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#i really want to make a black and white one tho but i don't have any more ideas for what'll be held in the foot

alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

Text

NIGHT CRAWLERS - JJK

title credit: night crawlers - kids in glass houses

pairing: drugrunner!jungkook x sugarbaby!reader, college au

synopsis:

jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

warnings: jungkook and o/c are polar opposites, but y’know what they say, opposites attract and all that jazz, jk is a college student but also a drug runner, mentions of gang dynamics and hierarchy, oc is a sugar baby, mentions of consensual but uncomfortable sexual encounters as a result of this (proceed with caution), drugs, violence, blood, motorbikes, hurt/comfort, all the good stuff, smut – fingering, tittie sucking (wow pretend to be shocked!), unprotected sex, jk has the hugest cawk in the whole entire world, jk is a lil aggressive but in a sexy way, he accidentally says something mean during sex (not sexy mean, actually mean (he makes up for it tho!)), jk on top, oc on top, mentions of his pubes (yummy), tummy pressing, kissy kissy kissy koo, creampie, post-coitus nap, they’re literally in love idk what to tell you, ambiguous ending!!

wordcount: 26K

note from holly: originally published to wattpad in 2021 and also briefly uploaded to tumblr, too. It’s just hit 100k reads over on wattpad so I thought I’d put it here too!! There are two additional chapters on wattpad, connecting the story another fic of mine and also showing us jk + oc four years on from the events of NC!! If you’re interested, you can find it here (x).

i write in british english!! both in spelling and dialect!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

IT'S BEEN SAID that with great notoriety, comes great responsibility to uphold the expectations of those who presume the worst about you.

Okay, so that's a lie. No one's ever said that - but Jeon Jungkook has never been one for sticking to traditions, and so he likes to live his life as if that's his motto.

That, and 'rather be dead than cool.'

Which is ironic, because it's only the heteropatriarchal bores - the ones from upper-class families, who want a white picket fence and 2.4 kids - that actually think he's lame.

And he doesn't particularly give a shit about their opinions.

Everyone else thinks he's actually pretty fuckin' cool.

Black nails, black cargo pants, black hair that waves loosely over his sharp features. An air of command as he walks, a swagger in his step that lingers in stranger's heads like the silage of his aftershave.

Yeah, Jungkook is cool, and he fucking knows it.

A rucksack is perpetually slung over his shoulder, the top concaved slightly to indicate there's very little in there, not much more than a tatty notepad and a few loose pens - or so you assume.

You've never actually spoken to him. Why would you?

Daddy's little princess, glossy lips, manicured nails. The kind of girl who gives him a second look, but only to sneer. He doesn't think of you often, but when he does, it's never nice.

Jungkook doesn't have time for you, and you don't have time for him. Your paths rarely cross.

At least they barely crossed. Past tense.

Now that you're taking a few of the same classes as him, he sees you a lot more than he likes. Hair always up in that stupid fucking ponytail that he can't see past, perpetually on your phone. Attention seeking little bitch.

He'd ranted a little to Jimin about it, told him that you really must have been a dumb bitch to swap from an economics major to a film studies major with only a single semester left.

Jimin hadn't said much in return. Unlike Jungkook and his insatiable hate-boner for you, Jimin really doesn't give a shit about you. Barely knows your name, let alone the fact that you studied economics before switching over. Was kind of curious as to how Jungkook knew that. Not enough to bother with asking, though.

Jungkook thinks it's normal to scope out the competition. A little Facebook look-up, Naver search, Instagram scroll. Surely it's rational to do that? Check out their LinkedIn, cross-reference their Twitter history to see what they've said about the course.

It absolutely isn't normal, but then again, nor is Jungkook.

He's exactly as he appears to be; the rogue look isn't a front.

But beneath the exterior, there are a few more traditions he's subverting.

He's the first in his family to attend college, and he needs to ace this class to keep his scholarship.

It's all just projection, the way he despises you.

You've got everything he wants. A well-to-do family, money, prosperity, financial security. He's never known that. And while he shits on you for having parents that have provided for you, all he wants in life is to be able to do the same for his own children one day.

"I've matched you all with students of a similar grade level, so no one is at an unfair advantage," your professor calls out, tearing Jungkook from his thoughts. "Not a single one of you will experience the city in the same way. From shortcuts to your favourite coffee spots, your lives here will have been different to those of your peers."

Jungkook smirks, leaning back on his chair. He knows this city better than most; its dark corners, where the monsters lurk... how to hide and where to run.

Again, the rogue look isn't a front.

But he also knows how to work a camera better than anyone in that room, how to time his shots, how to frame them, too. Top of the class, though modestly quiet about it (he's got a reputation to uphold, after all), he's curious to see who would be considered an even match for him.

"That being said, your experiences are also shared with those around you. For this assignment, with your partner, I want you to create a unique piece of film that captures what the city means to you. Think outside the box. Create something that excites, that invokes. You've got eight weeks. The partner list is on the noticeboard at the back of the hall. Dismissed."

Footsteps echo around the lecture hall as everyone trundles out of the room. You wait back, having already seen the list before you entered the class.

Instead, you pull out a pen - one of the ones that Jungkook hates, with a ridiculous fluffy pink pom-pom on top - and jot down your number. You aren't aware of his insatiable hatred, and either way, you don't really care.

He ignores you as you approach his desk, eyes only drifting upwards when you slide the torn-out piece of paper towards him.

"Mhmm?"

He's rude, you notice. Brows raised, expression flat, he's fed up with you before you've even said a word. Kinda hot, admittedly, but rude.

"We're partners," you say with an ambivalent shrug. Jungkook's jaw seems to tense, head tilting as he breathes out a short smirk.

Partners?

"You haven't even gone out to check the board."

"So what?" You scoff a little. He doesn't like your tone. The feeling is mutual. "I just made it up?"

It's his turn to shrug, now. "Dunno. You tell me."

His hair waves around his features, and you wonder how long it takes him to make it look so natural. The girls around campus swoon over his hair, like he's some kind of God. Other boys try to emulate it, but they can never quite pull it off like he does.

Another thing that all the girls giggle about are his doe-like eyes, but they're hard, now. Narrow, almost. Less of a doe, more like a dragon. Maybe if you get his nostrils flaring, he'll breathe fire, too.

Yeah, he's hot, you want to laugh to yourself, but not that hot.

"I checked before I came in. Didn't take a genius to work out what it was for."

He takes a moment before he nods. "Right. Well, you should probably know that I work better alone. Just let me handle the assignment, a'right? You can put your name on it, whatever, I don't care. Just let me handle it."

A control freak, you note. Nice.

You didn't transfer majors in your last semester, and face all the hardships that came with such a decision, just to sit back and let someone else do the hard work for you.

"With all due respect, it's a joint assignment. I'm not putting my name on work I didn't actually do."

A stickler for the rules, he assesses. Fucking fastastic.

"Look," he sighs, adjusting his body so that he's practically leaning halfway over his desk. As much as it sounds like he doesn't want to be a part of this conversation, his body language is oddly engaged. "I need to ace this class. You've been here, what? All of three minutes? Film what you wanna film, send it over to me for editing."

"I'm very much capable of editing-"

"And if you could do me a favour and keep the nail salon footage to a minimum, that would be much appreciated. Everyone's seen that shit. It's not interesting. Gangnam underground shopping centre B-roll, too."

It's a thinly veiled insult. Assumptions he's making about you based on the clothes you wear and the company you keep. He doesn't explicitly say it, but you know what he means: you're not interesting.

Jungkook doesn't mean to be an asshole. Not really. He's just got a lot riding on this course, and doesn't want to risk it all for the sake of keeping the peace with someone he doesn't particularly like in the first place.

"Like our Professor said, we all experience the city differently," you plaster a smile on your face, the plastic kind that Jungkook hates. "You might just be surprised at what I can offer."

Private tennis clubs and shopping sprees worth more than a second-hand car? Yeah, no. He'll pass, thanks.

"Whatever," he reclines back, giving your number the once over before tearing a strip of empty paper from the bottom of the note. His hand moves quickly, scrawling his own number onto it. He doesn't hand it to you, but instead tosses it down onto the desk as he stands. "As I said, I work best alone. Don't bombard me with messages about the project. I'll have it under control."

He vacates his desk with an air of arrogance that you don't think he's yet earnt. Sure, he's hot, and from what you've seen of his work, he's pretty talented, too. But no one likes working with assholes, and the whole point of being at college was to make yourself a desirable candidate for jobs.

Or at least that's what your parents had always said.

When they were still talking to you, that was.

Before they decided that you're a disgrace to the family name, all for the simple desire of not wanting to spend your life slaving over finances and spreadsheets.

Like inheritance and a slightly crooked nose (straightened out for your high school graduation gift), econ majors ran in your family - and just like you'd cut off your parents' dream of watching you become an economist, they'd cut you off. Full stop.

So as far as you were concerned, Jungkook could take his arrogant whining about your financial situation, and the hobbies you might have enjoyed as a result of your upbringing, and shove it up his ass.

You really wish he would. Shove it up his ass, that is. Might relieve him of the pent up tension he seems to have going on.

Swiping up his number, you tuck it into your back pocket, ruing the day you'll actually have to text it.

It comes as a surprise to both of you when, a week later, Jungkook is the first to type a message into your fledgeling chat window.

I'm filming tonight. Could use a Grip, if you're free. Dongdaemun Design Plaza, 7pm.

You wonder how much pride he must have had to swallow in order to send you that.

On occasion, during the past week, you've caught him looking at you in that slightly menacing way he always likes to do.

Part of you thinks he's unaware that he's doing it, just zoning out in your direction, but then you see him shake sense into himself - quite literally, a bunny with an itch behind its ear kind of shake - before he averts his gaze.

He does a similar shake of his head when your response pings through to his phone.

Can't do Tuesdays or Thursdays. Sorry. Maybe another time.

He doesn't reply.

REJECTION HAS NEVER been something Jungkook has taken well. It's why he works so hard, fearful of being told that he isn't good enough.

He'd only sent that text because he genuinely did need a Grip.

Well, no.

That's not quite right.

He needed a muse; a subject of his shots, a pair of eyes to catch the confetti of night market lights in. Someone's hand to film as they exchanged money with a hotteok stand server, another human to get lost and found all within the same shot.

But that felt awkward to ask, especially after his insistence that he could do it all alone, so he'd settled for pretending he'd needed a grip. Just someone to hold his gear while he took tricky shots. That's all.

Given your rejection, he was pleased with his choice.

"Familiar," Yoongi nods over lunch the next day, following Jungkook's gaze. "Yeah, I've definitely seen her around. Dunno where, though."

"Campus, maybe?" Jimin rolls his eyes, confused at the fixation Jungkook seems to have on you.

Yoongi shakes his head. "Nah... She looks like-" he glances over to Jungkook conscious of Jimin's listening ears.

"Like?"

"Just like a girl I see occasionally," Yoongi pauses again, making sure Jungkook's focus on him. "At work."

Jimin laughs. "So yeah, on campus. You work in the campus cafe, Yoongs."

It was the only legitimate place that would hire him. Dumb choices as a kid - and a questionable nickname that's now etched into his knuckles - prevents most places from seeing him as a viable candidate.

Yoongi laughs along with Jimin, but Jungkook knows Yoongi isn't talking about the once a week shift that he picked up as a form of extra credit.

Jungkook knows, because on paper, he doesn't have a job either.

On paper, he manages to survive on his scholarship bursary, The Holangi Honour, awarded to gifted students from underprivileged backgrounds.

On paper, Jungkook is the Korean dream of hard work and perseverance.

His reality isn't so pristine, but it never has been. He comes from a long line of high school dropouts with dubious morals and criminally reckless career choices. It was naive to have thought attending university would help him escape it.

Scholarship funds dried up pretty quickly, rent and t-money cards eating away at it, until Jungkook had no choice but to revisit old haunts.

Yoongi had told Jungkook that he didn't need to worry, that he could help him out if he needed money, but Jungkook was no leech, much to his older friend's despair. He didn't want the kid getting into the same trouble that he was in.

One meeting with Yoongi's old school friend, Hoseok and Jungkook was in the rat race again, delivering people's come ups for when the sun went down.

He'd always been good at running. Track, field, red lights, out of luck. Drugs, now, too.

Jungkook had managed a good year and a half on the straight and narrow. For that, he was proud. And sad.

But he's also determined.

Top grades mean top jobs in the future, which means never having to traipse around Daerim at ass o'clock in the morning.

He hates this part of town, but it's where business is currently booming.

Hobi texts him a drop-off list each morning, ensuring his nights are almost exclusively spent in Daerim.

This is how Jungkook sees the city: grotty back allies, groups of men huddled around a pack of cards and dice on the floor, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, phlegm spat onto the foor. He sees the women of the night in the early hours of the morning, and the sadness in the smiles they give to the men who approach them on street corners.

There's only one club of any worthwhile note in the area, and between jobs, Jungkook likes to sit up on the fire exit that rests above the back entrance.

It's where Hobi works, assisting some other reprobate that Jungkook doesn't care to learn the name of. Nasty piece of work, or so he's heard. The son of some powerful motherfucker that Jungkook knows to stay away from. He isn't interested in joining any stupid fucking gang. He just wants to get his money, get through university, and forget about this place.

That's the big dream at least.

His current wish, which feels much more immediate, is to outrun the fucker who has been on his tail for the past half a mile. Jungkook's pretty fast on his feet, and he gives a mean left-hook, but the guy chasing him has a pocket knife and that doesn't really feel like a fair fight.

It's his fault, and he knows it.

As per usual, Hobi had texted Jungkook his drop off list. Six of them, all in Daerim. He had no business being down by Jungang Market, especially not on a Thursday evening.

He couldn't even explain why he was; he was just curious about what life could be like if he ended up flunking out of college. He wanted to see where the monsters liked to lurk, or if they hid in the shadows like boogeymen.

But reprobate recognises reprobate, and drug runner recognises drug runner.

So now Jungkook really is running, out of territory that he shouldn't have infringed upon.

He's not out of breath yet, but he is conscious that his heartbeat feels like it's in his throat. A few streets over, his motorbike is parked behind an industrial-sized trash can, and he prays that no thieving cunt has tried to make a get away with it. They wouldn't have managed it - it's his prized possession and he never leaves it unprotected.

When he spots it a few minutes later, he laughs, relieved. "You beauty," he praises the engine, pulling his key from the pocket of his leather jacket.

The fucker chasing him is nowhere to be seen, probably nursing a stitch or panting down a different back alley. Jungkook doesn't want to risk it, eyes darting all over the place as he unbuckles the chain on his bike wheel with muscle memory alone. The metal clangs through the iron bars that protect the banjihas down the alley from break-ins. He always feels a little bit of guilt for chaining his bike up to the only source of natural light for the half-basement dwellings, but it's quarter past two in the morning. Not exactly sunshine hours.

And yet his eye is drawn to the light pouring down from a street lamp at the entrance of the narrow lane.

Usually, you ignore the noises you hear on your walk home - but, as strange as it sounded for Jungkook's voice to issue a compliment, you're almost positive that it is his voice.

Dark hair, dark eyes, he doesn't recognise you at first. You're wearing black, and your hair is down, but your lips still have that stupid fucking pink lipstick on, the one he'd seen you blot away onto a tissue in the middle of a lecture a few days prior.

His eyes linger, the lights flickering in his glossy dark irises as if there are fireworks inside that pretty little skull of his. For a moment, he thinks you must have been filming for the assignment.

The lack of a camera proves otherwise.

"Get on the bike," he yells over to you, tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket, pulling it down. Cognitive thoughts aren't something Jungkook's really working with, the adrenaline speaking for him.

That, and the fact that he's acutely aware of what men like the motherfucker who was chasing him down did to girls like you. Might not like you, but he doesn't want that on his conscience.

Plus, he needs your signature on the coursework documents, too. You're no use to him if you end up chopped into little squares and scattered in the river.

"Damnit, just get on the fucking bike!" He continues, noticing that you haven't moved a muscle. His jacket is off now, held out for you to take. He's impatient, eyes darting down the alleyway, as if he's scared of the rain that's pouring down around you. "Look, I ain't asking again. Just get on the bike, or I'll fuckin' leave you here. Some nasty fuckers about tonight."

And while you may not trust Jungkook, you don't trust the alleyways of downtown Seoul even more. You've seen the horrors. You know the dangers. Your mother didn’t raise a fool.

She also didn't raise you to bow to the commands of assholes like him either.

You ignore his jacket, hiking up your skirt, revealing far more of your thigh than most get to see. He doesn't make a comment, but you know he sees a flash of your underwear as you do so.

For once, sex seems to be the last thing on his mind.

Rain pools in the gutter by the drainpipes, trickling down, collecting in the ducts. A puddle sits on top, a tell-tale sign that the street is going to flood soon, but Jungkook also doesn't give a shit about that. Not right now - but he does make a mental note to check that the drains are unblocked by his place when he gets home.

He's a fellow basement dweller, dependent on the cheap rent. A banjiha boy with big dreams of getting out.

You hoist your leg over, ignoring the droplets of water on the leather seat, as your hand wraps around his waist. The front of his white shirt is damp from the rain, elevating the scent of his laundry detergent. You don't hate it. Quite like it, actually.

"Wet conditions," he rasps, voice still hurrying out of his mouth. "So take the jacket. If I slide, the tarmac will rip your skin off." He turns, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders. "I'm not your father. Dress yourself."

"I'd be a bit concerned if my father was trying to dress me at the ripe old age of 21," you bite back, as if the fabric of his jacket doesn't feel like it's melting into your skin on account of how bloody warm he is. You push your arms through the material, shaking it ever so slightly as Jungkook begins to rev the engine.

"Thanks would have sufficed," he bites back a scoff, not wanting to waste time arguing. "Try not to fall off, a'right?" He gruffs.

Some would have considered his concern endearing. You know it's just because he doesn't want to spend his evening scraping your flesh off the sidewalk. Not because he gives a single flying fuck about you.

"Hold on."

He doesn't wait for longer than a second, just enough time for you to wrap your arms around his waist, before he pulls down on the accelerator. His exhaust chortles, spitting out petrol as he goes, water from the ground splashing up against your bare leg. You can feel goosebumps forming, and yet your arms are completely warm.

Of course they are. Jungkook's chest is a fucking furnace, heart pumping blood through him faster than the speed of light. Forward, forward, forward, he pushes his bike on, away from the downtown area he found you in, and away from the demons who were hunting him.

The vibration of the bike is a welcome disguise. Beneath the motor's veil, you're shaking. Partly terrified, partly the victim of an adrenaline surge.

Hardly a surprise. You've never been on a bike like his before.

There weren't many men on motorbikes around your neighbourhood as a child, only Old Jinyeon, who had a Harley that he only rode on the weekends, or when his wife was away at that spa retreat that everyone knew was really code for 'rehab'. Prescription medication was her poison, mostly. There were whispers that alcohol was a bit of a problem, too.

It was a shame, really. She was a nice lady - she'd just married into a lifestyle that didn't suit hers.

Old Jinyeon's father had also been called Old Jinyeon, and his father before that, regardless of their age. The name wasn't the only thing inherited, but a fortune too. Old by name, old by money.

He'd met his wife at a gentleman's bar; gambled all of his chips away just so that he could keep talking to her as she worked.

But the good is rarely easy, and the easy never good. Women like her weren't supposed to be with men like him.

And girls like you aren't supposed to be on the back of boys like Jungkook's motorcycle.

But here you are, hurtling through the city at a speed you're pretty sure isn't legal, clinging onto him for dear life. Your eyes are shut, streaming with tears from the wind, mascara blotting onto his back.

"Left turn," he calls over his shoulder to brace you. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, stomach losing all stability as he rounds the corner. You've never suffered from travel sickness before, but now seems like the prime time to develop it.

The lights of the city all bleed into one kaleidoscope of colour. Your sense of direction has been rendered useless, only opening your eyes once every few seconds to make sure that this is real. And every single time, you're surprised to find that it is.

You expect it to be like a dream where you fall, only to wake up at the last second - but you've never had one of those dreams. You've only seen them in movies. You're not even sure they actually exist in real life. Perhaps this would be the closest you'd get to one. A main character moment - though this felt more like a crime-thriller than the rom-com you would have liked.

The feeling of damp wind in your hair like this is new, and exciting, but all you can think about is the fact that you're pretty sure one of your fake lashes just flew off. You pull your hand back to stroke at your lashes, just to check, but it's caught by Jungkook grabbing for it.

"I told you to hold on," he shouts, though he doesn't need to. The vibrations of his vibrato can be felt through his back. "So hold the fuck on, a'right?! I don't say shit like that for fun."

Jesus, you think. Who pissed in his cornflakes?

But he's right. You do need to hold on. He proves it by not warning you the next time he turns, the bike leaning so close to the tarmac that you're convinced you can feel rubber burn. He eases as soon as he hears you shriek, the grip you have on his chest so hard he swears you might puncture his skin. Reaching back, he cups your knee with his palm, checking for any sign of blood or broken skin. Negative. And yet his hand lingers before he retracts it. He's just making sure. Double-checking. Over-indulging.

"The fuck was that, asshole?" You all but scream.

"I told you to hold on, didn't I?!"

He did. And if you weren't doing so now, tighter than before, you'd have hit him so hard in the balls that he'd have no choice but to adopt in later life.

"You could have fucking killed me!"

"Oh, boo-hoo," he sneers, catching his tongue before he says something he'll grow to regret.

Jungkook would never have killed you. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, and how to ride his bike almost as well as he knows how to get himself off. It's second nature. Innate. A gift.

But before you can argue back, he draws to a stop, his exhaust rattling, the motor purring. As much as he'd like to tell you to get the fuck off his bike, he can feel you trembling now. A part of him - a very slim, deeply hidden part - feels guilty for being so hard on you.

He's grown up with bikes. Trusts them. Lives, breathes gasoline.

He doesn't imagine you know how to change a bicycle tyre, let alone anything with a motor.

The hand that had checked you for damage earlier returns, his fingertips warm against your goosebumps skin. He strokes lightly, once, twice, quickly. "You're fine," he tells you, and you want to believe him.

"Never said I wasn't."

He snorts a small laugh, then taps your knee, encouraging you off of the bike. His hand remains close as you do so, conscious of the fact that you'll most likely be unsteady on your feet - feet that he now notices are clad in the strappiest pair of heels he's ever seen in his life. Perhaps he doesn't need to worry about your stability at all. If you can walk in those, then you can surely handle a pair of wobbly knees.

Without much thought, you take his offer of assistance, his jacket dwarfing you as you stand, hand clasped in his.

"Where are we?"

The alleyway you're down is unlike the previous one he stole* you from (*rescued). It's cobbled and damp, yes, but the doors down here lead to dwellings, garages too. Not an industrial-sized trash cart in sight. And it doesn't smell like fermented piss either, which is a surprise. You thought that was just the standard for side-streets around these parts.

"Doesn't matter," Jungkook shrugs ambivalently as he unhooks his leg over the bike.

He wants to ask why you're wearing such stupid shoes.

That's a lie.

He doesn't think they're stupid.

He actually quite likes them. You've nice ankles. They look good.

What he really wants to ask is why you're wearing them on a school night. The pair of you might be in college, but it wasn't student night at the clubs, and he hadn't picked you up from a particularly nice part of town.

There are only three types of women he ever sees in Daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. You aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get Percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. He's sure of it.

So it then further begs the question: why the fuck were you there?

Sliding off his jacket, you offer him a small smile. It's the least you can do, you suppose.

It's funny, because you only ever see three kinds of men in Daerim: drunks, gamblers, and dealers. Jungkook isn't any of those. You might not know that much about him, but you know he's a scholarship kid, and that he won the winter film festival on campus for his documentary on back-alley gambling.

"We're not too far from campus," he eventually states. Few blocks over. He assumes you live on campus. Got the money for it.

"Cool," you nod, sure that you'll be able to find your bearings from here. You don't live on campus. Not anymore. No money for it. "Thanks for the lift, I guess."

The atmosphere is awkward, dewy mist in the air dampening both of you. He nods back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

He knows he should invite you in, offer you somewhere to wait while you call a cab or something, but he's embarrassed. Of himself. His living situation. The fact that he doubts you've ever even been in a basement that isn't a wine cellar.

"Look I-"

"So-"

Jungkooks nose scrunches, cringing at the awkwardness. You glance down, self-conscious.

"What were you doing over in Daerim?" he asks rather out of the blue. He doesn't even process that he's asked until it's too late.

You clear your throat a little. "Just had some errands to run."

"At two in the morning?"

You nod.

"Right," he doesn't believe you, but can't think of a better explanation.

"Well, what were you doing there?" You ask, albeit a little more confrontational than intended. You were on the defensive.

His mouth is flat as he speaks, a narrowness to his eyes that makes your lips purse to suppress a smirk. "Running errands."

So you're both dirty little liars. Who'd've thought?

"Fairplay," you say with a smile. "Look, I still appreciate the ride. I'd have been fine," you add."But yeah, appreciate it nonetheless."

"Was nothing. I was headed in this direction anyway. If you take a left at the end of the street and follow the road down, there's usually a bunch of taxis waiting for the university cleaners to finish their night shifts. I'm sure you'll be able to get one."

"Take a left," you hum. "Cool. Will do." Bracing yourself to leave, Jungkook wonders if he should offer you a lift to your place too. "See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow. Class? That thing we attend during daylight hours?"

"Oh right. Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Bizarrely enough, if this is how awkward Jungkook is when he's being nice, you think you prefer him being an asshole. At least he has a little spark in him then.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook feels overloaded with fucking sparks, like someone's holding an axe grinder against the metal of his earrings, deafening him. The reality of his evening is kicking in, and the knowledge that he came a few metres from having a hole in his abdomen becomes overwhelming. He doesn't let it show, though.

"Thanks, again."

You make a promise to punch yourself in the face if you say thank you one more fucking time.

"It's fine, again," he smiles, with a small laugh, before focusing those eyes of his on the floor.

And so you leave, walking straight past the taxi rank and taking a shortcut to your apartment, which is a lot closer than you had realised.

Seven steps below street level, you jog down to your front door, petting the neighbourhood calico stray on your way down. The door closes with a slam, but you don't give a shit because the people in the apartment above never seem to give a shit when they stumble home at four in the morning.

Before he sleeps that evening, Jungkook wonders how much of the skyline you get to indulge in. Your dad works in the accounting side of one of the largest law firms in the city, he knows that much from his research. Knows that your immediate family has more money than probably all of his relatives combined. Alive and dead.

He just isn't aware that you're not seeing a single dime of it. Not since you dropped out of the economics and business side of school to focus on the creative arts. All that money your parents had 'wasted' on your education? Well, they weren't wasting any more.

Because you're a commodity, to be bought and sold, apparently. Not their daughter, who they should have just wanted to be happy.

So now you spend your Tuesday and Thursday evenings down in Daerim.

Because you are a commodity; and if anyone's gonna be selling you, then it may as well be your fucking self.

A stack of yellow 50,000 won bills sit on your desk. Twelve of them. 600,000 won. Not bad for a week's work. 6 hours.

Might have been cut off from your Dad's money, but your replacement 'daddy' wasn't a bad substitute.

The bluntness of such a statement usually makes you laugh, but not today.

If Jungkook knows the Daerim area like you think he does, then he'll be able to work it out soon enough. A bitterness fills your chest, like coffee dripping through a filter, forgotten about and left to go cold. You've been so good at playing pretend.

Secrets are so much easier to keep when they're not shared.

Perhaps that should be your project piece.

Secrets of Seoul: The Seedy Underbelly of The City.

After all, that was your unique view of the city; the side you saw that you were pretty sure no-one else did.

At least, no one else except Jungkook. Go figure.

"SEVEN WEEKS LEFT!" Your professor reminds the class as they dismiss you from your lecture. There's a little chatter, partners sharing ideas and friends discussing what to have for lunch - and then there's you and Jungkook.

He waits by the end of his row for you to walk to meet him, an inconspicuous look on his face.

The girl who he's watching neatly put a fluffy pen into her handbag looks a lot like you, but a hell of a lot different from the girl he gave a lift to last night.

Who the fuck are you?

Jungkook has always liked a little mystery. Seen the romanticism in the unknown. Still doesn't like you - but you've gotten him curious.

"You haven't sent anything over yet," he notes, keeping a slight distance from you as you walk together up the stairs.

"You told me not to bombard you," you remind him.

"Sending me video files once in a blue moon is fine."

"Once in a blue moon. Gotcha."

It's Friday, so he knows it's not one of your pre-determined days of having prior engagements.

It's only now that he realises that must have been why you were in Daerim last night; that your 'errands' are actually scheduled into your routine. It doesn't bode well for his 'not a hooker, an addict or a sugar-baby' theory.

"I was thinking of heading over to Dongdaemun this evening, seeing as you weren't free on Tuesday," he starts a little awkwardly, but the more he speaks, the easier it becomes. Being nice, that is. "I could still use a hand, if you're free? If you're serious about helping out, I mean. It would be good to make a start on things."

Relief washes over you. You've been fearing a conversation about the night before, but Jungkook doesn't want to talk about it just as much as you don't.

You meet him at seven o'clock that evening at Dongdaemun Design Plaza. You've always loved the green roof, how organic the landscaping looks above such a futuristic building. He listens as you explain this, eyes wide and in awe of the sloping pathways and curved walls, showing him your favourite of all the trees in the park.

Jungkook looks at you for a second, observes your hands, how they delicately move a few leaves to frame the shot you're taking. You've a Midas touch, and Jungkook wonders if your fingers would turn him to gold, too.

It's a silly, fleeting thought, but it doesn't stop him from focusing the camera on you as you roam Dongdaemun night market later that evening, lights cascading over you like glitter.

He thinks you're pretty in this light. Pretty when it's just him and you. No distractions.

Except there's hustle and bustle everywhere, a vendor chasing a thief, groups of high schoolers laughing on their way home from Hagwons, food sizzling, vapours making his stomach rumble. Perhaps you're the distraction, instead.

The pair of you spend the next week traipsing the city together.

Somehow, you only ever come together when the sun goes down, but it's fitting. You're a pair of nightcrawlers, swarming through the city when traffic sounds like a melody and destinations are unknown.

He learns that you drink your coffee black, no sugar, lukewarm. You learn that he'd rather rub coffee granules into his eyes than drink it.

And despite your preference for no sugar, he always tosses a little white sachet towards you whenever you order a coffee. He finds it funny. Insists that you have to be a sugar baby. It's the only way he can explain that night he saw you Daerim.

He's just joking. And you pretend not to, but you find it hysterical.

Mainly because he doesn't realise how bang on the money he is.

But also because you can't help but laugh whenever he does.

There's a comfort that grows between the pair of you, a familiarity. A casual ease that doesn't feel dangerous, not even when he's pulsing through the city on his bike, you holding onto him, his leather jacket wrapped around your body. You begin to like the way that the wind feels in your hair, and you stop wearing fake lashes. Jungkook doesn't tell you, but he likes you better with a few freckles showing, dewy highlighter and a little mascara being the only makeup you wear for the midnight city roams.

It's only because you can't be wasting resources reserved for clients on a boy from your film studies class. Times are tough, money is tight. No point in pouring funds into a boy you won't make revenue from. It's a bad business decision.

A few months ago, you did your makeup multiple times a day just for fun. Now you have to ration it. Life... life isn't what it used to be.

But Jungkook is ignorant to that, and you quite like it. Escaping from your reality. Becoming the version of yourself that he thinks you are.

He isn't sure which version of you he wants to spend time with the most; the too-good for him daddy's girl who dresses in Celine and comes with a pout, the enigma who lurks in the shadows that he thought he had a monopoly over, or the master director who seems to rival his talents for capturing moments of life in 4K.

As he watches your brows furrow while you turn your phone upside down, trying to understand a map, he decides that he doesn't care which version he gets.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

There's an impulsion to his desires and subsequent actions that he takes to obtain them. He's driven by gratification, and little else.

On the days he wants to feel wanted, he'll go to a bar. He never whispers false promises or pretends like he's after anything more than what can be achieved in a single night. The girls he goes for tend to see that as a challenge. They think they can convince him otherwise. It's not his fault when they can't. It's not his fault that they end up falling for him regardless. It's not his fault that he never has any intention of loving them back.

He tells them this. They ignore him. It isn't his fault.

On the days he wants to feel accomplished, he'll stay on campus until the cleaners usher him out of the room so that they can prepare it for the next day. Their insistence is lost on him - no amount of Cif can polish the dirt out of the walls. Once a shithole, always a shithole. He'll offer his apologies for getting in their way, and they'll coo over him like he's their own grandson. It's all very sweet.

They tell him not to overwork himself. He lies and says he won't.

On the days he wants to eat more than a single cup of ramyeon - which is most days, given his absolutely mammoth appetite - he'll send Hobi a text and request more drop-offs for that evening. Yoongi will give Jungkook a subtle look whenever a message from Hobi pings through, knowing it mustn't be good news. It never is.

Jungkook tells Yoongi to mind his business - but with a grin and a glint in his eye that eases his friends worry ever so slightly.

Disapproval never stops Jungkook from doing what he wants, regardless.

Not from his friends, from the cleaning ajummas, and especially not from you.

So he ignores the look in your eye, as he encourages you to follow him through a gap in the chainlink fence, which surrounds a disused water tower on the outskirts of the city.

Jungkook wants what he wants.

And right now, he wants to get a shot of the midnight city from his favourite vantage point.

"You said you've taken thousands of shots here," You hiss as a twig snaps beneath your foot. He smirks as you utter out a curse. "Surely you can just reuse one of those?!"

He guides you round, ignoring the ground level rubble, until you get to a ladder that definitely isn't safe for use. It's rusting by the bolts, and has a few vines trailing up it, undisturbed for months. Remnants of paint are flaking from the structure, collecting like ashes on the ground below.

"I have," he shrugs, unhooking your camera bag from your shoulder, popping it into his rucksack for safe keeping. He crouches, putting his palms upwards to offer you a leg up. "You haven't, though. You see the city differently to me, remember?"

He's taunting you. Reusing the phrase from your Professor that you had quoted to him on the first day of the project. Asshole.

Asshole with a smirk that suggests he's only teasing. Suggests that he's fond. Words that suggest he remembers the things you say to him. Memorises them, even.

Curious.

"Can't we just pretend like we see it the same way?"

"No can do, sugar."

"Oh my god, stop calling me that."

You're thankful for the midnight sky and the way it disguises your blush.

As if throwing packets of the white stuff at your face in coffee shops isn't enough, he's taken to calling you 'sugar', too.

"Give me a reason not to," he says as he tilts his head, encouraging you to accept his leg up. You check your feet for mud, then put your trust in his grip.

"I've already told you, I was just running errands," you defend yourself for the thousandth time. A short yelp escapes your lips as he boosts you up, your hands gripping onto the flaking bars beside the ladder.

He doesn't believe you for a second. He also doesn't believe that you're actually a sugar baby. It's just fun to fuck with you a little.

Once you're up, he waits for you to safely sit on the ledge, and then he makes the climb too. He's up a lot quicker than you, coming to sit beside you with his legs dangling over the ledge of the railings.

"Tell me it isn't worth it," Jungkook says a little airily, enamoured with the view.

And he's right. It is worth it.

A maze of city lights twinkle like the Carina nebula, interstellar, yet entirely of this earth. Bright whites, reds and greens speckle the horizon, and for a moment, it's easy to forget that you're looking at Seoul. There's a magic that can only be appreciated from a distance, far away from the scent of alleyways and the void nothingness of grey brick buildings. Skyscrapers tower above the skyline, but still look small from where you and Jungkook sit, silently, in awe.

"Look over there," he points across the vast expanse. You follow his trajectory, but you have no idea if you're picking out the right spot. "Daerim. Can always tell. Know the street layout too well."

"You're gonna get me thinking you're a sugar baby," you nudge your shoulder into his, and he laughs.

Reaching into his rucksack, you expect him to pull out your camera. Instead, his hand comes back into vision holding a pair of chopsticks and a tub of instant ramyeon. Uncooked.

He pulls the seal back, stabs at it with the chopsticks and offers you the small chunk he's broken off.

"It's good," he promises.

You know what dried ramyeon tastes like. You know it's good. You just can't understand what the fuck is wrong with him.

"Are you broken?"

He grins as he tosses the chunk of dried noodles into his own mouth. "Absolutely - but ramyeon is ramyeon."

You tell him he's weird, and he continues to smile, not resisting as you take the tub from him and break off a chunk with your fingers.

It's one of his favourite snacks. He's impatient and impulsive at the best of times. Waiting for it to cook? Too much effort. Cooking it at the convenience store and carrying it up the tower with him? Disaster waiting to happen. It's just easier this way.

And so the pair of you sit, not really saying much, watching the city roll by. Every now and again, he offers you a chunk from his chopsticks.

By the end of the night, neither of you have gotten any footage of the city.

And neither of you really care.

AS YOU SPRINT home after yet another spree around the city with Jungkook, running late for your Thursday evening appointment, you curse your inability to send his calls to voicemail.

You should really be working more. You need to be working more - but for the past four weeks now, you've answered every single one of his calls.

His messages? Yeah, you ignore those. He's learnt this, though. He messages you regardless, because... well, because he wants to, quite frankly. He doesn't give a shit if you respond.

He knows you read them.

He knows you saw that picture he sent of a flyer detailing a live art event last week. He knows that you noticed the veins on his arms.

You don't know that he'd spent a couple of minutes tensing his arm before he took the picture. Deliberately.

It's been said before that Jungkook wants what he wants - and what he wants more than anything, frustratingly, is your attention.

The way you study his arms the next time you see him proves that he's gotten it.

If anything, the delayed gratification makes it so much more worthwhile.

You have been thinking about him.

So as far as Jungkook is concerned, you can ignore his messages all you like, because you still always answer his calls with an airy 'hi,' as if talking to him takes your breath away.

The only time you don't answer is between the hours of eleven and two on Tuesday and Thursday evenings.

Chances are, if he just so happens to be in the area - which he always is - he'll catch you down on the wrong side of the tracks at just gone quarter past two.

He still calls you 'sugar', teasing you for the reputation of the area. You just roll your eyes and grin, then banter with him about how even if you were a sugar baby, he wouldn't be able to afford your prices.

He argues that he'd pay in ways that didn't include monetary value.

You don't ask him to expand.

But as you wipe your watery lash line in the bathroom of a shitty rental apartment in Daerim, you think about what he could have meant. If he actually meant it.

The TV blares from the living room, faint vapours of a mango e-cigarette wafting through the gap beneath the door. You've always thought mango smells like cat piss. Rancid.

Whatever Jungkook could have meant didn't matter. His flirty tone and angel eyes didn't pay the bills. The cash tossed down on the bathroom counter did - or more specifically, the widower, who occasionally wanted company from a pretty young girl, did.

A hundred thousand won for an hour, three hundred thousand total. It takes you just a week, two appointments, to make up the month's rent - but you still need to eat, to study, survive.

And so you return, every week.

It's not his actual apartment. He lives over in Gangnam, close to his kids' schools. More money than sense. He doesn't tell you much about his personal life. You think a lot of his small claims are lies, anyway - but you smile and flutter your lashes as if he's reciting bible verses.

Some nights are better than others. Sometimes, he genuinely makes you laugh. Occasionally, he'll ask you what you want to do. Takes you to museums. Fancy dinners. Theatre shows.

But he has a nasty streak, and in those three hours, you're his. He owns you. There's no sex, that's not the arrangement, but his hands have been known to roam, and the disparity of equality within your working relationship becomes apparent. You brush it off, tell yourself that it's natural for a man engaging with you in a romantic capacity to forget the rules. You tell yourself that it's okay.

The churning in your stomach and dis-ease of such a situation tells you that no, it isn't okay. But if you laugh at his painfully unfunny jokes loud enough, you're able to drown out the noise in your head.

The worst nights are the ones where he pays you extra.

There's no discussion anymore. The stack of notes is just thicker than usual upon arrival, and you know that at some point during the night, you'll have to sit in silence and watch as he sinks his hand down into his pants.

It's easy to forget the way it looks. Your eyes glaze over, and the discomfort, the slight disgust, indicated in your features gets him hard. He thinks it's taboo. Thinks you enjoy it too. That your panties look a lot like his hand by the time he's finished.

The snort-like grunts are what you find hard to forget. The wail of a moan that comes when he does. You hear that shit in your nightmares.

But it earns you an extra two hundred thousand, so you endure it because you don't have much of an option at this point.

Come 2 AM, cash stuffed down your bra, you don't have to think about it anymore. The fresh air of the city, a little smoggy and polluted, hits you like a freight train. You thank it.

When Jungkook enters Daerim that evening, he expects to find you. He normally does. You never look particularly happy - in fact, he often tells you that you've got a face like a slapped arse - but it's more so today.

He whistles from across the street, clad in black, a thick hoodie keeping him warm beneath his leather jacket. "Oi, Sugar," he calls, that boyish grin on his lips. Teeth so pretty you wonder how much novocaine it would take for you to be numb to the way it makes your stomach flip.

Eyes dancing up and down your body, he likes what you're wearing. Black tights, black dress that cuts off at your mid-thigh, a sweetheart neckline and chiffon sleeves that puff around your slender arms. He decides your boots are far more sensible than the heels you're usually in.

"That'll be twenty thousand, Jeon," you call back, arms folded over your chest as you change direction to walk towards him.

"Per hour?"

"Per every time you call me that stupid fucking name."

"What would you rather?" he goads, leaning against a window ledge on the back of a restaurant building. There's nothing down the alleyway, just trashbags and the distinct scent of fermenting piss. "Shugs? SB? Baby?"

You smirk, walking to the wall opposite him, mirroring his position, hands resting beside you on the ledge. There's a safe distance between the pair of you. A look, but don't touch type of vibe - but this time, unlike earlier on in your evening, you actually enjoy it.

"You really gotta make your mind up," your eyes roll, lips rising into a crescent. "One minute I'm a trust-fund princess with Daddy's money on tap, the next I'm a sugar baby with a different type of Daddy altogether."

Jungkook shrugs. "Just don't see why you waste your evenings roaming fucking Daerim of all places."

"Best dandanmian in the city," you say, referencing the abundance of traditional Chinese restaurants in the area. "Can't get the authentic stuff in Itaewon."

"Can't get hookers in Itaewon like you can in Daerim, either," he taunts you.

He doesn't really think you're a hooker, but he likes the way you grin whenever your eyes roll.

"Ah, so that's why you're here."

He holds his hands up to playfully admit defeat. "Guilty."

You laugh, knowing that there's no way in hell Jungkook will ever have to resort to hookers. Not when he looks like that. All doe-eyed and charming, floppy hair just begging for a pair of hands to run through it.

The pair of you let the moment simmer, droplets of water dripping from the drainpipe and into the sewer. He's lit by the neon light of a restaurant sign, red and yellow painting him like an impressionist masterpiece.

"You look cold," he acknowledges, but you shake your head and insist you're fine. Your hair is a little damp from the small shower you'd been caught in a little while previously, mascara smudged around your eyes. You looked like that before the rain, mind you. He shakes his jacket off and tosses it across to you, snorting quietly as it hits your face and crumples over your feet. "C'mon. I'm now about to ride home. I'll give you a lift."

He asks for your address, and you tell him that you'll just get a taxi from his place like you normally do. There's no need for him to go out of his way.

"The princess doesn't want the pauper to see her castle, huh?" he teases, always talking in bloody riddles.

"See!" you protest. "Always changing your mind! A minute ago I was a sugar baby, and now I'm a rich bitch again. Which is it, Jeon?"

"I dunno," he reaches behind himself, adjusting your legs and pulling you a little closer into his back, tapping your side to make sure you've got the jacket on. "You tell me, sugar."

He doesn't see you roll your eyes, but he knows you do it. You always do. Even when your pretty pink nails are clutching the fabric of his shirt, you pretend like you don't enjoy his company.

You've gotten good at playing pretend.

Jungkook only jokes about you being a sugar baby.

He doesn't fathom that you actually are one.

His engine begins to purr, and Jungkook kicks up the stand, setting off into the night.

The way you hold onto his waist is different tonight.

Physically, it's the same.

But it feels different.

And it is, because you're not just holding onto him; you're hugging him. Comfort in an old routine. You adjust your arms, keeping tight against his back, and he pretends like he doesn't notice the shift in dynamic.

He pretends as if he didn't notice your sad eyes earlier, too, and as if he can't feel the stutter in your chest as if you're trying not to cry.

Jungkook isn't a knight on a white horse, and nor does he want to be - but he doesn't mind being your rogue bandit who steals you away from the things that make you sad.

He's just an arc in your fairytale, not your happy ending.

But you've always been a sucker for a bit of a plot twist.

When you arrive at his, he wants to ask you to stay. He doesn't want an orange taxi cab to appear at the end of his lane and act like your actual knight in shining armour. He doesn't want you to ride into the sunrise with anyone but him.

And as luck would have it, your phone shares his desires.

Well, no. It doesn't. It's a mobile phone. It doesn't have cognitive thoughts - but it is out of charge.

"Different charging ports," he grits his teeth as he holds up his Samsung after you ask if he's got an iPhone charger. "I'm pretty sure I have an apple cable lying about though. You can come in for a second, get a little bit of charge just so that you're not stranded in a taxi without a way to contact anyone."

You nod appreciatively. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer, instead holding his door open and ushering you inside.

Jungkook cares in strange ways. He's practical, forward-thinking, trying to find solutions to problems that you'd normally shrug your shoulders at.

He's never told anyone that he loves them before, but he did once swap the hinges on his ex-girlfriend's bathroom door to the other side, so that it would stop hitting the sink basin every time she opened it. He shows his affections in meaningful ways, often without being asked or expecting anything in return.

Neither of you realise it yet, but this is one of those occasions.

It's not until you're perched on the worktop bench in his kitchen that he realises he let you in without hesitation. No longer embarrassed of where he lived, he kind of likes having you here.

You look out of place, silver pendant round your neck, expensive, and hair professionally coloured, nails done, toes, too. Not that he can see them. He just remembers a conversation you had once over chicken and a beer about the fact your toes always matched your nails.

Small details like that are what he thinks about when he's alone; like the way you blink a little faster when you're confused, and how you sprinkle Cheeto dust back into the bag off of your fingers instead of licking them like he does. He thinks about the way you laugh in his company, and how he's never heard you laugh like that with anyone else. And he tries to stop, but dammit, he thinks about how sexed up you look on those Daerim nights.

You're dressing like that for someone else, he knows that much.

But he gets to indulge in it too, when your body is pressed against his back as he takes you home.

He's stopped asking what you do in Daerim. He doesn't want to know.

For a few minutes a night, when he's alone, he likes to pretend what it would be like if he was the one you were dressed like that for. Only ever a minute or so. Gets him too hot. Finishes him off too quickly. Absolute sin.

"Kook?"

He doesn't even realise he's halted his movements until your voice breaks him from his thoughts. His jeans tonight are tight, and do a pretty good job of hiding the swelling between his legs. Fucking uncomfortable, though.

"Sorry," he doesn't turn to face you. "Was just trying to remember where I last had the cable."

"I was just saying that it's fine. It's really not that far. Don't wanna be a bother."

"Why'd you say shit like that?" he turns to face you, face twisted a little. He's annoyed.

"Like what?"

"Call yourself a bother. You do it a lot."

"I don't."

"You do," he insists, and you can't work out why he's so annoyed by it. You want to apologise all over again. "You just-" he takes a moment to find the right words. "I dunno who's conditioned you into thinking everything you do is bothersome, but it really isn't. If I didn't wanna help, then I wouldn't. It's not a bother. You're not a bother."

And you don't know why, but for some reason, you choke up a little. It's not like he said anything particularly groundbreaking, it's just for the last few months, your entire existence has felt like a drain on those around you.

The money you can live without, but you miss family dinners on Sundays, and face timing your little sister, more than you can even begin to explain.

And while no, you didn't want your parents' money, you didn't want to keep seeing a perverted old man just to be able to afford to eat, either. The flat rate was 500,000 now. Every single time. Without fail. You hadn't put the price up. He was just always paying extra. Always touching his prick. Always jerking himself off over your repulsion.

Earlier that evening, he had queried how much it would cost him to finish on your chest. You told him a million. He asked if you accepted bank transfers. You told him no. He offered 1.2 mil.

Part of you considered it. It's a lot of money. Not something to be taken lightly.

But when you ran into Jungkook, just like you knew you would, you were adamant you had made the right choice. He had scanned your body, getting a read on your mood, assessing what you needed, what you wanted, and then had offered up his jacket. All doe-eyed and sparkling. You finally got what all the girls swooned over, 'cause you were doing it too.

"Hey," he says softly, noticing the way your eyes are reddening. "Hey, hey, no. Don't cry, sugar."

You laugh through the first couple of tears. Stupid fucking nickname.

"I meant it," you sniff, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands. He's standing closer now, hesitant to touch, hands hovering around you. "20 thousand won, Jeon. Pay up."

His fingers tenderly wrap around your wrists, keeping them from rubbing at your face again. He's smiling, eyes ever encompassing, cheeks so appled that you bet you could get drunk off the cider he'd produce.

"Can we do it on an I.O.U. basis?" he speaks quietly, playfully. "I get paid on Monday."

It's a lie. He gets his commission cut straight from his sales figures. There's 2 million won in his rucksack. He only gets ten percent. 200K. His job's not nearly half as lucrative as yours, but it's still nothing to be laughed at. He's making bank.

"Nuh-uh," you sniff again, letting out a little laugh. He laughs too. "Told you that you couldn't afford me."

And then it's silent. You can hear your heartbeat. He moves a little closer.

"Told you I'd just pay in other ways."

His voice is hoarse, as if he's scared.

As if he fears the consequences of his claim.

Your eyes drop to his lips. They're trembling slightly. Preparing.

The grip he has on your wrists loosens. He's giving you freedom. He's giving you the chance to back out, to run away.

But you don't.

"Pay up, then," you all-but whisper, lips closing on his.

Jungkook doesn't stall, no, but it takes him a second to respond. To realise.

And once he does, his brows furrow into the kiss, demanding that you know just how much he wants this. Wants you. Has done for weeks, now.

He pulls your body into his, needing you close. Your body curves, his arm hooked behind your back to keep you balanced.

A surge of intensity washes over you like crimson paint. It'll stain you, and everyone will know: That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

He kisses, and he kisses, and he kisses, and he doesn't stop, as if he knows his first with you will also be his last - and when he finally does stop, forehead on yours, the pair of you are breathing so heavily into each other's mouths that it's as if you're sharing oxygen. Keeping each other alive. Both capable of first-degree murder.

And so neither of you pull away. There's no way he's doing time for you. There's no way you're doing time for him. Looks like you'll just have to kiss forever. Shame. Such a hardship. However will you cope?

"I-" he begins, before cutting himself off, easing his grip on your waist. One of his hands lingers, while the other pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes wincing. "Shit-" he finally lets you go. "I don't know what that was. I'm sorry."

You want to tell him that it's okay, that you didn't mind, that he could do it again - but it's clear he doesn't agree.

"Just adrenaline," you offer, sinking down to perch on the worktop bench. Your defeated posture is hidden well like this. "Don't sweat it."

He stays silent as he turns around to resume his rummaging, looking for a charger that will fit your phone. He knows there's one in there, he just can't for the life of him remember when he last had it.

Everything feels a little awkward. You half think that you should fill the void with something, that you should break the ice, but what was the point? You'll be out of his hair soon.

And you are, home twenty minutes later. You had only charged your phone for ten minutes at his, just enough to get you home. It's about to die again. Not before Jungkook pings you a message, though.

He doesn't expect a response, but he lies awake until he sees your read receipt confirm that you've seen it.

Sadness doesn't suit you, sugar. I'm not gonna pry, but if you ever need a ride earlier than normal out of Daerim, give me a call.

He spent a good six minutes debating whether or not to end his message with a kiss, eventually deciding against it. No need to make the message any softer than it already was.

To his surprise, a bubble pops up on your side of the chat thread.

His heart twinges, your response saying everything he wished he had with just one simple letter:

JUNGKOOK HAS A terrible habit of taking out his stress on the people around him; the ones that he holds closest.

"I just don't see why it's such a big issue," Jimin says through a mouthful of salad greens. His teeth chomp so loudly that Jungkook thinks they'll have to swing by the dentistry labs later that afternoon. Which Jimin'll probably like, considering he won't stop fucking rambling on about a dentistry student at the moment. "She's hot, she's got guys practically falling at her feet and she's interested in you. It's one party. Stop being so fucking boring."

Yoongi casts Jungkook a sympathetic look. He doesn't work so much at the moment, what with his chemistry finals coming up, and especially not in the Daerim area.

That's Jungkook's market now - but he did happen to have a drop-off for a last-minute order a couple of weeks back. Territory isn't an issue between the friends, with Jungkook respecting Yoongi far too much to ever tell him to back off, or to not take deals in that area.

He had been about to approach Jungkook that night, when he noticed you crossing the street, a smile plastered on your face. He couldn't see Jungkook's face from the angle he was at, but he could see how raised his cheeks were. And so he left the pair of you to it, knowing better than to stick his nose where it wasn't wanted.

Unlike Jimin, apparently.

"Not boring," Jungkook retorts, tossing the wrapper his chopsticks came in at Jimin's face. "Got a bunch of assignments due in."

"Dude, you've been MIA for weeks. If we didn't have classes together, I'd have sent out a search party by now."

"You're being dramatic."

"You're being boring."

"Kids, settle down," Yoongi interjects, and wonders why he doesn't just find friends his own age. Logistics, he decides. The perils of having to save up for university before he could actually attend.

Jimin, being Jimin, then proceeds to bicker with Yoongi, leaving Jungkook free to find your face amongst the canteen crowd. You're sat with friends, none of whom he's ever met.

Your hair is up, like it always is during school, but you've let your grown out bangs frame your face. Pretty, he thinks. Prettiest girl here.

But then you stand up, and Jungkook turns caveman. Head empty. No thoughts. Just nonsense. Jesus Christ. Who gave you the right? God damn.

A few months ago, he would have looked at you in that outfit - a silky sage green playsuit over a white tee, sunglasses resting on your head like an alice band and a pair of white converse on your feet - and he probably would have scoffed. Wouldda said some bullshit about the fact you're dressed like a child, or that the weather isn't good enough to warrant such an outfit.

A few months ago, he was a fucking idiot.

You feel his gaze on you, just like you always do.

And you ignore it.

You've been getting good at that. Pretending as if you don't feel his eyes. As if you're unaffected, unbothered by the simplest form of intimacy: a single look.

He knows you've been keeping your distance. Watching from afar is all he can do when you slink out of class before he can catch your attention. He tells himself that he doesn't care.

Jungkook mutes the audio track of the editing software he uses when he stitches together your footage, so he doesn't have to relive your conversations or hear you laugh, or worse, hear himself laugh.

It's all a bit nauseating.

Maybe a party would actually be a good distraction.

"Tonight, did you say?" Jungkook pipes up out of nowhere, only dragging his eyes away from you when he sees you pull your phone out to send a text.

He pouts. You never text him. Not once since last Thursday.

And you were nowhere to be seen on Tuesday.

He had called you, and for once, you didn't pick up. He didn't try again. Decided that it was on you just as much as it was on him.

That being said, he didn't get home till four in the morning, two and half hours after his last deal. Spaffed away an entire tank of petrol. Rode in fucking circles. Just in case.

"Now we're talking!" Jimin grins. "Tonight. It's her birthday, she's rented a bar in Itaewon - Dad knows the landlord or something."

Jungkook didn't know who 'she' was. Hadn't been listening to that part of the conversation.

"Well, you kids enjoy yourselves," Yoongi sighs as he gets to his feet. "Can't risk my finals over a few crappy drinks in a shitty bar."

"Oh boo-hoo!" Jimin pouts. "Spoilsport."

When Jungkook enters the bar that evening, he's greeted with everything he expects. E-cigarette vapours cloud the air, a cocktail of flavours violating his senses as he heads to the bar, shitty EDM pumping through the speakers. It's been a while since he let his hair down, so to speak.

There's something about him that commands attention. People gravitate towards him, even through the smoke clouds and sweaty bodies. Girls buy him drinks. Guys buy him drinks, too. Anything just to spend time in his presence. Like leeches, they hope to share some of Jungkook's aura.

It's impossible, though. It's Jungkook's authenticity that gives him such charisma. Trying to emulate it only ever comes off as tacky - like the guy towards the back of the room who's permed his hair to look like Jungkook's. Pierced his eyebrow, too. Looks like shit. Jungkook doesn't want to judge him, but he's a few drinks deep, and being kind is what got him into that mess with you in the first place.

No good ever comes from being nice.

He takes a shot. Tequila. Chases it down with lemonade. The girl next to him is playing with the bracelets on his wrist. Her nails scratch a little bit, and he quite likes it, so he doesn't resist when pulls him onto the dancefloor. He observes the way she moves first, and isn't disappointed. She knows how to move her hips, and seems to like it when he puts his hands on them. He can't really feel the sensation when she kisses him. The alcohol has numbed his lips. Maybe Jimin was right to force him into this.

By the time he goes to the bar for another drink, he's faded. Off his tits. Helped himself to some of Hobi's stash that he was supposed to be distributing that evening. A little bit of coke never does him any harm. He knows his limits. Tastes like shit down the back of his throat, but he kind of enjoys it.

At first, he thinks he must be seeing things when he catches you with an espresso martini in hand, laughing with people he doesn't know.

You've this whole life that he's no part of. A whole entire world. He really is an outsider looking in.

You're one of the elite; an old-money heiress. The type to own a miniature dog breed and only fly business class. It was stupid of him to think your interest in him had been anything more than entertainment. A 'little bit of rough.' Excitement away from the confines of the life he's sure your parents must have planned out for you.

It might just be because he's coked up, but he doesn't care about any of that.

All he can think about is the fact he's pretty sure you've never looked more beautiful.

He feels so lost looking at you like this, as if he needs to be closer, for fear of losing sight of you entirely.

And so he sits beside you at the bar, orders his drink, waits for you to notice him. Which you do.

You'd spotted him the very second you walked into the bar, his hands all over some girl you don't know.

In all fairness, you didn't realise he would be there. Sohyun, the girl whose birthday it was and an old friend from high school, has been fawning over Jungkook for months. Just superficial drawling, comments about his thighs and the fact she'd quite like to be suffocated by them. Harmless, really. You know she's never actually made a move.

Sohyun doesn't know you're working on a project together. You avoid the topic of him altogether, especially with her.

But she does notice the way Jungkook is looking at you like he's seen a ghost; haunted and comforted all in the same expression.

"You're here," he finally says, and it feels as if your chest is about to cave in.

Turning to face him, you're casual in your posture. Unbothered. Completely unaffected by him, and the lipstick that's painting those lips of his that you like so much.

You raise your thumb and swipe it across his bottom lip. He's silent as you do so, watching you, holding his breath. His lip moves like rubber beneath your touch, soft and supple, springing back into position once you release it.

You raise your thumb to study the lipstick you've collected from him. "Plum's really not your colour, Jungkook."

He doesn't say anything, a little transfixed. It's barely ticked past midnight. You should be in Daerim.

In all fairness, so should he. Hobi had some choice words for Jungkook when he told him that he wasn't working that evening at such short notice.

You swipe open your phone and repeat the step, filming your thumb as Jungkook becomes captive to your touch. You want to look, to see how wide his dark eyes are, but you're too busy feigning disinterest.

"There," you smile, forwarding the video along before you lock your phone. "Just sent you a video of how I see the city tonight."

You've no right to be annoyed. You know that.

Jungkook can be in a bar with another girl's lipstick on his chin if wants to be. He can stay out all night, and he can stay in beds that aren't his. It's his prerogative.

But you are annoyed.

It's irrational, and pathetic, and you shouldn't be.

You barely know him. Not really.

After you'd shown him your favourite tree at the Design Plaza a few weeks ago, he'd insisted on taking you across town to Garosugil, a street in Gangnam lined with beautiful tall trees. He questioned why you only had one favourite tree, when you could have had an entire row of them instead.

At the time, you'd enjoyed the way his eyes looked beneath the lights of the designer stores that neither of you could afford. You didn't question what he had meant.

It seems like you found your answer.

"I'm not the city," he eventually says.

And he's right.

He's not the city.

Fuck it, no, he's not the city, but his eyes sparkle like Itaewon on Friday nights, and his hands are strong like the World Cup Bridge. He's not the city, but you find it so easy to get lost in him without a map, and sometimes wearing his leather jacket makes you feel like you're eating comfort food at your favourite breakfast bar over in Myeong-dong. He's not the city.

He's not the goddamn city.

But it feels a little like you'd accidentally anchored your navigation pin in him regardless.

All you do is smile, and tell him that he's right.

"Look," he begins, and you can smell the spiced rum on his breath.

"It's okay," you interrupt. Who are you to make him feel guilty for his promiscuous encounters?

He doesn't know what you do in the dark. Not really. If he did, he probably wouldn't have kissed you last week.

"No, I-" he cuts himself off like he always does when he doesn't wanna fuck up his words. The alcohol is doing him absolutely zero favours. "I dunno, sugar."

Your smile is sad, and he hates himself. You lean forward, press a kiss into his rosy cheek and whisper, "That'll be 20,000, Jeon."

And because he's drunk, and he wants to make things better, he reaches for his wallet. You were about to walk away regardless, but damn, if the boy doesn't know how to hit you where it hurts.

"Really, Kook?"

It's like he doesn't know you at all; doesn't remember how you banter with him, how you flirt with him. Or maybe you were just stupid for thinking that you'd been flirting with him in the first place. Maybe he just speaks to everyone how he speaks to you. Must have spoken to whoever was wearing that lipstick in the same way.

He doesn't answer, not verbally, but his brows pinch together and his lips develop a frowning pout.

When he stumbles home that evening, he asks himself the same question: really, Kook?

In the morning, he wakes alone, with no recollection of how he got home.

He doesn't remember the girl from the bar, or the fact that Jimin threw up in a fish tank, or that they're now barred from three different establishments for encouraging people to snort fish food (which Jungkook had stolen while Jimin was emptying his stomach). Regretfully, he doesn't even remember your arrival at the first bar. Doesn't remember how, for once, you'd dressed to impress just him.

His lack of recollection means fuck all though, 'cause despite his headache, the thing weighing down most heavily on him is guilt. He feels a sense of duty when it comes to you; duty that he hasn't performed lately. Were you getting home safe? Getting harrassed by scummy fuckers on the Daerim path of destruction?

Out of habit, he checks his phone, ignores the messages from unknown numbers and goes straight to your message thread to check the damage. He's surprised to find that he didn't drunk text you, but even more surprised to find that you'd messaged him. It's a video, just a few seconds, but it's enough to provoke some of his memories back.

He watches your thumb as it glides across his bottom lip. Watches it again. Notices the lipstick. Notices the thumb ring he never realised you wore before, and the fact that your nails are black now instead of their usual pink. There's something erotic about it; the way you touch him. The way you filmed yourself touching him. He'll probably get in trouble for it, but there's no way he isn't adding that to your project.

You consider ignoring his call when your phone flashes with his caller I.D.

It's only just gone seven, and you're still in bed, still try to make heads or tails of your life.

But you're weak, and so you slide your thumb across the little green icon.

"Hey."

"Uh, hey."

"You good?"

"So hungover, I think I might die," Jungkook jokes, voice hoarse. You wonder if he always sounds like this in the morning. "Just wanted to check in with you though. Barely seen you all week, and then I end up with a weird-ass video in our message thread that I don't remember."

Ah. You cringe.

"Ran into you at the bar," you shrug, not that he can see you. "Didn't realise you were friends with Sohyun."

"Hmm?"

"Sohyun... the girl who's birthday it was?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Nah, no, not really friends with her. Jimin forced me along."

You don't know all that much about Jimin, but from your limited interactions with him, it doesn't surprise you. Not in the slightest.

"Good night?"

Your question sounds forced and awkward, and he doesn't quite understand why.

"No idea," he admits honestly. "Remember fuck all."

He sounds as if he wants to keep talking but doesn't know what to say.

You don't know what to say either.

It's a mess. You liked it better when he hated you.

"Were you at the bar for long?" He asks, genuinely curious. "You're normally busy on Thursdays?"

"Just a drink. Had a last-minute change of plans."

"Oh?"

"Yeah..."

You know he wants you to elaborate. He wants more without having to explicitly ask for it.

Which is apt. Seems like it's a common occurrence with Jungkook.

"So what did you call for?" you change the topic, not wanting to dwell. The aversion doesn't go unnoticed by him, but it does go unquestioned.

"I-" there he goes again, cutting himself off prematurely. Coward. "Are you free? Now?"

Oh.

Not a coward. Just cautious.

"Now? I mean, yeah, I guess."

Jungkook takes a second, and then he bites down on the grenade pin.

"Can you come over?"

THE WAY YOU keep Jungkook hanging on tenterhooks is deliberate.

You're unsure of him, of his motivations, and what he does in the dark. And so, while you want to let your guard down, you can't. It's probably something to do with your parents - the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally - making their love entirely conditional and withdrawing it so suddenly.

It's the kind of shit you would have spoken about with your therapist, but you can't afford her anymore.

Can't afford much of anything, anymore. So much of the money you've earnt recently is tied up in credit card debt or rent.

Foundation was the first luxury that you'd compromised, and you're still yet to buy any more. Cheap stuff always makes you break out, and thankfully your parents did give you decent genetics, at least, so your skin was pretty clear.

It's the lack of make up that suggests to Jungkook you're opening up; not hiding from him anymore.

But it's also what tells him something is incredibly wrong, when you show up at his door half an hour later with a graze beneath your eye. Little flecks of reddened skin creep up your cheekbone, and Jungkook thinks it almost looks like carpet burn.

He hadn't noticed it last night, but it was dark, and he was drunk.

He lets you in, takes your jacket, offers you a drink. Everything that he knows he should do. Asks how you are, keeps a safe distance.

You don't know why you're here. Why you didn't say you were busy.

Except you do.

It's cause you miss him whenever you're away from him.

"I like these," you smile as you look at the artwork he has up in his room. The studio space is small, cramped, like all semi-basements are, but it's distinctly 'his'. A lot different to yours. Everything you own is still in boxes, not yet unpacked.

You've refused to come to terms with that being your life now.

"Thanks," he nods, watching you as you explore the box of a room he calls home. "They're from a guy down by the coach station. Has a little stall."

"You'll have to show me," you muse, turning to smile at him. It's saccharine, but the graze on your face is just so bitter. He hates it. Hates that he doesn't know how you got it. "Think I'd like some for my place."

"I have a feeling they'd look a little out of place in a princess tower, sugar."

Your shoulders shake as you laugh quietly, not correcting him. He doesn't need to know that you're a basement dweller, too.

"How's the editing coming along?" You steer the question away from your living situation.

"Nearly there," he grins, brimming with quiet excitement. Something about the way your camerawork looks with his editing technique layered on top just really works. He's always been confident with his final projects, and this one scares him a little bit, but in a good way. It's his best yet. Maybe he did need you after all.

"Can I see?"

"Not yet."

"Kook," you say, and - oh god - you're pouting. Jungkook suddenly begins to feel nervous.

It's that scary feeling again. A fear of the good stuff. Trepidation.

"What?" he grins, walking a little closer to you, letting his hand stroke against your back as he sits down on his bed. His fingers catch yours. It's fleeting, but enough.

You both feel it.

"Such a tease," you say, talking about the project, but there's innuendo in your words, too.

"Some girls like it," he flirts back.

"The girl at the bar last night seemed to like it."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, boyish and charming. It's annoying, you think, how impossible it is to be mad at him. It's not because you're weak, or because you can't resist his charms, but because he has a way of playing things off as if they're no big deal.

The girl at the bar? A nobody, his shrug suggests. She doesn't matter.

And it's so easy to believe, because you're the one in his apartment. You're the one he wanted here, the one that he missed. Or at least, the one that he was thinking of when he decided that he could do with some company.

It might be nothing, just something to pass the time, but it makes you feel wanted. Desired. Needed.

So you accept his hand when he reaches out towards you, pulling you closer, positioning you between his spread legs. You're standing, his eyes level with your chest, unashamed as he looks at your body.

"You look warm," he husks.

Just like he always uses your body temperature as excuse to give you his jacket, he's using it as an excuse now, too. The desired effect is obvious.

His AC switchboard is on the wall behind his bed. You'd clocked it when you were walking around, observing his possessions. Yanmar, the branding reads, the plastic outer frame beige. Once, it would have been crisp white. Age has dulled it. The monochrome monitor has a clock symbol in the corner, an indicator that Jungkook has his AC set on a timer. It suggests a sense of permanence. This is his home.

You haven't set your timer yet. You just flick it on when you get hot. It isn't your home.

He watches you as you move, curious. He's smirking, because he just cant help himself.

And because he knows that you like it whenever he does. Gets you a little bit flustered.

One of your knees hooks over his lap, and then the other follows suit.

He'd have said you were straddling him. You'd have argued that you were simply reaching over to the AC.

And you do exactly that, flicking the switch, watching as it lights up. "There. Much better."

Touche, he thinks. Smiles. Grips your thighs, as if he's scared you'll stand up again. Scared to lose you.

In all honesty, he had been hoping you'd take your shirt off, but he isn't going to complain with you in his lap, instead.

Doesn't matter if you mix the eggs with the milk first, or the flour. You still bake a cake at the end of it all.

Jungkook looks at you in such a way that you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so horrible to let someone in. His eyes are honest, void of ulterior motives. He's doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

Wants that feeling back. The one where his lips are cushioned between yours, his tongue licking into your mouth.

Jungkook wants what he wants. Jungkook gets what he wants.

And, fuck, if it isn't bare minimum - but you know this, and you don't care. Bare minimum tastes pretty fucking good when you're licking it from his lips.

His hands roam, and you let them. He's rough with his movements, but the fleshy pads of his fingertips are soft, like silk against your skin. It's almost like he's afraid, filled with the knowledge that he can bruise, if he really wants to.

But he doesn't want to. He wants to ask about the graze that's sitting pretty where blush should be. Jungkook doesn't wanna hurt. He wants to heal.

"I catch you looking, you know," you tell him before he gets a chance, wanting to see how he responds. "Every now and again..." He hikes you forward in his lap. Places you dead centre over his cock. You can feel it. He can feel you. "...I catch you looking at me." He presses a kiss against the base of your neck, obsessed with the way it vibrates when you speak. "Why are you always looking at me?"

The fact that you're sat in his lap, grinding your hips against a solid bulge, should be indication enough.

Jungkook isn't going to spell it out for you. The eroticism of suggesting he's a fucking voyeur makes him want to laugh - but the way your nipples are tenting the shirt you're wearing distracts him.

His teeth graze your throat, hands creeping round to your tummy. His fingers are long, practically the length of the expanse between your hips and the underneath of your plump tits. Just a little further and he'd be holding them, cupping them, caressing. Just a little further.

"I look at you-" His hands continue their exploration as he leans back, watching the movement beneath your shirt. It somehow feels forbidden - like he can touch, but not look. After all, your question had sounded quite a lot like a telling off. "-because you like me looking at you."

He's fucking with you, trying to get a rise.

"Do I?"

The way that you whimper as he brushes against your nipples has him pulsing his hips. Your eyes close, head tilting back ever so slightly. You like this. The way he does it.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles, lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stresses. "Bet you think about it all day, don't you? Think about the way I look at you when no-one else does."

Yes.

"All day?" you smirk between dulcet moans. "You're lucky if I pay you any attention at all."

"I think you're lying," he declares rather boldly, hands all over you. "I think it plays on your mind. I bet you fall asleep thinking about it, don't you?"

Yes.

"Ddaeng."

"I bet you get yourself off thinking about it."

Maybe you do.

Maybe you've whispered his name in the dead of night, imagining how it would feel to have his body weight on top of yours. Maybe you get intrusive thoughts of that kiss every single time you try to draw close. Maybe Jungkook has made you cum without ever laying a single finger on you.

But even if he has, you won't tell him.

And you don't need to, because his phone buzzing on the bedside table behind you cuts the conversation dry. Jungkook glances towards it automatically, then back up to you. His frustration is evident, jaw tense.

"I gotta get this," he mumbles, encouraging you off of his lap. You don't resist, accepting the last five minutes for what they were: a momentary lapse in judgement. He sighs as he stands, adjusting his trousers, swiping his phone and putting it to his ear. He strolls just far enough away that you won't hear what or who is on the other line. "Hobi. Speak to me."

Hobi, you muse. A friend? A colleague? Another girl?

You swallow back the nauseating feeling in your throat, pretending as if the prospect of Jungkook with someone else doesn't chip away at your self-worth a little bit. It wasn't like you thought you had anything special between the pair of you.

But he was right. You did like him looking at you.

More than you had realised until the prospect of him looking at someone else arose.

From the corner of the room, you could hear Jungkook trying to interrupt the person he was talking to. The first syllable would escape, and then he'd hush again, never quite managing to get the words out in full.

"Ho-" His nostrils look quite cute when they flare, lips pursed, a pair of unique dimples becoming evident. They're different to the usual ones you notice. Full of surprises was Jeon Jungkook.

"Hobi, can I-"

He runs his hand through his hair, already dishevelled from your hands.

"Hobi will you let me fucking talk!"

Attaboy.

The pause that follows Jungkook's outburst would suggest that Hobi had said 'no' - and then a few more choice words. If Jungkook rolled his eyes back any further, they'd surely get stuck.

"Look, I'm a bit tied up right now- no! No, not that. Who? No. I don't know a Taehyung, and even if I did- Huh? Ain't got nothin' to do with Holangi. Don't know a single one of 'em."

You try to decipher the conversation, but fail.

"You're a real fuckin' cockblock, yanno?"

You blush.

"Fuck it, fine. But you owe me. I'm not saying yes next time."

He glances over to you, catching your raised brow. Next time?

A smile catches on his lips. You thought this would be a one time thing?

He's barely hit second base. If there's one thing you're yet to find out about Jungkook, it's that he loves to win. He won't be satisfied until he's got a home run.

Any other girl, and he'd have probably been running laps for fun by this point, but you... yeah, you didn't bowl him easy hitters, that was for sure.

Jungkook moves with confidence, like he always does, as he strides over to the sofa, the bulge in his pants considerably softened but still present. "Take a picture," he grins. "It'll last longer."

You roll your eyes, but it doesn't stop you from asking if that's an offer. He laughs - that soft, gentle thrum of his vocal chords that sounds so heavenly in your ears - and tells you to behave.

"I just gotta help a friend out," he says as he reaches over you to grab his rucksack. It's heavier now than it ever is at school, the jingle of crushed tin foil rustling as it briefly catches on your knee. He pretends not to notice the curiosity in your eyes. Pretty eyes, though. He quite likes them, especially when he's towering above you and can see the whites just above your lashline. Yeah, he likes them alot. "I'll only be an hour or so. You can stay here, if you like?"

The way he phrases it is so casual that it's almost like you're old friends.

That, or Jungkook's just used to having women he doesn't know very well stay at his place.

You're unaware of the mental gymnastics he's putting himself through. If he could kick himself without looking like a twat, then he definitely would.

Shrugging, you give him a polite smile. "I don't wanna overstay my welcome."

"Nah, you're fine. I can give you a lift back to yours when I'm home? I'll be an hour. Two, tops."

Finally you agree, watching as he leaves like a lovesick puppy, listening out for the familiar rattle of his exhaust pipe. There's a cough and splutter of petrol spitting onto the sidewalk as his motor roars into action, and then he's gone.

You don't hang around for much longer.

You tell yourself that you will. That it would be nice. That you and Jungkook might not be so ill-suited after all.

But as the clock ticks by on the wall, you find yourself getting antsy. You find yourself asking stupid questions. Who exactly is Hobi? What was in Jungkook's bag? Why is he always down in Daerim? Is that where he's gone now?

The thoughts grow, adapt, intrude. Before you know it, you're considering what you'd find if you opened the top drawer of his bedside cabinet.

Realistically, you know it would probably be a wank sock and a tub of vaseline - it doesn't matter though. Your mind is wondering. You need to scratch the itch.

Just a little peek. He'll never know.

Oh, how you loathe your brain.

What's the worst you could find? A revolver? His ex-girlfriends panties? Love letters? A crack pipe?

Somehow, you'd rather find a pipe than panties.

It's not that you want Jungkook to be a crack addict. It's just the more that you think about it, the more you come to realise that you really, really don't like the idea of someone else feeling how warm his torso is, or how his upper teeth always nip slightly when he starts kissing you, until the pressure of his pecks plump his lips. You've only experienced it a handful of times, and it's stupid to get carried away, but he just makes it so easy.

He didn't ask you to stay, you tell yourself. He asked you if you wanted to.

Moments of instability like this are exactly why girls like you don't spend time with boys like him. It's stupid. Futile. A game for fools.

You leave his apartment as you found it, with not even a note to say thank you. He's had a squeeze on your tits. You deem that thank you enough. If anything, he should be thanking you.

When he returns, just half an hour after your departure, he can still smell your perfume. He tosses his keys down, calls out your name, and is met with silence. It takes him a moment or so to realise that he's alone.

There's a sinking feeling in his chest that he doesn't recognise. Doesn't like. Hates, in fact.

But fine. Fuck it. He didn't want you there anyway. He'd just been doing a good deed. Being kind because - if your face was any indication - obviously someone else had been particularly unkind to you.

Jungkook thinks he knows who, now.

Daerim nights have always been sketchy, but the days are no better.

He's just the lowest rung on a long ladder of criminals who turn a profit when the sun goes down in Seoul.

Hobi had asked him to drop the stash in his rucksack off at a club, some gang-run joint that Jungkook doesn't know much about, so that he could get them back to his boss.

That had been the plan, at least.

He slings his bag down, now empty, and sinks into the sofa, not bothering to get a rag to clean himself up. No point. The dried blood will just wash off in his shower. It's not the first time this has happened. He doubts it will be the last.

Jungkook's nose is currently bleeding, dripping down his chin and hitting the ceramic tiles of his apartment with small slaps. A bruise is forming above his left eye socket, and his knuckles are red.

A punch to the face means very little to Jungkook.

He's young, but he's strong. Fast, too. It could have been a lot worse if he wasn't.

He pushes the back of his hand against his nose, sniffing, before unlocking his phone, and dialing a number he knows now by heart.

The dial tone bleeds out, just like his nose.

And so he hangs up, and calls the only person he knows he can rely on.

"Wassup, kid?"

Jungkook doesn't mean to sob, but he cant help it. He knows Yoongi has finals coming up. He doesn't need his bullshit on his plate, too.

"I got jumped Yoongs."

Fuck.

"You alright? Sound pretty bad? Where?"

"Daerim-"

"The fuck you doing there at this time of day?"

"Hobi wanted me to drop off my stash."

"Kook..." Yoongi speaks slowly, coming to a horrific realisation. A few punches had never bothered Jungkook before. Something bigger was at play. "The stash...?"

Jungkook can hear it in Yoongi's voice: fear.

"Gone."

Yoongi sighs down the line. "Hobi know yet?"

"No."

"Alright, get outta your flat," Yoongi begins, not wasting time. Now is not the time for emotions, and it's clear that Jungkook isn't capable of that just yet. "I need you to go somewhere safe, somewhere you can lie-low for a little bit alright? Let me sort it-"

"Yoong-"

"Let me sort it. I got you into this mess. Don't sweat it."

"Ple-"

"Kook. Seriously. Trust me with this."

Yoongi doesn't let him debate it any further - and it's just as well he doesn't, because as soon as he hangs up the phone, another call comes through. Jungkook wants to answer it. Really, he does.

Jungkook's just very aware of the fact that the guy who jumped him had almost been waiting for him. Right by the entrance of the apartment block which he always picked you up from.

In between blows, he'd warned Jungkook to 'stay the fuck away from the girl'.

The girl who's now returning his call.

"Hey," you say animatedly, having not expected him to call. You thought the pair of you would resume your usual awkward routine of pretending like nothing ever happened. "Sorry, I was in the shower. You good? Sorry I left, I just did-"

"I need a favour," he doesn't bother with formalities.

You want to banter with him, to flirt, but the tone of his voice warns you not to. So instead you tell him that you'll do whatever he needs.

"Can I come over?"

Fuck. Anything except that.

"Please."

YOU DON'T EXPECT to say yes. You don't expect to care more about him than you do about protecting your own dignity. You don't expect Jungkook to traipse down the stairs that lead to your slovenly open door with a glum look on his bloodsoaked face, as you stand there waiting for him.

But he does.

He makes no comment, no remark about the building. Just wraps his arms around your head, cradling you against his chest as you stand in your doorway. You can hear his heartbeat, thud, thud, thud against his ribs.

Go somewhere safe, Yoongi had told him. It was a no brainer.

"I'm sorry," he says, eventually pulling himself away from you. "I didn't know who else to ask."

You tell him it's fine, and you mean it. Keeping up pretences doesn't really matter so much anymore. Perhaps honesty was overdue from the both of you.

"The fuck happened to you?" You ask, tenderly reaching up to stroke away some of the dried blood from his lip. He winces, hisses, body tense, but he lets you continue. "Sorry."

"Could ask you the same, sugar," he speaks kindly, not wanting you to think he's being critical as he nods to the entryway behind you.

You grit your teeth together and let your hand rest on his shoulder. "King kicked the princess out of the castle."

And, suddenly, it doesn't seem embarrassing anymore. In fact, it seems perfectly apt that Jungkook knows. He doesn't pry, don't push for further clarification. Just nods. Accepts your reality.

"Castles are overrated, anyway," he presses a kiss to your head, and gently guides you through the threshold. The corridor is short, opening up to an open plan studio. The layout varies from Jungkook's, but it's similar in size. Small.

"Ignore the wallpaper," you say of the awkwardly granny-ish floral print. It's beige, so not totally offensive, but dear god, you think it looks like vomit.

"No," he grins. "It's... wow. Your landlord really knows how to make a statement, don't they?"

You perch on your bed and cringe. "A statement... a crime against interior design. Whatever you wanna call it."

Jungkook continues to pace around your room with a curious smile. He's partially deflecting from the fact he knows you're probably dying to ask about his face, and why he was so desperate to be with you, but he's also interested in the life you neglected to share with him.

Brown cardboard boxes are piled high in the corners, your possessions not yet unboxed.

This place is just temporary.

You've got three and a half million won sat on your desk. A couple more weeks, just a few, and you'll have enough for a deposit on a decent flat. Then you can get a regular job, something stable, and you won't have to worry. You could work through the summer and then figure out what to do next. Just as long as you keep on moving upwards, you'll be happy.

"So," you begin gingerly, as you head to the kitchenette beside your bed, wetting a cloth beneath your tap. "You gonna tell me what happened to your face?"

He takes your previous position, inviting himself to sit on the end of your bed, anticipating your return. There's light coming in from the thin windows by your ceiling, hitting directly onto your back. He thinks it's apt. Thinks you're the kind of girl who deserves a spotlight. Thinks that Mother Nature agrees.

Jungkook shrugs, in that lazy, boyish way he so often does, as you walk towards him. He spreads his legs, encouraging you between them, letting his hands graze your thighs. You pretend not to notice as you press the damp cloth to his cheek. Tiny crows legs appear at the edges of his eyes, face wincing from the contact. It's painful.

But being alone would be more painful. He chose to be here. To be with you.

And so he tells you what happened, with as much honesty he can muster. There are some things better left unsaid, his occupation being one of them. You listen attentively, dabbing at his wounds, a frown etched into the lines of your face.

"Stay away from the girl, huh?" you muse, avoiding his eyes as you study his face. His nose is still bleeding, but every time you tell him to tilt his head towards the ceiling, it ends up back in its original position. He can't see you as well with his head tilted back. Doesn't like it. Doesn't wanna do it. "Could be any girl."

Jungkook's dimple forms in his cheek. "No. No, it couldn't."

His fingers that have been grazing at your thighs squeeze tenderly, letting you know he means it. More than he thinks you know. More than he knows he should.

There's a chance that any words spoken between the pair of you could be misconstrued. He doesn't know what his feelings for you are, and you don't really understand yours for him - but you understand your body, and the electric current running beneath your lips, dying for a connection. A little spark.

So you do the only thing that makes sense: you kiss him.

And he kisses you back. Slowly, tenderly, deliberately. His lips melt into yours, hand pulling your legs closer. He encourages you onto his lap, as if he needs to be insufferably close to you. Once you're positioned how he wants, just like you were earlier, he grips your waist, keeping you stationed there.

Jungkook knows he should stop.

He knows he should have paid attention to the pair of fists that warned him off you as his skull hit the pavement earlier that morning, knows he shouldn't let himself get so wrapped up in such a red flag - but he just can't help himself. It's like you're laced in the narcotics he deals, and slowly but surely, you've gotten him addicted.

He's craving. Dying for a hit. Just a little taste of your tongue on his, the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Red flags, red stop signs, pretty red lips all plump from the kisses he's smothering them in. Red blood, too. His nose is still a little damaged, and the way he's painting your cheek in crimson should repulse you.

Should repulse you.

Like fuck it does, though. You can smell the copper twinge through his plasma, and suddenly it's as if the Cullen's had the right idea all along.

When he pulls back, only for a moment, hands clutching at the side of your face to assess the look in your eyes, he notices it too. Hard not to. You blush all the fucking time, so much so that he knew the shade by heart, and the rouge on your cheek is far too vibrant, too scarlet. It's his fucking blood on you.

It should scare him, he knows. But the way you're looking at him, eyes all wide and glassy, lips swollen and waiting for more, has him unable to think straight. It has him obsessed, the way you don't care. The way he's covered you in blood and you still seem to want more.

But there's a softness to the way in which you're looking at him, mild confusion, as if you've got the same strange warmth running through your veins as he does. It's not a feeling he recognises, pulsing through his bloodstream with every beat of his heart.

Perhaps it's nothing. Jungkook tells himself that it is. Just adrenaline, probably.

You look at his lips, all crimson and blushed, and realise you much prefer the shade of his blood to the plum lipstick that had tainted them the night before. You're delicate as you wipe your thumb along his pouted bottom lip, just like you did in the bar. Except this time, the jealousy that had blossomed in your diaphragm is nowhere to be found. There's still a pinch beneath your ribs, but this time it's in your heart, and it's far more aching. This time, you feel his hurt.

Jungkook reaches down to where you left the damp cloth on your bed. It's wet and heavy in his hand, a little warm, too. He brings it to your face and dabs silently, cleaning you of the mess he's made. Fixing you. Restoring you to your former glory.

Its futile, 'cause his nose is still fucking bleeding, and you don't plan on leaving it more than a moment before you kiss him again. You simply don't care. Want him for all that he is, blood, sweat and tears.

But still, he insists on ridding you of his stain. Doesn't want to tarnish you. He's soft with the way he presses the cloth against you, mirroring how tenderly you were with him earlier. He's learning from you, adapting to you. Wants to be like you. Wants to be 'better'.

You watch as his eyes scan your face, brows twisted like they always do when he's about to say something but stops himself. The vertical groove just above his cupid's bow is red, blood tacky as it dries. If he kisses you now, he'll leave a stamp; a mark that says 'you're mine.'

It's too much. Far too much. You aren't his, and he knows this. He never wanted you to be his, in fact, for the longest time, he had wanted to be anything but yours.

But now he sits beneath you, crestfallen, heart in his throat, blocking him from speaking.

This was never part of the plan. He was never supposed to end up here. He was supposed to escape from the trenches, to get on the path of straight and narrow. Thrive. Succeed.

And it's not your fault, he knows this, but there's a little part of him that wonders what could have happened if he hadn't seen you that night in Daerim, hadn't seen the way your eyes look beneath night market lights, hadn't heard your laugh as he looked at his favourite view of the city.

You whisper his name, your palm resting flat on his chest, and his brows soften.

It doesn't matter what could have happened, anymore.

All that matters is what is happening.

The shortness of his breath, the flutter of his lashes against your cheek, the swelling between his legs. You can feel it, feel him, and he knows it. The way he's pulsing his hips upwards is testament to that.

It's a comfortable position, you sat on his lap on the end of your bed, not one that either of you wishes to break from. Not even as he begins to breathe against your lips, unable to properly control his reactions thanks to the friction beneath his briefs.

"Want you," he mumbles, pressing his lips into yours, the air in his lungs giving itself up to you. "Want you so bad."

You shake your head, brows pinched just a little. "I'm bad news for you."

And maybe that's it. Maybe he just wants you because he knows he shouldn't - but fuck it, if he can't let himself indulge in simple pleasures, then why bother getting himself beaten to a pulp over you?

"I'm bad news for myself, sugar," he husks against your lips, tickling them as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Deeper, deeper. Closer, closer. He wants it.

Wants it all.

Wants you naked.

Wants to know what it feels like to have you gasp in his ear as his hands roam beneath your panties.

Wants to know if you'd still look at him like you're stargazing even when he's railing you.

Wants it. Wants you. Just wants.

And what Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets.

He slips his hand up your shirt and pushes it upwards, before letting it crumple to the floor. You know that you should be more bashful, a little bit ashamed, but it's impossible when he's looking at you like this.

He has a visual now that he didn't have earlier. The glow of your skin beneath his bruised knuckles looks almost sinful, like he's plucking forbidden fruit from its tree. He'll pay the price for this, and he knows it, but he just can't resist.

Jungkook has always been a boob guy, always loved the way he could get girls moaning with just a little pinch, but never had he had a pair quite like yours. So full, so round, he's not sure his hands are big enough, and that doubt makes him throb. Soft and pillowy, he groans as he watches his fingers sink into them, utterly enthralled. His hips adjust, pushing upwards, pressing himself into you. He wants this. Wants it so bad.

You can feel the metal of his rings against your skin, and then you can feel his lips, his tongue, his teeth as they graze against the plush skin of your chest. He licks around your nipple, letting the air cool the wet trail, hardening you for him.

He's utterly obsessed.

His mouth pulls at the sensitive skin, suckles, sucks. His lashes are splayed on the tops of his cheeks, lips pouting around your nipple as he does so, small groans of pleasure vibrating against you. It will be a miracle if he can't already feel you seeping through your panties.

You whimper as his teeth graze your hardened nub, and his eyes flutter open. He doesn't detach himself, but instead, he keeps your gaze as he sucks. The pressure varies, and then it's hard. Really fucking hard. So hard you'll think he'll somehow give your nipple a hickey - but fuck, if you don't love the sensation.

"Christ," you gasp, before biting down into your bottom lip.

"Too hard?" He mumbles against you, peppering you in kisses and soft licks as if to apologise.

"No," you pant. "Was good. Was great. Just - fuck."

You laugh, soft and airy, and Jungkook smiles from the sound.

He likes this. Likes how you react to him.

And while he’s patient and gentle with you in a way that he isn't with other people, Jungkook has only ever known how to have sex in one way. It's ingrained into him, as if he was made to fuck like it; like he doesn't give a shit about the person he's screwing.

Jungkook doesn't do love, and you know this. He trades. Works in transactions. Settles debts. You don't really know this part, but you aren't stupid. You know he's never in Daerim for any good fucking reason.

You don't question it as his hands move south, slipping past your underwear. In fact, you're smug as he curses when he feels how wet you are, fingers slippery in your panties.

He pushes a finger into you, and closely follows it with a second. They curl ever so slightly, and it's at this point that you realise Jungkook is absolutely going to ruin you. Just a few pumps. Just to ease you up.

He's bored of waiting. Wants you now.

The pair of you move fluidly, minimal discussion needed, just occasional checks of 'you good?', or 'this okay?'. The answer is, always, without a doubt, 'yes'.

He gets you on your back, panties pulled off, legs not quite hanging off the edge of your bed, but nearly. He strips himself of his shirt first, and grins as he notices the way you whine.

"What?" he toys.

"Nothing," you flirt. "Just wish you'd hurry up. I'm a busy woman."

"Oh yeah?" The sound of his buckle coming undone is enough to make you fucking leak. "Busy doing what?"

You neglect to tell him. Not because you don't have a witty remark lined up, but because he's fucking naked now.

What a sight to behold he is. Body lean, honey skin flawless, muscles defined. You pretend like you're looking at his body, but your eyes are drawn to his cock. You'd expected length, but not the girth - and he has both in abundance. The tip of his cock is blushed and wet, with Jungkook just as aroused as you are.

Noticing your gaze, he rolls his eyes, and toys with your pussy again, lightly running his fingers up and down your slick entrance. When he pulls back, his fingers are still connected by thick clear fluid. His cock throbs.

"You're gonna get me so dirty," he hums, as he crawls onto the bed above you, before holding his fingers to your mouth. "Clean them."

Part of you wants to say no, but the other part of you can see his darkened gaze and the way his cock is twitching. You can't refuse.

His fingers are on the tip of your tongue, the tip of his cock nudging so close to your entrance that he may as well just do it. You raise your hips, encouraging, but he retracts a little just to tease.

The fingers that were in your mouth come to grip at the soft flesh of your cheeks, his thumb on the other side. "Don't you fucking dare."

There's tepid aggression to his movements, and it makes you feel vulnerable - but you like it. You like the way he's gripping your face, the ways he's looking at you with narrow eyes, just like he used to do across the lecture hall. You like being reminded of when you were nothing to one another, because it makes the satisfaction of feeling his stiff cock jump a little against your pussy as you moan so much more worth it.

He used to hate you, now he can't wait to bury his fat cock in you. Victory is yours, even if he's trying to act like he's the one holding all the cards.

You don't correct him, though. You let him think he has the upper hand. You'll play pillow princess just this once if it means you get to see him a little bit mean again.

"Dare what?" you pout, cheeks still squished between his fingers. He grips a little tighter, your chest rising as you gasp. He pulls your face towards his, sinking down into your lips, until he decided he's done with you.

He stands by the edge of your bed, and yanks your ankles towards him, pulling you close enough to the edge for him to fuck you like this.

The loss of his grip is unwelcome by you, a frown forming. He isn't looking at your face now, eyes down on his cock, which he's rubbing between your soaked pussy lips, but he can almost hear you brace yourself to whine. He smirks, one side of his mouth lifting, head knocking to the side slightly.

"Don't you dare try and set the pace," he finally husks, still not glancing up towards you. He's taking his time, making sure the head of his cock kisses every inch of your exposed mess. "Nearly got my nose fucking broken for this pussy-" he spits, hard and fast, right onto your clit, spreading it with his cock. "- so I'm gonna make sure I get what I'm owed."

He spreads your thighs back, his fingers gripping harshly just how you like it. Perhaps you should pretend to be embarrassed by the fact your cunt is leaking for him, begging for him, but the way he hisses at the sight, chest heaving, prevents it.

Jungkook's thought about this before, about how pretty and pristine you'd be, about the mess he'd hoped you'd make. Thought about it so many times. Fingers wrapped around his shaft in the middle of the night when no one can hear him chant your name as he spills over. Yeah, he's thought about it a lot.

His imagination has never done you justice. One look and he's obsessed. Wants to spend hours touching, caressing, licking you.

"Take it," you whisper. "What you're owed, Jungkook. Take it."

He looks up now, brows threaded together. You don't recognise the contemplation his face is laced in, but he doesn't give you the chance to question it, for you begin to feel that burn. The one your fingers can never give you. It's alien, and yet familiar, inherently natural but intrusive nonetheless.

"Shit," is all you can manage to say, eyes locked on his.

He wants to watch himself sink into you, watch as his fat cock forces your slick wetness out of your pussy, but he can't. Not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your chest is heaving and your eyes are watering beneath tense brows. Not when your mouth is hanging open and just begging to be fucked like your tight little pussy.

And then he starts feeling something a little strange. A little unfamiliar. A little bit like his heart has stalled to beat in time with the contractions of your chest. And though he's not in pain anymore, too busy feeling you, he's aware that it hurts. Aware that he can't fuck you like he wanted to, 'cause his chest needs to be against yours. Needs to feel the beating drum beneath your ribs.

He doesn't even realise that he's paused until you whine a meagre, "please."

"That's more like it," he hums, as he pushes into you, the base of his thick cock plugging the weeping mess that he's made. You know that as soon as he pulls out, you'll be whimpering, begging for the tip of his cock to kiss your walls once more. "See how nice things can be when you just behave yourself, huh?"

His hips push just a little deeper, and he knows that it hurts. Knows that the little gasp isn't entirely from pleasure. He's seen his cock. Doesn't take a genius to work out that it can do damage.

"You can take it," he tells you, and like a pathetic, whimpering mess, you fucking nod. He's still inside of you, still deeper than you thought possible, and then his hand is on your stomach. He grabs your hand and places it beneath his. "You feel that?" He retracts just a little, pushing back in just as deep. Beneath your hands, there's a bulge. External or internal, it doesn’t matter. It's him. He does it again. "You feel me taking what's mine?"

Whatever the fuck you moan is incoherent, but he doesn't give a shit, 'cause he's ploughing now. Bucking his hips into you like pneumatic fucking drill. Shit. He's done this before. Got it mastered to a fine art. Momenta worthy of a museum exhibition.

Your tits are pillowed on your chest, nice and round, wobbling as he takes command of your body. He slaps one of them, just to watch it ripple, before that firm grip of his is on it. "Perfect tits," he growls the compliment, not really meaning for it to come out. "Gonna put my cock between them later," he tells you. "Gonna cum all over them."

He doesn't tell you that he'll also clean them with his hungry tongue, before delivering his cum into your mouth. Figures he'll just let you find out. His brain is working at a mile a minute, trying to reign back thoughts of sharing his cum with you in such a filthy manner. God, he wants to do heinous things to you. With you. For you.

But for now, he needs to focus on his cock. It's rubbing inside of you, nuzzling. He knows he's weeping, and that his precum is getting mixed with your slick juices. Knows he won't last long if you keep whining like that. Mewling. Purring.

He stalls his hips, letting go of your tits as they jiggle back into position. Your cheeks are flushed, imprints of his fingers reddening your skin. Lips pouted and resting ajar, Jungkook thinks they've never looked more fuckable. More kissable. More whisper-sweet-nothings-against-able.

"You ever shut the fuck up?" he teases, but is quick to notice confusion flash in your eyes. He didn't mean it as an insult, but it's easy to read the hurt in your perplexed features, and the way you begin to try and push your legs together. It's futile. His cock is keeping you open.

But you feel embarrassed, as if your natural reactions to him are a turn-off. It's silly, because he's quite literally inside of you, fat and solid, using you to milk himself. Of course, he's not turned off, but you're hyper-aware of how vulnerable you're feeling right now. It had been fun to pretend like you were in control, but as soon as he slipped inside of you, all sense of power had evaporated.

He doesn't realise this though. Doesn't realise that his cock is nudging so deep into you that it's practically knocking against your heart. Knock, knock, knock. Who's there? Your mind taunts, but you daren't answer.

"Hey," he coos, one of his large palms stroking on the inside of your thighs. That uncomfortable, obscure feeling is back again. The one that tells him he needs to be closer to you. This time, he doesn't ignore it. His hips pulse, just the once. A reminder he's still very much into this. Into you.

His hands grip your waist, softly this time, as he manoeuvres himself onto the bed with you, keeping himself snug. Your head is by the pillows, Jungkook's knees on either side of your ass, his chest flat against yours as one of his hands cradles your jaw. He presses a chaste, airy kiss against your lips, and whispers, "I love the way you sound." He kisses you again, hips rocking. You're trying not to, but you whine. "Fuck, sugar. You're my favourite fucking sound."

Your legs hook over his back, and he groans now. The angle change lets him delve deeper, your walls massaging him so well. Jungkook thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He's slipping in and out of you with minimal force, skin slapping together. He makes sure to let his moans roll off his tongue and into your mouth. You eat them up and give them back. The pair of you aren't kissing anymore, just gasping and humming into one another's mouths. He's stuttering.

There's a pause as he adjusts his grip, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. He likes it, the way you seem to melt around him in all capacities. His lips nudge against yours as his steady hips begin to rock into yours again.

You groan as he pushes down on your legs, pushing you as far apart as your bones allow. It's typical of him, seeing how far he can take things. Push them to the limit. Always gets him in trouble. There's a click, as air escapes from the socket where your leg meets your pelvis.

"You good?" He checks and you respond with a kiss. Hands tangled in his hair, you hope it conveys the fact you've never felt better. He laughs a little, soft and serene, into your mouth, the weight of his body keeping you trapped beneath him.

You're morbid in your thoughts, and consider how nice it would be for Jungkook to suffocate you like this; steal you of the air you breathe with his tiny giggles of satisfaction. So, so nice, you think.

And so you tell him. You tell him that you want his hand on your throat. He takes a second to respond - not because he doesn't want to, but more so because he can't believe you actually asked.

He doesn't normally fuck the girls he cares about like this. Then again, he never really cares about the girls he fucks.

"God," you moan as he pushes one of your legs over his shoulder. His body is clammy against yours, skin hot and damp, chest lean but built. He's working hard; not just for his release. For yours too. Rams into you, stuffing your cunt with his cock, dipping his head to lather your clasped throat in wet kisses.

"That's it, sugar," he growls as his teeth graze your neck. "Need to hear how good you feel. Need to hear what my cock does to you. You owe me."

You want to laugh. You're about to laugh. But then his head dips down to your chest, and he latches onto one of your pebbled nipples, sucking so hard that all you can do is tremble. He knows you like this. Knows it makes your pussy all creamy and slippery for him - and like clockwork, he's proven right. The sounds are lewd. He loves it.

"On your back," you husk, punctuating your instruction with a whimper as he suckles even harder. He shakes his head, eyes closed, mouth vibrating and full of your tit. Not a chance, he tries to say, but it just sounds likes he's forgotten how to speak. Too busy. Too close to spilling himself into you. Doesn't wanna get distracted.

So focused, he doesn't realise you're pushing him over until you're on top. He frowns as he detaches from your nipple with a pop, but his hands are running all over your body regardless. Obviously doesn't care that much. Course he doesn't. That ache in his chest has settled.

Until he starts thinking about it, and oh god, it's back and it's fucking unbearable.

"C'mere," he pulls you flush against him, as your hips begin to work against him. His hands cradle your face so he can kiss you as deeply as he likes, tongue slipping into your mouth, as his cock slips up and down your pussy. This, he thinks, is it. This is what fucking should feel like.

"Shit," he whispers. "Shit."

The friction of his surprisingly neat hair that rests at the base of his cock is nice. Real fuckin' nice. You're not even fucking him anymore, just grinding against it. Using it, using him, to get yourself off.

You think you're being slick, like he won't notice - but he does. Of course, he does. He's obsessed with your body.

"God, yeah, baby," his back arches, pressing his chest against yours, eyes closed. "Use me like that. Use me," he bites into your shoulder gently. "Fucking use me."

He means it. Doesn't give a shit about himself anymore. Just wants to feel you tremble as he holds you close. Wants to press kisses against your lips as your moans become undignified. He needs to be the reason you cum; needs to be responsible for your oxytocin rush.

You sit up a little, and Jungkook holds back a pout from the separation - but how can he complain when you're sat like that, his cock buried inside of you, hair a mess and with eyes like his favourite constellation? He's hypnotised as your boobs begin to bounce, pussy working up his shaft like the true Daerim woman of the night you are. He's forgotten about all of that, now. Can't think about anything except for how to not fucking cum.

He can't and he won't. Not until you do. But you're bouncing, and it's wet, and he can hear it, and it feels so fuckin' good. His toes are curling, torso tensing, eyes half-shut, pretty little pout hanging open. He's fucking whining. "Yeah like that," he encourages. "Gonna milk me so well, baby. Gonna... ah. Fuck. Gonna-"

Jungkook can't fucking speak. He wants to. Wants to tell you how fucking beautiful you look, how he wants this endlessly, how he never wants to let you go. Needs to tell you how right this feels, how good you make him feel, how he doesn't understand his feelings but fuck, just that he is feeling. Feeling so much.

You're not sure at which point he started calling you baby, but you're actually convinced that the name alone could tip you over the edge.

The pace of your hips is slowly, savouring. He doesn't quite get it. You were so close. Why stop?

The stillness of your movements makes way for something new. He feels a throb around his fat cock, which is begging for release. Notices the way your chest is shaking like you've got hiccups, tiny whines of pleasure making themselves known. Your pussy was always warm, but it's hot now, contracting around him.

And then he gets it.

"Oh, shit," he mewls, his hips slowly pumping upwards. "Yeah, that's it, baby. Let yourself cum. All over my dick," he encourages, hedonistic and self-serving. "That's it. Cream for me."

His slow movements as he fucks up into you amplify the sensation, the tip of his cock nudging languidly against your tight walls. Your entire body shudders, the feeling rippling from your chest right down to your toes. You rasp out moans, the sensation all too powerful, a creamy mess pooling at the base of his shaft. There's a jerk as your muscles spasm, your orgasm well and truly delivered. He pulls you down and into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around your back.

Your body rests on his, spent and sensitive, and he can tell you can't hold out for much longer. He pushes back the hair that's sticking to your clammy face, and presses kisses into your temple.

"So big," you hum, voice hazy, eyes shut.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises. " You're doing so well. Just a little..."

You've considered how Jungkook would orgasm on more than one occasion - and you're pleasantly surprised to find that your imagination was wrong. There's no grand declaration, nor large grunt. He's not aggressive, either, like you'd half-hoped he would be.

Instead, Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls. "Baby," he drowsily mewls, and then it's happening. His cock pumps into you, unloading thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy. The first one is so desperate that you're almost positive you can feel it paint your insides. You moan along with him, utterly obsessed with this, him, whatever the fuck just happened.

He doesn't withdraw immediately. Just lays there and kisses your skin, absolutely spent.

You don't move a muscle. You don't want it to be over. Don't wanna lose this. Lose him.

When you tilt your head to look at him, he's smiling. Eyes closed, cheeks appled. Serene. In a state of fucked-out bliss.

You tell him that he's pretty, and he lets out an airy laugh, covering his face with one of his hands. You move his hand and watch him fondly, enthralled with the grin that he's struggling to fight.

He turns to look at you, and the smile he's been boasting amplifies. "God, you're gorgeous."

It's not a new observation; just one he's never voiced before. One that he was able to resist saying. But you're naked now, chest pillowed against his, eyes glowing and nose blushed.

You hum, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I'm glad you chose to come here."

Just like that, there's a knot in Jungkook's stomach that seems to anchor that feeling he keeps having.

"Yeah," he nods. "Me too."

IT'S THREE IN the afternoon by the time you wake from your post-fuck snooze. Jungkook's never had one of those before. Hated being sticky after sex with anyone else. Always had to shower - but with you, he wants to stick to you like glue.

"Should have filmed that," he hums, the tips of his fingers stroking up your arms. You aren't sure if he's joking or not. "Would have given us a unique take on the project. Probably wouldn't have gotten us very high grades, mind you, but art is subjective."

"Some would argue that the critique of art is objective," you muse back, still blissfully cum-drunk from the events prior to your nap. Jungkook's nose has stopped bleeding, and the pair of you have almost forgotten the reason he showed up in the first place. "Documentary maker by night, porn star by day," you flirt. "Although it's cute that you think you fuck like a porn star."

"I felt you shaking," he says, knowing there's no possible way that you didn't enjoy it. His nose feels a little cold after all the trauma of the morning, so he buries it into your hair. "Can't fake that."

"That's what I'm saying," you simper, pressing a kiss against his bare torso, just below the meeting of his collarbones. And then another, simply for good measure. "Porn stars never actually look like they're making the woman feel any good." You trail down his chest, tongue licking gently at the darker skin around his nipple. "You... yeah you don't fuck like a porn star." And then you suck a little. He hisses, in the best possible way.

"Don't," he says. "Not ready to go again."

You laugh.

Jungkook thinks he's reached Nirvana. Almost certain, in fact. Never had a girl do that to him before. He loves to give it, but hasn't ever thought to receive it. Wonders what other things you'll do to him that he's never had done before. He can feel his cock fucking twitching again, achy and sore, definitely not recovered yet from how hard he went earlier - but god, he wants it. Wants to bury himself inside you again. Belong to you.

His hands paw at you, one gripping on your chest, the other on your ass, pulling you closer. Your leg hooks over him, and he can feel how wet you still are on the side of his thigh. His balls fucking tighten. He can feel it happening, blood rushing to his crotch.

Yet despite it all, he just kisses you. Softly. Tenderly. Merely his lips languid between yours. Withdraws slowly. Keeps his eyes closed. Bliss.

"The fuck have you done to me, sugar?" he whispers, dark eyes opening to look into yours. His speech is husky, like he trying to steal the answers of a pop-quiz from you. You can't help him. You don't have a clue what the answer is. You're just as stuck as he is. "Got me feeling all fuzzy 'n' shit."

"Just a sugar rush," you smile. "It'll pass."

You're both acutely aware that it won't, but that will be a problem for another day.

"Tell you what," Jungkook muses, though his thoughts are shallow. He's not digging deep. Just talking for the sake of it. "I might not fuck like a porn star, but you don't fuck like a hooker."

He pulls your arm up so that he can study the crease of your elbow. You let him move your body like you're a barbie doll. You'll be his toy, you think, if he wants. No bother.

His fingers press at the thin skin that covers your veins, inspecting.

"Not a scratch," he assesses. "So you're not an addict either."

You laugh, slightly amused. "No? Maybe I just don't inject."

Jungkook gives you a stern look. Hopes you're joking. Tells you that you better fucking be joking. The sweetness of your laughter tells him that you are.

"So?" you press. "I'm not a prostitute and I'm not an addict. It's your lucky day. What of it?"

Jungkook tilts his head down so that his nose is nestled into the crown of your head again. Comforting, he thinks. Smells like laundry. You must have washed your sheets recently.

His next statement takes you off guard.

"Only ever see three kinds of women down in Daerim."

And you know.

You know he knows.

You can feel it in the way he protectively presses his lips into your skull, as if he's Prince Charming trying to rid his Sleeping Beauty of the nightmare she's been living. Wake up.

But Prince Charming rides a white horse, not a petrol-spitting, air-cooled, steel-framed shadow that rips through the city at night.

There are no nightmares, either. You're already wide awake. There's no saving you.

He sighs against your head. Pauses. Resists, and then confronts.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar."

You don't say anything for a moment, and then you're pulling away from him, reaching for your shirt. He doesn't like this. Misses your warmth, but doesn't stop you. Instead, he follows, sitting on the edge of your bed, the corner of your comforter lazily protecting his modesty. His muscles are relaxed now, a little crease in his stomach from the way that he's slouching, hands in his lap. Those Bambi eyes of his are peaking through his hair, cheeks red and grazed from the morning encounter he'd had in Daerim.

He watches as you pull your shirt over your head, hair just as messy as his, and a graze on your cheek to match. He was pretty certain before that it had been carpet burn, but now that he's seen it up close, softly rubbed his thumb against it during pretty kisses, he's sure of it.

You avert his gaze. Feel shameful. Hate that he knows. You never cared before. It was just a fun little secret, the fact that he didn't know you were no angel.

But you want him to think that you're one, now.

For a moment, you were sure that he had.

Instead, now, it feels like you're falling from grace.

He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back. "Please don't."

And so he doesn't. Just sits for a little while instead. "Do you want me to get dressed?"

You really don't.

But your tongue is lodged in your mouth and it won't budge. You turn away, internally furious with yourself. It's been a while since you've gotten like this; so dreadfully panicked that you can't talk. It's a once in a blue moon kind of thing, the early onset of a panic attack, but you're hoping it won't reach the stage of no return. Praying.

"Babe?"

He sounds worried now, and it's making it worse. Feels like you've just reached the top of Bukhan Mountain without taking a second to catch your breath.

Has your chest always been this tight? Or has someone just been wrapping rubber bands around your torso without you noticing?

It isn't possible, and you know this, but it feels like it and - oh God - you can hear him shuffling, the buckle of his belt clanging. He's leaving, he's leaving, he's leaving, your ribs cackle as they close down on your lungs.

There's a light hum behind you, like a wasp is coming to send you into a state of anaphylactic shock and then it stops. His jeans are tossed to the floor once more.

"Yoongi?" Jungkook speaks quietly behind you into the receiver of his phone. "Wassu- Yeah, yeah, I'm safe. I'm good."

I'm safe.

I'm good.

"Where are- Yoongi stop. Stop it. I'm being deadly fucking serious-"

You don't realise it, but your chest begins to mellow as you listen in to his conversation.

"It's my mess!" He shouts now. "I'll fucking fix it. I don't give a fuck what Hobi says. Where you at? The Zoo? I'll be there- Yes, I will. Don't do anything fucking stupid."

And then he hangs up, chucking his phone into your bed with more aggression than he'd ever wanted to show in your presence. You don't see it, back still turned, but you hear it, the way his phone rebounds against the springs of your mattress.

"Shit," he hisses, and when you turn to face him, you find that his head is in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Crouching by him, your chest expands. You don't give a shit about yourself anymore. Your palms rest just behind his elbows, eyes anchored below his, looking up.

"He's got his fucking final in an hour," is all Jungkook says. "He's gonna miss his fucking final."

He lifts his head, tender lips pouted, eyes bloodshot from the pressure he's been placing on his palms. Looks right at you. Decides he'll never trust another pair of eyes more.

"I know what you do in the dark, sugar," he relays. "But I do worse. So much fucking worse. And I've just gone and fucked it all up."

And while he blames it all on himself, you know it's your fault.

He didn't stay away from the girl. He tempted fate, tugged on the red string, and accidentally snapped it.

Forlorn, he slumps, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he bites down on it. It's only to stop it from trembling. Clouds lurk in his eyes, trying to block his vulnerabilities from you, but it doesn't take a genius to work out that he's scared.

"Take it," you say, lips in a flat line, eyes stern. You nod towards the pile of cash on your desk, and his eyes follow. "Take it. Pay your debts. I can earn it again. I don't have a deadline. You do."

He shakes his head.

"I'm not taking the money you've earned."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not," he protests and you've got it in your right mind to slap his pretty face silly. "Gonna be totally honest," he adds, "Don't really want your sugar baby money. Kinda resent it a little. Resent the fucker who gave it to you."

Jungkook hates him.

Doesn't know him.

Loathes him.

"So then give him the middle finger and take it," you plead. "He got you fucked up into this mess, he got you jumped, he got your stash stolen. Take his money and get yourself and Yoongi out of it. You don't have time to be fucking arguing with me."

He wants to fight back. You stop him.

"We can argue later," you promise.

And that ever-present effervescent feeling is back in his chest.

"Sugar," he speaks quietly. "Don't do this."

"Kook," you respond, voice much firmer than his. "You gotta do this. Yoongi shouldn't be fixing your mistakes and you know it. We can work it out on an I.O.U. basis. It's okay."

"I.O.U. suggests I'm gonna keep seeing you for a while," Jungkook mumbles. He isn't feeling as confident in himself as he had done earlier.

You stand, offering your hand to him so that you can pull him up with you. Neither of you acknowledge the fact that he's stark bollock naked. It's really not the time. Nothing you haven't seen before, after all.

"Well, yeah," you shrug with a straight face, but there's a glint in your eye. "I'd hope so. Pretty sure you said you were fuck my tits later? Gotta hold up your end of the bargain, sugar."

And despite it all, he laughs, toying with your hands before slipping his finger between yours. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" You squeeze his hands. "You're technically my sugar baby now."

"That's not how it works."

God, he knows he shouldn't be fucking about, wasting time flirting, but he just can't help himself.

"No?" You question, equally distracted.

"No," he says. "If you're paying me, and I'm fucking you, then that makes me a hooker."

He's not wrong.

"Oh, that's kinda hot," you smile, pulling gently on his hands to encourage him to lean down. He does as he's told, and kisses you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You're so fucked up," he whispers against you, knowing that it's exactly why he enjoys you so much.

You don't let the moment linger, though, tossing him his clothes and going to grab the money while he dresses himself. You stack it together, all nice and neat, using the desk to straighten the edges. The wedge is thick in your hands. Yellow 50's are laughing at you. Stupid girl thought we'd fix her problems, they chatter silently to one another.

"Three and half million won," you hold it out to Jungkook. He hesitates, so you force his grip around it and let go. It's his problem, now. Not yours. You smile so warmly that Jungkook can't help but let that feeling in his chest simmer. Your hair is still messy, mascara still smudged. He wants to kiss your cheeks.

Jungkook hasn't disclosed what exactly was in his bag.

But in the same way he knows there are only three types of women in Daerim, you know there are equally only three types of men.

There's only one demographic that he belongs to. Yoongi, too.

You don't say it explicitly, not like he does.

"Holangi are nasty fuckers," you acknowledge. "I know they raise the stakes just for the fun of it. Whatever got stolen, the street value doesn't matter. Take it all. You'll need it."

Take what I owe you.

When he kisses you goodbye, it's just like the first time; all breathy and needy, lips parted and pouting. Again and again, he presses down into your lips. His brows furrow, hands on your cheeks, chest pressed against yours.

The crimson paint that had stained you from his very first kiss returns. You're painted in red for the second time that morning, but this time only you can see it. Only you can feel it.

That's her. That's the girl who let Jeon Jungkook kiss her like he actually meant it.

But it's funny now, because you know that he does mean it.

When he finally leaves, his nose is blushed, his cupids bow too. Eyes glassy. Smile forlorn.

Disappointingly, as you close the door of your apartment when he's no longer in your line of sight, you remember exactly how Jungkook had kissed you for the first time:

Like it was going to be the last.

And it consumes you, because the kiss you just shared felt exactly the same.

Your chest is uncomfortable again, but it's not rubber bands this time.

It's that stupid red string that Jungkook had tugged too tightly on.

The one that he'd snapped right in half.

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

#jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot

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hotyanderedaddies · 5 months

Note

Hiiiiii i love your stories sm, they’re so unique and truly well written, but could I possibly request a hopeless romantic m reader who has never been inlove and longs for a big muscular daddy (possibly yakuza?? Up to u tho!😁)

[Yandere! Boyfriend x Hopeless Romantic! M Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Plain and simple: You're a hopeless romantic.

You're in love with the idea of love.

Having someone there to be by your side through life, sharing your hopes and dreams with him, building a home and a family with him-- doing everything with him.

It's so intoxicating.

And you were determined to find whoever "him" is.

You weren't really too picky. Really, your only condition is that your dream guy has to be slightly bigger than you and allow you to call him "Daddy".

You wanted a big man who'd man-handle you nonstop and be all completely dominate like the Dom!Daddy he is. *Swoon.

But... where do you find a Daddy?

You couldn't exactly just put an ad in the newspaper. That might attract some weirdos. Therefore, one night, you decided to finally begin your quest for love, and go to a biker bar to try and find some tough guy daddy who would totally wreck you love you.

The mere second you stepped foot inside the bar, you couldn't help but feel like you were totally out of place. You weren't an absolute square, but whereas a majority of the clientele wore leather jackets and tight jeans that strained over their powerful muscles, you were dressed in your white button down and you even had your thick glasses on (so you could see, obviously).

Needless to say, you looked incredibly tiny compared to the large, intimidating men in the bar (which is kinda hot, to be honest).

Not being a fan of beer, you ordered a fruity cocktail from the bartender (earning a look, but whatever). As you nursed your drink, someone took the seat next to yours.

Looking over, you saw a guy giving you a hungry look. "Hey there," he said in his deep voice, "I'm--"

A large hand engulfed your small shoulder, interrupting the budding conversation between you and the guy. You craned your neck skywards and stared in awe at the even larger man who stood behind you.

This new man was by far the largest in the bar, both in height and musculature. He completely towered over you by at least two feet and was about twice as wide. His muscles strained against his tight black t-shirt. And he scowled at the other man who was trying to talk to you, a snarl on his handsome face.

"This one's mine," he practically growled at the other guy, his voice full of masculine baritone. "Fuck off."

The other guy scampered away like a frightened puppy, tail between his legs.

Your heart beat like crazy in your chest, due to a combination of nerves and total awe over the drop dead gorgeous daddy of a man who'd just totally claimed you as his in the bar.

The large man's narrowed eyes drifted towards you, and his snarl lifted the slightest bit.

"Hope I didn't scare ya, Darling," he told you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you come over to my table, and I'll make it up to ya?"

He didn't give you time to answer, because he tightened his grip on you (not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point known), and led you away from the bar towards the back where a solo table was. There was only one chair and when he sat in it, you briefly looked around for a spare seat you could drag over.

The man yanked you down onto his lap, quickly securing both of his muscled arms around your waist.

His lap was surprisingly soft and cozy, and it was hard not to cuddle against his broad chest that vibrated whenever he spoke.

"Now what is a cute little thing like you doing in such a dangerous place like this?" the man asked you. "You really should have your daddy here to protect you..." He trailed off and you could feel him tense up slightly. "Unless, you don't have a daddy... yet?"

You perked up, unable to believe your luck. Not only had you just begun your love quest, but you've potentially found someone in under an hour!

And this man who'd placed you on his lap was insanely tall, built like a truck, and seemed to be one of those characters who were cold to everyone except for their darling. That last part was based on the way he wouldn't stop nuzzling you every so often, happily humming as he did so.

"A d-daddy?" you repeated in disbelief.

The man mistook your words and said, "A daddy is someone who takes care of his darling. He protects him, cherishes him, pampers him, and above all: loves him." He paused to press his lips against your cheek quickly, his light stubble pricking your skin. "And all he asks is that his darling belong to him. And only him."

Holy crap, this was definitely what you were looking for!

"So, Darling," the man continued, his grip on you tightening, "would you like me to be your daddy?"

Logic dictated that you decline (at first) and say that the best decision would be to go on a couple of dates to get to know one another. That way, you could see if you were compatible beyond the daddy/darling dynamic--

"But before you answer, Darling," the man chuckled, "I have to warn you: If you say 'Yes', then I'll never, ever let you go. You'll be all mine."

"Yes!" you blurted without a moment's hesitation.

The man, Daddy, gave you a slight squeeze. "Yes, what?" he pressed, and you could feel him getting hard as you sat on his lap... and hot damn, you need to look up some stretching techniques.

"Yes, Daddy."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere daddy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #asks

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 3 months

Note

Hi, can you do a Percy x daughter of persephone headcannons pls

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of persephone! reader hc

content: percy jackson x daughter of persephone! reader hc warning: painfully hozier coded...that's it author's note: this one was also fun!! i kinda dove head first into looking at what being a demigod and a child of presephone meant, so the percy love thing kinda got lost but i hope i recovered it??? i still love this one tho!!

oh, daughter of presephone?! did you mean nico's step sister?? i think that's what you meant

he's protective and for what?? bro youre younger, stfu and walk away fr (we like to joke here, nico knows i love him)

tho the last sister percy had been put in charge of didn't end so well...so you can see where the protectiveness comes from.

i would like to formally apologize for that last one-

on a real note tho that's something that keeps percy up at night

he doesn't want to fail you, doesn't want to put you in any situation where your life is at risk, if you so much as get a scratch he's tearing everything down brick by brick

you're his precious flower girl

and he's willing to kill for you if it means you're safe

it also doesn't help that you really are lacking in the powers domain

you're like a diluted child of demeter (hey, gram-gram) with a minor affinity for graveyards.

that might be where the overprotectiveness comes from, this interpretation of weakness.

they're dead wrong, btw

you could topple cities, if you weren't such a diplomat

during the fall and winter, you make frequent visits with nico to the underworld, helping your mother keep her garden up and your step father with the diplomacy that comes with the underworld.

during the spring and summer, you're not allowed to go, as your mother isn't present. both hades and nico think this rule is stupid, but can't really fight it.

hades really do be losing his wifey and his beloved princess of daughter all at once. damn major L for his ass

anyways, we've lost the plot, back to percy

on the first date, percy made the mistake of getting flowers

typically, this wouldn't be a problem, any girl would kill to receive flowers

but the moment you opened your door and revealed percy with his bundle of flowers, tears began to pool in your eyes and you took them from his hand with a minor glare

"you killed them! they were living just fine and equally as beautiful but then you stomped up with your shears and you cut their heads off!" you cried, walking deep into your cabin and producing a plant pot from some closet, freeing the flowers from the butcher paper and shoving them into the dirt.

"w-what?" percy sputtered, following after you, slightly concerned that he might have completely fumbled this whole thing.

"you're lucky, jackson, that my momma isn't here or she'd have your ass. just picking flowers left and right," the girl continued to grumble before shoving her hands into the dirt with the flowers.

nothing happened for a moment then more sprouts grew in the pot, flowers beginning to grow to match the flowers that percy had brought for her.

percy just stared, not shocked, by trying to figure out how to recover from this massive mistake.

don't worry, he won you over

and, he never bought you flowers again, rather opting to bring you potted plants and seeds

he learned his lesson alright.

nico wasn't exactly the biggest fan of this relationship in the beginning but he knew there wasn't really much he could do.

plus, he could see how happy percy made you, the flowers in your cabin growing faster and bigger and more vibrant.

if anyone made his sister that happy, he'd allow them to stay around for just a bit longer.

on quests with you, percy always carried fruit, which you probably loved more than him

"we should probably stop soon, get something to eat," you'd say with a shrug

"okay, cool. so, i've got oranges, apples, that weird pink one that's white and black on the inside and pomegranates. you want something else?? i'm sure there's a store around here somewhere," he'd reply instantly, somehow managing to pull all of these fruit from the pocket of his hoodie and holding them out to her.

tbh every winter and fall when you aren't around, bro gets mopey

he misses his blossom and it doesn't help that all the plants are matching his mood

he'd rather be six feet under and shaking hands with your step father than anywhere that you aren't.

author's note cont. : another day, another hc collection bc i am a menace and cannot be stopped wahahahahahaha god i love writing this is so much fun!!

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #nico di angelo

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malusokay · 2 years

Text

Pink Pilates Princess on a budget

Following a certain lifestyle can be expensive, especially when trying to make it as aesthetically pleasing as seen on Pinterest. Here is how to get The Pink Pilates Princess lifestyle on a budget. <3

Where to start

When shopping for athletic wear, stick to black bottoms and light pink tops; having a concept when shopping really helps to only buy things you really want and makes combining your pieces easier!

Go on daily walks, and listen to your favourite music or podcast to clear your mind. Try aiming for 10k steps daily!!

Follow a Balanced diet, I'm a big fan of the 80/20 rule! :)

You can find reasonably priced workout sets and equipment (yoga mats, weights etc.) on Amazon!

Don't be afraid to embrace femininity! <3

If you wear makeup, try keeping it light. Do your brows, a little concealer, set with powder, blush and bronzer, glossy lips and your preferred lash routine. <3

Look up yoga and pilates workouts on youtube. Focus on low-impact strengthening and improving your flexibility <3

Keep your room clean and organized. Clean out your closet regularly, and make sure your sheets are always nice and fresh.

Invest in some cute accessories to upgrade your outfits! Legwarmers, cute hair clips and bows and dainty jewellery.

Regularly clean your make-up brushes once a week!! Number 1 rule to clear skin.

Try Gua sha! I've been doing gua sha for a while now and absolutely love it <3

Try some new smoothie recipes!! Start adding veggies, or look up some green smoothie recipes to boost your metabolism.

Create a cosy and calm atmosphere by using fairy lights and candles. My favourite candle scent is Vanilla!

Start journaling. You can write about your day, goals, or anything that has been bothering you. I will upload a post about my favourite journaling prompts soon! :)

To really embody The Pink Pilates Princess aesthetic, try buying your things in white and pink.

Stay hydrated. You can also buy a cute water bottle to motivate yourself. You can also add lemon or fruits to make it more fun!

Learn how to make yourself healthy and nutritional meals, eating out is expensive, and cooking can be a lot of fun! (should I collection of my favourite recipes?)

Make skin/hair-care a priority. Taking care of yourself is so important, and you deserve it <3

Set yourself some smaller goals like learning how to do the splits, reading 10 pages a day or drinking a certain amount of water!

Have a proper morning/night routine

Morning routine:

Start your day with light stretching to wake up your body, a large glass of water and some positive affirmations to set the tone.

Plan your morning, so you have time for your skincare routine; use a body spray to add a light scent. My favourite is the vanilla one from Victoria's secret. <3

Make yourself a nice cup of coffee, and add vanilla syrup and cinnamon to make it special.

Eat breakfast; my go-to is oatmeal. You can really get creative with it by adding some nuts, berries, yoghurt or chocolate! <3

Journal a bit, write down your goals, and some manifestations.

Night routine:

Remove your make-up and do your skincare; if you have more time, you can do a facemask or take a relaxing bath. <3

I love going on evening walks; the fresh evening air really calms me. Make sure to be safe when going out tho! <3

Make yourself a delicious dinner; I've been really into buddha bowls! You can find inspiration and my favourite recipes on my Pinterest.

Do some yoga before going to bed, relax your body and calm down.

Plan your next day to reduce stress.

Don't go to bed late; try getting your 8 hours of beauty sleep!

Turn of your phone 1 hour before sleeping and read before falling asleep <3

Fashion

Try keeping the colours Pink, white, grey and black. Having a set colour pallet makes putting together outfits a lot easier since everything matches! <3

Cute loungewear sets

Workout sets

leggings

comfy sweaters

light knit

Cute tote bags

legwarmers

sneakers

Tennis skirts

Zip-ups

Flared leggings

Matching PJ sets

As always, please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments! <3

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

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my-own-walker · 11 months

Note

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

#evan peters #evan peters fic #ahs #evan peters x female reader #evan peters x reader #kit walker #evan peters oneshot #kit walker imagine #kit walker x female reader #kit walker x reader #ahs asylum #kit walker smut #ahs smut

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sturniolosass · 4 months

Text

Date Night -

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Angst, ends in Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, fatphobia?, arguing, yelling, crying, kissing, anger?, another girl…bi-reader

Summary: Chris was never the type to be ready for a “first date” but when y/n asks him out, he can’t help but feel anxious about saying yes.

Chris was seated on his cream couch in the living room of the boys home when y/n decides to text him.

Y/N

Hey Chris wyd

Nothing much just watching Tv chilling thinking ab running some games of fort…wassup

Oh nothing, I just saw the new Wednesday video you just released.. I was thinking it’d be funny for you to let me take your “first date virginity”..

lmaoo that’d be weird tho right? I mean you are one of my closest friends idk if we should hang out that intimately..

I mean it’d only be weird if we make it..I feel like this would be just a chill day and maybe I could give you some pointers on how you should treat a girl on your true first date…

I mean that’s true.. I guess it wouldn’t hurt..

Chris POV

Texting y/n about this date idea she has, has really struck some anxiety in me.. You see I like y/n a lot but I've been speaking to this new girl named Sade, she's gorgeous and sweet.. she sings, gets along with all my friends and don't get me wrong y/n does most of those things too.. but I've been waiting around so long for her to realize how I've felt about her.. she's had two boyfriends, one or two talking stages, and one girlfriend.. all in the four year span of us knowing eachother, two of which I was completely in love with her..

I was thinking of bringing Sade to half of our date around the ending just to make it clear to y/n that she knows this is exactly what is planned to be, I can't keep waiting around for her to come around to me, my life has to keep moving. I was never the one to out and tell her how I've felt but Nick and Matt tell me that they've both informed her of my feelings years ago...

As I get ready I make sure to text Sade asking her to join us later in the night to hang out.. however I'm not sure where we'll be hanging at so ill wait to give her to major details..

Heading out I call Laura to ask her to send a driver for the day because even though this isn't the real date I still want it to go how I planned it in my head...

Once the driver arrives I spray two squirts of cologne on my wrist and dab then against my neck heading out in my Betty boop Vintage Hollywood Tee, my black distressed jeans, and white air forces getting in the car and heading out on the way to y/n’s house

Your POV

As I’m getting ready to go applying lipgloss and my forces I receive a message from Chris saying He’s on his way.. which confused me a little because i swore that man couldn’t drive and that i’d have to pick him up from his house.. regardless i tie my shoes up and head out down the stairs..

For today i planned to head out to a Top Golf and after have some ice cream then later in the night stop at a park and just walk and talk and finally tell Chris my feelings for him.. Yea it’s been a while I’ve been feeling this way for Chris, maybe a month or two.. and remembering back in maybe 2021 when Nick told me Chris was “in love with me” and i was with Braden, I have no doubt this will go my way..

Chris texts me that he’s outside, i hop up from the couch and run out the door.

“hey” i say sliding in the seat next to him in the all black escalade with blacked out windows “oh hey” he smiles. “chauffeur” i nod insinuating the driver “yea, you know you’re special” he smirks smugly. “yea right” i roll my eyes laughing. “we are we going” he notices we’re still sitting in my drive way.. “oh 3756 cherry street” i tell the driver the address to top golf.. Chris automatically notices the address “Top Golf?!” he shouts excitedly “haha yeah! is that a good idea?” i ask hoping he likes the idea. “give me aux.” i say “ask the driver” he replies.. I get the aux from the driver and play a couple songs..

Once we arrive we walk in play a couple games until we tire eachother out. Sitting down to grab something to eat we start chatting.

“Yo! let me ask you a couple questions and see if you can answer them good enough.” i ask he looks at me weirdly “ok.. but i wanna let you know to help me if i answer then badly.. i have a date lined up after this practice” he laughed.. Me not know if he’s sure or not i begin to ask the questions “if you were friends with a girl and you had a girlfriend then the friend/girl posts pics in a bikini, would you like them?” i ask look at him suspiciously.. “Well it depen-“ he starts “ANNNNTTT” i say making the sound of a buzzer to signify he got the answer wrong.. “what do you mean?? i barely got to answer” he argues. “you shouldn’t like it regardless!!” i argue.. “well, that’s just crazy but i understand..” he nods in approval. “ok next one.” just as i start to ask he states “ oh by the way, Sade is gonna join us later.. where should i tell her to join us at?” he asks looking down at his phone as if he was reading a text message “oh what do you mean i thought i was teaching you some stuff today..?” i ask confused.. “i mean yeah but by the end of the night i kinda wanted to see if the things you taught me worked.. ya know like see if my jitters go away a little” he says nonchalantly.. i just look down, “oh” i say.. “hey how about we just head out to grab ice cream and then she could just join us at the park later” i ask.. “ok bet, ill let her know our plans” he nods.

Hearing Chris even mention another girl made my stomach feel as queasy as it would after eating a whole chipotle burrito in one sitting.. So we head out.. Getting in the car i see Chris Texting on his phone again.. assuming it’s Sade i grab his phone putting it behind my back “come on vibe with me it’s fucking skies” i shout over the bass. “come on just give me my phone back y/n” he stares blankly.. “no you’re stuck in it” i speak. “just give me my shit come on” he raises his voice a little. “na na na boo boo you can’t get it” i joke. “DUDE STOP PLAYING ALL THE TIME JUST GIVE ME MY SHIT” Chris shouts startling me.. i just hand him the phone and turn to look out the window..

It was so obvious i had an attitude but I’m sure Chris wouldn’t tell over the messages between him and Sade he was smiling at.. It hurt me how he was just so fine with being this way towards me when i’ve never once in my life raised my voice at him yet alone completely screamed in his face… however i assume that’s how someone you like a lot can make you feel..

Once we arrive at the Ice cream parlor I get a cone with cookies and cream in which Chris gets the same but in a cup with extra cookies, i look at him smiling “twins” i joke.. he just nods smiling before pulling his phone out his pocket “hey! is it cool if Sade joins us now? she’s around the corner at the Thrift shop and it’d just make sense” he asks.. clearly annoyed i say “sure, i mean that wasn’t the plan at all but what the fuck ever” i speak rolling my eyes.. “what’s is your problem..?” he asks offended by my response.. “like you’ve been acting weird since we left Top Golf and it’s annoying, if you’re just gone be an asshole you can just go home cause you’re definitely killing my mood” he adds.. “Chris what the fuck are you on about? I’ve been nothing but sweet while you just sit on your phone the whole day, the last conversation we had was at Top Golf dude since then you’ve just been on your phone..that’s what’s annoying” i respond.. “whatever i’m just trying to respond fast enough is that not what girls like?” he raises his voice “Sure Chris but am i not a girl sitting in fucking front of you??” i shout back.. he just rolls his eyes

Sade then walks up.. she’s very pretty, Brunette hair, tattoos, brown eyes.. she’s honestly everything like me which is odd.. because Chris makes it seem like i’m nothing his type and just one of the “bros”..

As the Night goes on they continue chatting and i’m just there as a third wheel.. the only time me and Chris are alone is when Sade gets in her car to drive to the park because we still have the driver in the escalade, “hey Chris, i’m just gone gonna go home, i’m not really enjoying myself anymore” i speak.. he looks at me then back to his phone, then back at me “hey look.. i’m not gonna lie, i treated you like shit today and..I’m sorry, but i really need you for this part.. seriously, i’m gonna ask Sade to be my girlfriend and i’m not sure i can do this without you” he looks up at me with pleadful eyes.. “huuuugh fine” you sigh out knowing helping him with this is gonna tear you apart…

Once arriving at the park you, Chris, and Sade walk around the park chatting for a while until you get bored of their constant flirting and decide to lag behind the two.. Hearing a fly near your ear you swat it away only to realize it’s a moth totally terrified you start to jump around stepping on the back of Sade’s shoe to which she speak “Ouch! What the fuck is your problem! that fucking hurt asshole” she yells at you.. which catches chris off guard “woah calm down im sure it was a mistake, there was a bug or something” He speaks. “girl i didn’t do it on purpose, calm the hell down” i say back. “yeah sure you didn’t, you almost broke my fucking ankle fat ass” she yells! “woah what the fuck chill out Sade” Chris yells. “In what world would you ever think that’s funny or whatever the fuck you thought saying that dumb shit” Chris spoke annoyed.. I just walked away knowing if i were to stay there I’d be in a fight..

Once i get a block or two away i hear my name being shouted “y/n! y/n!” i looke back and it’s Chris. Annoyed i continue walking…. “Y/n come on!” Chris yells getting closer.. i slowly stop…

“Chris what the hell do you want? you and that girl have been nothing but rude to me all day… i’m sure you’ve even been laughing at her little jokes she’s had to say about me” i speak… “what? no! i told her to go home.. i didn’t even know she acted that way..i wouldn’t in a million years have even thought about being with her if i knew she spoke like that about you or any of my friends for that matter” He adds.. “Chris can you just let me go home.. i came out today hoping to end up telling you how i feel thinking you’d feel the same but hearing you’ve developed these feelings for someone else has done nothing but broke me over the last couple of hours” I start to tear up.. “What? what are you talking about?” he asks, “Chris, i like you.. like a lot, maybe even love you.. and thinking about our past and how we’re practically the same person, enjoy the same things, same music, same games, same fashion sense, etc. i thought you’d feel the same.. shit apparently even Nick and Matt thought the same thing but they were wrong. I’m fine if you don’t feel the same way but all i ask for is time apart from you, we spend almost every other day together and i can’t take doing that with you knowing you feel the way i feel for you, for another women.” i confess… “wait y/n, i never knew you felt this way…i’ve been in love with you for 3 years now” he drops to his knees in a sort of begging way “you crying because you think i don’t feel the same would have to be one of the most crazy things ive seen all week” he adds… “all ive ever wanted to do was be with you, you’re my rock, my entire world, being without you for more than a week would cause me too much pain to even live with” he confessed… i just smile looking down at him awkwardly. Pulling him up from the ground i ask “so where do we go from here?” looking into his blue orbs.. “i mean we can try again on that date” he smiled hating to have just said that in such a corny way.. “ haha i'd like that. but you’ve gotta promise that they’ll be no extra girls.” i reply.. “i promise” he obliged.. looking down at me in the middle of the sidewalk..

I kiss him.. and it feel like the most soul shocking thing i’ve ever experienced… considering ive never been in love before after dating 3 men.. i can guarantee that this is what love feels like.. we both pull away and he looks down shyly “that was so corny” he jokes “haha kissing under the moonlight, headahh” i joke back. We both cry laughing as we walk back to the Car… Where surprisingly the driver is still sitting…

The end :)

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #harry styles imagines masterlist

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sturnish · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ Project Partners ౨ৎ || ⋆౨ৎ˚ Nate Version ⋆౨ৎ˚ || Series Masterlist ||

ᡣ𐭩 | Warnings - Smut, theres like a lot of kinky shit

ᡣ𐭩 | Summary - Nate and Y/n get partnered together for a project, they chose to do it at the empty library.

Disclaimer - this one is a bit longer( 3,300 words) with a lot of buildup, good smut tho

Y/n sat in her homeroom, rolling her eyes at the way Nate was laughing so obnoxiously with his friends. He always had to be the center of attention, the one everyone looked up to. She didn't understand why he bothered. She preferred to keep to herself and not draw attention. Her long, wavy auburn hair fell over one shoulder, framing her delicate features. She wore her usual ensemble; a short pink dress, white ankle socks, and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes.

She glanced down at her schedule and sighed when she saw that she had been partnered with Nate for a project. They were supposed to meet at the library after school. Great. Just what she needed. As class came to an end, she quickly gathered her things and made her way to her locker.

Once she had her things, she made her way out of the school and towards the library. It was a quiet, peaceful place, unlike the chaos that was the school. The library was practically empty, save for a few stragglers doing homework or studying. She walked over to a table near the window and sat down, waiting for Nate to arrive.

A few minutes later, the familiar obnoxious laughter echoed through the library. Nate stormed in, his brown hair a mess and his clothes disheveled. He immediately spotted her and rolled his eyes before making his way over to the table. "Great," he muttered as he sat down across from her. "I get stuck with the cutesy little princess. Figures."

Y/n ignored his comment and opened her mouth to speak. "So, Nate," she began, trying to sound as professional as possible, "what did you have in mind for our project?"

Nate leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, I was thinking we could do some research on the history of this place." He smiled at her, revealing a set of straight, white teeth. "That way, we can impress our teacher and get an A." Y/n couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at his smile. It wasn't exactly warm and inviting.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. "What do you want to do first?"

"Well," he said, leaning in closer to her, "since we're here at the library, why don't we start by looking up some books?" He gestured towards the bookshelves behind him. "I'm sure we'll find something interesting."

Y/n nodded and stood up, following him over to the bookshelves. She began to search for a book on the history of the library while Nate browsed through the stacks nearby. After a few minutes of searching, she finally found a promising book and brought it over to the table. Nate glanced at it and smiled.

"Good choice," he said, reaching out to take the book from her. "Now, why don't you sit back down and I'll start looking through it?" Y/n felt a strange mixture of relief and annoyance at his tone. She didn't like the way he was ordering her around, but she supposed they were supposed to be working together.

Sighing inwardly, she sat down again and waited for him to begin. Nate opened the book and began to skim through it, muttering to himself as he read. After a few minutes, he looked up at her and smirked. "So, how's your life, princess?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Y/n bit her lip, trying to ignore the barb. "It's fine," she replied, forcing a smile. "And you can call me Y/n."

"Oh, really?" he drawled. "And why would I want to do that?"

She glared at him for a moment before looking away, feeling her cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. "I don't know," she muttered. "Maybe because it's my name?"

Nate laughed, the sound grating on her nerves. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "You think you're so special just because you're all cute and innocent. Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart." He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "No one here cares about how cute you are."

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine at his words. They stung worse than she expected. She wanted to argue, to defend herself, but she couldn't find the words. Instead, she just sat there, feeling small and helpless.

Nate seemed to notice the effect his words had on her and smirked. "There we go," he said, sitting back in his chair. "That's the expression I was looking for."

"oh shut up" she replies and rolls her eyes, reaching over his lap to grab the book. "let's get back to work, shall we?" she asks, trying to keep her voice steady.

Nate grinned at her, his teeth white against his tanned skin. "Oh, all right," he says, giving her a mocking bow. "Your highness has spoken."

Y/n gritted her teeth, feeling the urge to punch him in the arm grow stronger with each passing second. She ignored it, focusing instead on the book in front of her. They worked in silence for a while, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts and the information they were reading.

after an hour or two, y/n stretches a bit, tying her hair up and removing her sweater to get a bit more comfortable

Nate glanced up from his reading, his gaze lingering on her exposed skin for a moment too long. "Hot enough for you, princess?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Y/n rolled her eyes at the question "Like actually, shut up." she says, glaring at Nate

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, you're so cute when you're annoyed," he teased. "You're really annoying." she says, getting up with her book to lay stomach down on the carpet behind him. "And you're really full of yourself," she muttered under her breath. Nate ignored her and continued to read, his gaze occasionally flicking over to her as she laid there.

"wait, can't we use this?" she says, signaling for him to come read a page in her book

Nate sighed, setting his own book aside and walking over to her. "Fine," he said, squatting down beside her. "What do you need me to see?" She pointed to a particular section of the page, and he glanced down at it, his expression unreadable. "alright, put that in."

he stands up, glancing at her ass, and then down at the book again. "That's what I thought," he said, nodding. "Good job, princess."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up again. She turned away, pretending to study another section of the book. "Thanks," she muttered. Nate laughed and walked back over to his chair, sitting down with a satisfied smile on his face.

"You know," he began, "for someone who's supposed to be all innocent and whatever, you can be pretty sarcastic when you want to be."

"And for someone who's supposed to be all tough and whatever, you sure are a big baby," she shot back.

"its funny how you're saying all this while you're dressed like that." he scoffs "you should really shut the fuck up" she says, standing up.

"Or what?" he challenged with a smirk. "You'll what? Cry? I didn't think so."

Y/n's blood boiled. "Picking on girls isn't gonna make your dick any bigger."

Nate smirked "You know what, princess?" he said, leaning forward in his chair, "i don't need to worry about that, im good in size and shape."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You're such a jerk."

"You know what, maybe I am," he agreed with a shrug. "But at least I'm not some stuck-up little brat who thinks she's better than everyone else just because she's cute."

"i do not think I'm better than everybody else!" she says, moving towards him.

"Then why do you act like you are?" he challenged. "Why do you think you can just say whatever you want and no one will ever stand up to you?"

"fuck off, you're an arrogant little shit who doesn't know one thing about m-"

Before she could finish, he leaned forward, his face inches from hers. "I know exactly what kind of person you are, princess," he growled. "And I'm not afraid to say it."

Y/n's heart was pounding, but she forced herself to hold her ground. "And what exactly do you know about me?" she hissed back.

Nate grinned, his eyes boring into hers. "I know you're just as much of a jerk as I am," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I know that deep down, you like it."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She couldn't believe he would say something like that. "You're disgusting," she managed to choke out.

"and you like it, prancing around, trying so hard to impress me. honestly i expected better, but once a slut, always a slut,"he retorts

"You're such a fucking pig!" she spat. "I'm not like that!"

"Then why are you acting like it now?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. "Why do you keep coming back for more?"

She couldn't believe he would say that. "i fucking hate you" she says, walking into the back room of the library to finish some of the project. Nate follows her.

"somebody needs to teach you a lesson" he says, walking up behind her. "You keep pushing me like this, im gonna fuck the attitude out of you."

"W-what?"

Nate grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to face him. His eyes were wild, his nostrils flaring. "You heard me," he growled. "You keep playing these games, you keep pushing me, and I'm going to make you regret it."

Y/n's heart hammered in her chest as he held her, as his breath fanned across her face. She couldn't believe he was actually serious. "You wouldn't dare," she whispered.

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and his expression darkened even further. "Oh, princess," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I dare."

"you fucking won't, you're pathetic" she says.

Nate just laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "We'll see about that," he said, and then he leaned in, kissing her.

A small moan slips through her lips into the kiss. His tongue tracing against hers, and his hands grip her hips, pulling her closer. She can't believe she's letting him do this, but she can't seem to help herself. It's like there's a switch inside of her that's been flipped, and now all she wants is more of him.

He pulls away, breathing heavily, and looks down at her. "See?" he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're not so innocent after all."

"shut up" she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You're just as bad as I am."

"Maybe we're perfect for each other," he muses, kissing her again.

"You're pathetic."

"And you like it." He says between kisses.

"No," she whispers, but her body betrays her. It feels so good, so right, to be wanted like this. To be desired.

Nate pulls away, looking into her eyes. "I think you're starting to believe it," he says, a knowing smile curving his lips. "And I think you're starting to like it."

"I don't…" she starts to protest, but the words trail off as he kisses her again, his hands sliding up her back, cupping her breasts through her shirt.

Her head swims, and she can feel herself giving in to the heat building between them. "Nate…" she breathes out, arching into his touch.

"That's it, baby," he whispers against her lips. "Let go."

And as they kiss, she does. She lets go of everything - her pride, her innocence, her attitude - and gives in to the passion that's been building between them. She's not sure how much longer she can resist him, or if she even wants to.

Their kisses grow deeper, more urgent, as his hands wander lower, pushing up her shirt and cupping her bare skin. She gasps when she feels his fingers brush against her nipple, hardening beneath his touch. He groans into the kiss, and she can feel his erection pressing against her through his pants.

She unbuttons his shirt, revealing the defined muscles of his chest, and he groans again as she explores his skin with her hands. He's bigger than she expected, and she can't help but feel a thrill of anticipation as she thinks about what it would be like to have him inside of her.

Their kisses grow even more intense, their tongues tangling together as they both struggle for air. Nate's hands slide down her back, over her ass, gripping her through her pants. She arches her back, pressing against him, and he growls in response, his hips moving in a rough rhythm against her.

Her head spins with desire, and she can feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge. "Nate," she moans, "I want you."

He pulls back, looking into her eyes, and she can see the lust burning bright in his gaze. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers before lowering his head, kissing her neck, her collarbone. His hands slide under her shirt, cupping her breasts, and he groans as he feels her nipples harden beneath his touch.

She grips his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as he continues to kiss and touch her, moving lower still. His hands slide down her stomach, pushing her pants and underwear down her hips, and she gasps when she feels his fingers against her folds.

"Fuck, you're wet," he breathes, his voice husky with desire. "So fucking wet for me."

Her hips arch off the floor as he slips a finger inside of her, finding her entrance slick with arousal. She moans, her head falling back against the wall as he begins to stroke her in a gentle, teasing rhythm.

"Nate…" she whimpers, feeling the pressure building inside of her. "I need…"

He looks up at her, his eyes dark and hungry. "Tell me what you need," he says, his voice rough with desire.

"I need you," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Please."

He smiles, and then slides his fingers deeper inside of her, finding her clit and circling it gently. She gasps, arching her back, her nails digging into his shoulders. "That's it, baby," he whispers. "Let go."

And with that, she does. Her body explodes in a wave of pleasure, her muscles tensing and relaxing as she cries out his name.

She clings to him, her body still trembling from the intensity of the sensations coursing through her.

"Get on your knees." His voice is rough and urgent.

She does as he says, lowering herself down until she's kneeling before him. He pulls his pants and boxers down, freeing his erection, and she looks up at him, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"Are you ready for this?" he asks, his voice low and gruff. "open your mouth"

She opens her mouth, feeling her lips part as she stares up at him. His eyes darken as he watches her, and then he groans, pushing forward, guiding his cock into her mouth. She gags on the thickness of it, feeling it stretch her lips and touch the back of her throat. He grunts, his hips moving as he begins to thrust into her mouth, fucking her face.

She sucks and licks, trying to take as much of him as she can, her hands gripping his hips for leverage.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his voice strained. "Take it all."

And she does. She takes every inch of him into her mouth, her throat, her body, until she feels him tense and shudder against her lips. His hot seed spills down her throat, and she swallows, feeling it slide down her throat as he continues to thrust into her mouth.

At last, he pulls away, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he stares down at her. "Fuck," he whispers, his eyes dark with desire. "You're unbelievable."

She looks up at him, her chest heaving with exertion, and she feels a thrill of pride run through her.

He pulls her up and spins her so her back is facing him.

"pass me my tie, baby."

She reaches around, feeling for the tie he wears, and then hands it to him. He takes it, his movements are quick and efficient, then he wraps and ties her hands behind her back.

"Are you gonna be able to be a good girl and keep quiet?"

She nods, her heart racing with anticipation. "I'll be quiet."

He smirks, and then reaches around to unbutton her shirt. "That's my good girl."

he turns her so her back is to him and bends her over. "ima fuck this tight pussy."

And with that, he pushes inside of her, filling her up and making her moan. he spanks her and stops moving. "i said no noises baby. Do you understand?" he says, yanking her hair back.

She nods, biting her lip to keep quiet.

"Good girl." He says before beginning to thrust into her again, his hips slamming against her ass. Her back arches as she feels the sensation of being filled and taken. She tries to concentrate on the pleasure, but the sting of the spankings mixes in, making the sensation both exquisite and painful.

"You feel so good," he groans, his breath hot against her neck. "God, you're making me lose it."

She moans, unable to help herself as he pushes her closer and closer to the edge. "Please…" she whispers. "I'm close…"

he slows his thrust down, killing her pleasure. "I said," he spanks her, "No fucking noises." he reaches down and grabs her panties, shoving them in her mouth to keep her quiet.

Then, he starts to move faster, harder, his thrusts deep and powerful. "Fuck, you feel so good," he growls. "Come for me, baby."

And with those words, she does. Her body shudders with the force of her orgasm, her muscles tightening around him as she cries out into her makeshift gag. He follows her over the edge, groaning her name as he comes, filling her up. he unties her hand from behind her back and ties them above her head.

"you want more, baby?"

She nods, her eyes shining with desire.

He grins, then leans in and kisses her neck. "I've got just the thing for you."

He pushes her forward, onto her hands and knees, and then positions himself behind her. His cock slides easily inside her again, and he begins to move, fucking her hard and fast.

"You're mine," he growls. "You always will be."

She moans, arching her back as he takes her roughly, claiming her body and her pleasure. This time, he lets her make as much noise as she wants, and she cries out his name over and over again, lost in the intensity of their lovemaking.

He thrusts into her, his hips slamming against her ass, her body shaking with each impact. The air fills with the sounds of their breathless gasps and the slapping of their bodies together.

He grabs her hair, pulling her back, and then thrusts deeper, harder, his cock hitting her sweet spot again and again. She comes around him, her body convulsing with pleasure, and he follows close behind, groaning her name as he spills himself into her.

He holds her still for a moment, his cock still buried inside her, their bodies joined in a sweaty, satisfied heap on the floor. Then, he pulls out.

"You're amazing," he whispers, kissing her forehead.

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midnight-black2 · 1 month

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im really okay with this being published on may. since its farleigh start related. but...

shy and nerdy dom!reader and farleigh start in oxford. where farleigh takes an interest on reader since they look absolutely innocent and cute. so he tries his hardest to get her in bed with him. which bites him on the ass bcos reader is a dom LMAO really caring tho. which kinda pulls on farleigh's heartstrings a bit 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 yk "youre the only person to do this for me" kind of trope but after hard core sex (im kidding... unless)

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

pairing : farleigh start x reader

synopsis : read the req !!

disclaimers : sub!farleigh, dom!reader, smut with plot, fem!reader, kind of like degrading praise, p in v (imaginary condom, let's just pretend they had one bc i forgot to write it in), handjob (m!recieving), etc

note : since i waited so long to post this, i wanted to make it worth the while. enjoy 🫶🫶

for a college girl, her behavior was...curious, to say the least. she was oddly quiet; stuck to herself mostly. she had a few friends, if you could really call them that. for the most part, she was nowhere to be found, and that's exactly how she preferred it.

you couldn't find her at parties, or outings, or pubs. if you really wanted to speak with her, you would have to go to the very back of the library, where she would be sat at a desk, reading some book or doing homework. it didn't matter, though. the main reason people wanted to meet with her was a matter of tutoring, and most people at oxford didn't necessarily need tutoring.

for the most part, she was unbothered. until, farleigh start walked into her life. polar opposites, they were. when he had asked a counselor who the best person to tutor him would be, they had guided him to Y/N. and so, on a thursday evening, (7:43 pm to be exact), farleigh found you in the back of the school library, reading as you ate an apple as quietly as possible as not to disturb others.

he stopped in his tracks when he saw you. your hair pulled back into a low bun, a few strands sticking out. you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose as your eyes chased the words on the book pages violently quick. he furrowed his brows, with a confused grin. he didn't expect you to be so cute.

"are you...Y/N L/N?" he queried. you were seemingly startled, which made him chuckle to himself. your face twisted into an expression of utter bewilderment.

"yes...why do you ask?" you question, reluctantly.

"i was told to come see you..." he said, in a daze. after a few seconds of silence (and more confusion on your face) he broke from his reveries, and cleared his throat. he smiled, glanced at the ground, before his eyes trailed back up to yours. "i need tutoring."

you nodded, and slipped a bookmark in your book, before pushing it to the side. you took one last bite from your apple, before sitting up, walking to the trash, and throwing it away. once you sat back down, you tucked the unruly strands of hair behind your ears, before patting the empty seat to the right of you.

"do sit," you instructed, face calm and emotionless. and so, he sat beside you, his bright and rather bold choice of clothing almost looking ridiculous next to your dull browns and blacks. the juxtaposition was comical. "so is there particular homework you need help with? or would you simply like me to look through work you don't understand or...?" he smiled amiably, before nodding.

"i need help with some math homework," he replied, before digging through his backpack. you waited patiently, before he eventually set down two packets of homework on the table. you mentally sighed. you didn't quite feel up for the task, but he seemed nice, and you didn't want to let him down either.

"specific questions? or the whole thing?" you asked.

"the whole thing." okay so maybe he was fibbing. maybe he only said the whole packet so he could spend more time with you. so? so what? it's not like a little white lie ever hurt anyone. you took the first packet, and flipped through it. to your advantage, it looked fairly easy.

you began to explain the first problem, but he was hardly listening. you were solving it completely on your own, and whenever you would ask if he understood, he would form some distant "mhm" as a way of saying yes. you realized at some point, though. you realized this entire time (five minutes and twenty-eight seconds in fact--you had been watching the clock out of your peripheral) he wasn't looking at the paper, but you. you slowly turned to face him, and your cheeks became a rosy red, only slightly noticeable, but there.

"are you alright?" you asked, swallowing dryly. he nodded.

"yeah, sorry, you're just...you're so pretty. has anyone ever told you that?" he answered, gazing at you.

"uhm, no, not that i can remember," you said back. he laughed at that. he found you endearing, even charming, in your own unconventional way.

soon enough, one hour and fifty-eight minutes had passed (again, you had been glancing at the clock every now and then) and you finally made it through both math packets. you two began cleaning up, and packing your things.

"just so you know, i won't charge you this time, but any further sessions will be twenty dollars by the hour," you stated, matter-of-factly, as you placed your things inside your bag.

"wow, and here i was thinking you were doing this out of the kindness of your heart," he said, playfully. you smiled. it was a small one, but you still smiled.

"nope. everything i do has a catch," you said, matching his tone. and boy did he wish he would've remembered that...

after that, you two kept meeting. it wasn't intentional, but the world always seemed to place you two in the same spot at the same time. the interactions didn't differ from that of the one in the library. he was always flattering you, or finding a way to make you blush, and he found you incredibly cute. so much so, that he was determined to discover you. in other words--he wanted you under his bedsheets. so when one of your acquaintances, luna, had practically dragged you to some frat party saying it would "be good for you to get out," you weren't surprised to see him there.

he always seemed to creep up on you. you had turned around and were met with him, towering over you with that same complacent grin he always wore.

"is this real life? am i actually seeing Y/N L/N at a frat party? oh god, pinch me," he said, in a dramatic high-pitched voice. he described it as if it were a crime, and it was almost like it was. you smiled, and shook your head.

"yes, i'm actually here, though against my will," you responded, crossing your arms over your chest as you glanced at your friend who had found oxfords heartthrob, felix, and occupied herself with him. farleigh chuckled, as he kept his eyes trained on you.

"you look good, Y/N," he said, and, he was right, you did look good. your hair was--for once--out of its usual bun and falling down your shoulders gracefully. you had on a bit of eyeliner, and some lipstick which was the most makeup you'd worn all year. you were wearing a short long sleeved black dress. it was casual, but it looked so strikingly gorgeous on you. farleigh ran his eyes along your body, he certainly wasn't subtle, although he never has been.

"you make it quite clear," you said, with a brow quirk, as you swallowed. his eyes met yours again, a smirk forming on his face.

"good," he replied. there it was, he always seemed to reply just as quick as you did, there was no thought or effort, he simply matched your wit. he was the first person you had met to do so. then again, you hadn't met many people at oxford, so perhaps the judgement wasn't very fair.

"don't your, er, a thousand girlfriends await you?" you teased, crossing your arms across your chest. he raised his brows dramatically, with a gasp. it was sarcastic, you knew that much. you laughed.

"sure, girl friends, space between the words," he corrected, sassily.

"well excuse me then."

"yes, excuse you," he said back, tilting his head to the side. you smiled, before you caught luna chugging down alcohol you were pretty sure was either spiked, or someone else's.

"no literally, excuse me. i think my friend over there needs a bit of assistance. jesus, not even ten minutes here and she's already getting trashed," you said. he looked behind him, and saw luna stumbling and screaming. he laughed, and let you go.

after the whole luna situation was taken care of, you were pooped. which sucked, because surprisingly, in the ten minutes you had been talking with farleigh, you were enjoying yourself immensely. a lot people had cleared out, leaving the house more quiet than before. luna didn't want to leave quite yet, which was unfortunate for you since she was your ride here. luckily, though, you had planned for this and brought a book for entertainment. you just read the book as she flirted her way into guys lives. to your surprise, you heard an all too familiar voice speak from behind you.

"are you seriously reading a book at a party? you're such a dork," farleigh said, leaning over your shoulder.

"maybe i am. but it's more interesting than watching luna flirt with uncomfortable guys all night," you replied, flipping the page. he chuckled.

"fair," he began. "you know, i can think of more fun things to do, though." you placed the bookmark in your book, you were intrigued.

"yeah? like what?"

"you could come upstairs with me," he suggested, smirking. you cocked a brow.

"and do what, hm?"

"three guesses."

"talk, get drunk, or get high," you said, fully knowing none of those were correct answers.

"incorrect, Y/N. can't believe for the first time in the time i've know you, you got something wrong," he said, dramatically. you laughed. "i'm serious though, come upstairs with me." you didn't answer for a bit, how could you? you couldn't say no, but you shouldn't have said yes, either.

"please?" he begged, after you didn't say anything after a moment. you sighed, setting your book on the coffee table in front of you.

"you'd better make this worth my while, farleigh."

"i promise you i will, Y/N," he said, and you were sold. in a flash you two darted up the stairs and in a secluded room on the left wing of the house. you guys haphazardly made it inside the bedroom, making out feverishly. the air suddenly felt hot, and everything was so intense. from the way he cupped your face, to the way your hands rested on his hot skin. he was about to sit you down on the bed, attempting to exert some sort of control over you. you paused. oh no, no no no no no.

"what are you doing?" you asked, bluntly. maybe you read the situation incorrectly, but you definitely thought he was more on the submissive side. this was...an unexpected turn of events.

"is this...not what you had in mind?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. it's not like he would ever force you to do anything. still, he thought his feelings were more than mutual based off of the way you had practically lunged up the stairs with him. you snuck out underneath him, and for a second he was left dumbfounded. that was until you flipped positions, having him underneath you on the bed. his cheeks flushed, becoming a cute crimson color.

"this is what i had in mind," you replied, smirking. god, had he really been that dense? were you actually the top this entire time? did he really care? so many questions. frankly, he had never subbed before, and even though he didn't necessarily have to do anything for it (besides maybe let go of his pride), he was still nervous about it. after all, he would be a lot more vulnerable than usual. "i know this probably isn't your normal style, and if you're not willing to try it we can stop right now."

"when did i say i wanted to stop?"

"you didn't."

"so...proceed," he said, a bit hesitantly. you smiled, before you kissed his lips softly. it felt heavenly; the way your lips moved in sync. you treated him with care. it made his heart flutter in his chest.

eventually, you moved away from his lips and began trailing kisses down his jaw and to his neck. you sucked softly, leaving hickeys all over his smooth skin. he sighed at the feeling, biting back any and every urge to let out the soft whimpers he wanted to. your hand found its way to the zipper of his jeans, before you looked up into his eyes.

"do you want this?" you asked, only for good measure. you wanted to be sure.

"yes, fuck, obviously," he panted, with a sassy eye roll. you chuckled, before continuing. you carefully unzipped his pants. he helped you in the process, lifting his hips up so you could pull them down. he couldn't fully comprehend what was happening as your fingers traced around his prominent erection. his mind felt clouded and hazy. he had never been in this position before, but now that he was, he didn't think he'd ever want to do things a different way.

you palmed him through his draws, and he genuinely whined at the sensation. you were teasing him, and he hated it. you arched a brow, before going back up to kiss him on the lips.

"be patient, farleigh," you advised, before pecking him on the lips one last time. painfully slowly, you pulled his draws down, and his cock sprang up swiftly. goodness was he big. perhaps 9 to 9.5 inches. if you planned to properly fuck him, he would possibly split you open...i mean what the hell.

"like what you see?" he teased, breathlessly. you rolled your eyes, yet didn't respond. you simply thumbed at his tip (which was leaking pre), and that was enough to shut him up. you--finally--gave him what he so desperately wanted, and wrapped your hand around his cock. you started out steadily, up and down. he let out soft whimpers and whines as you did so. he threw his head back, his brows were beautifully furrowed.

your hand went for the hem of his sweater, and you pulled it over his head. he was now fully exposed, and he would have felt slightly embarrassed if he wasn't so fucked out already. your fingers accidentally grazed his nipples, and combined with the stimulation already given, he let out a loud moan. you kissed his cheek, with a smile.

"look at you enjoying yourself, hm?" you mumbled.

"oh shut the fuck up," he countered, breathlessly. you pumped him particularly rough when he said that, causing him to whine. "a-ah fuck." he felt himself growing nearer and nearer towards the edge, which was strange. normally, he would last longer, but there was something about you that made him want to absolutely make a mess of himself.

"s-shit Y/N, think m'gonna cum," farleigh warned, squeezing the sheets tight in his hand. and then? you halted.

"no no, why'd you stop?" he whined, shaking his head. you laughed in his face, and didn't respond. although, when you sat up, and he did the same and leaned against the headboard, he knew what was happening. you took off your pants and then your underwear followed. he couldn't help but look down, you were completely soaked. he swallowed anxiously. he didn't want to wait much longer.

"see that? you see what you do to me?" you asked, tauntingly. you definitely had a knack for making things known to him, and he went absolutely feral. he was growing more and more impatient.

"please, Y/N," he begged, gripping your waist in an attempt to ground himself. you wasted no more time, as you lifted yourself up, and then sat back down on his cock. your pace was pretty fast, merciless, even. he let out a guttural moan, and there was a slight arch in his back as he tried helplessly not to buck his hips upward. you groaned, he was so fucking big.

"you like that, farleigh? like me fucking you like this?" you asked. it was rhetorical, but he nodded eagerly anyways. you were quite animalistic, and he wasn't sure how you were able to fuck him so fast, but it felt euphoric. he cried out, as he shut his eyes.

"o-oh my god, fuck," he moaned. you placed your hands against his chest to leverage yourself. you wanted to go even faster, thought it seemed impossible. "i won't last long."

"fuckk," you groaned, brows furrowed. "you're good, it's fine. you're doing just fine f'me, farleigh." he could feel himself become undone, as you did too.

"w-wanna cum. can i?" he asked, pleading with you. his eyes were slightly teary.

"come whenever," you breathed out, not really caring at this point. you were simply chasing your own climax. soon enough, farleigh came with a frail cry, and shortly after you came too. your chests were heaving up and down, lungs working overtime to catch your breaths. your bodies were sweaty and sticky against each other, but neither of you cared. as he came down from his high, he couldn't help but feel special. that was his first time doing something like that. there was a long, comfortable silence, before farleigh spoke.

"nobody's ever done anything like that for me before," he said, looking up at you. you smiled softly.

"glad to be the first one then." let's just say, that it turned out to be more than a one time thing...

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

#dom!reader #smut #smut with plot #farleigh start #dom reader #archie madekwe #saltburn #farleigh smut #farleigh x reader #sub!character #sub!farleigh

111 notes · View notes

a-dauntless-daffodil · 9 days

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Vaggie just slowly, kicking and screaming, turning into a carmine. Constantly wearing pointe shoes to the point she can't walk flat footed, hair pulled up in a dancer's bun, her clothes turning black and white, knowing weapons inside and out, ect.

Her just one day going, 'f@#$ I'm a carmine now'

Clara 'always was, sis, come on we have practice in ten minutes.'

For a full 1 minute I can see that happening. XD ONE. minute

Thing is tho, look at Clara and Odette, they're Carmilla's canon daughters and they're as FAR from being her clones as possible- in style as well as looks overall.

there's one lab coated mad scientist and a cool girl in thigh highs, high waisted shorts, and a turtleneck crop top.

the only shared family traits is white eyes red sclera, and hair being pulled UP in some way

The closest they come to dressing LIKE their mom is on Extermination day with their matching black body suits- and even THEN neither is wearing angelic steel dance slippers, just a wind about of criss cross ribbon around one leg.

Carmilla doesn't want her kids to be clones of her

(for me that's one really BIG sign of her caring about them as people, not just "her" kids. she's fine with them being their own selves)

so I could for sure she Vaggie and her bonding over a shared passion for dance...

or dancing FIGHTING anyway. uhh

PPPPFT imagine the meme -> CARMILLA CARMINE POSING WITH HER NEW DAUGHTER FOR A FAMILY PHOTO, PROUDLY SPORTING A /SPEAR/ THROUGH THE /THIGH/ WHILE VAGGIE DIES OF EMBARRASSMENT thats it that's their vibe to me XD

anyway, I don't think Vaggie would switch to ballet. Or go around on en pointe tippy toes. Not even for the extra inch or so of height it'd get her- im kidding im kidding-

Vaggie wears FLATS. Her tol af girlfriend is in heels- even her future dad in law has some heel on his boots- and she's in small, simple, flat shoes.

Canon will say if or not her "great dancer" thing gets confirmed in-show or what kinda dance style she does, but I'd guess it's something less... theatrical than ballet. More something that can be done anywhere any when with a comfy pair of normal shoes.

PLUS I think she ALRADY got the "Carmine family makeover"

look at her battle outfit

the dark base skin-tight suit (dark like an exorcist OR dark like-) her hair pulled back and put UP (in practical Carmine style) the white cross across her chest (Carmilla's theme of crisscrossing, things laced up)

and yeah, the cross could be a ref to her eyepatch- except the color is wrong. and that makes it look more like... well..

look at HOW the angel blood spiraled down her RIGHT leg by the end of the battle, like a ribbon

she already looks a lot like a Carmine to me <3

#hazbin hotel #vaggie #carmilla carmine hazbin hotel #clara carmine hazbin hotel #odette carmine hazbin hotel #vaggie gets adopted by carmilla au #i want it so baaaaaaaaaaaaaad uggghh

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feronaville · 2 months

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i have a lot of things i should really be doing which did NOT include making a bunch of recolors of one of my fave cc items so really this is the perfect time to make a bunch of recolors of one of my fave cc items :^) n what i chose to do was bienchen83's animated lizards & rodents cages!

i shall talk more about it n provide links under the cut!

so i loveeee these lizards n rodents sm !! i don't even use the lil womrat cage that comes with the pets expansion tbh ,, which is ironic bc i DO have recolors of that, n i couldnt find more recolors anywhere so i decided i shall make some! (there is a womrat cage in the set tho! i believe there's also a default replacement there too but also a custom version).

i used a few palettes: lack colors from michelle, luasims colors, ricardo colors from icad, n yeti colors from shastakiss (i didn't do whites or like the dark blacks--there's a white recolor provided but i just mashed the original white wood recolor together with the original white cage recolor if that makes sense, n there's already a dark black wood recolor available in the original download). i wanted to do anna colors too but i didn't use color actions (cries all over firealpaca) n got burnt out flipping between the blending modes n seeing the colors not being close enough for me to settle. maybe for the best bc...

all together there are ,, like 104 recolors bc leave it to me to get too carried away with something, i didn't realize i made that many until i was done lmaoo. they're separated into folders with the white recolor just chillin outside of them so you can just choose for yourself if you'd like! there's also pics of the color palettes included since i don't have any more spoons to get a full swatch on the mesh, n all files are named after both the palette n the color!

the meshes are NOT included, but the link to everything you need is right here on modthesims!! the master mesh is the squirrel cage so all the rest of the pet cages will pull these colors too :^)

i hope im not forgetting anything i'm tired n recovering from being sick i feel like everyone's getting sick in maryland. everyone please take care! n lmk if there's anything wrong!

download linkies: ♡ sfs: [x] ♡ mf: [x]

#sims 2 download #sims 2 pets #sims2cc #ts2 #sims 2 #ts2cc #s2cc pets #ts2cc pets #the sims 2 #feronaville

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christiansorrell · 8 months

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RPG Read-through: .dungeon//remastered

For a while on Twitter, I've been doing read-through threads where I post my thoughts as I'm reading through a game for the first time. I recently did the same with Snow's .dungeon//remastered, a TTRPG where you are players logging in to a dead/dying MMO and exploring the digital fantasy world. I'm adapting those thoughts here for a proper Tumblr post! Enjoy!

First up, credits! Good folks who do good work in my experience. Also, we get the first of what seems to be a common through-line here that I enjoy: an online fandom bent to this all being a sort of GameFAQ style guide for an in-universe game.

My initial impression from most of the interior spreads I've seen just flipping through it is that I really love the style and layout. I think black and white layouts are underrated generally, but it really pops here with the pixelated text/symbols and the old school GUIs.

It's interesting to have these kind of "no bigotry" rules you see in many games couched within an in-universe framing. I think this more personal angle actually makes them land better for me than they typically do in games.

Of course, the author is still powerless to stop the players (just like with any instance of these rules, and all game rules in general tbh) BUT this is worldbuilding too, and it gives me a greater sense for the kind of in-universe fandom that's risen up around .dungeon.

Similarly, here's the game's unique version of safety tools - an in-game help menu that reworks things like lines/veils, x-card and more into the game world itself. I really like this.

Once again, the art in this is just great. I love the Fez-like runes/symbols. My ARG brain wants to know if there's a hidden message here.

I was surprised it was jumping right into the starter adventure, Tutorial Town, but I quickly found out that this is character creation AND a starting area/adventure all wrapped into one, video game-style, and that's so cool.

Each room of the starting area introduces a step of character creation. It's interesting that stats are based on real-world (not you the player at the table real-world but your PC at the "real-world" computer playing the game) ability. Your game knowledge, response time, etc.

As a long time Dota player, I also just really enjoy that the saving throw-like stat here is TILT. I have tilted many times and known many of my teammates to tilt regularly. Just fun to see that phrasing in a TTRPG.

There's more of the in-universe real-world player here than I expected coming in. Definitely has some really intriguing potential. I do wonder though if the intent is to be playing a "real-world" level character or if you are "playing" as yourself at that layer. Both would work.

Monster statblocks. Easy to parse and straightforward to run as the GM (tho at time the layout does have one two many things laid on top of one another that can make them hard to read at first glance - like where "GOBLIN" is here):

Health here is SYNC, and it's shared across the whole party - I'm interested to see how that full mechanic plays out and how it may affect play.

Reaction rolls. I'm surprised to see them given the video game setting, cus mobs in MMOs just always attack you. I've gone back and forth on it with my video game-inspired TTRPG. Don't think it's a bad choice, just one that means the game world is more than a usual video game.

So you have your real-world level Job (based on your characters' out of game job) and your in-game "Role" which follow the classic "holy trinity" of MMO design:

PCs and monsters can team up to attack and can forego damage for stunts - potentially fun/interesting moments happening from that. Monsters deal dmg to SYNC but only per type is interesting, means a crowd of one-enemy is more a long trickle of damage than an overwhelming burst.

Not knowing the ramifications of SYNC damage yet, I'm not sure what the Risk v Reward looks like for Respawns but it's intriguing. Letting your avatar die to keep the party in a stronger position overall (but being able to re-join after a fight) is definitely unique.

This is another fun room (and I like that other than saying late 90s/early 2000s it leaves appearance options open). I am not sure where to find the starting origins tho (they aren't on this spread and there's no page reference). Sadly, the PDF isn't bookmarked either, it seems.

This feels like a smart roadblock to place in player's paths early on. It's unlikely they'll have a lockpick at this point so really, it's about getting players into that creative mindset. What is in the room for you to exploit? What gear do you have you can use in a new way?

Might seem basic, especially to the OSR-experienced out there, but you'd be surprised how many players don't have experience with thinking more freeformly about the game in this way. No fault to them, most trad games condition you to use your PC's abilities/skills as a menu.

Another cool interaction between the layers of the game here (tho I do wish they all played more off of something more than just the tarot card being in the real-world layer). Still wondering if most folks play as themselves or as a real-world level PC.

This is interesting. I wonder if there is going to be a real-world layer to play or if this is meant to be the amount your party can heal between sessions of play (like when the actual real you stops playing in actual real life - this meta layer stuff is tricky to communicate).

I like this - a very short and sweet travel system.

I continue to love this art. Also, this tease here around dual-wielding requiring the discovery of new Roles out in the game world somewhere first is really enticing (I added the highlighter there btw).

This is fun - there are both in-game NPCs and PUGs which are other real-world players' in-game avatars. That extra layer to those types of NPCs is really fun and them running the gamut of fully out-of-character chatting to being hardcore RPers is fun to consider.

Whenever it leans into the digital world aspects, I'm super into it. Very much my kinda thing. I do wonder though how often players can swap their Roles. I don't believe I've seen that said yet - my inclination would be once on the fly (like Final Fantasy's Job systems).

And if these various layers weren't enough, .dungeon also features in-game collectible cards that are sort of enchantments and buffs. I wonder if my real-world level character can spend real money to buy Bytes to buy more packs from a merchant in town? lol

I won't spoil/detail too many more of these but these kind of fun (and common to video games but rarely seen when thinking of the world of a game or the intended way to play) moments are really appealing. Also, this game has Goons in it. Oh no.

Now I'm thinking the intention is the "real-world" level of play should be the real actual you, the person playing .dungeon the TTRPG (as opposed to a real-world level character still within the fiction of the game) since stuff like this would be tricky to track. Cool item!

Tutorial Island is cool, a good blend of char creation, intro to what the game is, and just a fun adventure with a session or more of play to it. I'd have to run/play this to really see but I find the Sync being tied to essentially your real-world session length interesting.

This stuff is cool and leans into that meta/fan-level play that only comes out of these big community-driven games, both MMOs but also things like Dark Souls.

A lot of these kind of possible secrets come as comments in the text, possibly just to inspire the GM and to get players interested in ways that the table can build out on their own over time. So far, I don't see some of the more esoteric secrets to be laid out (which I like).

The rest of the book, as far as I've seen, is lots of resources, gear tables, monsters, etc. to build out the game after player's leave Tutorial Island. The game world here has that anything goes Final Fantasy bent to it. There's swords & wagons, but laser guns & skateboards too.

The setting here is also explicitly queer (mostly seen so far in the "real-world" PUGs) and includes things like sex workers and other elements that it maybe could not have had but that would certainly lessen the richness of its world, the fandom presented throughout, etc.

The spellcasting uses the in-game money as mana points essentially. That's a cool way to limit spellcasting and motivate player's, especially spellcasters, to get out there and make some $$$.

Okay, here's the real-world explanation I was waiting for (after the in-game gear lists and such). This is cool - it's fun to have a real-life layer to this and to have the game's world support that sort of dropping in and out, doing things outside of a full party session, etc.

I know a lot of folks do this with ongoing campaigns anyway, but this is one of those fun things to include here to build that in as an expectation in play. You have your raid nights with friends and you have your little solo sessions after work where you sell your loot.

Now, the rest is a nice collection of random dungeon, NPC, settlement, hexfill tables and more. Everything you'd expect from an OSR-like ruleset but occasionally with some fun added meta-layers.

Players getting a quest from an in-game Moderator and then being able to become a Mod themselves is a really fun idea and something I could envision becoming a long-term goal for one or more players at a table. The threat of encountering an Admin is scary as well!

To finish it up, we've got a cool AASCII-style character sheet, complete with MingLiU-ExtB font (my beloved)!

And that's .dungeon//remastered! I really enjoyed reading this, and I think it has a strong core that's really enhanced by its real-world interaction layer. Gonna put this on "Play Soon" list. There are some smart rules in particular I'll likely steal for a future project.

.dungeon//remastered is available digitally NOW with, I believe, physical copies coming soon. I backed the Kickstarter to get this digital version. CHECK IT OUT HERE!

#ttrpgs #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #fantasy #mmorpg #rpg #dnd

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

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AITA for my fanart and how I responded to someone's negative reaction of it?

Okay so some background to start. I'm (genderfluid, 18+) in a fandom that was originally a book and got a live action adaptation several years ago. The adaption is MUCH more popular than the book series and honestly very different from it (a lot of characters have different backstories, the main character doesn't have a brother in the adaption, and ages were changed) but very few people have read the book series. (Admittedly, the fandom is not very big. It's actually the smallest one I'm in, which means I'm kinda limited in the number of people to interact with) Anyways! I'm in a discord (it's 18+ tho I don't know the actual ages of anyone else involved) for this fandom and although they promote themselves as being for both book and adaptation fans, according to the roles I am one of five people of the 40+ people in the server who have read the books, so that's not a lot.

Now, for Valentine's day I made fanart of the main couple, the mc and his wife (they get married in the series. In the books they are already together in the beginning but the adaption wanted drama and decided to not have them be together in the beginning. One of the changes that I very much do not like.) They're the most popular ship in the fandom. I love them. Anyways, I shared it in the Discord for Valentines and did not get a nice reaction.

See, in the books, both characters are white, but in the adaptation the wife is black. (The mc looks different in the adaptation too, shorter and with different hair and eye color, but he's still white) I drew the book version, because that's what I like. They're my blorbos.

Another person in the server took MY art and recolored it so that the wife was black and posted it in the server with a comment about whitewashing characters of color. I told them that I didn't whitewash her and that it was really fucking rude to edit someone else's fanart. They replied that she was black, I was racist, and posted a screenshot of a Google search asking the race of the actress who plays the wife in the adaptation. I replied with a screenshot of the her books' fanwiki page and said that my fanart was of the books and if they wanted fanart of the adaptation they could make it themself. They asked how they were supposed to know it was from the books since nobody read them and they were shit. I replied that they could realize the mc AND his wife looked different, that I read the books, and they were better than the adaptation, and how would they know if the books were shit since they obviously hadn't read them?

Anyways then the mods stepped in and made us break it up. One of the mods (the only one to have read the books) dmed me and told me that they understood my frustration and that another mod was talking to the person I had been fighting with about respecting other people's work but I needed to understand that assuming I was racist and whitewashing wasn't going to be uncommon since the books weren't as popular as the adaptation and I needed to be respectful when people confronted me with this. I replied that if the other person had confronted me directly and not just assumed the worst and edited my work I would have been more respectful. The mod agreed that the other person was out of line, but the whole thing seemed to be one giant misunderstanding so neither of us were getting strikes against us this time.

Anyways, the mods added some rules about not editing people's work and a thing in the announcements channel explaining the differences between the books and the adaptation but everything in the server has been really tense especially since people in the server started vague posting on Tumblr, some people favoring me others favoring the other person. I blocked the person I fought with on Tumblr but neither them nor I were involved in the vague posting.

(also idk if it matters but I'm white, idk the ethnicity of of anyone else involved)

So! Tell me, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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