his eyes as you spend a few moments naked. You're just reaching for his shirt, but the way you move, how your muscles flex above your bones, but the soft flesh of your curves moves without your control has him feeling all kinds of fucked up. He's never wanted anyone more; never known that it was possible to feel such a way.

He tells himself it's just hormones. He's fucking empty, entirely spent on you. That's gotta be the reason. Some kind of primal desire type thing.

Even he's shocked when he begins to talk.

"You can't ever leave."

It's barely a whisper, his voice small, though the weight of his words is so incredibly large.

"Need you here forever."

It's the way that Jungkook talks in such certain terms that has the chime in your stomach ringing again.

You're sure he must have broken a thousand hearts with words like that. You wonder if there are still girls across the city pining after him, thinking about the way his breath feels on their skin as he fucks himself into them. Wonder if the fondness in his eyes is because of you, or because he's just riding a post-climax endorphin high.

"You don't mean that," you tell him, because you don't believe he does.

He shakes his head. Senses the challenge in your voice, and smiles. "You think I'm lying?"

"Think you haven't reached post-nut clarity, yet."

"You'll have to fuck me again, then. Third time lucky."

The third time comes in the morning.

It's still dark outside, Jungkook waking you with dainty kisses along your shoulders, his hands pawing at your tits.

"Morning," he husks into your neck when your hand goes to join his on your chest. "Dreamt about you."

"You are so full of shit," you laugh.

Truth be told, he didn't really sleep. Looked at you for far too long. It's borderline creepy, he thinks, how utterly obsessed he is. Part of him doesn't understand it, but the rest of him does.

You're forbidden.

He can't help but want you.

Jungkook may be Adam, but you're no Eve. You're that damn snake. Or maybe you're the fruit. He doesn't know at this point; just knows that he's eaten it, and he's pretty sure it's poisonous.

"Am not," he grins, riding that poison high. "What did you dream about?"

He's repulsed he's even asking such a thing.

"Can't remember," you pout, turning to face him. Dreams always elude you. It's frustrating, but at least you're not having nightmares. "What about you? What were we doing? Where did we go?"

Just like him, the fact you're asking him questions like that has you wanting to die.

"Busan."

It's not a lie this time. He isn't looking at you, though, so you half think it is.

He's just focused on the hand of his that's toying with your hair, pushing strands away from your face. The only reason he isn't looking at you is because he's embarrassed.

"Busan?" You ask, reminded of his proposition from the night before.

"Mhmm," he nods, his hair no doubt tangling against the pillow. "You 'n' me."

Again, you don't know if it's a lie, but oh what a beautiful one it would be.

"We were on the beach," he continues. "Not really doing much. Just sort of existing."

You laugh, eyes fond but away from his. You're looking at his hair now, too, playing with it. Mirroring his actions. Reciprocating. "Existing?"

"Existing," he says, refusing to clarify. You're distracted when you notice the way his smile brightens. No longer contemplative, he's got a dimple that only comes out when he's beaming all big and bashfully. "I like existing with you."

And so exist you do, in his bed for the next hour and a half. There's no talk of any substance and yet you're chattering for the entire time. He barely even kisses you. Just wants to hear you talk. Wants to hear your perspective on the world, and all the assumptions you make about it.

Jungkook's duvet is shitty quality. The heat it traps is minimal, but you'd take a morning beneath his sheets in the height of winter over being back at your place any day.

It's thoughts like these that make your feet itchy. Makes you wanna run. Bolt. Head for the hills and never look back - but you're locked in place by his arm over your torso. Faint light pours in through the clouded glass of his window panes, curtains apparently too much of a luxury despite the holes in the wall where a rail once sat, and you study the dark ink marking his skin.

There's a story to be told from reading his arms, but you haven't figured that out yet. No google search of his name could ever match the lore embedded in his skin. The tips of your glossy red nails trace the lines in awe, wondering how many people have had this luxury before you.

You wonder who sat by his side during the tattoo appointments, and who laughed with fondness as he winced in pain. Whose hand did he hold? Whose suggestions did he listen to for placements? It plagues your mind like a disease, turning the rubies in your veins to emeralds.

Who are you, you think to yourself. And why am I feeling like this?

It's only a matter of a time - a few languid movements and a couple affirmations later - until he's fucking himself into you again. Predictable, really. Money would be wasted on a fortune teller, and yet you want to go and see one anyway just to confirm whether or not you get to keep him forever.

Lazy and slow, the sex is just an accompaniment to the way he's kissing you. His cock is thick and deep as it fills you, but his hips are sluggish and tepid.

It's almost laughable that the sex is an afterthought.

By its basic definition Jungkook is fucking you - but he's fucked you enough times for you to know how likes to conduct his lays. Quick, fast, to the point. Finish line in his sights.

This doesn't feel like that.

It doesn't feel like that at all.

Even the way his kisses you as his cock stiffens and pulses, unloading itself into you isn't familiar. It's short, his stamina not back up to his usual performance, but it's so deep you think it might be fatal. Any chance you had of getting your heart out of this alive? Yeah. Good luck.

He groans into your mouth, tells you how good you feel, and presses his lips so tightly shut that it's almost as if he's scared he'll never kiss you again.

It's interesting, the way that Jungkook doesn't make you cum. Sure, the sex is good. You've enjoyed it all - but you're currently on 3-0. You chalk it up to a lack of realisation. Innocent inconsideration.

See, his words may betray him, but he's trying to be better. Trying not to drag you further into the web of lies he's woven around the pair of you. Issue is, you've mistaken it for silk. You're comfortable. Enjoy where you are.

He thinks it doesn't count; thinks that if he's the only one who finishes, then you won't be falling for him in the way that he hears girls do. Jimin had ribbed him for it after he'd fucked Naejeon; told him that the reason she was so into him was to do with the oxytocin cocktail that had flooded her bloodstream. It's not like it was news to Jungkook. He'd always known it was a thing, he'd just never really seen the impact of it quite so severely.

The way he see's it, the less you cum, the less you care. It's flawed logic, and it leaves him feeling guilty, which is why he blurts out dumb shit about wanting you around forever. Might be true, might not be. Maybe he's the one confusing hormones for heartfelt honesty.

But as you watch him tear himself away from the bed and head towards the shower, you realise that none of it matters.

You've been hearing bells since the moment you met him.

They're so loud they drown out the bullshit.

"You coming, C?" He calls through, as the shower begins to splutter into action in the next room over. He appears in the doorway, a tattooed hand cupping his balls and covering his modesty. His eyes are soft, grin lopsided as the sun rises.

It's beyond your choice as you move towards the sound of his voice, like he's some kind of pied piper.

You know he's taken over you.

Yet still, you follow the sound of the pipe.

And whether you like it or not, you know you'll let him drag you to the river, just for him to watch you drown.

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

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lemonnsss · 7 months

Text

Moral of the Story pt.2

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for making y'all wait two extra weeks, enjoy!

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 1.2k

Within a few days, I'd moved across the country. Even though anyone from Xavier's could fly over without warning, I thought it would be good for me. I wanted to escape Jean and the heartache she brought with her. Jean had everything. I had left, she had Logan, and I'm sure she would find a way to manipulate Scott again. Just like always done.

Given the circumstances, I wasn't looking forward to my return as a teacher. I had worked as a secretary for a lawyer through college to be able to pay for tuition, and I decided that would be my best bet.

I sat in my bed at the hotel, craning my neck at my laptop screen. Finding a job here was a lot harder than I had anticipated. After a few hours, I had finally found a decent opening. It was a higher-level position at a conglomerate major enough for even me to have heard of. I suppose it's not shocking how much the former CEO is always in the news. A fact that makes sense with the understanding that almost every eligible lady threw herself at him and, oh, how could I forget, one of his board members and most trusted advisors had tried to kill him. Twice.

I set up the meeting for the day after tomorrow, fearing that the next day would be filled with an intense migraine, a common side-effect of driving past 2 A.M. trying to make it to California in the shortest time possible. I got up, placed my computer on the provided desk, plugged it in, and begrudgingly moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The next day came, and for the second time this week, I'd been right in the type of way I loathe. When I got up, I could barely move, my muscles aching after spending the past few days stuck in my car, only taking a few long breaks to get some rest and about a half dozen times each day for food, drinks, and the restroom. Changing into something comfortable, I left my hotel room. The search for a decent coffee shop now beginning.

After about half an hour, I found a place that looked decent enough. I walked in, and it felt like all eyes were on me. The feel of burning gazes, the sudden urge to make myself as small as possible, and the waves of dread crashing down on me. My symptoms of anxiety. An all too familiar feeling. I looked up at the menu, order already in mind.

“Hi! I’ll get a hazelnut latte with almond milk if you have it. Oh, and it says on the menu that there’s a white chocolate scone. I’ll have one of those as well.”

“Okay, an almond-hazel-latte with a white scone. Who’s it for?”

“Uh, Kyrie.”

“Okay, Kai. Someone’ll call when your order’s done.”

“Okay, thank y-“

“Please, go find a seat.”

I backed away awkwardly. Slightly raising my arms, hands up in thumbs up. I walked away, putting my arms down, looking for a table to work at.

To no surprise, most tables were empty. For those occupied, their occupants were dressed in semi-professional attire, almost definitely catching up before going to work; the separation between their lives and my own shifted into something all the more evident.

After about ten minutes, a barista called for the fake name I had given them. I got up and grabbed my order.

I sat at a table away from the windows and took out my laptop. I opened my email, checking for any new correspondents, to see almost 200 new emails, over half of which were from Logan and the other teachers of Xaviers. I went to Logan's profile, blocked him, and used the search bar to delete his previous messages. I don't need to read the pity speech of someone who doesn't value me as even a human being.

I scrolled through and saw an email from Scott, an unusual occurrence for him. I clicked to open it but didn't get the chance to read it, the screech of someone pulling at the table's other chair making it exceptionally difficult.

“Why are you- why did you sit down?”

“I’m hiding from my bodyguard who is very determined to stay aware of my whereabouts. Even if he thinks it’s me sitting with you. He won’t interrupt our conversation. So, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" said a man with dark brown hair in an expensive-looking suit, "You're new around here aren't you?"

Great. Preppy, rich white guy hiding from his bodyguard, the horror. I laid my head on my hand and took a sip of my coffee.

"And how would you know if I was? My attitude, my dress, perhaps an unusual drained look plastered on my face." A cheeky tone in my voice. It didn't matter if I was exhausted; this could be fun.

"I was going to say your accent, but sure, let's go with one of those."

"What do I get?" I took a bite of my scone. It wasn't as good as I had hoped but not far from what I had expected.

"I'm sorry, pardon?" Moved his torso to face me.

"What do I get if I don't rat you out?"

"You get a conversation with me, not something afforded to most." He leaned back.

The door rings. A bigger man in a suit with short, curly hair, a goatee, and sunglasses walks in. The man in front of me gives me a slightly urgent stare.

"I want a favor. Anything, anytime. Within reason, of course."

"Okay, fine; that works for me, just well, you know help." His voice was now a low whisper.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I say as I grab him by the tie, pulling him into a kiss. After a few seconds, I pull away slightly. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on his supposed bodyguard. The man in question was looking the other way, an almost abashed look on his face.

"Wow, I was not expecting that."

"I'd recommend getting used to it, sweetheart."

His bodyguard took a final look around the room, figuring his client was somewhere else. Just as he entered he left, without a single word.

Hearing the door close he leaned back stretching almost, "So, what do you want? Money, political support, a fun time maybe. I mean with the kiss you gave me I would think the last of which."

"I'll pass. I just moved here, and I need a job. So, If my interview tomorrow goes to shit, your company or whatever you do is the backup now. Congrats!" My voice was now full of sarcasm.

"Hand me your phone, now. Don't be shy." I opened and closed my hand repeatedly to affirm my statement.

"Pushy, are we?" He sat up lightly and pulled out the latest iPhone. I should have expected that. I grabbed it and slid the lock screen open.

"Really? You don't have a password? Mr.," I paused with the new knowledge of who this man was, "Mr. Stark. Know what? I'll call in that favor right about now."

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook:

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 Part 1: I hate you

You hate how he acts, how he talks, how he treats you- like some dumb girl that's stupid enough to fall into his claws. But you're not that stupid. Or are you?

Tags/Warnings: mc hates kook, Angst, enemies to ???, past regrets, miscommunication, Fluff?, slow burn, sugar daddy Jungkook vibes, minor age gap, sexual thoughts, there's tension baby

Length: ~2k.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

If Jungkook wasn't 5'10" and basically spending half his time awake at the gym, you'd definitely fight him. Slap him at least- but again, only if he wasn't tall enough for you to need a chair to reach him.

He just gets onto your nerves.

His attitude, the way he carries himself, the way he acts as if he's in control of the entire room, even if there's people in it that are twice his age. Nothing seems to ever bother him, nothing makes him angry, or upset, or anything- he always has that shit-eating smirk on his face, making him oh-so punchable in your opinion. He's so aware of his own charming nature and ability to sweet-talk anyone into doing what he wants them to, that it just feels utterly unfair to you. Sure, he's attractive- but only visually so, on the surface level. As soon as he opens his filthy mouth to talk and brag about all the different adventures he's already been on (inside the bedroom and in general), you just want to vomit.

He's a fuckboy, deserving to get his penis bitten off.

Okay, maybe that's a bit drastic- but he's just incredibly irritating to you. Mostly because you just don't know where you both stand; He tends to belittle you in an odd manner that makes you confused if he's being nice or teasing you, whether he's offering an insult or a compliment. And the worst of all is that whenever he does outright give you praise of any kind, which mostly happens very fleetingly so you almost don't notice it, you can't get it out of your head for days.

It sticks to you like gum.

You remember, for example, when he had simply called you a 'good girl' after you had caught his credit card as it had slipped out of his hands and tumbled underneath his car- a place he would've had a lot more trouble with reaching than you, considering the height difference between the two of you. This moment, the tone of his voice, the slight chuckle he'd given you, the brush of his fingers against yours - it had stayed with you for almost an entire week after it had happened.

You hate this. It's ridiculous.

Jungkook is the brother of your former best friend - the two of you back in school - inseparable, but with her moving out of the country to pursue her studies, you simply lost touch. Jungkook, however, stayed behind, obtaining a large share in a pretty successful company, smart decisions, and hard work having brought him into the position he is in today. He doesn't need to worry about money any longer, and he won't ever have to again if he plays things smart, It led to him deciding to invest into things he knows will retain value overtime, making him buy a high-end apartment in Seoul's prettiest neighborhood- which is why when a waterpipe had broken in your old apartment, he'd been your last hope of finding somewhere to stay for the time it would take to fix and renovate the damage, your own flimsy savings not enough to cover weeks of hotel costs. It had surprised him, you know that - but you also remember how surprisingly kind he'd been, always making sure that you were comfortable. But with that also came frustration - because sometimes he acts as if he's older by a lot more than is actually the case between you both. Sure, he's already almost thirty, putting almost six years between you both, but still. You're not a stupid girl, and he should stop treating you like one.

For some reason, that's why your hatred really keeps burning.

Maybe because he just belittles you at any chance he gets. He seemingly refuses to see you as a woman, always describes you as a little girl, never takes you seriously. That, combined with your not so small crush you've had on him ever since your school days, just simply doesn't mix well. You hate this.

You hate him.

And unbeknownst to you, it's mutual.

Jungkook fucking hates you too.

He hates how you flaunt your figure any chance you get, just like now, as you're sitting on his friend's couch next to himself, naked thighs on full display for everyone in the room to see, black shorts living up to their name by being disgustingly short in his opinion. He's also sure you've skipped a bra for the movie night this time- your slightly perked nipples pushing against the fabric of your baggy shirt, freely moving tits underneath the black item of clothing just begging for his touch it seems. You're always like this, as if to mock him with what he can never have for himself, completely immune to any of his advances that it just made him stop trying at this point. What's the use for his charms if they just make you laugh at him at the end of the day?

He hates you so fucking much.

Especially now, with you so comfortable next to him. It's like your dynamic has shifted over the past six months- mutual friends making you hang out more often than not, and while you'd been so deliciously shy and easily flustered around him before, nowadays, it feels like you've kicked him right into the friendzone, no joke of his getting under your skin any longer. He knows you think Jimin is kind of cute- but he didn't think that it was enough to make you move on from him this fast. Or maybe he had hoped it wouldn't.

He's aware of your crush on himself after all. He's been relishing in it for a long time, his career and the falling out of touch with his sister and you after she'd started her studies abroad the main cause of him never making his move. He'd been waiting, pushing it further and further and further in front of him instead of doing something.

And now? It feels like he's lost his chance.

"Gimme that-" You whine so cutely, leaning over his lap to grab the bag of peach snacks from Taehyung sitting on the floor, and yes, now Jungkook can be one hundred percent sure- you're definitely braless, softness of your chest flush against his thigh for a moment, warmth seeping through the fabric of his sweatpants and making him internally rip his hair out. He's glad he's got some good self-control under his belt, otherwise he'd surely pop a boner right here and now, embarrassing himself in front of his best friends and you as well. Or maybe you'd be impressed. Who knows. How much could you even take in terms of.. size?

But oh, it gets so much worse, because it has become your life's mission to just make him suffer it seems.

You now decide to simply lay over his lap now- body warm over his thighs while you swing your legs back and forth behind you, fluffy socks on your feet hitting your butt every now and then while you're talking to Taehyung about some mistakes in the movie's plot- though Jungkook himself is not listening, the rhythmic rocking of your body over his legs from your own movements too much to handle for a simple mortal like himself. All he can think about is how much he just wants to spank the living hell out of you right in this position- hand itching to just place itself palm flat over one cheek and just, squeeze until you yelp.

You'd make such cute noises, he just knows. He'd been getting those little teasers of them all the time, after all. How much would it take for him to make you scream? And how much further could he push you until you're just fucked too stupid to form any sounds at all?

That thought alone spirals out of control in his head as he's suddenly getting visions of you underneath him, hands bound to the bedpost and body flushed and wet with sweat while he pounds into you until you're bruised. He hopes you like it rough- because he's sure if he ever got his hands on you, he'd push you to your limits and maybe even beyond, his hand grabbing your hair while he'd make you gag on his cock until you cry.

"Move a little, I gotta use the bathroom." Jungkook grunts, careful but strong in his actions as he maneuvers you off his lap so he can escape for a second, or two, or maybe he just needs to leave entirely because fuck.

He hates this.

Every time he's got someone over to try and somehow fuck it out of his system, all he can see is you, and it's becoming a problem. It makes him suffer continuously, unable to cum if he doesn't think of you in any way- and it's embarrassing to admit to himself, no pleasure enough for him if his brain isn't allowed to connect you to it.

He doesn't know how long he can take this. He has to get out of here right fucking now- he can't just jerk off now because he knows how flushed he gets afterwards, there's simply no way he could ever hide that from anybody. Why do you have to even look like that tonight? Why can't you just leave him alone?

Well, that one's easy.

He wont let you.

It's like he's turning from the sadist into the masochist every time you're with him like this, the pain and torture he has to endure completely his own choice at the end of the day. He knows you're like this, it's nothing new to him- you feel comfortable and relaxed around him, and he likes that, he feels honored by it in a way, really. But it's also a terrible curse, when in times like these, he can't even slightly hope for some divine intervention to give him that k-drama worthy experience of mind-blowing emotional sex after a heartfelt confession of love. He won't get that, because those fucking idiots always seem to be there to ruin it for him.

And whenever he's alone with you, he pretty much forgets about it, as stupid as it sounds.

He likes taking you along to trips and travels he's got to go on; not only for the sake of company, but also because you deserve to see the world and experience those luxuries as well. He likes spoiling you, he enjoys taking care of you in any way you allow him to- and yet, it again bites his ass like an untrained dog because it makes him loose his initial goal completely. It falls out of sight every time, and looking back at it, maybe it's just karma. It's a higher power punishing him for being so goddamn stupid every time.

He slept in the same hotel room with you for fuck's sake. He helped you tie your hair one time, routinely takes off your jewelry whenever he takes you along to expensive dinners. All of those perfect moments to make a move- and yet he never does.

Probably never will.

"You heading out already?" Jimin asks as everyone now turns to look at him as he grabs his jacket and car keys, walking over to where you're stills prawled out on the couch before he grabs his phone.

"Yeah, forgot I have a meeting tomorrow early, sorry." He simply apologizes, before he makes a goodbye gesture and heads out, door closing behind him.

"Bullshit." You mumble more or less to yourself. "Fucking liar. He's got the day off." You complain, and Taehyung laughs.

"Why so mad about it?" He wonders, poking at your stomach. "Little baby already miss her dad-"

"Don't you fucking finish that sentence kim taehyung!" You instantly argue, tackling him on the floor to playfight him-

all while Jungkook questions his life choices s he reaches home himself. There's no way his fucking boner is still present even after the entire drive home- and it makes him have to come up with a plan. Maybe this really is just simply sexual frustration and nothing else. Maybe just screwing you will help him become able to move on with his life.

The only question now is; how does he get you under his spell?

#jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagines #hatred au

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cod-dump · 11 months

Note

au where ghost, gaz and soap are all price's adopted kids and when price finally decided to introduce them to his new boyfriend soap goes ballistic because it turns out to be his very secret older ex - phillip graves who he had nasty break up with and now everyone have to digest two things: that soap apparently had secret older boyfriend and that price apparently had and still has secret younger boyfriend. it's all crack, everyone loses their shit at some point except for nik who is price's very chill ex husband who visits twice a week.

Father's Boyfriend

Fam 141, PriceGraves, past SoapGraves, past PriceNik

TW: Past Abuse, Past Domestic Violence (both are only mentioned a couple times and it doesn’t go into detail)

Ages: Soap- 24, Ghost- 29, Gaz- 26, Price- 56, Graves- 38

(Soap and Graves started dating when Soap was twenty, they broke up after being together for three years)

___

They had a suspicion that their father was seeing someone. It's been a few years now since he and their other dad, Nik, split. Though it was peaceful and mutual, John still chose not to date anyone. So when the late night phone calls started, John being more private about his phone in general, they knew something was up.

"He's definitely dating someone," muttered Kyle.

Johnny hummed in thought, stretched out across Simon's couch. They all had their own places but enjoyed hanging out together. Well, Simon was okay with hanging out with the other two on his terms. Those terms included never being at his house, especially when he wasn't there. But that didn't stop them from copying his key and 'breaking in' to chill and hang out.

The jingling of keys and the front door opening before-

"You fucking assholes."

Johnny and Kyle are unfazed by Simon.

"Hey, Si! Do you think Dad is dating someone?"

Simon walks past them to go into the kitchen, "He's on drugs."

"See, that's what I thought but Kyle says he has to be dating someone."

Kyle scoffs, "The fact you two immediately think our beloved father is on drugs- You're both horrible people."

Simon walks into the living room with a bag of crisps, "Thanks I'm trying."

Johnny laughs as Kyle rolls his eyes. Simon gets a handful of salt and vinegar crisps in his mouth before he speaks.

"I mean, he probably is dating someone. He's been a lot happier lately so we should be happy for him for getting back out there."

"He hasn't introduced us yet."

"Probably wants to make sure this guy is a good fit before introducing him to us. I wouldn't take it too personally."

Johnny crawls over to Simon, "You're so wise, big bro."

He grabs the bag of crisps and darts back to where he was sitting. While Simon and Johnny fought over the bag of crisps, Kyle was in deep thought.

"Do you think we know him?"

Johnny gets shoved to the floor, Simon claiming victory as he settles back down with the crisps, "Maybe. Wouldn't put it past him sneaking his new boyfriend around in plain sight."

Soap gets off the floor, "What if it's someone like our old coach?"

Kyle laughs, "He's so not Dad's type!"

Simon was quiet before he shudders, "Uh, no to that. That guy's a creep."

"The mailman?"

"Oh yes, our father fucking the mailman and it turns out he's our actual father. What a cliché."

Kyle snorts, leaning over to try to grab some crisps.

"Dad has a better taste in men than the mailman or our weird coach from when we played football."

Johnny rolls his eyes as Simon holds the bag of crisps away from Kyle. He gets on his phone to scroll and sees an update from an account on Facebook that he thought he had blocked.

His ex was in town.

"Fuck!"

Simon and Kyle turn to look at Johnny, who froze when he realized he had said that out loud. He slowly looks at his brothers, both staring at him in concern and confusion. All he could do was smile before getting up and running to the bathroom. Johnny locks the door, leaning on the sink as he takes a deep breath. He looks back at his phone, scrolling through the man's profile, which had previously been empty after their breakup. He deleted pretty much everything that had Johnny in it and disappeared.

And now he's crawling back out of the woodwork.

Why is he coming here? What reason does he have to come back here if not to talk to Johnny?

"Fuck fuck fuck-"

"Johnny? You good?"

Johnny stiffens, "Uh, fine! Just, uh- Feeling sick!"

"That's what you get for trying to steal my food," Simon joked even though it was obvious he was worried.

"Need anything? Medicine?"

"Antacids would be great."

Thankfully Simon was the type to just not have basic things like Antacids (because he's weird) so one of them would have to go out and get some. Hopefully Simon was the one to go out because Johnny knows if/when he finds out about why Johnny is freaking out he'll be met with judgement. Kyle was more understanding. There was some muttering outside before one of them walked off. Johnny sighs, not sure which left.

"So... are you actually sick or is this about something else?"

Oh good, Kyle stayed.

Johnny cracks the door open, making sure Kyle was alone before he opens it all the way.

"Don't get mad."

Kyle narrows his eyes, "Why would I get mad?"

Johnny fidgets his hands together, "Remember when we said we wouldn't keep secrets from each other?"

Kyle glares, "Yes..."

"Well... I may or may have not, uh, kept a pretty big secret from you."

Kyle pinches the bridge of his nose, a habit the three brothers shared after watching their father do it for so long.

"Fucking hell... Alright, what is it?"

Johnny braces himself for Kyle's reaction.

"My ex is in town..."

Kyle stares, "Ex? Which one?"

"The one I knew you wouldn't have approved of so I never told you about him..."

There was a good bit of silence before Kyle turned and walked back down the hall, not saying a word. Johnny winces, slowly following him. When Kyle goes into the kitchen and grabs Simon's whiskey, Johnny knew that his brother was holding back on saying something potentially hurtful.

"I don't think Si would appreciate you drinking his good stuff."

Kyle glares at Johnny, "I think he would rather me not kill you."

Simon came back around twenty minutes later and immediately notices that Kyle was drinking his booze. He glares at while dropping the bag of medicine on the counter.

"I was saving that for a special occasion."

"Think this qualifies as a 'special occasion'. Right, Johnny?"

Simon turns to Johnny, who was sitting on the couch, trying to appear as small as possible.

"It's not that big of a deal..."

Kyle scoffs, "You dare to say that after what you told me?"

Simon looks between Kyle and Johnny before finally just stopping to look at Johnny.

"What's going on?"

Kyle stares at Johnny, giving him a chance to tell Simon himself. But Johnny didn't, only stumbled over his words while he tried to defend himself from Kyle's judgement. Kyle turns to Simon, taking a sip of whiskey before he speaks.

"Remember when we told each other we would always tell one another about our relationships? You know, the promise we made after you were hospitalized by your shitty ex?"

Simon snaps his head towards Johnny, "Johnny..."

"Oh, and remember when Johnny 'lost' five hundred pounds from our savings?"

"JOHNNY-!"

Johnny throws his hand sup, standing, "Look! I knew you guys weren't going to like him but I did like him! So I held off on telling you guys about him!"

"You stole money for him-!"

"Also went street racing with him, illegal boxing matches, did drugs-"

"It was just weed!"

Simon was so angry about what he was learning that he was unable to speak. He just throws his hands around while strangled sounds escaped from his mouth. Soap genuinely feared for his safety. He's seen what Simon is capable of. But, Simon does nothing. He calms down enough to grab Soap and forces him to sit back on the couch, sitting next to him while he does.

"Johnny... we made that promise for a reason."

Johnny remembers what happened to Simon, what he looked like in that hospital bed, black and blue.

"I know..."

He figured he would never have to come clean about his dirty secret. But here they were, his brothers staring in disappointment and guilt practically drowning him.

"I wasn't worried anything would happen. He did crazy things but he wasn't that kind of person."

"You think I was worried? That shit happened overnight, Johnny."

Kyle sighs, "We're upset because we care, Johnny. You're our baby brother."

"I know... Don't tell Dad."

"Not in a million years. He's been watching me like a hawk since that day. Don't want to put you in the spotlight... Unless you give us a reason to."

"No more secrets, got it?"

"Yea. No more secrets."

Johnny was hoping that would be the end of it. Other than watching his surroundings more and being very careful about where he was and when (matching where his ex's updates told him where he was), things went back to normal. No weirdness from Simon (more than usual) or further questions from Kyle. Nothing. Just plain old normalcy.

That didn't happen. He didn't know what to expect when they were heading to their father's house for a family dinner. He assumed it would be like all the others so he just grabbed some drinks to bring.

"When's the last time we had a family dinner at Dad's?"

Simon hummed as he thought, "Been a good couple months. He's been pretty busy lately."

"Yea, he has been pretty busy," Kyle says in agreement, eyes flickering from the road to Simon.

Johnny, as usual, was in the backseat. It was Kyle's car (he refuses to let anyone drive it) and Simon also gets shotgun (because he will bully Johnny out of it if Johnny doesn't let him have it). So, he sat in the back, stretched out.

"What if he wants us to finally meet his boyfriend?"

Kyle and Simon blink, apparently that hadn't crossed their minds.

"Holy shit-"

"If I don't like him I'm going to fight him."

"Simon-"

They noticed a car parked next to their father's SUV that none of them recognized.

"Oh shit-"

They got out of the car and Kyle ran around and grabbed Simon before he got to the front door.

"Behave."

"I always behave!"

"No, you don't!"

Johnny walks around them, snickering. He looks at the car as he passes it, seeing something faintly familiar inside it on the passenger seat. It was a shirt with a logo on it but he didn't stay long enough to figure out why it was familiar. He didn't want to seem weird by staring into the car of their father's guest. They got to the front door and Simon bangs on the door excessively.

"Dad! Hey Dad? Dad! Father! Father- Hello!?"

Kyle glares at Simon while Johnny laughs, "You're going to be insufferable tonight, aren't you?"

Simon stops and looks at Kyle, not saying a word but the smirk on his face said plenty. The door opens and there stood their father, glaring at Simon with little to no heat.

"You boys don't have to knock."

Simon shrugs, "Don't have to but I wanted to."

John rolls his eyes before pulling Simon into a hug. He grabs Kyle next, squeezing him, before pulling Johnny into a hug.

"Been too long since I've last seen all of my boys in one place."

He ushers them all inside but keeps them in the front parlor. This only confirmed that he had a very special guest over, somewhere else in the house. Also going off of how nervous their father seemed to be helped enforce that. Simon was the one who decided to say something as John took the wine that Johnny brought.

"Sooo... where is he?"

John freezes and Kyle smacks Simon's shoulder. Johnny could see the panic in John's eyes, something he can't say he's ever seen on his father before.

"Uh-"

"You know, the owner of that shiny, new BMW?"

John takes a deep breath, "Can't hide anything from you. Never could..."

Johnny last heard John say that when Simon uncovered that him and Nik were getting a divorce. Simon has always been good at finding out things, which why it was a miracle that Johnny managed to hide a whole relationship from him. He figured once the money went missing that he would've started snooping.

"Have a seat, boys."

Simon plops down, keeping his eyes on their father. Kyle and Johnny sit on the loveseat, eyes darting between Simon and John. John gave himself a moment to think about what he was going to say before he looked up.

"I've met someone."

"We know."

John narrows his eyes, "How long?"

"Dad... you have been the opposite of subtle."

John snorts, "And here I thought I was doing a good job of keeping quiet."

Kyle makes a error sound which makes Johnny and Simon laugh. John shakes his head before he sighs.

"The... guy I've been with is... a little younger."

The three gasp dramatically, "Dad!"

"It wasn't like I was expecting a relationship to happen!"

Kyle points at John, grabbing his attention, "How young are we talking?"

"He's thirty-eight."

"Wow-"

"I wasn't aiming to start anything with him!"

"How'd you meet him?"

John seemed thankful for Johnny changing the subject, "Met him while out on a company retreat. He was from some firm in the US and they flew out and joined us."

"Ooh! Romance with the enemy?"

"Shadow Co. is freelance. Not exactly our 'enemy'."

Johnny blinks, feeling panic swell up in his chest. Shadow Co.? The guy's age--

Nope! Just a coincidence! There is no way-

"So scandalous~"

"Have you snuck him around us?"

"No, I didn't sneak him around. Didn't really have to since you boys moved out."

Johnny swallows, "What's his name?"

John seems to not notice the shake in Johnny's voice. But Simon and Kyle do, the two turning to look at their brother in concern. John gets up, heading to the hall. He calls for the man who Johnny was praying that didn't turn out to be who he was thinking of.

"Phil! Mind coming in here?"

His heart drops, Johnny feeling lightheaded as he sees his ex come around the corner into the room. He's smiling at John, practical hearts in his eyes. Then he turns and he spots Johnny, those hearts popping as he pales in shock and horror.

"Boys, this is Phillip Graves. My boyfriend."

Simon's eyes widen and he looks to Johnny, jaw dropped. Kyle covers his mouth, cursing as he leans back against the loveseat.

"Johnny? Is there something wrong-"

John notices Phillip's face, the man rubbing his eyes, shaking his head-- Doing everything that he can to change what he was seeing. Finally, Phillip stops, turning to John.

"That's- He's your son!?"

John stares into Phillip's eyes before horror comes across his face, "You-You said your ex was Johnny MacTavish!"

Simon practically screams, "YOU USED A DIFFERENT NAME!?"

"JOHNNY!"

Phillip, unable to say anything else, turns and walks out of the room. John leans on the wall, taking several deep breaths in a attempt to calm himself down. Johnny was full-blown panicking at this point, unsure what the hell is going on.

"This is a joke- A prank! He's not your boyfriend!"

"You dated a man fourteen years older than you!? When did this happen!?"

John looks between Kyle and Simon, "Did you two know about this!?"

"Only recently."

John gaps, throwing his hands in the air, "Fucking hell!"

Johnny was borderline hyperventilating. At least he thinks he is, he's never panicked like this before. Johnny felt his vision start to go black.

"Johnny- Breathe. Easy-"

He felt Kyle hold onto him. Johnny was unable to say anything or see anything due to his blurry vision-- Which added onto his panic. Kyle coached him through his panic attack (he wasn't sure if that was one or not, he's never had one before), helping him regain his ability to breathe. His brother rubbed his back as he slowly calmed down, now able to see again.

"Where's Dad and Simon?"

"Si stepped out with Dad. He wasn't processing this well, either."

Johnny let's out a shaky breath. They sit there in silence before Kyle finally speaks.

"This... is a lot... God, feel like we're on some drama TV show."

Johnny laughs at that, unsure of what to do. This did feel like the plot of some low budget soap opera.

Some god is laughing their ass off right now...

Kyle stands, Johnny turning to look at him.

"I'm going to go check on Phillip."

"You are?"

"This has to be as much of a nightmare to him as it is to you."

"Right..."

"I'll be... somewhere. Don't know where he went. Call me if you need something."

Kyle leaves and Johnny was alone. He puts his head in his hands, cursing at his shit luck. He was beyond shocked by how something like this could happen. His father is dating his ex.

"Oh my god..."

Someone walks into the room and he braced himself. He looks up to see his father standing there, clearly processing this as well as him. Simon was standing in the doorway.

"I'm going to grab a beer. God this is some wacky shit-"

With that, he left. John sighs and walks over to the couch and sits. He rests his arms on his knees, staring intently ahead of him. He clearly wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how to say it. Johnny swallows, never in his life did he think he would end up in a situation like this. They sat there in uncomfortable silence before Johnny finally couldn't take it anymore.

"So... how did you, uh, get with him?"

John turns and stares at his son, blinking, "Are you asking me when I hooked up with Phil?"

Johnny cringes, "No! I meant like, when did you two start going out? How did you get with him?"

"You act like he's a bad guy."

"He's not! He-He's just- UGH!"

Johnny holds his head in his hands, frustrated by his inability to say what he was thinking. John, externally, kept calm.

John sighs, "He told me that his last relationship didn't end well... which was a year ago..."

Johnny slumps against the back of the couch, "Yea... we got into a fight..."

"Phil told me it was because his ex lied to him about something... that something being how old he was."

Johnny winces, "Yea... Kind of told him I was older than what I looked... Even made a whole other Facebook account to trick him into believing me."

John blinks, "You... Johnny-"

Johnny stands, pacing the room, "Look, this is fucking weird as shit, okay. You're dating my ex! How the fuck does something like that happen!? How do you manage to get with my ex- Why didn't he break up with you when you showed pictures of us!? You had to show him pictures of your sons, right!?"

"I-I didn't exactly get around to doing that... I didn't want to scare him off."

Johnny stares hard at his father, "WHAT!?"

"Johnny, he's only nine years older than Simon! I told him about you boys and if he wanted to know more about you guys I would tell him! If he wanted to see pictures I would've shown him! I was following his lead, going the pace he set."

John takes a breath, "This is a very... interesting situation. One I didn't think I would ever be involved in."

Johnny stops by the window of the parlor, looking outside. He tenses when he sees Phillip out there, leaning against his car with Kyle talking to him. They both seemed relatively calm, though Phillip had a cigarette between his lips.

"I don't remember him ever smoking..."

John walks over by the window, "I kind of got him hooked... never did say I was a good influence."

Johnny snorts, "And you wonder why we're all menaces…"

"Hey, it wasn't all me. Your father doesn't exactly have the best track record, either!"

"Does... does Dad know you're dating?"

"He's the one who finally pushed me to getting back out there. Said that I was 'keeping myself miserable'."

"Does he make you happy?"

He already knew the answer to that. They've seen how much happier their father had become since 'sneaking' around with his new boyfriend. More genuine smiles. Deep, hearty laughs (laughing in general had cut back after him and Nik split). He was happy, he acted happy. But Johnny needed to hear him say it.

"Yea... I am happy. Even if this whole situation is weird- If he chooses to stay... I'd still be happy."

Johnny didn't even think about Phillip possibly leaving his dad over this. If he did he couldn't blame him. Johnny could see fear and sadness cloud over John as he watched Phillip through the window. If Phillip left... he'd be sad again.

Johnny steps away from his father, leaving the parlor.

"Johnny? Where are you going?"

"Gonna have a word with Phillip."

Johnny goes outside, Phillip visibly tensing when he saw him. Kyle turns and is surprised to see him.

"Hey, Johnny... Uh, is everything okay?"

Johnny keeps his eyes on Phillip, "Yea... go talk with Dad. And make sure Simon hasn't drank all the beer. I'm definitely going to want one."

Kyle blinks before stepping away, heading back into the house. Phillip avoids eye contact, reaching up and taking the cigarette from his lips.

"When did you start smoking?"

Phillip still isn't looking at him, "Two months ago... kinda started stealing them from John..."

Johnny takes a breath, looking towards the window he and John were staring out of and was glad to see that no one was looking out of it. The tension in the air was suffocating, he couldn't handle having eyes on him.

"Did you know who he was?"

Phillip finally looks at him, "What?"

"Did you know he was my dad?"

"Pff- Fuck no. I've done some weird shit but I've never went out and purposely dated one of my exes' parents!"

Johnny rubs the back of his neck, "Fucking insane shit here..."

Phillip hums in agreement. There was awkward silence, Johnny trying to urge himself to break it and say what he needed to say.

"I'm sorry about what happened."

"Which part? You lying about your age? Stealing shit from your family for me and making me feel indebted to them despite having never met them? What about you using me to get weed or get into illegal fights so you could gamble? Or, is it you lying about who you were? You're not Johnny MacTavish! You're fucking Johnny Price. And, if I had know that, I wouldn't have started fucking your dad!"

Johnny winces, the anger from what happened still very much there. Johnny knows he hurt Phillip. He couldn't argue with it, either.

"Did you tell him all that I did?"

"Parts of it. Didn't feel right bashing some immature kid who fooled me in front of a potential new partner."

"Right-"

"Why'd you come out here?"

"I wanted to apologize..."

Phillip scoffs in response to that.

"And... I wanted to ask if you would stay with my dad."

Phillip blinks before he looks back to Johnny, "What?"

"Look, he's been miserable and lonely since him and our other dad split. Ever since you two started seeing each other he's gotten so happy! Yes, it's fucking weird as hell that you're the guy he's dating, but you're also they guy that makes him so happy. He'll be crushed if you leave."

Phillip looks over Johnny, seeming genuinely surprised by what he had said. Johnny turns his body so he's facing the house rather than facing Phillip. He could feel the man's eyes burning into him, making him feel so small.

"You really care about him..."

"Yea, he's my dad. Been there for me during the roughest points in my life. I want him to be happy."

"And... you think he still wants to be with me after learning about what happened between us?"

"Yea, I do."

Johnny looks back to Phillip.

"You grew up."

"Only been a year."

"Not like that."

"Oh..."

Phillip finishes his cigarette, leaning down and stubbing it into the driveway before he puts the bud in the ashtray in his car. Without saying anything else, he walks past Johnny and goes back to the house. Johnny breathes out, wondering the future would bring them.

___

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hlizr50 · 11 months

Text

Men pay a lot of money to get their name into Gwyn's exclusive black book - enough that, with careful planning, she's putting herself through law school debt-free. Once she's graduated, she can retire the high heels and little black dresses and get to work in the pursuit of justice that she and her sister never received.

Azriel Singer's profile intrigues her, with a smile that never shines in his eyes and a delectable body. But will his attitude get in the way of any future potential?

Welcome to the ACOTAR Writing Circle!!!

This is part 1! Part 2 will be posted in 2 weeks, and Part 3 in two weeks after that! I can't wait to see where this story goes!

Thank you @azrielshadowssing for organizing this event yet again! And thanks to @headcanonheadcase and @mystical-blaise for your feedback!

Now, without further ado, here is part one of a new Gwynriel AU:

I Choose Who. I Choose You.

Read on AO3 or read the chapter below!

Gwyn squinted at her computer screen before rubbing her eyes to see if that would help the blurry words come into focus. She hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep - not since her shitty roommate had weaseled away the cash they’d set aside for rent. She’d had to work later and longer than she was used to over the previous week to make sure she still had a roof over her head. And now that she was occupying the small apartment solo, she would have to adjust her scheduling.

The copper-haired law student mentally ticked through the list again: twice as much for rent, internet, electric, water. She’d already nixed the cable, mourning the loss of SVU and Grey’s, but she would just have to cope. For the past year or so, she’d been able to get away with reserving Friday and Saturday nights for her work. Now she was going to have to expand that to Thursday or Sunday – maybe both. She’d just have to see how business was.

Only three more semesters. She could hang up her thigh-high boots and tiny dresses and insane push-up bras after that.

In spite of the judgment from society at large, Gwyn wasn’t ashamed of being an escort. When she’d been attacked, sex had been used as a weapon against her. It had consumed her; filling her with pain and guilt and shame. After she took control of her body again, there was only power. When she performed sex acts by her own free will, it was liberating. And nothing was more empowering than using it all to put herself through college and law school, after which she could exact the justice that she and her sister never received.

She chose who. She chose when. She chose how much.

If she didn’t want to fuck, she didn’t. If she didn’t get a good feeling from a guy, she wouldn’t even go meet him. She ruthlessly investigated the men looking to make it into her little black book, and only a few made the cut each week.

Gwyn worried her bottom lip as she read the same line of text about patent law for what had to be the seventh time. More work meant more internet sleuthing and social media stalking, which would take up time during the days that she would like to keep reserved with her schoolwork.

It was going to be a grind, but it would be better than a thieving roommate and her skeevy hookups. And the rent was still cheaper than anything else she’d find in the city.

With a muttered curse she snapped her laptop closed, choosing to abandon schoolwork when it was obvious that she would not be retaining any knowledge. Instead, she plopped down on the well-loved sofa with her cell phone and her tablet, determined to be at least somewhat productive. As soon as she tapped the button that would lead to what she called her ‘dashboard’, a familiar ding notified her of a text. She set the tablet down and grabbed the phone, eyeing the message bubble.

Nesta: Come out tonight?

Gwyn groaned, relieved that her best friend wasn’t there to hear and, therefore, admonish her for the reaction. She knew Nesta meant well, and that she wanted Gwyn to go out and enjoy all the things the buzzing city life had to offer a mid-to-upper twenty-something woman like herself. And the law student would admit that she always had a good time when she obliged Nesta and Emerie.

But, in spite of what she did for a living, being out in the unpredictable night made her nervous. She was always vigilant, to the point where it had to grate on the people around her, not to mention any of the service staff who had the unfortunate luck of dealing with her idiosyncrasies.

At least she was a generous tipper.

And now, with the rise in her expenses, Gwyn found herself yet another excuse to keep herself cloistered and safe behind the locked door of her apartment.

Gwyn: Can’t tonight. School stuff.

Okay, so a little white lie here and there wasn’t the worst thing she could do.

Nesta: BOO

Gwyn laughed as she thumbed her response.

Gwyn: Text me when you get home. Gwyn: Or a photo of the sorry sap you’re going home with and an address. Gwyn: And then text me when you get THERE. Gwyn: And then text me in the morning. Nesta: YES, MOM

She played into the bit, sending her a kissy emoji along with a message to “make good choices”, before turning her attention back to her tablet. If school wasn’t happening, then she’d use this valuable time for recon on her newest submissions.

And the photos that greeted her were, on the whole, quite impressive.

Tamlin Green. Tarquin Summers. Jaxon Vanserra.

She didn’t even open the Vanserra file. Instead her nose crinkled as she grimaced and immediately declined. Even if he wasn’t directly related, Nesta’s sister Feyre was close to a Lucien Vanserra who had the same fiery hair. Lucien was on-again/off-again with Nesta’s other sister, Elain. That potential connection was just too close, the prospect of meeting awkwardly at a holiday a little more likely than Gwyn cared to accept.

Tarquin Summers looked delectably exotic, with a brilliant smile that promised trouble. It was exactly that kind of vow that sent the law student digging into the profile he’d created, and she was not disappointed.

Summers was pretty young to own a company, the result of the passing of his father, whose private jet had crashed a few years prior. His leadership must still be solid, in spite of his age, because the hydro-power startup was thriving, and winning the hearts of environmentalists everywhere. Gwyn found his focus on the climate quite attractive.

What was also quite attractive was the way the man wore a three-piece suit. With his white-blonde braids pulled back from his face and his chocolate skin an incredible contrast against his crisp white collar and tan vest, with matching pants that were tailored to perfection and definitely highlighted that he had… a lot to work with downstairs.

That picture of a shirtless Tarquin Summers at the gym was quite a selling point, as well.

Gwyn returned to her home screen and opened another app, quickly transferring his information into it and submitting the background check. If everything came back on the up and up, she might just get to trace those washboard abs with her tongue.

With a satisfied hum, she returned to her dashboard and opened the file for Tamlin Green, even though the long, golden hair and too-perfect face screamed frat-boy with daddy’s money and nary a consequence in the world. Green was a looker, and he obviously knew it. He was older than Summers, his emerald eyes colder and more calculating, and Gwyn knew it wasn’t just because Tamlin simply had more experience with the real world and the hell that it could be.

Tamlin Green was the heir of an oil tycoon. Old money. Ruthless money. Where Tarquin was an industry upstart with a passion for conservation and paying fair and livable wages, Tamlin had been groomed by a long legacy of greed and profit at any cost.

Against her better judgment, Gwyn typed the first and last name into her search engine. She knew the background check for Tamlin would likely come back as pristine as his Crest-commercial smile. For serial troublemakers like him – with rich, influential fathers – Gwyn would stoop to scrolling through social media and internet news and gossip sites. Unfortunately, more often than not, those salacious stories were closest to the truth.

It took longer than she expected to find the questionable stuff – props to his family’s public relations staff – but when her finger fell on the article link, she didn’t need to read beyond the headline.

GREEN OIL, FORMER EMPLOYEES REACH SETTLEMENT Twelve women who accused Green golden boy of sexual harassment and stalking receive $125 million

The copper-haired student gave a disapproving tsk as she closed her browser and declined Tamlin Green’s application. While she was smug that the women who brought the lawsuit had come away with a significant sum for their trouble, to men like Tamlin $125 million was merely pocket change; a minor inconvenience for them to keep behaving badly.

A contented sigh escaped between Gwyn’s lips. Tarquin seemed promising, and tomorrow she would reach out to schedule a meeting to discuss wants and needs and expectations and compensation. But until then, perhaps she could–

Another face appeared before she could close the app, and she was met with the intense hazel stare of what could quite possibly be the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. Even though it was just an uploaded photo, Gwyn felt like he was peering straight into her soul.

“Azriel Singer,” she tested the name in her mouth and found that she quite liked the way it fell from her lips. With hair that was somehow both perfect and disheveled and heavy dark ink peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of the navy henley he wore, this man screamed sex appeal. His grin was lopsided, and didn’t reach his eyes, but that didn’t make him any less tempting.

Brooding and mysterious? Sinfully sexy with a tormented past? Laughing to herself, she opened his profile and application. Gwyn was making him the main character in her own romance book before she knew anything about him at all.

Azriel Singer was a tech genius, specializing in cybersecurity, and was responsible for protecting the assets of Velaris, Inc. He also contracted his security services to other big name companies, and his programming prowess and talent for layered protection strategies made him worth every penny he invoiced. Unlike Summers and Green, Azriel Singer didn’t appear to be one for the public eye, and when he did venture out into the city, it was in the company of his two fraternity brothers.

When he did venture out into the city, he looked sexy as fuck.

Azriel was tall and muscular, but a little leaner than Tarquin. The attached gym photos weren’t shirtless, but they didn’t have to be with the way that the tank was practically painted onto his skin. The tattoos ran over his chest and shoulders, tapering off like tendrils of smoke as they snaked down his arms and up his neck, and for a moment Gwyn wondered if they signified anything.

She also wanted to touch them.

With her fingertips and her lips and her tongue and…

The redhead shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She was never like this – drooling after a man she’d never met. She was supposed to be the stoic one, the hard-to-get one. She had the power. These men were panting after her, not the other way around.

But there was something about the way that his eyes seemed dark and never glinted with mirth that made her want to know more. It made her want to understand whatever he might have suffered and help him shoulder the burden. Perhaps it was that younger, broken version of herself that felt so pulled to someone else who was cracked and imperfect underneath the veneer of beauty and wealth.

And even though she had Tarquin, with his mischievous grin and laughing eyes and perfect physique, in her queue, it was Azriel Singer who received her invitation.

Good evening, Azriel Thank you for reaching out. I would like to meet with you to further discuss what you’re looking for. Could we meet at Sevenda’s on Main on Saturday afternoon? I’m available between 2pm and 5pm. Looking forward to meeting you. Gwyneth

She had only just opened her reading app when she received a reply.

2pm at Sevenda’s works for me. See you there. A. Singer

~~~

Azriel Singer was… quiet.

And, if she were honest, a bit of an ass.

He sat across from her, arms folded across his broad chest, wearing a frown. And for the life of her, Gwyn couldn’t figure it out. She knew she was attractive, and he had been the one to submit an application and agree to meet. So what was his problem?

“Listen, I don’t know if you were put up to this or have had a change of heart. But you clearly don’t want to be here, so maybe we should just part ways and call it a good try.” She shrugged as she hit him with some truth. It never bothered her if compatibility turned out to be an issue – that’s why they had these meetings. Might as well be as upfront as possible and get it over with.

The tall, unfairly handsome man across the table snorted. “Didn’t think I’d ever find an escort turning down money.” Annoyance flared to life, spiking her pulse, but she kept it cool and let her grin curve into something feline.

“You’re not the only man in my book, Azriel Singer,” she purred. His eyes grew cold. Calculating and hard.

“Of course not. How many men do you have on the docket tonight? Or is there a corner you prefer?”

Gwyn cocked an eyebrow, her ire simmering just below the surface. “That seems particularly judgmental considering you’re the one who requested my services.”

“My brothers suggested I try something to get a girl out of my system. A one-time thing. What’s your excuse?” he seethed.

In one surprisingly graceful move, she looped her arm through the handle of her purse and rose from the table. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Mr. Singer, but I’m going to humor you,” she explained curtly, stepping around her chair and pushing it in. She waved down a waiter and handed him her card before turning her burning gaze back on the man whose eyes flickered back. “I chose this profession, because I did not always have that choice. I choose who. I choose when. Nobody else. And that is power.” The server returned, and Gwyn furiously signed her name on the dotted line and gave him a radiant smile and a thank you.

“Have a lovely evening, Mr. Singer,” she hissed, “and you’re welcome for the drinks.”

And with that she stalked off, intent on messaging Tarquin Summers as soon as she returned to her apartment.

#acotar writing circle #acotarwritingcircle #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #acotar #gwynriel au #escort!gwyn #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel fic #fanfiction #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar au

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canonicallysoulmates · 1 year

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J2 Gold Panel Dallascon 2023

The boys today are in full swing, they're joking around making each other laugh, they're a little flirty, they are just in such a good mood and you can tell from the moment they get on the stage.

Jared does a little kick which is so cute and after Jared asks Jensen if it feels like they're twice as high as they usually are Jensen jokes that yeah but he did have some edibles that morning, and then he turns towards the big screen they have behind them that has a big banner with two pictures of them and he asks what's up with Jared's photo because he looks high....and Jared replies that what happened was that the picture got cropped so you don't see Jensen's left hand...I have no words.

And then there's Jared trying to recreate his stare in the photo and Jensen's left hand- just click on the link and watch: 😂

The first question is not a question it’s a fan thanking them, the show has a very special meaning to them because it's something that they watched with their grandad; Jared says that hearing stories from people about how the show helped them connect with their loved ones is one of the things that kept them going for so many years and when they were missing their families. x

The actual first question comes from an English teacher who sometimes uses SPN episodes in her drama units, like she used French Mistake to teach about breaking the fourth wall, and wants to know if they have episode recommendations that she could use for lessons. Jared recommends showing the movie Groundhog Day, and the ep Mystery Spot. The reason he brings up Groundhog Day is because he watched it this past week with their kids while they were all home because of icepocalypse. !!!!!!!!! Y'all already know I listened to this part multiple times, at different speeds, at different volume levels. This man said: "I just watched this movie last week with our kids when we were all home cause of icepocalypse". To me it sounds like Jensen and his three kiddos spend the ice storm with Jared and the other three kids.

But as I always say, don't take my word for it, here's the timestamp. Listen for yourself and form your own opinion.

Getting back to the answer Jensen asks him what the lesson would be for Mystery Spot and Jared replies the lesson is probably: you get another chance tomorrow, and try to make everyday count cause you never know when it’s your last or when you get to do it again the next day.

Jensen says that for a lesson in overcoming your fears, Yellow Fever. x

What’s their favorite quote? Jared jokes "leave the gun, take the cannoli." That's a line from the Godfather film. His real answer is: "pain is mandatory suffering is optional". And for Jensen one he likes a lot is: "taking care of yourself takes care of more than yourself."

Then Jared brings up another movie quote, "dude you got a fucking dart in your neck" which is from the movie Old School. This man spend the time he was stuck in the house watching old movies, I can tell. He also says people don’t have feelings, feelings have people. Which Jensen is confused by and doesn’t think it makes sense, but Jared explains that what he gathers from it is feelings are not pathological you can be angry or jealous but that's not who you are. x

When are Sam and Dean going to come back down to Earth? Jensen jokingly says season 16. Then says seriously, that that’s hopefully something that gets addressed when they get the call asking if they want to put their boots back on. x

What was their favorite kill? Some in the crowd call out Ruby, and Jensen laughs saying that technically he killed her, and Jared smiles and says to the crowd "are you reading my mind?"

Jensen's answer is Chuck. It wasnt some random monster of the week kind of thing it was somebody they had many years of work together and a friendship so whenever they get to work with people they have a great history and relationship with it makes it a little bit elevated, but he’ll take a good vampire nest killing everyday.

Jared says he didn't like killing this character but as a storyteller he's going to go with Rowena because it was so difficult. Says Ruthie is the most wonderful person on the planet, and she was fantastic as Rowena but that dynamic between her and Sam- it was so tragic to him to think of Sam having to kill her, it was so difficult he remembers the day vividly, it was truly emotional. He mentions that when the character of Bobby died they talked to the producers and the writers, and they said they didn't like it either but it’s great television and the boys were like fair enough so that was kind of an initial lesson; and when the Rowena and Sam storyline came to its conclusion that was really powerful for him. x

The next fan wants to know something cool about the boys that you wouldn't be able to find online. Jared says he’s done a questionnaire a few times, and guessing about Jensen, and it's turned out they're both introverts. They'd much rather stay home than go to a red carpet; extroverts feel energized being in front of the cameras but they much rather chill. x

Next fan has two questions, the first is that they want to know if the mic stand that Jared has is the one that Jensen threw down at the SNS concert the previous night because Jared keeps adjusting it. Jensen says he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, then he asks if he really did break a stand last night, the crowd replies yes and he goes 'listen, when i come on stage and there's music I black out'. And he, once again, asks if he really did break that stand, crowd continues to say yes, he says 'well, shouldn’t have been there'. 😆

The second question is, did Jensen think about how much his recognition would grow after appearing on The Boys? He answers that he doesn’t think he and Jared go into any of these jobs, roles,or stories thinking about the impact it'll have externally. They get hired to do a job and they take it seriously, even thought it might not look like it all the time, but they have a lot of fun doing the job because they truly enjoy doing what they do that being said they're not thinking about doing things because they want the effect it's going to have on a greater scale. They're just doing their job and hopefully it resonates to people and someone out there is entertained, and if that's the case they have done their job.

Jared mentions that 5 or 6 years ago the powerball prize was like 2 billion dollars, and they bought like 20 bucks of tickets. The draw was on Saturday, on Friday they’re on set filming, it's 4am, they’re tired, they’re miserable, they're flying soon and they look at each other and ask "if you win tomorrow are you coming into work on Monday?" And the answer for both of them was yes. If somebody went up to them and said they were filming a movie for the next month and it was going to be long hours but it would make a billion dollars in the box office, or long hours but they were never going to release it, it would make no difference they would still do everyday just as hard. He just does the hardest work he can and it's therapeutic for him as well to explore different lives and lifestyles and relationships so wether you tell him it’s an independent film that will never get released or Avatar he will work just as hard. And so will Jensen. x

Last question! The fan tells Jensen that he owes her sister 24 beers because last year she asked him to go out for her birthday beer and this fan had said that because she was turning 24 it should be 24 beers, and he had said she (fan asking the question) could go with them but she wasn't 21 at the time but she just turned 21 so now she can go and that would be 21 beers. I'm mentioning all this for only two reasons cause it has nothing to do with her question, reason number 1 is that when the fan tells Jensen about him owing her sister a beer, Jared grabs Jensen's coffee out of his hand and acts like he's going to give it to her and Jensen has no reaction, he just lets him take it and waits for him to put it back in his hand, like Jared taking his coffee is the most normal thing in the world. Which it probably is because they 100% do seem like the type of couple that shares coffee.

The second reason is that when the fan mentions that he owes her 21 beers on top of her sisters 24, Jared says that's 45 beers and Jensen stops, looks at him and goes "you do math fast!" all impressed. It's quite cute cause Jensen's all 😍 and you can tell Jared's proud of himself.

Anyways the last question is, what is their version of self care? Jared says that he’s been watching Limitless with Chris Hemsworth on Clif’s recommendation that it’s really meaningful, and fun, and interesting and a lot of the stuff that's talked about on the show really resonates with him. He is very similar, he has a though time winding down, and goes back to monkey brain, which is apparently what a doctor said, that's where one panics about stuff and is always worried so certain breathing excercises have helped. Also, the endurance training they did when they ran the marathon in Seattle kinda helped cause you put your shoes on, your music, your watch to check your heartrate and then you're on the road for an hour or hour and a half so you have to put everything else away, and he blames Jensen for turning him to this cause this was the training they did together. So find somewhere you can get past that really uncomfortable point of thinking you have to be doing something. Box breathing also seems to help him cause he sweats a lot, and he's anxious and nervous.

Jensen likes playing music, he’ll just sit down with a guitar and a lot of whiskey. x

J2 Gold Panel Dallascon

#j2 tinhat #this was a great panel but spoiler alert the main one was even better #can't wait to get into it but first i'm gonna take a small break #mine #noniwtv

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thatgirl4815 · 8 months

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I sent a very similar ask to bird-inacage, so sorry if you see this twice. But I have been looking for someone to flail at this about and I thought of you both because I like your SandRay takes! I was thinking about the two clips from next week's preview and also the fight in Sand's apartment from the trailer and I have a theory for how I would like it to go down. What I am hoping will happen (but I am doubtful because when has this show ever given Ray and Sand the least painful option?) is: After Sand shuts down Ray's friendship request after he and Mew enter their boyfriend era, and then Ray has his little jealous fit at the party, Ray goes to Sand's place to try to talk him into maintaining their current dynamic with the intention of keeping Sand on the hook, because the way Sand treats him makes him feel good. Maybe he even whips out that "If you're my friend you must take care of me in every way" line again? Sand finally draws a line with the "Do you think I have no dignity?" line from the OST and lays out that he wants a boyfriend or nothing. Which leads to Ray having another jealousy/entitlement-fuelled meltdown and hitting back that he doesn't want to be Sand's boyfriend and his life is going down the toilet since he met Sand anyway and honestly probably calls him a whore again because he is currently committed to being The Worst. Anyway, as painful as that would be, I hope it happens before Mew inevitably drops him, because it would give us a) Sand having a backbone, which I have missed and b) a nice ironic foundation for when Sand's ex eventually shows up and Ray gets to have a full-bore jealous meltdown over it and hopefully actually take a good hard look at his feelings and choices for once.

Hi! Thank you for the compliment--being at all compared to @bird-inacage is an enormous compliment in and of itself :)

As far as your theory goes: yes, I definitely think the SandRay apartment fight will be easier to move past the sooner it happens. I'm kind of at odds with myself, because while I find Ray's possessiveness of Sand very toxic, it also makes for a lot of juicy drama AND the potential for him to finally come to terms with why he feels so possessive at all. At the same time, I desperately need Sand to put his foot down like you said. It seems like Sand has been fighting for Ray this entire time, but I want Ray to fight for Sand.

What this all boils down to is whether or not Ray sees Sand as more than a distraction. I'd argue that he does, based on all of the development we have seen between the two of them thus far that goes beyond Sand's caretaking behavior. There's a foundation there, and I think that's easy to overlook with this whole RayMew cloud hanging over us. In other words: it's easy to believe Ray doesn't care about Sand now that he has Mew, but beneath all of his arrogance and selfishness, I think Ray does care. And I'm gonna go with that until I'm proven wrong, for my own sanity, haha.

Your theory makes me wonder where the last bathtub scene fits in?:

Because they appear to be in an okay-place here, holding hands and all, so I wonder if we'll see that before the big apartment fight? Hopefully it comes after. And the 'I won't let you walk away' scene at the school...I go back and forth between thinking that scene comes before the apartment fight or after.

All in all, I really like that theory and think we could see a sequence of events that follows that pretty closely, though knowing the writers they will give us maximum heartbreak. We are not safe from part 4/4--everything bad seems to go down there. Ray will likely run after Sand next ep as soon as he thinks his hold on Sand is slipping, but that'll only lead to more arguments between them. It's the perfect opportunity to Sand to stand up for himself like he did in Ep4.

Finally, what's the deal with Ray calling Sand a whore anyway? I understand it's a dirty insult, but it's ironic coming from him, who offered to pay Sand to sleep with him (which he very clearly refused) and has been the one instigating their sexual relationship ever since. But maybe that's the point.

Anyways, I love reading theories, particularly hopeful ones (I need some of that right now lol), so thank you for thinking of me! :)

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #sandray #raysand #raysan #sanray #only friends theories #only friends analysis #only friends episode 7 #sand x ray #ray x sand #only friends ask #ask

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yjano · 1 year

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All of me.

Part 12

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, angst, a little fluff, smut, violence and other pairings.

Words: 4.4k

Author's note: Although this story is not related to the Duskwood game, I will add some of our beloved characters. Please read it only if you're into angst prison stories, slow burns, etc. A little hint: You will get to see some similarities to Jake and his gang from "Never The Same" fic.

A week skipped by a whole week in which I had cared for Jake nonstop. Due to strict orders from Jessy, he hadn't been allowed to leave the hospital ward at all. Of course, Jake had tried to put up a fight with her, but Jessy wouldn't hear any of it. Jake even tried to escape twice, resulting in the fact that Jessy kept the doors locked constantly to keep him inside.

Two days after Jake had opened his eyes Jessy had made me his personal nurse and babysitter, being totally done with Jake arguing her. I only got three rules from Jessy.

One: Make sure Jake stays inside the hospital ward.

Two: Treat his injury.

Three: Make sure Jake keeps his mouth shut.

Jessy loved Jake more than anything, but he had given her nothing but headaches in the last two days, so making Jake my first patient seemed to be Jessy's best option at that moment. Besides that, it proved to be an amazing learning opportunity for me.

With Jessy eyeing me constantly, I took over Jake as our patient, and ten minutes later, she wished she had made that decision way earlier. Jake became putty under my hands, he never gave me a hard time, he listened whenever I told him something and didn't try to escape once.

A whole week passed by with me helping Jake wherever I could before Jessy finally released him from her ward, under the condition that I wouldn't leave Jake's side once.

A deep sigh left his mouth. He was seated in front of his computer while he read some files about a previous murder inside the gang. I, on the other hand, laid down on the couch while I read another book I found on Jake's bookshelves.

This time, one about a hacker who fell in love with an agent, I didn't know much about their past, but I liked the story. It killed some time while I stayed by Jake's side continuously. Jake still couldn't walk long distances, so both of us stayed mostly inside his apartment, and to me, that proved to be a whole lot more boring than I had first thought.

At first, I loved the idea of spending a lot of time with Jake. The whole idea of just the two of us while I would care for Jake sounded as a fairytale to me, but oh, how wrong I was.

Jake sat almost 24/7 in front of his computer, trying to make up for the work he had missed in the last week. The first few days, it hadn't bothered me that much, but by now, I became pretty bored by his behavior. Another sigh left Jake's mouth.

"Mc?" I looked up at him in an instant, happy that I finally received some attention from him.

"Can you get Lex for me?"

My eyes tried to make eye contact with him, only receiving it after a few seconds without answering his question. Jake locked his eyes with me, raising his eyebrow in a questioning way.

"I- yeah, sure." I sighed, clearly disappointed in again the lack of attention I received from Jake. A soft smile fell on his lips, giving me a small nod.

"Thank you, Lex's probably in her office. Tell her it's urgent."

I stood up from the couch and made my way over to the door, only stopping when Jake called my name out. I turned around, locking my eyes with him once again.

"Mc, I'm sorry for neglecting you. I'm just really caught up in this file. Don't take it personally, okay?"

A small smile fell on my lips, knowing that he hadn't forgotten about me but was just busy with work. I gave him a soft nod and left the room to find Lex.

With a small skip in my step, I walked through the building, greeting whoever I came across. My mood was a whole lot better than a few minutes ago. Jake had finally noticed me, and I finally had something to do. With a wide smile on my face, I turned the last corner towards Lex's office, walking up to the door with cables going through it.

Without knocking, I opened the door to Lex's room, expecting to find the girl in front of her computers. To say I was wrong would be a understatement, I was completely wrong.

With a huge gasp, I locked eyes with Lex, smashed the door back closed, and put my hands in front of my face while my cheeks turned a cherry red color.

"I did not just see that... I did not just... Oh my god, I did just see that!" I whisper yelled, completely embarrassed. I wished with every hair on my body I could remove the thing I had just witnessed from my brain.

I screamed into my hands, opening my fingers a little to look through them. I slowly turned back to the door, the image still not removed from my brain.

Never, and when I said never, I really meant never had I imagined to find two of Jake's gang members without shirts on top of a desk. Never had I imagined to find Lex placed on her work desk with Kaden hovering over her.

Kaden's tongue down Lex's throat with clearly visible bulge in his pants. Never had I imagined to find both Lex and Kaden without a shirt on while touching each other's bodies like there's no tomorrow. Never had I imagined to walk in on two members who were very close to doing much more than make out with each other.

Oh how I wished to remove the image, of a Lex only in bra laying under a shirtless Kaden, while their tongues were down each other's throats and their hands were roaming over the other's bodies, out of my head. I slowly removed my hands from my face, opening the door just enough that a little light could enter the room.

"Lex, Jake needs you right away!" I yelled, immediately running away from the door after the words left my mouth.

As fast as my legs could carry me, I sprinted back towards Jake's apartment, opening the door as soon as I reached it. I slipped through the door, smashed it close behind me, and slid down on the floor before the door. With my back pressed against the door and my head still as red as a tomato, I yelled out again. I shook my head, still trying to get rid of the image inside my head.

"Mc? Are you okay?" Jake's soft voice suddenly sounded through the room, making me halt all my movements.

"Why is your face red?"

I slowly shook my head, putting my hands back down.

"Remind me to knock the next time I'm about to enter a room."

Jake slowly lifted his eyebrow, not catching on what I was talking about.

"What?"

I stood up from the floor, walking over to the couch and falling face forward on it. Within a second, I got hold of a cushion, putting it before my face while screaming in it. Jake started to make his way over towards me, still not understanding why I acted like I did. He took place next to me, putting his hand on my back.

"Please remind me to knock, I never want to see that again." I mumbled, removing the pillow from my face.

"To see what?" Jake whispered, rubbing my back softly.

"Them... Almost fucking." I mumbled, putting my face back in the pillow again. A soft silence fell over the room before Jake bursted out in laughter, clearly way more comfortable with the whole situation than I was. It didn't take me long to start laughing too, seeing the humour in the whole situation too.

Ten minutes later, both of us looked up from a knock on the door. Jake made his way over towards his door, opening it and bursting out in laughter again.

"Damn, I didn't know Kaden was that fast..."

Lex's head immediately turned as red as a tomato, making both Jake and me laugh again.

"S-Stop laughing about it... Why did you need me?" Lex stuttered, a small smile now on her own face due to Jake's and mine contagious laughs. Jake immediately stopped laughing, turning all serious within a second.

"Yeah, about that. Did you make any progress with Mc's case?"

"Actually, I did. I'm onto something." Lex answered, a small smirk on her face while she walked up to Jake's computer with Jake following her.

My eyes followed them, images of Jake and me instead of Lex and Kaden crawling inside my brain.

Jake slowly started to feel better day by day. He still needed a lot of help from me and went for a checkup with Jessy every morning, but apart from that, he was doing quite alright.

This morning, Jake had gone to multiple meetings with Dan. With some persuasion from me, Jake took some rest after eating a small lunch with me. Of course Jake told me multiple times that he was alright and didn't need any rest, but I didn't want to hear any of it while I made sure that he went upstairs and got to bed.

Ten minutes later, Jake had finally admitted his defeat, and silence had taken over the living room. With a soft sigh, I looked up at the stairs, hoping Jake would fall asleep after his long morning with Dan.

Deciding that there wasn't much to do around the apartment now that Jake left upstairs to sleep, I walked out of the large living room into the long white hallway. Without much of a plan, I started to wander around the building. Somehow, I ended up in front of Lex's office, hoping that the small girl would be inside to provide me with some company.

I softly knocked on the door, waiting for a reply from Lex that would ensure me that it was okay to enter the room. After my last encounter with Lex and Kaden, I always knocked nowadays when I was about to enter a room, making sure I won't make the same mistake twice.

The door to Lex's office slowly opened, revealing not Lex but Kaden behind it. My and Kaden's eyes locked shortly while he took a small step forward.

"I'm assuming you're looking for my girlfriend." He started while he closed the door behind him. "Lex's not here, how's Jake?"

I looked down for a second before I locked eyes with him again.

"Jake's alright. He still needs some care, and he gets exhausted pretty fast, but he's on his way to making a full recovery."

Kaden gave me a short nod, signaling me to follow him while grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

I followed him outside, Kaden clearly on his way to take a break and smoke a cigarette. I wasn't sure why he invited me to go along with him, but I was happy with the company anyway. Kaden leaned his back against a small wall just outside the huge building, I followed him and copied his actions.

"You and Jake seem to get along pretty well." Kaden smirked, lightning his cigarette and taking a whiff from it. A small smile fell on my face, my cheeks turning cherry red.

"Thank you, I guess we do."

Kaden's smirk turned even bigger, taking another whiff from his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from my face.

"He's very fond of you. That smile he gives you hasn't been on his face in a long time."

I furrowed my eyebrows, turning a little towards Kaden, not completely getting what he was hinting at. Kaden softly shook his head, a small laugh escaping his mouth at my cluelessness.

"He has never been mad at you, has he?"

I gave him another questioning look before answering his question, one particular moment coming to my mind.

"One time, although that wasn't immediately directed at me. Every sunday we had church in the prison. I've been there once, and Jake wasn't happy about the whole church thing at all. I've never understood why, though. He just hated the whole church thing from the very first moment I've met him."

Kaden's smirk disappeared from his face, and a soft sigh left his lips. I didn't know him that well, but even I understood that Kaden knew more about this topic than I had first thought. Ever since Jake had lashed out about the whole church thing, I had wondered why he did it.

Nothing in the prison gave him a reason to lash out at the sunday service. Of course, a lot of bad things happened in the prison, but none of them was an immediate reason for Jake to hate the sunday service that much. Kaden took another whiff of his cigarette, coughing softly while getting my attention again.

"Normally, I don't talk about my brother without him being present, but since you've helped me with Lex, I can tell you a little bit. Jake started hating the whole christian thing because of our mother, I guess he started hating everything that reminds him of her."

Kaden threw his cigarette on the floor, crushing it with the sole of his shoe to stop it from burning any further. I watched the whole action, trying to understand what it was that made Jake so mad about the church thing in combination with their mother.

I didn't know much about Jake's family life but I knew that it was fucked up from what I had heard about it. Jake's dad made everybody scared and apparently Jake's mother made him all angry about specific topics. I looked over at Kaden again, opening my mouth to ask him another question.

"Why? What did your mother do?"

A loud bang was heard behind both of us, making the both of us jump a little. My heart started to raise, and my eyes widened at the sudden noise. Slowly, I turned around, coming face to face with an angry looking Jake.

All colors drained from my face, my heart starting to beat even faster. Jake gave both of us an angry look, his whole body tense, and his teeth clashed together.

"Our mother was a coward who left me and Kaden alone in this fucking shithole. That woman took the easy way out by killing herself and leaving us with that asshole." Without another word Jake turned around, walking away from the two us while his whole body radiated anger. I gave Kaden a short look, trying to understand the whole situation.

"Our mother is a sensitive topic to him. Just let him cool down a little before you go after him." Kaden answered before he walked back inside, leaving me all by myself.

Tears started to make their way up in my eyes, knowing that I had upset the one who meant the most to me. Jake had become really important in my life, and to know that I had betrayed his trust made me more than upset.

Deciding that the only way of fixing my problem was to talk to Jake, I walked back inside in search of him. I opened the door, immediately seeing Jake turn a corner at the end of the hallway. Without thinking, I started to run after him while calling out his name.

Jake never slowed his steps, turning another corner and going down the stairs to the basement where Kaden had tried to teach me how to handle a gun. I sprinted after him, throwing open the door and running down the stairs. I opened another door and got immediately greeted by an enormous amount of gunshots getting fired.

Shot after shot sounded through the room, all coming from one particular gun. A gun that was in the hands of none other than Jake Dalton. He was angry, really angry. Jake kept shooting like crazy, his body violently shaking from the backlash of the gun in his hands.

Knowing that the shots couldn't be any good for Jake's still fresh wound, I slowly approached him. He kept shooting like there was no tomorrow, not caring about the fact that I was getting closer to him at all. My eyes fell on Jake's gun, seeing that every shot he fired hit the targets perfectly.

"J-Jake." I stuttered softly, hoping to get the attention of him. Tears now made their way down my face, hating what I had done to him. "Jake, please stop."

A loud scream sounded through the room, the sounds of gunshots stopping instantly. Jake placed the gun on the table beside him, grabbing his shoulder painfully while his back was still turned towards me.

"J-Jake?" I stuttered again, soft sobs left my mouth. "I-I'm sorry." I casted my eyes down, not daring to look at Jake right now. A deep sigh left Jake's mouth, my soft sobs still sounding through the room.

"I shouldn't have asked about your mother. I'm sorry."

I felt how two strong arms placed themselves around my shoulders, engulfing me in a soft hug.

"Shh, it's okay. It's not your fault, Mc. I can't control myself whenever my mother is involved. I'm sorry for lashing out."

A deep sob left my mouth, immediately getting more engulfed in Jake's embrace.

"Shh, calm down, Mc. Don't cry, I'm sorry for scaring you. It's okay."

Another sob left my mouth while my body embraced Jake's soft touch, calming me down slowly. Ten minutes later, I was still engulfed in his arms. I had finally calmed down, but none of us had made a move to let go of the other. I felt safe in his arms. Jake made me feel protected and cared for, a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling that had been taken from me the moment I got arrested by the police for murdering my own sister.

Jake made me feel like I was worth something, that there was someone out there who still cares about me, someone who wouldn't leave me behind like everyone else had done in the last few months.

On the contrary, it also made me feel scared. There was still a chance that Jake would grow tired of me and abandon me like everybody else had done. If Jake ever decided that that was the case, I had nowhere to go. I was a criminal on the loose. Nobody was going to help me, and I would probably end up in prison again.

At this point, Jake literally was my whole life. Just the thought that one person could control where your life was going scared me. Jake had so much power over my life right now, and that feeling alone made me also scared about him.

Jake meant the world to me, but I never knew if I also meant the world to him. I never knew when Jake was gonna grow tired of me. I didn't know what the future held, and I could only hope that Jake would still be in it.

Both of us looked up from a soft knock at the door, neither of us letting go of the other. While the door slowly opened, I wiped the last tears from my face, feeling one of Jake's hands softly creep under my shirt to rub my lower back in a soothing way. Kaden's face slowly appeared from behind the door, a soft smile on his face.

"Are crying baby and angry bro ready for some fun after all this drama?"

Jake slowly lifted one his eyebrows in a questioning way.

"By fun, you mean... Drinks?"

Kaden opened the door a little further, walking over to the two of us where we were seated on the floor.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Let's see how much crying baby can have before she passes out." Kaden reached his hand out towards Jake, hoisting him up easily before he did the exact same to me.

Without giving any of us time to protest, Kaden grabbed a wrist from both of us, dragging us out of the cellar and into the long hallways. I gave Jake a questioning look, still getting dragged by Kaden to who knows where, earning myself a soft smile from him.

Kaden turned a few corners before we ended up before the door that I now knew as Lex's and Kaden's apartment. Kaden let go of Jake's arm, opening the door and dragging me inside behind him.

"Found them, blue. Pour some drinks!" Kaden yelled while he walked further inside the living room, I was still getting dragged behind him.

Before I could fully register what was happening, Kaden had pushed me in a chair in the middle of the room, a glass filled with liquid in his other hand and a devilish smirk on his face. I didn't know where Kaden got the drink from within those ten seconds, but the smirk on his face somewhat scared me. My eyes darted over the room, seeing that everybody I got to know in the last few weeks was there.

Lex stood behind Kaden, a small smile on her face. Dan and Jessy were seated on the couch before me, curious looks on both of their faces. Sam stood a little to the side, a drink in his hand while he watched the whole scene before him.

"Take it easy, Kaden, don't harm her." Jake's voice sounded from somewhere behind me.

Kaden's smirk grew a little larger at the comment and before I knew what was happening Kaden had shoved a glass in my hand while everybody, except from Jake, cheered me on to chug it all in one go. Well, I had always been one who couldn't handle group pressure. I got easily swayed, and this time was no exception.

Before I knew it, I had chugged the whole drink in one go, the liquid leaving a bitter taste in my mouth and a burning feeling in my throat. Kaden's smile grew only wider at the action, and within a second, my empty glass had been switched to a full one.

"Bet you could take another one without any problem, right crying baby?"

My eyes met Kaden's, a slight shimmer of mischieve in his eyes. I took the second drink without any hesitation, a small smile forming on my own face. I didn't know why I took the second one with so much ease, but something about the shimmer in Kaden's eyes made me feel safe.

It didn't feel like Kaden was about to use me or harm me in any way. It felt like he knew I felt terrible, and he wanted me to forget my problems for a while. There wasn't any pressure behind the drinks, and I was pretty sure that if I had said no Kaden wouldn't have forced me. His eyes held something soft behind the mischief and cold exterior, something I trusted without any hesitation.

Kaden switched the glasses again, holding his hand on top of the full one I just got from him. He slowly reached over, placing his mouth right next to my ear.

"Take this one easy. Three should be enough." Kaden moved his head away from me, giving me a soft smile before he slowly walked away to place himself next to Dan on the couch, grabbing a glass filled with red wine with him on his way there.

Before I could fully register it, Lex had dragged me out of the chair and started to dance with me, hearing the volume on the radio turn up at the same time. The alcohol slowly started to cloud my mind and it wouldn't be much later that I had no idea anymore what was going on around me, besides the fact that I felt alright for now and didn't worry about anything.

Lex stayed with me that whole night, the two of us getting crazy on the dancefloor while laughing the whole time. The both of us have found a friend in the other without even looking for it. My eyes did cross with Jake's multiple times that night, every time forming smiles on both of our faces whenever we would notice each other and it gave me a funny feeling in my stomach.

I couldn't remember where it had gone wrong exactly, but at some point, I had found myself on the floor with Lex laying beside me. I looked over at her, both of us starting to laugh like crazy before I felt myself being lifted up by someone. My eyes were still focused on my newfound friend, who also was being lifted up by none other than Kaden before I felt myself being carried away from Lex.

"No, don't leave me blue!"

Lex looked back over at me, soft giggles coming from her mouth.

"I can't help it. He's kidnapping me."

I reached my hand out for Lex, seeing my friend getting carried around the corner away from my sight. A soft chuckle above me grabbed my attention a second after that, and I slowly turned my head to the sound above me.

Two beautiful blue eyes were staring back at me, two eyes who held the whole galaxy if you asked me about them in that moment. My eyes darted over the face above me, seeing nothing but that complete and utter beauty. A small drunken smile formed on my face, and I slowly closed my eyes.

"Why did heaven let you go? You're so beautiful." I softly sang, earning a chuckle from the person above me. I opened my eyes again, locking them with the person above me.

"What's your name, angel?"

Another chuckle left the person's mouth before he opened his mouth to answer me.

"It's Jake."

My eyes widened while I slowly reached my hand up, placing it on Jake's cheek.

"I know you? Damn I'm lucky."

I softly slid my thumb across his cheek, a soft smile falling on Jake's face.

"I don't know if you're the lucky one, Mc. I'm pretty lucky, too."

A huge smile fell on my face, I sling both of my arms around Jake's neck, hoisting myself up in his arms.

"You're really beautiful, Jake, and I am the lucky one. You can't win ever."

Without giving it a second thought, I kissed Jake's cheek before I let myself drop down in his arms while closing my eyes.

"You're the most handsome guy I've ever met Jake. You're my angel." I softly mumbled before I fell asleep completely in his arms.

"I'm nothing compared to you Mc, believe me, if one of us is an angel, it's definitely you."

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