synopsis: you never asked to trade sleeping in your bed for sleeping on a cold cot in a spaceship. never imagined you'd become an alien's favorite species to study - or his favorite to fuck either. he might not want to cage you like the rest of them, but then again, keeping you captive wouldn't be so bad, would it? for science, of course.
pairing: alien!gojo x f!reader
content: mdni. smut. porn with plot. slight dubcon. yandere!alien gojo, abduction, probing, examination kink, being strapped down to a table, lube, everyone loves true form sukuna but have we considered gojo with four arms and two dicks?, dumbification, gojo is basically an alien with a porn addiction and a human fetish but he's got cute antennas too, yearning, he's OBSESSED, nipple sucking, fingering, double stuffed, penetration in both holes, unprotected anal and piv sex, creampies
Gojo wanted you the second he saw you.
Technically, he shouldn't have even been in the lab. Technically, he wasn't even a researcher. Technically, he had stolen the security card once he saw that they abducted someone new to conduct their standard blood tests on.
Humans were a hot commodity.
A resource to utilize, something to use like, ah, how did they say it? Lab rats? Something less sentient, more animalistic. A lesser version of them, but with biology similar enough to study.
His kind had never cared about human history. Couldn't be bothered to learn about their culture. Flat-out disregarded the notion an inferior species like that could even really have any.
Satoru simply disagreed.
They didn't care to hear him out either. Kept up the archaic practices under the bland excuse of conducting studies for boring stuff like medicine and science.
It was supposed to be cut and dry. Abduct. Drug. Test. Drop back off.
Humans never noticed.
Waking up the morning after back in their own bed, completely clueless, chalking any memories up to nothing more than a weird dream and moving on with their little lives.
But Gojo had been fascinated by the funny creatures for as long as he could remember. Collected trinkets and snuck their stuff back to his room when they were brought on board. Managed to sneak in and ask a few about what Earth was like while they were still dazed.
He'd only been on the planet once. It was meant to be a brief expedition, to stake out some potential subjects before returning to their spaceship, but he couldn't help himself.
That was where he obtained his prized possession.
Something you humans called porn.
He had permanently borrowed an odd-looking rectangle, purely because it was shiny and fit underneath his shirt when he got beamed back up, using their far more advanced technology to sift through the files to find something that failed to satiate his curiosity. Instead, it sparked an entirely new kind, staring rapt at the screen in his room as video after video of humans mating played out in positions he hadn't thought possible.
Using different holes and sticking body parts in places he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to be, panting and moaning and sweating on camera while they came. And they seemed to do that a lot.
Gojo studied their creativity. Their commitment to pleasure - the rituals they'd perform, the exchange of sex as a form of currency, the fabled pizza guy and the females proclivity to get stuck in dryers.
He even stitched together his own lingerie, even if his fingers ends up bloody by the end of it.
Sex up on the spaceship was boring. Solely for procreation purposes. He'd been rejecting potential mates for years, people who just wanted his position as the future heir to their conglomeration for power.
And yeah, maybe they weren't so civilized, but he was starting to think humans had something right.
After all, their genitalia was sorta like theirs. They could be having this much fun too!
If everyone wasn't so stuffy about everything and insisted on following 'protocols' all the time.
But they'd see just how right he was soon - especially now that he had a test subject of his own.
This was not a nightmare.
You thought it was, at first. Convinced this had to be a strange dream, something your brain concocted after a couple bad horror movies.
Strapped down to a table? Without a single fucking memory of how you got there?
What else could it be?
But you could feel the cool air brushing over your peaked nipples, touch the smooth surface under your palms, blink and squint at the too-bright lights lining the spherical ceiling. Legs held up, fastened in stirrups.
Still, your first conclusion wasn't extraterrestrial. No, you were sure you'd been abducted by some serial killer, kidnapped and taken back to a makeshift dungeon designed to drive you crazy.
Straining against cool metal, squirming and splayed out like a science experiment for anyone to see.
"Hello?" You called out, only getting the faint echo of your own voice back to keep you company.
No one answered. But you couldn't crane your neck to check and see if you were being ignored.
You felt like you were being watched.
Small bumps trailing over your skin when you shivered, an annoying little itch grating at your nerves and insisting you weren't alone.
Still, you wouldn't have guessed what - or technically, who - was with you.
Not until the footsteps.
They were wrong. The pace was just off, some imperceptible thing making your heart race that you couldn't quite place. Were they too close together? Too far apart? Too heavy? They were accompanied by more odd noises, your brain struggling to process it, like listening to a foreign language on the radio, picking apart bits and pieces and trying to make sense out of them.
"Who's there?"
It felt like a cheesy horror movie. You could hear yourself half an octave too high, all pitchy and petrified, but you couldn't control it. Couldn't stop yourself from shivering as you were surrounded by shadows.
Your chest heaved. Your wrists strained. But before you could scream or shout, something sharp pricked your neck, and you were almost instantly paralyzed.
Not fully, but your muscles went from fighting to faintly twitching, but they didn't respond to your brain's demands to move. You could still look around, still could twist and turn your head as much as the collar around your neck allowed.
You were terrified for the worst.
Of being touched, your skin splayed or torn while you could do nothing but stare at the blank walls.
But instead, they just watched.
Something cold grazed against your skin, but it was little more than a faint trail along your leg. A few more pricks in your arm, like they were taking blood samples.
Then they left.
Whatever they were.
The silence was somehow worse. Waiting for them to return. Waiting for some horrible fate to befall you.
Just when you were on the brink of hyperventilating, a few tears pricking at your lash line you couldn't wipe away, you heard them again.
One of the creatures whined, the cold contraptions keeping your thighs spread only pushing them further apart when you tried to move again, muscles still burning through whatever was numbing your body and keeping you mostly frozen from the neck down.
The other one replied in that strange language, and you couldn't comprehend what the fuck they were saying, but it sounded cold. All clinical and curt.
A door shut. And those strange steps came back. These were lighter though, quicker.
A pair of blue eyes were suddenly above yours, bright and intelligent, deep enough to drown in. Unnatural white lashes fluttering, narrowing as he studied your reactions. But it was hard to focus on him when the world felt all foggy, only able to process everything in broken pieces. You tried to recount what was in front of you.
Fading footsteps. Faint beeping. Cold restraints on your wrists. White walls.
And him.
You figured you were really fucked when you had the distant thought some cute guy had to pulling some cruel prank on you. Even though you could only see him from the shoulders up, it almost looked like he was wearing a Halloween costume. His skin practically shimmered, like some strange movie-style special effect, a soft shade that didn't make sense to your addled brain, antennas sticking up in his tousled white hair.
But then something warm brushed against your cheek, moving your hair to the side and sliding something inside your ear, readjusting for a moment.
"Can you understand me now?"
You nodded, as much as you could given the cold collar around your throat keeping your head down on the table.
"Good," he beamed at you, flashing teeth that were mostly human - even if his canines were too sharp for your liking. "I made that myself."
"W-who are you?" You managed to speak, still breathing too fast, trying to glance around again. "Where am I?"
"You can call me Satoru," he earnestly answered, but he paused, blinking as if he hadn't expected you to ask that. "We're on a spaceship."
"Uh-huh," you dryly replied, throat constricting as you tried to consider the chance he was telling the truth and that you weren't on a reality tv show one of your friends signed you up for.
"I'm being serious," he pouted, leaning down to look even closer at you.
His eyes were starry, speckled and swirling, magnetic, pulling you into his heated stare. His breath was cold against your skin, making you shiver and retreat back. But the metal slab you were on was even chillier, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.
He looked less human up close. All his features were just slightly wrong, the kind of pretty and perfect that people would have to get plastic surgery and pay years worth of their salary to weakly replicate.
But he looked at you like you were the most captivating thing he'd ever seen.
"A-are you going to probe me?" You didn't realize you actually believed him until you heard the question leave your lips.
You were kinda hoping he'd laugh, assuage your fears. But he just tilted his head to the side considerately.
"Would you like me to?" Like he was your fucking gracious host, happy to oblige his guest's whims and wants.
"Um, what?" You stared. He smiled.
"I could use my fingers, or one of those, how do you call them, dil-" He began offering, and your head was spinning at the concept that aliens knew what sex toys were.
"You don't have to," you interrupted before he could finish, and you were pretty sure he was disappointed.
His little antennas drooped, his bottom lip twitching into a down-turned frown.
"Why am I here?" You changed the subject, unable to break eye contact with your new...acquaintance?
Were you about to be alien livestock? Spliced apart? Stuck in this stasis on this freezing slab forever?
"Research," he grinned again, those sharp blue eyes trailing south, his stare dragging over your exposed body. Antennas shooting straight up, subtly twitching with what you were starting to think was arousal.
"Research?" You echoed, holding your breath, heat coiling inside your stomach at his intensity. At how transfixed he was, tracing your outline and mapping it out just with his greedy gaze.
"I'd like to study your pleasure," he murmured, a not-very-subtle emphasis on the last word, his voice low.
Your brain was buzzing. Nerves electrified at the prospect of how your definition of pleasure might differ from his.
But the fear had dissipated, or maybe just coiled into something more dangerous. Desire.
"Can I touch you?" He hesitated, and you had to stop yourself from gawking. Mouth parting as you tried to figure out if he was actually asking for consent in this situation.
"D-do you want to?" You felt like you were just returning his question, a weak attempt to discern his intentions.
Part of you had started to reconsider the possibility you were dreaming before he chuckled, and your pulse pounding in your ears convinced you once again this was real.
Spread open in stirrups in front of your strange alien abductor.
But it wasn't apprehension or anxiety pumping through you anymore. It was anticipation, staring down a cliff and preparing to fling yourself off of it after his mouth curled up in a cute smirk.
"More than anything."
God, he made it sound like foreplay.
You bit your lip, tasted the hint of blood and iron on it, before making what was probably the stupidest decision of your life. You nodded.
His antennas were vibrating when he reached down to press his palm against your cheek, cupping your face. Soft, like a boyfriend would. Humming and exhaling as he smiled. His eyes didn't crinkle, no little lines etched by his lips, tiny details that stood out and made you shiver.
"I'm going to examine you first," he murmured, and you didn't know exactly how his lungs worked, or if he even had any, but it sounded like his breath hitched. His chest straining to hold it in, hold himself together as his hand traced over the cool metal of the collar down to your chest.
He used both hands.
Grabbing both your tits, not exactly groping, but squeezing hard enough to feel your skin and tissue underneath squish and shift, pure delight dancing across his face.
It was the weirdest breast exam you ever had.
Soft fingers, free of callouses, free of prints, danced over your nipples, making small stars over them.
You assumed he didn't know what he was doing. That maybe this was his first time touching a human. Or maybe a woman at all.
But then he pinched, ripping a raw gasp from your throat as you blinked up at him in surprise.
Satoru hadn't stopped though. Only emboldened by the sound he pulled from you, twisting and tweaking just enough to send sparks down your spine, heat simmering inside your stomach, unable to even squirm when he leaned down, deciding that touching wasn't enough.
He wanted a taste of you.
His tongue was rougher than you imagined, dragging over your nipple with even more fervor. You tried to crane your neck, but it didn't offer enough space for you to see his face, just those pretty blue antennas bobbing above the sea of white while he licked and lapped.
Straight-up sucking on your tits, teeth grazing against your sensitive nipples as he continued to knead into your chest.
You wished you had panties on, anything to hide how wet he was making you, thighs damp and unable to even close them to hide how hot you unfortunately found it.
Satoru pulled off with a filthy pop! before turning his attention back to you, pretty pink lips shiny with saliva as he pouted. "How come there's no milk?"
"Milk?" You gaped, the question coming out shaky, still catching your breath as you stared at his piercing blue eyes.
"Am I not doing it right?" He quizzed, running a finger back over your nipple before pinching again, only stoking the flames he'd set.
You hadn't realized how horny you were until you had to put together enough brain cells to form a coherent sentence, stumbling over your thoughts as you tried to get the words out, "T-that only happens when a girl is like, pregnant."
His brows scrunched together, processing this new interesting bit of information.
"I see," he nodded, as if it was now obvious to him. But he still applied more pressure, like he had to double check. As if he was doing some mental calculation to figure out how to induce it.
One of his fingers trailed down, past your mid-riff and over your belly button - although he did pause to press on that too, just to see if it'd do anything. When it didn't, he kept moving south. He walked around the bed, out of your sight again, both hands settling on your splayed-out thighs.
They were bigger than anyone else's you'd ever been with before. Soft and massive, sinking into your pliable muscles, humming with approval as he just stared.
You were self-conscious, trying to get your weakened muscles to shift when you heard a faint clutter. Your brain tried to do the math.
There were two hands on your thighs - so what the fuck was grabbing stuff?
It wasn't until the third hand slipped between your folds, spreading them even further apart so a fourth could spread something slick over it, that you figured out what was happening.
He had four arms.
And he was more than happy to put all of them to use.
You were already stuck. Already exposed. But he seemed intent on exploring every inch of you for himself, taking his time to drag his palms over the expanse of your body while that frustratingly gentle fourth hand slowly rubbed his palm over your entrance. Massaging in what you guessed was lube, although it made your brain feel even fuzzier. Your senses heightened, tuned into some new frequency, each subtle swirl threatening to make you shiver.
"You're pretty," he complimented, and all the warmth in your chest flooded your face, flushed as you strained to keep yourself from squeaking.
Not being able to see him was a special kind of torture. You wanted to see his face. Study what kind of face he was making when he was drawing such delicate patterns over your skin, murmuring at the little blemishes and marks on them with interest.
One of his fingers moved up, poking at your clit with just enough force to make you jolt. Well, as much as you could given how tight the restraints were, and how little your muscles would let you move with whatever his fellow aliens had put in your system.
"How did that feel?" Satoru curiously asked, circling around it, careful not to touch it again, but obviously amused by your reaction.
"G-good," you murmured. Your voice broke though, cracked when a stray thumb suddenly slipped between your slick folds, fresh goosebumps running down your flesh as he dipped in your wet warmth.
One word - and he was pulling his thumb out to push a full finger in.
It was longer than it should've been, thicker. Swirling lazily around, pressing against your walls like he was testing how much it could stretch.
If that was a finger, you didn't know how you'd fit his cock.
"I-I-" You started, struggling to breathe, struggling to think when you felt something else trying to slot in next to the first.
"Mhm?" He drawled, daring you to tell him more, hanging off every little sound he tore out. You might've managed to murmur that you didn't know how much more you could handle, but then you were being speared open, mean fingers digging into your thighs to pin them down against the freezing table.
The next noise he dragged out of you was feral. Some filthy moan, one that echoed off the walls and came from the back of your throat.
It felt like he was trying to stuff his fucking fist in there.
"S'too-" You whined, but you couldn't even finish. Trying to crane up again, desperate to see what he was doing.
"That's only two fingers," he murmured, experimenting out what it'd take to make you split, scissoring with steady strokes, like he was counting the seconds between each one in his head. "You can take it."
Confident, cocky, slowly increasing the pace, fingering you fast, eventually finding that sweet little spot at the back, crooking them cruelly and chuckling at the lewd squelches of your cunt.
"Look at you," he purred, and you didn't think you'd ever heard anyone sound so pleased. "Every part of you is perfect."
"Mm, S'toru," you slurred his name, eyes rolling back, thighs starting to tremble before he pulled his fingers back out, and you heard the distinct sound of him sucking them clean, moaning himself at the taste of you on his tongue.
You felt empty. Hot. Your skin burning, your body begging for him to keep going, all your thoughts drifting incoherently as you tried to drag out some sensibility from the recesses of your mind. But everything was too cloudy, barely clinging onto what was left of your rationality as one of his hands pressed down on your clit, rolling his palm over it, applying just enough pressure to make you croon.
Whining, all pitchy and weak, fingers forming a fist as you squirmed.
"You need more?" He teased, and you were already nodding, hips trying to move to entice him.
When it came down to it, you supposed you were just another animal, devolving down to your most basic instinct when the right stimulation came along. Depraved.
You felt him shuffle before you saw him, heard the creak of the table as his broad body climbed on top of you.
His hands shifting, one on your hip, one grabbing one of your tits, fully groping you now before he reached up with another to brush your hair back.
You were a little scared to think what he might be doing with the fourth one.
But his eyes were on you, and you were lost in them. Immediately sucked into the shimmer of them, even when the blue was almost swallowed by his blown-out pupils.
"Both my cocks are much bigger than the average penis size on your planet," he proudly proclaimed, something thick and wet nudging back between your thighs.
"Both?"
Too late.
The stretch burned. Each ridge practically engraving itself, leaving an imprint inside you as he slowly dragged along your walls. Pushing past the first ring of resistance with a throaty groan of his own, embarrassingly loud, his sharp jaw locked as he forced the last few inches in.
"That's my girl," he moaned, leaning down to kiss you to swallow your squeak, your guts being rearranged before he had even pulled back out to start fucking you properly.
Where the hell had he even learned to talk like that? Know how to make the butterflies in your stomach somersault?
And really, how on Earth (or in orbit) were you somehow nodding along to the idea of being an alien's girl?
"Told ya you can take it," he murmured between breaths, sucking on your bottom lip messily, biting hard enough you were pretty sure it might be bleeding. But you were too far gone to care, mindlessly agreeing in whimpers.
"Mm, mm," you tried to speak, but nothing more would come out, eyes rolling back when you felt a new pressure pushing against your puckered hole.
He paused though, pulling back enough to wink at you, white lashes fluttering as one of his hands let go of you to reach out and fumble for something on the other table you couldn't see. "Almost forgot."
You didn't get a chance to ask what before he was rubbing more of that lube there, shuddering at the almost slimy feeling on your skin.
Apprehensively, you tensed, but then he started fucking you, and you forgot to even breathe.
Only able to take and take and take, when he started stretching your ass out with a finger while he pumped your cunt full. It didn't feel like a normal cock - and not just because of its size. It was almost ribbed.
It didn't hurt, but it was the kind of intense that was impossible to ignore. Grinding deep against your womb, coaxing you into crying his name when his cock rubbed against all those spots he mapped out earlier.
Your mouth was watering, but he kept kissing you, testing how it felt to press his lips against the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, even down your jaw.
And when he started pushing his other cock in?
Your mind melted. Reason dissolving until the only thing left inside you was him.
You had never even done anal before.
But here you were, letting an alien stuff both your holes past the brim, his cocks big enough you could feel the pressure building and building, only separated by the thin wall of your anatomy.
Satoru was toying with your tits again, like stress toys made specially for him, all the overstimulating sensations mixing together and mounting, heightening each other until all you knew was his hands and his mouth and his cocks. Rewired by how good it felt to be played with, how right it felt to be stretched and split open.
You didn't even sound human anymore, Satoru devouring every single one of your devastated whimpers, encouraging more with delicious whispers that left you arching your back as much as you could off the table.
He bottomed both cocks out, and you thought you might die. Pain? Pleasure? Both?
And then he was back to rubbing more of that lube over your clit, thighs trembling and body quivering as he soothed you through it.
"You wanna cum for me, sweetheart?" He purred, and you could've climaxed from the cute smirk curling up on his lips, his perfectly sculpted face and those pretty patterns he was busy pressing against your swollen bud.
He pulled his fingers back right as you were about to crest over it, chuckling when you let out a huff.
"Say my name again."
"Toru, p-please," you were begging. Unable to move your wrists, to tether your fingers in his hair or claw at his shoulders, giving him your best set of puppy dog eyes.
He seemed to already see you as his pet.
"Well," he hummed, thumb returning to rubbing you again. "When you say it like that."
With one mean circle, Satoru dragged you over the edge - and dropped you into the ocean of him. White (and blue) blurred your vision, your body shuddering as you desperately cried his name, his thrusts somehow lazy and rushed, burying both his cocks in you and moaning at how hard you clenched down on them.
"S'fucking tight," he hissed, but he was right there with you, cumming hard and fast inside you too, hot spurts of it coating your insides as he throbbed inside you.
Your skin was still warm when he pulled out, your muscles sore and tense, body exhausted as you blinked up at him.
"That was fun," he grinned. "Ready for round two?"
Gojo couldn't have created a better specimen himself.
You fulfilled his every fantasy - and then some.
The research department found him two hours later, grumbling about getting locked out of the lab just to find the culprit readjusting a homemade vibrator with clinical precision to your clit.
His new favorite subject not quite passed out yet, cumming for the twelfth time, weak whimpers rolling out, a mess between your thighs and covering the clinic table.
You were drunk on him, delirious since orgasm six, nodding along to all his suggestions, pressing kisses to his skin every time he was close enough, not even straining against the cuffs or collar anymore. Just accepting all that he threw at you.
He checked off twenty items from his bucket list so far already - but he still had about a thousand more to go. Tying you up, fucking your mouth, pressing your thighs up to your chest, bending you over on the desk so he could role play as your boss. Walk you around on all fours around the spaceship and show his newest prize.
"This is unacceptable."
Blah blah blah.
He wasn't listening to whatever they were complaining about. All he was thinking about was new ways to explore your body, how much more research he was dying to do.
He hadn't stopped touching you, refusing to budge, your eyes rolled back and pretty little gasps panting from your lips as he turned up the setting on the vibrator.
"You cannot have sexual intercourse with our test subjects," snapped one of the higher-ups, scoffing at him with that annoying little chitter.
Gojo resented that he said subjects.
It wasn't plural. He only wanted you.
"Why not?" He retorted, shrugging his shoulders.
"It's unethical," Suguru chimed in, leaning against the wall, like he wasn't watching your cute disoriented face scrunching up mid-climax.
"You kidnap them without their consent," Gojo pointed out. They didn't get to say no to him. It was his family's funding that supported their expeditions - covered the fuel costs to beam their unsuspecting test subjects up. "At least she consented to this."
One of the directors of the lab grimaced, all of them exchanging looks while Suguru snorted behind them.
What did humans say?
Checkmate.
"Sweetheart."
Someone was nudging you, a weak noise leaving your mouth, a keen whine as you blinked up at the bright lights. Waking up from a wet dream into a weirder reality, squinting up at Satoru's familiar face.
You felt the clamps unlock, thick fingers grazing against your throat before the collar was finally off.
He helped you sit up, your limp body moving like jello, thighs sore, no strength left to stand as you fell into his chest.
"They said I could keep you," he excitedly murmured, cradling you against him. He ruffled your hair, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before nuzzling your nose.
Keep you?
It took a few seconds to set in, your body sluggish as he already started rambling off plans, promising you pretty toys and a soft bed to sleep in, saying that you how cute you'd look all dressed up, how fun life together would be when you got to have sex all the time.
Summary: Adrian Chase considers himself to be the luckiest guy in the world. After all, against all odds, he got you. And youâre amazing.
Unfortunately, this is something that is also noticed by many other people. Too many other people.
So heâs gonna have to make sure to keep you. To make sure you know that he is the only one for you. Even if his methods of doing so are a littleâŠwell, intense.
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI: Swearing, Smut (not too explicit but itâs there), Public sex, Possessive!Adrian, Our boy is an absolute freak, Obsessive!Adrian, Chris is kind of a tool but we know he means well, Mentions of violence, Please let me know if I forgot anything!
Author's Note: I am experiencing some kind of nightmare writers block, so letâs hope this drabble will break me out of it (or at the very least, knock some cobwebs loose and shake my brain back into place). This has been in my drafts forever, so I figured Iâd polish it up and post it in honor of tonightâs episode! Also, every Adrian fic is just getting me closer and closer to writing smut. This freak is makin me freaky, what can I say. As always, please let me know what you think!!
-
Adrian Chase has been called many things. Psycho, weirdo, freak, crazy unhinged murderer, you name it. It doesnât bother him. Never has. Theyâre all pretty much true, anyway.
He hasnât ever considered himself to beâŠinsecure, though.
And then he met you. And by some miracle, he got you. Out of anyone in the world, you chose him. No one ever really chooses him. Heâs gotten used to it. He doesnât really mind it. He doesnât have emotions like other people do, so why would he?
But you. Fuck, you. Youâre beautiful and deadly and you see every part of him and you fucking like it. You like him. He doesnât mind when people get annoyed when he talks - he never really even notices it - but he does notice when you laugh at what he says, in the unfamiliar way of someone laughing with him rather than at him. You ask him questions, and you genuinely listen when he answers them. You don't tell him to shut up, or tell him to leave you alone. You justâŠlike him. If that wasnât amazing enough, you love him. You love him so much that you donât even seem bothered or put off by how heâs absolutely fucking obsessed with you.
Heâs not really a self-conscious person. He doesnât think lowly of himself, or even that he doesnât deserve you. Itâs just thatâŠwell, youâre you. Youâre too perfect to be fucking real, and he canât help the niggling anxiety that something might go wrong and take you away from him. It isnât insecurity as much as it is an overwhelming, burning possessiveness. He got you. Youâre his. The idea of anything separating you from his life makes him want to be sick and kill someone at the same time.
âDude, I still donât know how you did it.â Chris is beside him at the bar, drink in hand, and Adrianâs eyes are on you. Where youâre playing darts with Economos in the corner, the thirty or so feet between you and him feeling like a thousand miles. You laugh at something the other man says, and Adrian just wants the bartender to bring over the next round of drinks so he can get back to you and drown in the sound of it.
âHuh?â He doesnât stop looking at you. Tries to listen to Chris.
âI mean, sheâs a fuckinâ ten, man. No offense, but Iâm still pretty sure you must have found a genie or some shit to get her to go for you.â
ThatâŠgets to him, a little. Heâs never been too bothered by Chrisâs bluntness. And he knows that youâre beautiful. That youâre amazing in every way. ButâŠheâs right. Why did you go for Adrian, of all people? Was it really some cosmic miracle? Some kind of mistake in the universe that might be righted at any moment?
Heâs about to open his mouth to respond, eyes still locked on you so intensely that it might look creepy to anyone watching, when a stranger saunters up to you and his entire brain short-circuits.
Itâs not the first time. Itâs actually probably the millionth time, especially now that heâs so much more aware of it. The guy is in a button-down shirt, hair slicked back, and he looks a lot more put-together than Adrian does in his jeans and sneakers. He has a good jawline. Adrian should really work on his face exercises.
You smile politely at him, turn back to Economos, and the guy touches your shoulder and tries to talk to you again.
Heâs pretty sure this guy must have committed some kind of crime in the past, right? Killed a guy or hit someoneâs car or jaywalked or-
You brush the man off, gesture in Adrianâs direction, and he feels something flutter in his chest when he sees you mouth the word âboyfriendâ.
The guy turns around. Looks at Adrian, who just looks at you and waves. You smile and wave back at him.
Slicked Back Hair Guy raises his eyebrows, and whatever he says when he turns to you has your smile sharpening like a knife, eyes going hard. You say something else, something that seems biting, and dismissively turn back to Economos.
And shit, this guy is totally in love with you already, isnât he? How could anyone not be when they see you smile? Especially when itâs that dangerous one you gave him a second ago? The one with the promise of violence glinting in your eyes?
Adrian makes his way back over to you, sets both of your drinks down on a nearby table, and leans in to speak casually in your ear over the music and chatter in the bar.
âHey, can I talk to you for a sec?â
And thatâs how he gets you in the bathroom, on the counter by the sink, panting against your neck between sharp bites to your skin that he hopes leave marks for people like Slicked Back Hair Guy to see.
âMine.â He doesnât think heâs ever heard his own voice like this before. So low and hungry and demanding.
People have knocked. Theyâre complaining outside. He doesnât care, and heâs busy making it his mission to ensure that you donât care, either.
âMine.â He says again, and your fingers are curled against the back of his jacket and your thighs are wrapped so tightly around his waist and this is what Nirvana must be like, isnât it? You moaning his name in this tiny bar bathroom with his mouth on your skin and his hands on whatever part of your body he can reach and-
You try to cover your mouth with your hand, and his own whips out to catch it and press it against the mirror behind you, tangling his fingers with yours and swallowing the noises you make with his mouth instead. He wants to hear it. He wants everyone to hear you. To know that heâs the one making you feel like this.
When he finally gets you to scream his name, voice muffled as you bury your face in his shoulder and entire body trembling in that way he absolutely fucking loves, he grins against your throat, biting down one last time and whispering that word over and over like a prayer.
âMine. Mine. Mine.â
-
âOh, come on guys! Youâre gonna get us banned from the bar.â Leota groans, as you try to fix your hair and Adrian smiles behind you like he just won a gold medal, arms around your waist as he shamelessly presses kisses to the side of your now-bruised neck.
âSorry.â You donât sound like you mean it, and he wonders if he might get away with taking you back to the bathroom for round two. Probably wouldnât be appropriate, but when has he ever cared about anything like that? Youâre still flushed. Your body is melting back against his. He thinks your legs might be shaking. Heâll make them shake more when he gets you back to your apartment, but heâs fighting the urge to do it now. Heâs not exactly a patient man, especially when it comes to you. He doesnât think he has it in him to wait.
He nuzzles into your neck. He can feel you smile as you press a kiss to the side of his head. That one word echoes through his mind again, nestling into his heart and solidifying itself as the absolute truth.
Mine.
-
It becomes a bit of a routine, after that.
You all go out to the bar again. Some guy in a very tight t-shirt tries to buy you a drink. Five minutes later, Adrian has you pressed up against the brick wall of the alley, your hands in his hair as he digs his nails and teeth into you like he can tattoo his name onto your skin if he just presses hard enough. Like he can get you to forget every other name youâve ever heard if he can just make you scream his loud enough.
You go mini golfing. The employee offers to show you how to hit the ball with a flirtatious smile, and Adrian manages to get you beneath the windmill. This time, he does cover your mouth. Public sex is a crime, after all, even if his moral code when it comes to that particular law has become a little more loosey goosey over these past few months. Besides, if no one but him hears you, itâs not illegal. Heâs pretty sure he read that somewhere.Â
He stops for gas, the guy behind the counter smiles at you for a few seconds too long, and Adrian pulls over in an abandoned parking lot and nearly drags you over the center console, lips crashing against yours hard and desperate enough for your teeth to knock together.
Heâs never really been into sex, so to speak. He never sought out hookups, never really felt the overwhelming need for that kind of release. Sure, heâs been in threesomes with Chris, and heâs slept with a handful of people, but heâs never really been into it.
But with you, itâs different. He wants you all the fucking time. Even when he isnât feeling insecure or nervous about other people trying to take you away from him. There have been days where heâll barely let you leave the bed. Nights when you come home and he canât even make it to the bedroom before heâs pressing you against the wall and ripping your clothes off with reckless abandon. To him, sex is a connection, and he craves that connection with you like itâs the only way to keep himself breathing.
So his libido, with you, is high. Yours is too. Thereâs no problem there.
But you do catch on to this new pattern pretty quickly.
You call him out on a Saturday night, when the team is out at a bar again and one too many other guys ignored Adrianâs existence to shoot their shot with you. You dismissed them all, sure, but each attempt made that possessive fire in his stomach burn a little hotter until he couldnât fucking take it anymore. He pulled you into the hall leading to the kitchen, and he wasted no time lifting you off of your feet and kissing you hard enough to pull a noise of surprise from your throat, blunt nails digging into the backs of your thighs as he tried to press as close to you as humanly possible.
âOkay, okay.â You say, breaking the kiss, but your voice is breathless and he made it that way and maybe if he just bites at that part of your neck that makes you-
âAdrian. Stop.â
He pulls back immediately, glasses askew on his face, and you reach up to fix them like itâs instinct.
âAre you okay? Did I hurt you?â Is he holding you too hard? Should he put you down? Did he accidentally stab you with the knife in his pocket? Or his boner? Is that possible? He doesnât-
âIâm okay. Breathe.â You kiss his cheek, and he leans helplessly back towards you, planning to kiss you again and finish what he started, but you raise your hand and cover his mouth with your palm.
âDude, keep it in your pants.â
âMmph.â He grunts against your hand, licking your palm until you remove it with a startled laugh.
âWhatâs wrong?â You ask, wiping your hand on his jacket sleeve with an affectionate, if not somewhat concerned, smile.
He frowns, genuinely confused by the question. âI wanna have sex, and you stopped me?â
You laugh again, shaking your head and wiggling a little until he sets you down. âAdrian, youâre trying to fuck me in a hallway. I can see people walking by like twenty feet away.â
âDo you wanna fuck in the bathroom?â He ducks his head back to your neck, kissing the spot below your ear that always makes you shiver. He would fuck you on the bar if youâd let him, but heâs pretty sure that would get you kicked out. Plus, itâs definitely illegal. He canât exactly maneuver that law into a gray area.
âAdrian.â
âMhm?â
âIs this because that guy hit on me a minute ago?â
That stops him. He finally pulls back, frowning. âNo.â
âYou suck at lying.â
âIâm not lying. I didnât even notice that guy. If I had noticed him, I would say his shirt was stupid. But I didnât notice him.â
âAdrian.â
âI mean, itâs not like youâd ever wanna be with anyone like that, right? Not someone with a shirt that dumb. Even though he had a better jawline than me and he definitely didnât skip arm day. I think thatâs why his shirt was so stupid. Cause the sleeves were too short. He doesnât need to show off his muscles like that.â
âBabe.â
âI mean, I have muscles too. I just canât show them off because if I did people might realize my secret identity. But-â
âAdrian.â
âYeah?â He blinks at you, distracted.
âI donât want that guy. Or any of the other guys. I want you.â
âYeah, because we had sex right after they hit on you. I rewired your brain with my dick.â
You laugh. God, he loves that sound. But if heâs gonna keep you, heâs gotta get you to make the other sounds he loves. He leans down to kiss you again, and you lean back. âHave you been taking advice from Chris again?â
âYeah? Why?â
âDo you think those guys would still want me if they knew I killed a guy with a broom handle last week?â
Oh man, why would you say that? Now heâs twice as turned on and three times as nervous about losing you. âYes.â
âOkay, they wouldnât.â Youâre smiling. Why are you smiling? He canât possibly be being ridiculous, here. In his mind, his fear is completely fucking rational. âAnd even if they did, I want you.â
He knows that. Of course he knows that. Youâre with him. You chose him. You donât lie to him. You never have. Still, he feels that knot of possessive need curl in his gut again, making his grip tighten a little on your waist like he can hold you there forever. âPromise?â
âI promise.â You lean up, kiss his nose. âAnd by the way, youâre way hotter than those guys. By a mile.â
âEven the-â
âYeah. Even him.â
âYou didnât even let me say which one.â
âDonât need to.â
He smiles, and this time you donât stop him when he kisses you. This time, you melt into it until his hands are wandering again and his tongue is sweeping into your mouth.
âYou wanna go home?â He asks after a moment, unable to take his gaze off the way your lips are swollen from his kiss and your eyes are clouded over with want.
You nod, and he grins from ear to ear as he reaches down to hoist you up over his shoulder, delighting in the noise of surprise that melts into laughter as you wiggle against his back.
He doesnât even say goodbye to the rest of the group, but he thinks he might feel you offer an embarrassed wave in their direction as he makes his way through the bar and out the door. Theyâre all staring. Lots of people are staring. He couldnât give less of a shit. In fact, he wants them to stare more. To know without a doubt that youâre leaving with him.
âYouâre fucking crazy.â You laugh as he steps out onto the street, voice no longer drowned out by the noise of the bar.
âCrazy for you.â
âNope, pretty sure youâre just crazy.â
His smile widens, and he jostles you a little as he adjusts his grip, squeezing the backs of your thighs and making you laugh again.
And when he takes you home, he repeats that word into your skin over and over and over again.
Summary: The team landed a mission in Las Vegas, because what could possibly go wrong in the worldâs most innocent city, right? Fast forward through a whirlwind of chaos, and somehow no one got hurt⊠but you woke up in bed with Adrian, nearly naked, and two ring pops on your fingers.
Warnings: 18+ Brief smut, hand stuff, spit stuff, alcohol consumption, crude language, I guess thatâs it? (Morning breath! Iâm so fucking sorry, it was all I could think about when I was writing this. Just ignore it exists for a while O_o)
Word count: 4.4k
Masterlist of my works
Note: Adrian in tighty whities with beer all over him made me incredibly feral and ready to finish this little thing I started few months ago. Eh, it is something I guess? I just wanted to get over it.
And listen, I have never written about 11th Street Kids before, except for Adrian; apologies if any of them feel weird.
You know the saying? What happens in VegasâŠ
âDonât stay in Vegas,â Harcourt sternly noted at the end of her little briefing of the next so-called mission. The fact that they still needed to take care of some stray swarms of butterflies even after terminating the cow was inconvenient, said mildly. âWe do our job and go back, no random stops in any of the facilities.â
Those butterfly survivors would eventually die of starvation, but ARGUS was suspicious of large groupings of them in certain areas. They could be spending their last days together as a species, or maybe, just maybe, theyâre trying to find a way to stay alive and find a new source of food, which was a dangerous idea.
One of those groups was flying free between casinos and strip clubs in Vegas, Nevada. Really troublesome area to be sending this team. It was practically screaming disaster.
âWhy are they sending us? I thought we were done!â Leota protested, exchanging a questioning look with John who was in the same shock as her. Vegas was way out of hand and the last thing she wanted was to spend time away from her wife and furbabies.
âThe official reason is that we are now experts on butterflies when it comes to terminating them-â
âThe real reason is that we are seriously underpaid and weâre a cheap workforceâ Economos interrupted Harcourt in a matter of seconds, saying the real reason for the little trip awaiting you.
Chris with Adrian, on the other hand, were doing their best not to let anyone know how excited they were. You could feel Adrian vibrating out of his skin next to you. No doubt he was already thinking how he and Peacemaker will stop crime, get wasted, and cruise some bitches. The real question was how they would break free from Harcourt's gaze and go astray. âWait, you guys are getting paid?â
One way or another, this outing in Vegas was bound to be legendary.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The whole mission felt like a dream, after shooting up butterflies it was already too late to be driving back home, so Harcourt allowed crashing at a hotel until morning. You would think everyone felt like you, exhausted after the long trip and crashing little alien bugs, but no.
Chris and Adrian were pretty much excited to be hitting the town, and a person would think Adrian would at least clean his boots that still had alien goo all over them after he cheerily stomped on butterflies all day.
It wasnât just the casinos, bars, and strip clubs waiting to strip lost souls of all their money. On the lit-up alleys, lined up were hustlers with classic shell games, women imitating peacocks adorned with faux gold and feathers, shady watch sellers, and more or less inconspicuous pickpockets. And just like tigers in a zoo, it was best to simply watch them pacing impatiently in circles, but anyone who would stick their hand into the enclosure quickly lost it.
All these predators, performing various tricks to catch their prey, prove once and for all that human creativity and the desire for money know no bounds.
In the end, you could not just lie in your hotel bed when Las Vegas was right on the other side of your window, teasing and luring with colorful blinding lights and loud music playing from every corner, the better side of Vegas. Plus the second Adrian put on his puppy eyes and whiny begging tone you were a goner.
How could you say no?
And that was the beginning of the most memorable night you did not remember.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
When you stirred awake you felt too hot and cold at the same time, head pounding and the ringing in your ears didnât make it easier to open your eyes. The strongest hangover you ever had was making itself known, though hangovers usually donât make you feel you are being pushed into the mattress and making your hand sweaty?
No, no, that wasnât sweat, was it?
The morning sun shining into the hotel room immediately blinded you when you tried to open your eyes, but you managed to at least get a look at what was causing at least half of your discomfort.
Adrian.
Nearly naked Adrian lying on top of you.
Adrian that was drooling all over your fingers as he sucked on the ring pop on your finger from his sleep.
What?
His frame completely enveloped your body, transferring his body heat to you and making you feel breathless. Adrian lounged in just his boxers and once you looked around your room you found piles of clothes all over the small cheap hotel room.
His jeans on the ground, glasses on the bedside table, His holey socks hanging from the edge of the bed with⊠your top and jeans? Then whose shirt were you wearing?
Adrianâs room was right next to you, why was he sleeping in your bed?
Too many questions, too little answers.
You tried to gently ease Adrian from your body and roll him to the side, but goddamn, was he heavy. You could try again and again and he just wouldnât budge.
He groaned from his sleep because of your constant nagging but he didnât move an inch, at least he stopped sucking on the lollipop, âStop wiggling, Iâm gonna get a boner." Gods, how could his voice sound so raspy and whiny at the same time?
âAdrian! What are you doing here?â You slapped his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up, which finally worked, he lifted his head while he just barely opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness of his vision. Those half-lidded green eyes and tousled hair did something for you, it was hard to admit it though.
âI would be sleeping if you werenât slapping me and making my cock hardâ He mumbled nonchalantly and settled back on your chest, nuzzling to your boobs like it was the most normal thing to do. âYour tits are amazing pillow, you know that?â
Another slap. Another yelp from Adrian.
Under different circumstances, you would have enjoyed cuddling with Adrian, itâs not like you were completely resistant to his charm, or whatever that illuminates him, which makes him so enamoring.
But not right now, not when you had no idea how you got to bed, how he got in your bed, why you were almost naked, when your head was pounding, and alsoâŠ
Why did you both have ring pops on your fingers?
You didnât notice it at first, but once you did, it made gears in your head turn really hard to put one and one together. You took his hand in yours, studying his blue raspberry ring pop and comparing it to your strawberry one, but other than the fact yours was way smaller and wet from Adrianâs constant sucking, nothing stood out.
And Adrian didnât even notice something was on his finger until you lifted his hand. Unbothered king. He was getting on the rest of your nerves that remained after the wild night.
âOh my god! Twinsies!â How was he so cheery in the morning? He must have drunk a similar amount of alcohol as you did, but it seems his body doesnât believe in hangovers.
When you started pushing him from your body again, he finally rolled off onto his back with a loud huff. What a way to wake up, hangover in a Vegas hotel. The only thing missing was an Elvis impersonator singing under the balcony. âThank you, thank youâ he would mumble with that deep voice as you would throw a few cents at him.
Adrian laid still extremely close to you, shoulders touching and all, and stared at the ceiling with a dumb smile on his face while you were panicking next to him. How did this happen?
âDo you remember anything?â
âNope.â
âArenât you concerned?â
âNope.â
âDo you think we fucked?â
âNah, you would have felt it.â
âYou mean with that thimble of yours?â
He just snorted, tilting his head to the side to laugh right in your face. You didn't even have the energy to question what was so amusing about his thimble dick. But for that moment of Adrian laughing at you for no apparent reason, it felt like a normal day. Like you were back at HQ, relaxing on one of the worn-out couches with Adrian in his armor beside you, chatting about something ridiculous while polishing his knives and rolling his head to look at you, trying not to smile.
However, it all vanished away when Adrian lifted and knelt on the bed and a bunch of casino chips started falling from his boxers. Chip after chip pooling around his thick thighs. And it looked like he was surprised in the same way you were.
The right question would probably be why he stored his wins in underwear, second, why he went to sleep with them, and the third oneâŠ
âHow did you win so much?â
âMy brother taught me how to count cards, itâs really easy once you get the hang of it. But that doesnât matter right now, what matters is that I need to exchange these crotch doubloons for real money,â He collected his chips and started admiring them in the morning light shining directly at him. âI am gonna be so rich, dude.â
Those little coins with fluorescent details flooded the room with colorful reflections. Spots of blue, green, red and pink decorated the furniture as well as your skin. If your skin wasnât already buzzing from Adrianâs touch, you would be able to imagine the light tickling you.
âCome on, weâre going to get even more drunk to celebrate me being a fucking millionaire,â Adrianâs face lit up, what a fucking sunshine, you wanted to punch him in the face when he grabbed the blanket shielding your lower body from his greedy eyes. The cold air in the room was relentless, enveloping your body and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You could not get a break with the dumbass.
âGoddamn, do you wear this pathetic excuse for panties under your suit?â Adrian let out a wolf whistle and stared right between your legs without any shame. âYou should have told me that sooner!â
Your panties? What was wrong with them?
One blurry look down and you know exactly what was wrong. âThose are not my panties.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI didnât have white lace panties.â
âWait, wait,â Adrian leaned extremely close to your crotch, examining the red embroidery that decorated the hem of mystery underwear. âHere it says⊠Congratulations to the happy couple from Bliss wedding chapel.â
âSay what?â Your eyes nearly bulged out of their eye sockets. The embroidery was a sign of something horribly dooming. White panties from the wedding chapel really werenât a good thing for someone who did not intend to get married. And oh, the horror of wearing something gifted from a drive-through wedding chapel.
âWhat,â Adrian replied to your shocked words with a confused look. It seemed like he did not realize what it meant. Either that or he didnât care at all about being married to his colleague.
âAde, are you even registering what that means?â It was like your heart dropped down to your stomach. Did it mean what you thought it did? Were you fucking married? In Vegas? And without remembering anything?
âOh my god, are you my wife?â He lifted from between your legs, which was fucking painful thing to do when the thing he wanted the most was to be buried between them. His face weirdly lit up, unclear if with shock or happiness, âAm I your husband?â
âNo, that must be some misunderstanding, right?â You jolted up, scrambling out of bed with a bunch of uncoordinated jerks of limbs. It was a miracle you hadnât fallen right on your face. Damn those sweet juicy drinks that weaken your brain!
âWe need to talk with others, they must know something, right?â You were more or less talking to yourself, babbling how it is impossible you got married with freaking Adrian Chase without remembering anything.
Adrian was still too absorbed in those chips on the bed and the ring pop on your fingers. One of his focuses meant he won money, the other that he was married, and the third, pretty, pretty thing in front of him was his wife. He completely ignored your panic, it was whatever.
He never was the kind to believe in fate, but goddamn, he must have done something really good to get all of this in one night.
âAde, are you listening to me?â You almost touched those chips, fingers mere inches away, before you realized that Adrian had these shiny knick-knacks stashed away in his boxers the whole night. Your hand hovered above them, eyebrows furrowed.
âOh, I see how it is,â Adrian watched you with a dumb smile, âAre you afraid of my crotch doubloons?â
âI donât want to touch something that was near your dickâ As simple as that, did he think it was normal?
âSo youâre afraid of my dickâ His smile widened with every word, he had that stupid expression on his face you still couldnât look through. You had wondered several times what was going through his mind at those moments when his face twisted maliciously.
âIâm not afraid of your dick, Adrian.â
âThen touch it.â
âWhy would I be touching your dick?â
âTo prove youâre not a coward.â That stupid face was literally asking to be punched, but would that help your case? He looked abnormally good when he was hurt. âPlus, if we are married, we should consummate the marriage, right?â
âWeâre not in the Middle Ages, Ade, weâre not married and Iâm too hungover anywaysâ
Adrian noted in his mind that you didnât say no because you didnât like him outright, you said you had a hangover. This could mean two things; That you didnât like him and hid it behind a lame excuse of drinking too much yesterday, or that you were actually hangover but did like him.
That must be the case. At least he hoped.
All this time, he was hoping you might get the hint that he liked you. He tried to be discreet, sending small signs like he saw in movies and read on Wikihow.
Make eye contact, look down, hold, slowly look back, look away, soft smile, scratch your neck, lick your lips, make eye contact again, winkâŠ
And all this time you thought he was cursing you across the room when he tried this in team debriefings.
Being discreet was so unlike him, but he hoped it might seem normal, not like his usual attempts at flirting. And that was the problem. Adrian Chase, a guy desperate to share his every thought, sending subtle signs? Who could have caught that? Not you, thatâs for certain.
âI mean⊠What is a hangover anyway? Itâs when alcohol levels in your body drop to zero after heavy drinking. And one way to remedy that is drinking more,â He knew way too much for his own good, though after multiple horrible hangovers, he needed to know what was happening to him.
âMaybe if you finally got laid you wouldnât be so cranky all the time, it's like a hangoverâ He finished his speech with a look that screamed anything but innocent.
Your blood suddenly grew hot, how dare he say you donât have any game? Your hand shot up between his legs, touching him just like he dared you.
You fell right into a trap.
Say what you want about Adrian, he was stupid but not dumb. He hunts down criminals, he must know a thing or two how to trap his victim, how to get what he wants. Right now, he got you right where he wanted. On a hotel bed, dressed just in his shirt and wedding panties and your hand on his dick.
Lucky bastard.
And you⊠You were a lucky bastard in a way too.
You could fondle his cock any way you wanted. This image haunted your dreams more than once. And what fool would you be if you didnât take that chance.
Though the surprised look on your face was not something you imagined, when you got a good feel of Adrian âThimbleâ Chase. He was already semi-hard, and it made you wonder what caused it. Was it when you were nudging him in his sleep? Or when his nose caught a whiff of you while reading your underwear testament?
Maybe you would have to spread the word that your now husband was Mr. Definitely not Thimble.
You began running your hand up and down over him, slowly but surely making him even harder than he was. Adrian managed to keep his wide and confident smile just for few seconds. One gentle squeeze on his base, one swipe of your thumb over his covered tip, and he was a goner. His sparkling eyes fluttered closed, and this time, when he licked his lips, it didnât look like he was licking away sauce from pasta at Fennel Fields.
While his hips gently rutted further into your touch, his hands shot to your hips. Strangely, he was slick with his touches, before you even knew it, his fingers were running under the sides of your white lace panties, just oh so desperate to feel your soft skin without anything else in the way.
âIs my tongue still red?â Adrian asked before sticking his tongue out, baring the surface of his tongue colored in deep red. What a weird question to be asking when youâre getting your dick fondled, though at this point you shouldnât be surprised.
âStill very much red, why are you asking now?â
Adrian just grinned and eyed you up like a predator. Something was stirring in his mind.
Before you could ask him for the meaning of his question again, he lifted his hand with the big ring pop on his finger and pushed it into your mouth.
The second flavor of blue raspberry burst on your tongue you couldnât blame him for sucking on your ring pop all night and drooling on your fingers.
While you enjoyed the artificial taste coating your taste buds, Adrian stared at you with a slack jaw and soft whimpers falling from his mouth. âFuck, I wish you were sucking me like thatâ
Suddenly, he pulled away his hand, making you whine at the loss of your lolly. It didnât take long before you had something else to focus on with your mouth though.
He practically lunged at you with his lips, pressing them against yours and setting a pace too fast for your sluggish mind. Adrianâs tongue demanded entrance in your mouth and before you could even register what he wanted, he was pulling at your chin, opening up your mouth for his wandering tongue.
You desperately wanted to match his frenzied pace, it was all too much and yet so good.
Adrian didnât lick around your mouth like you would have expected, no, quite the opposite. He flattened his tongue over yours, making sure surfaces painted in red and blue brushed against each other.
Oh, so thatâs what he was doingâŠ
He wanted to combine them. Red and blue create purple. It would be a beautiful symbol for your new, and very very strange, marriage. Purple can, among other things, symbolize mystery, exactly that clouded over last night. It was still a mystery how you two ended up together. Did it matter anyway?
In the end, he was licking into your mouth like a dog. Panting like one, too.
When he pulled away from the kiss, a string of spit connected your swollen lips. Stretching, stretching, and stretching until it broke and landed on both of your chins. As you were reaching to wipe it off Adrian latched his lips onto your chin with unseen eagerness. The main idea was to help you with the excessive saliva, though he only made it worse.
He trailed open-mouthed kisses from your chin, across jaw, over cheeks, and ended by your ear, âShould I prove Iâm not afraid of your pussy?â He whispered before licking the shell of your ear. One of his hands trailed the ring pop over your arm, leaving a sticky trail, while the other began prying between your legs.
âWow, look at that,â He dared to chuckle after he slipped his fingers under the crotch of your panties, feeling your heat for the first time. You believed Adrian would comment on how wet you were for him, for Vigilante. But no, of course not.
âYour pussy doesnât have teeth like I thought it would!â
And at that moment you promised yourself you will kill him right after he makes you cum. Not sooner nor later. As a simple warning, you tightened your grip you had on him over the boxers that were, much to your surprise, already stained with precum.
Letâs see how happy Adrian will be when he realizes his wife is a praying mantis in disguise.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
You didnât bite Adrianâs head off after all, he looked too cute after you made him finish in his underwear. That boyish grin, puffy lips wet with your cum after he licked his fingers off with proud bravado, lively eyes that shined almost the same way as his casino chipsâŠ
No, you might just keep him a bit longer.
At least he stopped with his nagging while you took a shower together and dressed in clean clothes. All this time, Adrian watched you like a lost puppy, begging for affection. Each time you gave him a chaste kiss, he stopped whining for a mere second.
While Adrian was hungry for more kisses, and undoubtedly something more, you were actually hungry for some food and coffee or green tea to get you going for the day. So you made your way to the hotelâs small dining room.
Adrian threw all his casino chips on the table between breakfast plates and mugs, they clinked against the ceramics almost too loudly for your poor pounding head.
Everyoneâs eyes fell on shiny colorful chips, Leota put down her butter bread so she could reach for them, thankfully you grabbed her wrist right before she could get her fingers on the chip lying next to her plate âDonât touch that.â
She shot you a questioning look but trusted your judgment. No need to tell her where these chips were, especially if they were in the middle of the table and too close to food.
âDid I get married to Adrian yesterday?â You asked without any humor in your voice, eyes flickering between every single one of those guilty faces of your colleagues. Adrian, though, did not care at all about this little investigation. He was too blissful with married life to even question it.
âIt was one of the weirdest ceremonies I have ever seen,â Leota cracked first, âYou didnât even want me as your bridesmaid! You chose John!â
Your eyes landed on Economos, sipping his coffee to hide from you, âI did my duty wellâ was all he added.
Then you took a good look at others, Harcourt kept staring forward, digging her fork in some scrambled eggs. Chris, on the other hand, was already showing Adrian photos on his phone and Adrian was smiling widely, pointing out small details from your wedding and muttering how beautiful you looked, wearing cheap-looking veil you rented and holding a bottle of vodka instead of a wedding bouquet.
You joined him, and all that anger and confusion blurred for a brief moment. You looked happy in those photos. Laughing, chatting, eyes sparkling like they havenât for a while. Every single photo was suddenly so precious.
Those were your lost memories.
And the way you were holding onto Adrian, so tightly and lovingly⊠All those small details didnât escape either of you. Adrian nudged you with his elbow âWe look good togetherâ.
And you did. You really did.
Flushed, drunk, happy.
With the promise of the team explaining on the way home, you dropped your investigation of last night and settled to finally have some breakfast. Both you and Adrian get the leftovers in the form of yogurt. âSnoozers losers,â Chris added.
It was like you and Adrian had already synchronized, peeling the lid off, and licking some leftover yogurt at the same time. And in the meantime, everyone around the table could get a pretty good look at your purple tongues.
âSee?! See that?â Chris called out way too loudly while pointing at you, âDid you stick your dick in her?â
You nearly choked on your own saliva at that question. Who even asks that? Especially during hotel breakfast? Some people from other tables turned around when they heard it, eager to know what the hell was going on.
But Adrian smiled, lifted his hand and wiggled his digits âJust my fingers.â
A symphony of disgusted noises came from your team, suddenly your yoghurt didnât look as appealing as it should. But hey, maybe there will be a time when you wonât be able to eat yoghurt without thinking of Adrian and his-
âI made sure the guy marrying you didnât have a license for it to be legitimate,â Harcourt finally spoke up, much to the dismay of the rest of the team.
âWhich was a fucking mistake! You know how hilarious it would be if these two goons were married for real?â Chris chimed in with a booming laugh just from the idea of the night of the outing ending in one happy couple, drunk out of their minds.
Weight dropped from your shoulders upon hearing you werenât married for real to Vigilante over there. It was like the air finally cleared, and you could take a deep breath of that crisp morning air. You caught Adrian doing the same, sighing in relief.
But if you were for real, it also stung a little. Somehow, while you made your way to breakfast earlier, you already started planning what to do next. Who will move to whom, when you should go and change your name on your ID to Chase, if you should get rid of your coffee machine so Adrian wouldnât have too much disposal of caffeineâŠ
While you were lost in your head, thinking whenever you were actually happy or sad the dumbass next to you wasn't your partner for real, Adrian simply leaned closer to you and whispered with that dopey smile, âItâs fine. Next time Iâll be marrying you, I want to remember it.â
When time refuses to move forward, you are forced to confront your past, rewrite your present, and unexpectedly fall for the boy who keeps finding you in every version of the day.
Inspired by the book âThe Do-overâ by Lynn Painter.
You woke up to a sky the color of watered-down milk. The light leaking through your curtains was thin and gray, the kind that always made you want to pull the blanket over your head and stay there forever. But you didnât. You never did.
You sat up, groaning softly, brushing a hand through your hair. The clock read 6:42. You swung your legs out of bed and stood. The air was cold, biting at your ankles. You crossed to your closet and stared at the rows of carefully curated outfits like you always did. It was a sea of soft colors and textures that could convince people you had your life together. That you werenât just a weird girl in a weird family living in a slightly off-kilter house on the edge of Beacon Hills.
You reached for your cream-colored cardigan, the one with the little pearl buttons. It was delicate and warm, something that said put-together but approachable. Then came the pleated skirt in a pale plaid that matched the cardigan and made you look effortlessly polished, even though youâd spent ten minutes debating it.
The shoes took longer. Youâd been saving your suede boots for the right day. They were real leather, soft as butter, and expensive enough that you still felt guilty wearing them. But you were tired of being overlooked, tired of Lydia Martinâs sharp little comments about âthrift chicâ.
You wanted to look like someone who belonged. So you slipped into those boots, ignoring the whisper in your head about the muddy sidewalks and the cracked pavement. Image first.
You brushed your hair until it fell just right, slicked on mascara, a little gloss. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Cardigan, skirt, boots, a soft touch of perfume. Perfectly composed. Perfectly fake.
And then you smelled smoke. At first, it was faint. A whisper of something burnt, like toast forgotten in a toaster. But then it thickened, turned acrid and sharp, clinging to your throat. Your nose wrinkled.
âAunt Mags?â you called, stepping into the hall.
No answer greeted you. Just the distant, unnatural crackle of flame.
You turned the corner into the living room and froze. The curtains were on fire. The rug was on fire. The entire wall beside the fireplace was breathing orange and black, and your aunt stood in the middle of it all, her black hair loose, using a hose sheâd dragged in through the back door to put out the flames.
âHolyââ
âLanguage!â Maggie snapped automatically, before flicking her wrist and sending a rush of water toward the ceiling. The flames recoiled, shrinking, twisting inward as though sucked through an invisible drain. Within seconds, they were gone, leaving nothing but a bitter-smelling smoke hanging in the air and charred, blackened patches all over the walls.
You coughed, eyes watering. âWhat the hell was that?â
âContainment charm,â your aunt said briskly, examining the wall with her hands on her hips. âWorked better than last time I tried it. WellâŠmostly.â
You stared at her, trying to process the words. Containment charm. âYouâre kidding, right? Tell me youâre kidding.â
She looked at you over her shoulder, one eyebrow arched. âWould I joke about a house fire?â
âIâŠno, I meant the whole containment charm thing. You know youâre not actually a witch witch, right? Opening an apothecary doesnât equate to who-doo voodoo.â
Her eyes softened. âSweetheart, can you handle getting yourself to school today?â
You blinked. âThe house almost burned down and you want me to justâŠgo to school?â
âLife doesnât stop for small disasters,â she said, already muttering under her breath as she waved her arms to try dissipate the thick cloud of smoke. âAnd besides, itâll keep you out of the way while I get someone in to have a look at this.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but she gave you that look - the one that meant the conversation was already over. So you grabbed your bag and left, the smell of burnt wood clinging to your hair.
The air outside was damp, cool against your cheeks. You walked down the cracked sidewalk toward the bus stop, clutching your bag tighter as you texted Lydia a quick ârunning late lol, save me a seat in home roomâ, that you didnât actually mean. You and Lydia werenât really friends. Both of your boyfriends were on the Lacrosse team which meant you were friendly enough, though mostly through strained smiles.
Halfway there, you saw the construction signs, cones, a flashing orange barricade blocking the entire street.
You groaned out loud. âYouâve got to be kidding me.â
The detour added an extra ten minutes to your route. You jogged, boots clicking sharply against the asphalt, heart hammering as the quieting roar of a bus engine made you push harder. You could see the yellow flash turning the corner.
âWait!â you shouted, waving frantically as you sprinted the last block to catch up,
The driver met your eyes. You knew he saw you. But the bus didnât slow. It turned down the next street, taillights fading into the mist.
âUnbelievable,â you muttered, panting, shoulders slumping.
You shoved your phone into your bag and started walking again, resigned. The wind picked up, biting through your cardigan. You tucked your arms around yourself, boots clicking against the damp road.
That was when you heard the clunky, familiar noises of the broken down price of shit Jeep that your lab partner owned. You turned your head just as the dusty blue car roared around the corner. You didnât have time to move.
The front tire plowed straight through a puddle the size of a crater, and a tidal wave of freezing, muddy water hit you square in the chest. You gasped, stumbling back, soaked from head to toe. The cold was immediate, seeping into your socks, your skirt, your expensive suede boots.
âOh my god,â you groaned. âMy shoes!â
The Jeep screeched to a halt, then reversed. The door slammed open, and a familiar voice called, âHoly shit, are you okay?â
You closed your eyes. Of course it was him.
Stiles Stilinski jogged over, already grimacing. He wore his usual flannel layered over a graphic tee, a buzz of brown hair that he always ran both hands through about a hundred times per hour. His expression was all panic and guilt and, you suspected, a little amusement.
He was your lab partner for Harrisâs class and he was completely and utterly useless. He always tried to contribute to class projects, but his erratic personality and inability to shut up meant he never got very far, leaving you to do most of the work. Not to mention, he was always getting in trouble, which meant Harris graded your joint assignments extra harshly. Chemistry was currently the only class of yours you didnât have an A in, and you blamed that little fact on one incredibly irritating Stiles Stilinski.
âI didnât even see you!â he said, hands raised in surrender. âAre you okay?â
âDo I look okay to you?â you snapped, gesturing to your drenched clothes.
He winced. âOkay, yeah, no, thatâs fair. Totally my fault. You should probably, uhâŠget out of those.â
You glared. âExcuse me?â
âNo! I mean, not right now! Just, later. When youâre notâŠoh god.â He rubbed a hand down his face. âCan I at least give you a ride to school. You shouldnât have to walk like that. Youâll freeze.â
You hesitated. You could feel the cold biting into your skin already, the weight of wet fabric clinging to your legs. And you had no other options.
âFine,â you muttered.
He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed in, trying not to think about the squelch of your skirt against the seat.
The heater blasted warm air, and he fiddled nervously with the radio. âUh, sorry again. Really. For, you know, waterboarding you with Jeep runoff.â
You looked at him sideways. âYou always this bad at driving?â
He grinned sheepishly. âOnly before coffee.â
A small, unwilling laugh slipped out of you, and you hated yourself for it.
âSo,â he said after a beat, glancing over as the Jeep rumbled down the road. âYou like The Smiths?â
You blinked. âWhat?â
He nodded toward the radio, where a soft melancholy guitar riff was playing. âIâve heard you humming it before in class. âThere Is a Light That Never Goes Out,â right?â
You stared at him, caught off guard. Was it a little creepy? Sure, maybe. But youâd seen and heard stranger things from Stiles. âYou know that song?â
âUh, yeah. Iâm a tragic indie soul,â he said dryly. âDonât tell anyone. Itâll ruin my reputation.â
You smirked despite yourself. âWhat reputation?â
âOuch,â he said, mock-offended. âYou wound me.â
âCall it payback,â you said, gesturing to your soaked knees.
âOkay, fair,â he said, smiling now. âBut hey, Iâm redeeming myself, right? Ride to school, premium heating, music taste that doesnât suck.â
âYouâre halfway to forgiveness.â
âHalfway,â he repeated, grinning wider. âIâll take it.â
By the time you reached school, youâd almost forgotten the smoke, the fire, the missed bus. As it turned out, when Stile wasnât distracting you with clicking pens or tapping pencils, he wasnât too bad a person to talk to. But then Lydia saw you.
She was standing by her locker, all gloss and curls, eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. âOh, wow,â she said, lips curving. âNew look? Or did you wrestle a sewer pipe on your way here?â
You smiled tightly. âFunny.â
âJust saying,â she shrugged. âIf you ever need my stylistâs numberââ
âIâll pass,â you said sweetly, and brushed past her. Seriously? How many teenage girls could say they had a personal stylist?
You fumed about your ruined designer boots - the boots that had taken you countless hours working at your auntâs apocathery to pay off - for the entirety of home room and first period. Until you were pulled out of your thoughts by an announcement over the intercom calling you to the office.
Moderately confused, you wondered what it could possibly be about as you made your way over. The principal gestured for you to sit as soon as you walked in. His office smelled like coffee and disinfectant.
âIâm sure youâre wondering why youâre here. We received a complaint,â he said, folding his hands. âAbout your submission to the county art show.â
You blinked, you heart stuttering. Youâd worked on your project for months and had been delighted when the head of the Beacon Hills High arts department asked you to submit it for the county gallery. âA complaint?â
âYes. Some of the parents felt the imagery wasâŠtoo dark for a student exhibition.â
You stared at him, heat crawling up your neck. âToo dark? Itâs a charcoal collection. Itâs literally shades of black and gray.â
He sighed. âItâs not the colors. Itâs theâŠtone. The subject matter. Skulls, ravens, the, er, Latin text?â
âItâs a poem about grief,â you said flatly. âFrom the 1800s.â
âIâm sure itâs very meaningful,â he said, âbut unfortunately, the board decidedââ
You laughed once, sharp and humourless. Theyâd raised the matter with the school board? âThis is ridiculous! Itâs because my aunt reads tarot cards, isnât it? Because people think my family are witches?â
His silence told you everything.
You pushed your chair back, voice trembling. âYou know what? Fine. Let them have their little art show of sunflowers and smiling faces. Iâm sure thatâll impress people.â
âMiss, do not walk out of this office,â he began, but you already had.
It was just the cherry on top of a crap pile of a day. You stormed into the hall, blinking fast to clear the tears that burned your eyes, and collided straight into someoneâs chest. Strong hands caught your arms before you fell.
âWhoa, hey, are you trying to get me back for this morning or something?â
You looked up. Of course it was him. Again. âStiles,â you said, exasperated.
He tilted his head, grin faltering as he saw your face. âHey. Whatâs wrong?â
âNothing.â
âYou sure? Because you look like you just lost a fight with a dumpster and a guidance counselor.â
Your voice cracked before you could stop it. âJust drop it, okay?â
He hesitated. Then quietly: âOkay. Iâll drop it. ButâŠif you ever donât want me to, I donât know, pick it back up again, Iâm here.â
You hated that it made your chest ache. You hated that he meant it. You turned away, blinking fast. âI just need air.â
You walked toward the lacrosse field with your jaw clenched so tight it hurt. The corridors behind you blurred into a hum of voices and slamming lockers, every sound dull and too bright at once. You needed space. Air.
Your boots squelched faintly with every step, the fabric of your skirt still damp, sticking to your thighs. You could feel the streaks of ash still woven into your hair from the morningâs fire. It felt like the entire day was mocking you with a collage of every tiny humiliation stitched together by fate itself.
The field stretched out ahead of you, bright under the early afternoon sun, empty except for a handful of seniors lingering about on their free period. The hum of laughter drifted on the breeze, a familiar voice among them.
Aaron. Your boyfriend. The two of you had been together since last year, and right now he felt like the only person who could make this shit storm of a day any better.
Your chest unclenched for the first time that day. You broke into a half-run, calling out before you even thought. âAaron!â
He was at the far end of the bleachers, his back to you. The sound of your voice made him turn, startled, but he didnât smile. He looked guilty. And that was when you saw her.
Erica Reyes stood beside him, blonde hair shining in the sunlight, her hand curled around his arm. She leaned in close, whispering something that made him laugh with that same soft, stupid laugh you loved so much.
You slowed, stomach twisting. You didnât want to believe what you were seeing. It couldâve been nothing. Just a joke. Just two friends. The three of you had hung out before, after all. Back when Erica was still your best friend. Before Erica had a crazy glow up and a personality transplant and ditched you. But then her fingers slid up his chest, his hand came to her waist, and before your brain could catch up, her mouth was on his.
The world went quiet. For a moment, everything stopped: the rustle of leaves, the scrape of cleats on turf, the chatter of the other players. You could only hear your own breathing, which was far too sharp and too fast, and the faint bloodrush in your ears.
You took a step back, then another. Your chest ached so fiercely it felt like your ribs were cracking from the inside.
Erica broke the kiss first, her eyes flicking up and locking with yours. You saw the smirk falter just slightly, before she turned her face away, pretending not to see.
You turned, already sobbing, and walked off the field before either of them could say anything. You went straight to the nurseâs office and pretended to throw up until she agreed to let you leave school for the day.
The world blurred on the way home. You remembered the sound of your boots scraping pavement, the burn of wind against your cheeks, the way your phone buzzed in your pocket notifying you of texts you didnât check, because what was the point?
When you finally pushed open the front door, the smell of burnt wood hit you again. The house looked worse now that the adrenaline was gone. The once-white ceiling above the living room was stained black, and a deep hole traced up the wall like a scar.
Your aunt was on her knees by the window, sketching runes into the sill with a piece of chalk, as though that might do anything. But you were used to her weird quirks by now. It had taken a while to get used to when sheâd first moved in a few years back.
She looked up when you came in. âYouâre home early.â
âYeah,â you said hollowly. âGuess I didnât feel like sticking around.â
Her eyes softened, though she didnât ask. She always knew when to press and when to wait. âBad day?â
You laughed, but it came out more like a breath. âThatâs one word for it.â
âWant to talk about it?â
You dropped your bag on the couch and sank beside it, rubbing at your temples. âWhere do I even start? The house almost burned down. I missed the bus. I got drenched by some idiot in a Jeep. I looked like hell all day. Lydia was her usual brand of delightful. Then the school decided to pull my art project from the show because apparently skulls are too scandalous for Beacon Hills, andââ
You stopped yourself before the last part came out.
Your aunt tilted her head. âAnd?â
You swallowed hard. âAnd Erica kissed Aaron.â
Her expression didnât change at first. Just a quiet, measured stillness. Then she set the chalk down and walked over, kneeling in front of you.
âOh, sweetheart,â she said softly.
You looked at her and felt your throat tighten. Youâd been holding yourself together all day, duct-taping your insides with sarcasm and silence, but that simple sympathy broke you. The tears came hot and fast, spilling over before you could stop them.
You leaned forward, pressing your face into her shoulder. âI just, I donât understand why everything went wrong today. Like the universe just decided to personally screw with me.â
Her hand moved gently through your hair, slow and steady. âSometimes the universe tests us,â she murmured. âSometimes it gives us a day so bad we think weâll never get through it and then we do. And we know when the next one comes, we can survive it all over again.â
You sniffled, half-laughing. âThatâs so annoyingly mystical.â
âWell,â she said with a faint smile, âI am a witch.â
You groaned. âYouâre not a witch. You just have really expensive incense and a flair for dramatics.â
Her lips twitched. âIf it helps you sleep to believe that, go ahead.â
You gave her a watery smile, even though your eyes still burned. âAt least you sound like a witch.â
âThank you,â she said, mock-proud. âIâve always thought I had the hair for it.â
You laughed weakly, wiping your eyes.
The humor faded when she stood and looked toward the kitchen. âWe canât stay here tonight,â she said quietly. âThe fire did more damage than I thought. Workers will be here in the morning to fix the damages.â
âWhere are we supposed to go?â
âThereâs a motel off the highway,â she said, already grabbing her keys. âItâs temporary. Just until the house gets fixed.â
You nodded numbly, too tired to argue despite the unease that rose in your stomach at the thought of leaving the house behind. You packed a small bag - pajamas, toothbrush, your favorite oversized hoodie - and followed her out the door.
The motel was exactly as depressing as you expected, with buzzing fluorescent lights, thin carpet, and a single faded painting of a mountain that looked suspiciously like a blob. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dark window.
Your aunt handed you a steaming cup of tea, its scent warm and spicy. Probably cinnamon, honey, something faintly floral you couldnât name.
âDrink,â she said softly. âItâll help you rest.â
You took a sip. It was soothing, heavy, like it was pulling the weight from your limbs.
âIâm sorry about your day,â she said after a pause. âBut maybe itâs not a curse. Maybe itâs a lesson.â
You let out a quiet snort. âA lesson in what? Humiliation? Cosmic bad luck?â
Her gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in her eyes. âMaybe in how to change what you can, and accept what you canât.â
You frowned. âYou sound like one of those mindfulness podcasts you listen to.â
She chuckled. âGo to sleep, sweetheart.â
You nodded, finishing the tea, the warmth spreading through your chest like syrup.
You curled up under the stiff motel blanket, staring at the shadowed ceiling. Every part of you felt wrung out. Your body ached from running, your heart from everything else.
âI just want this day to be over,â you whispered into the dark.
Your aunt turned off the light. âMaybe tomorrow will surprise you,â she murmured.
But when sleep finally dragged you under, you dreamed of fire.
âNo,â you whispered, voice shaking when you saw the familiar surroundings of your bedroom rather than the old motel. Your posters. Your cluttered vanity. The cardigan draped over your chair exactly the way you left it yesterday morning. âNo, no, noâŠâ
You threw the blanket off, feet hitting the cold tile. The smell was identical, the faintest trace of cinnamon tea still on your lips, the distant noise of your auntâs voice down the hall.
You stumbled out of bed and threw open your door. Smoke rolled in from the living room, thick and acrid. When you turned the corner into the living room, your aunt was already there, her arm raised, hose water flicking around her like a tornado.
Everything was exactly the same. Every. Single. Detail.
Your breath caught. âWhatâŠâ you gasped. âWhat the hell is happening?â
For a moment, your brain refused to catch up. How were you even here? Didnât you fall asleep at that gross old motel last night? How were you back here? Was this some vivid nightmare?
Your aunt didnât look at you this time. She was already muttering under her breath, eyes closed. But when she did finally glance your way, there was something in her expression you didnât recognise.
It had to be a nightmare. The fire was yesterday. You were in a motel. Youâd seen the scorched ceiling with your own eyes, youâd packed your bag, youâd gone to bedâŠ
Except when you pinched your arm you didnât wake up. You couldnât force yourself to rise, because you were indeed already awake.
The taste of panic turned metallic on your tongue. âNo,â you whispered, heart hammering. âNo, no, no.â
It was identical. Every spark, every plume of smoke, the same tendrils curling up toward the same burn mark on the ceiling.
You froze, dizzy. âThis canât be happening,â you breathed.
Your aunt glanced over, eyes shining faintly in the dim light. âGo back to your room,â she said, calm as ever. âItâs under control.â
You stared at her. âUnder control? ThisâŠthis happened yesterday!â
She didnât answer. The water from the hose surged, the flames bending away like they were obeying her. When they finally vanished, the air crackled with leftover heat.
You could only stare at her. âYouâŠyou donât remember anything about this? I swear, this happened yesterday!â
âEvery morning feels the same to me,â she said vaguely, brushing soot from her hands. âGet ready for school. Iâll clean up.â
You wanted to scream. You wanted to shake her. But instead, you turned and stomped back to your room, pulse still thrumming in your ears.
Maybe yesterday had been the dream? Some kind of prophetic nightmare. It didnât matter anymore. What mattered was today hadnât happened yet.
You took twice as long getting ready, staring at your reflection like it might give you answers.
You picked a different outfit - a cropped white sweater with a plaid skirt and knee-high socks - something effortless, cool, not like you were trying too hard. You redid your eyeliner three times until both sides matched, swiped on lip gloss, and forced yourself to smile in the mirror.
You could do this. Whatever went wrong in your dream, you could fix it.
The fire? Too late. But everything after that, that was in your control. Youâd make the bus, look composed, avoid Stilesâ stupid Jeep. Youâd get to Aaron and warn him before Erica could get her claws in him.
You grabbed your bag and bolted for the door. This time, you took the shortcut behind the neighborâs hedge which shaved off three minutes from your walk. You could hear the distant rumble of the bus down the hill and felt relief wash over you.
You broke into a jog and then the bus whooshed past at full speed.
âNo!â you yelled, half-laughing in disbelief. âYouâve got to be kidding me!â
The driver didnât even slow down for your stop.
You stood there, panting, bag sliding down your shoulder. âOkay. Fine. Walking again. Great. Love this.â
The sun was higher now, burning through thin clouds. You followed a different route, down Maple Street instead of Birch, avoiding the usual puddles. You even remembered the one by the intersection where Stilesâ Jeep splashed you.
You smiled to yourself, proud. See? It was just a stupid, slightly prophetic, nightmare. And then your foot hit something that wasnât pavement, and the ground gave way.
You yelped as you sank knee-deep into freezing, muddy water. It sucked at your boots like quicksand, pulling you down until your skirt was soaked and grit clung to your hands.
âOh my god,â you hissed, dragging yourself out. âAre you serious?â
Mud streaked your cardigan, your stockings, your bag. The sinkhole gurgled mockingly behind you.
When you heard the familiar clunking of Stilesâ Jeep you practically dove head first into a bush to avoid being seen and did not come out until the noise of tyres was gone.
By the time you made it to school, you were drenched, scraped, and freezing. And then, because the universe was clearly thriving on your misery, Lydia Martin turned the corner.
Her eyes swept over you once and her expression lit up with pity disguised as sweetness. âOh, wow. Did you get caught in a flood or something?â
You glared. âSomething like that.â
âWell, at least itâs on theme for you,â she said airily, brushing past. âTragic chic.â
You muttered something impolite under your breath and stomped toward your locker.
You were still fumbling with the lock when a voice said, âYou look like you fought a swamp and lost.â
You turned. Stiles Stilinski was leaning against the next locker, grinning.
âWow,â you said flatly. âThank you, poet laureate.â
He blinked. âHey, no offense meant. I justâŠyouâve got, uhâŠâ He gestured vaguely to your hair. âTwigs. Multiple twigs.â
You snapped. âDo you ever stop talking?â you shot back, slamming your locker shut. âOr do you just wake up every morning excited to irritate the entire town?â
His brows rose. âWhoa. Okay. Iâm just saying you lookââ
âLike hell? Yeah, thanks, I noticed.â
He blinked again, taken aback. âRough morning?â
You laughed bitterly. âYou have no idea.â
Something flickered in his expression - surprise, maybe sympathy - but you didnât want it. You turned and walked off before he could say anything else.
You spent the entirely of home room and first period scanning the halls for Aaron. Every minute ticked by with unbearable slowness, and when you finally tried sneaking out of Econ to find him, you got caught.
âDetention,â Coach said curtly, scribbling your name on a clipboard. âAfter school. Donât argue.â
You opened your mouth then shut it again. Great.
When you were called to the principals office halfway through second period. Surely it was another strange coincidence? But suddenly you werenât too sure anymore. Instead of going to the principals office to find out, you slipped out of class and into the bathroom instead.
But as you were passing by the arts corridor to head back you just so happened to cross paths with the principal on his way out of the arts staff room.
âOh, just the student Iâve been looking for.â He instantly saddled up to you. âYour art piece has been pulled from the student exhibition.â
Your heart sank as those words only solidified what was becoming jarringly obvious. Your whole dream was coming true. Or maybe it was never a dream in the first place.
You stared, clearing the shock from your throat. âUhâŠWhy?â
He cleared his throat. âThere wereâŠconcerns. About the tone. The imagery was rather unsettling.â
âItâs a charcoal collection,â you said slowly. âDepicting motifs of loss and mourning.â
âWith incredibly dark and gothic imagery,â he reminded you.
âItâs symbolic!â you argued. âAbout lingering grief, not witchcraft. Bloody hell!â
He winced. âLanguage.â
You threw your hands up. âYou people see one skull and suddenly itâs The Craft.â
âPlease lower your voice.â
But you were already storming out of the hallway. You had one last thing you needed to check before you finally admitted to yourself some strange anomalies was occurring right before your very eyes.
By the time you reached the field, your heart was pounding again.
You spotted Aaron sitting on the bleachers, just like before in your dream - or yesterday, whichever it was. Erica was beside him, her hair glinting gold in the sun.
You ran the last few steps, ready to yell, to stop it, to fix it. But then you froze, because this time, you saw it clearly.
She was flirting, sure - laughing, leaning in - but he moved first. His hand brushed her arm. His smile lingered. His gaze dropped to her lips. And when he kissed her, there was no hesitation, no trick. Just a choice. His choice.
The sound left your throat before you even realized it. It was a small, raw sound, half gasp, half sob. You turned and bolted before either of them saw you.
You made it around the side of the bleachers before colliding straight into someone.
âWhoa!â Stiles caught you by the shoulders. His eyes widened. âHey, hey, you okay?â
Seriously? Why the hell was he suddenly everywhere?
You jerked out of his grip. âFine.â
âYou donât look fine.â
âWell, maybe thatâs just my face,â you snapped.
His mouth opened, then shut. For a second, he looked almost wounded. Then he exhaled softly. âOkay. Just, if you need help or something, you can ask me.â
The kindness in his tone made your throat tighten. You wanted to say thank you but the words tangled up behind the ache in your chest. You turned and walked off, fast.
Detention that afternoon was torture. The clockâs second hand ticked loud enough to make your skin crawl. You kept your head down, sketching aimlessly in the margins of your notebook. And then a familiar scrape of chair legs made you look up.
Stiles dropped into the seat across from you, waving awkwardly. âHey, swamp girl.â
You groaned. âPlease donât.â
He smirked faintly. âSorry. JustâŠrough day?â
You hesitated, staring at him. His eyes were warm, too earnest.
âYeah,â you said finally. âThe worst one yet.â
He nodded, like he actually understood. âThose are my specialty. I can spot a cursed day from a mile away.â
You huffed a laugh. âCursed is one word for it.â
The silence that followed wasnât uncomfortable. For the first time all day, you felt a flicker of calm.
When detention ended, he followed you out. âYou need a ride?â
You sighed. âYou have a death wish? Everything I touch today falls apart.â
âIâve had my fair share of insane days. Donât worry, I can handle any bad juju you might run off on me.â
You smiled at that - a small, tired thing - and nodded in agreement.
The Jeep smelled faintly of old coffee and pine air freshener. Rain streaked the windshield, though the sky outside was clear.
You leaned against the seat, staring out the window. âI donât even know how to explain the kind of day this was.â
He hummed thoughtfully and pointed up towards the heavens. âSounds like someone up thereâs got a grudge.â
âYeah,â you murmured. âThat makes two of us.â
When you got to the motel room, you were barely even bother explaining. You already knew the words your aunt would say, the way her expression would shift when you mentioned the fire.
And sure enough, when you whispered, âIt happened again. The same awful day, the same fireâŠâ
Maggie froze for a fraction of a second. Then her face smoothed into calm disbelief. âYouâve had a very stressful week,â she said gently. âSometimes our minds play tricks when weâre overtired.â
You stared at her. âYou donât believe me.â
âI believe youâre scared,â she said softly. âThatâs enough for now.â
She handed you the same cup of tea as before. It was warm, golden, faintly sweet. You drank it without a word, too exhausted to fight.
Later, as you curled beneath your blanket, the same thought echoed in your mind, a whisper you couldnât drown out.
If tomorrow was today again - if this loop was real - then you might actually lose your mind.
But then you sat up and your eyes flicked to the digital clock on your bedside table. The same date read across the top. Fine. If you couldnât stop the day, youâd find a way to beat it.
You scrambled out of bed, shoving your hair into a messy bun and skipping your whole outfit ritual this time. You didnât need to impress anyone today. You needed to save your damn house.
You knew exactly where to go - the incense tray by the window. The one your aunt left smoldering every morning, the one that you found out had tipped over yesterday and caught the curtains.
You darted straight for it and grabbed the tray before it could fall. The ash was still smoking faintly.
âHa!â you said, triumphant, holding it up like a trophy. âNot today.â
Your aunt appeared in the doorway, half-dressed in her robe, blinking. âWhat on earth are you doing?â
âStopping the fire!â you said. âIt started here! This stupid incense!â
Her expression flickered. âHow did youââ
And then something popped in the kitchen. You froze. A tendril of smoke curled up from the toaster.
âWait, no!â
Too late. The plug sparked, the cord caught, and within seconds the curtain above it went up in flames.
You stood there, jaw slack. âYouâve got to be kidding me.â
Your aunt ran past you and out the back door through the kitchen, pulling in the garden hose as the flames quickly spread
You just slumped against the counter, dizzy with disbelief. âThis house hates me.â
That was the second failed loop. Then came the third. And the fourth.
By the fifth, you were a professional firefighter in pajamas. You unplugged every appliance, dumped out every candle, even shut off the breaker completely, and somehow, some way, something else always ignited.
Once, it was a fallen hairdryer. Another time, lightning struck a tree in the yard and the sparks blew through your open window. Another, faulty wiring in the ceiling. Once, the gas stove caused an explosion.
You screamed yourself hoarse. You cried. You laughed hysterically. Nothing changed.
Every loop unfolded in the same way. The smell of smoke, your aunt waving you off with her cryptic calm, and the knowledge that the universe was laughing its ass off at you.
That wasnât the only event you couldnât seem to change.
You tried leaving earlier for school, thinking maybe if you outran the timeline, you could catch the bus before everything went sideways.
But the bus was early one day. Late the next. Sometimes it just didnât show up at all. You started taking new routes, determined to break the pattern.
The first detour led you down Oak Avenue, where a construction crew redirected you straight into a muddy trench. The second time, a truck sped by and drenched you from head to toe. The third, it started raining out of nowhere with fat, cold drops that soaked through your cardigan before you made it two blocks. The fourth, you thought youâd finally found a dry shortcut through the park, until the sprinklers went off like theyâd been waiting for you.
You screamed at the sky. âI GET IT! IâM CURSED! THANK YOU!â
And somehow, always, always, he appeared.
Sometimes Stiles caught you right after the incident, like clockwork, his beat-up Jeep rolling up beside you with that half-sheepish, half-amused smile, offering you a ride.
Other times, heâd find you in the hall between classes, handing you a napkin or a paper towel or just cracking a joke that made you want to strangle him and laugh at the same time.
It was uncanny, like he was written into the day, an unshakable fixture no matter how you tried to dodge him.
And because you had no one else to talk to, you startedâŠnoticing things.
Like how he always had his sleeves rolled up unevenly, or how he hummed off-key to the songs on his iPod. How he had an entire playlist of chaotic indie bands youâd never heard of, and somehow every one of them was a banger.
He was still insufferable - loud, nosy, full of energy that made your head spin - but he was also funny. In a dorky, unintentional way.
You found yourself smiling once, genuinely, when he ranted about how Coach still didnât know how to pronounce half the teamâs names.
And then you remembered he was part of the loop, too - part of the script you were desperate to escape - and the guilt sank in like a stone.
Lydiaâs insults stopped bothering you somewhere around loop seven.
By then, youâd heard every variation of her snide remarks, like âOh, darling, puddle couture?â, and your brain just went numb.
You stopped reacting. Youâd nod, smile faintly, and keep walking. It was oddly liberating.
Same with the art show.
You still got called into the office every time. Same lecture about âinappropriate themesâ. Same condescending âwe value your creativity, butâŠâ speech.
At first, you argued, then you begged, then you stopped caring. Youâd stare at the principal, expression blank, and say, âSure. Pull it. Why not.â
Heâd blink, confused. âThatâsâŠvery mature of you.â
And then leave, biting back laughter that sounded a little too close to hysteria.
Aaron and Erica became background noise. Static you couldnât mute. You found out about them in a dozen different ways.
Once, you saw them in the hallway, pressed too close together. Once, Lydia told you with fake sympathy, like she was delivering gossip instead of heartbreak. Once, his friends laughed about it within earshot. And once, you saw the photos - blurry, grainy, but unmistakable - plastered all over social media.
Each loop, it hurt a little less. The anger dulled, the betrayal faded, replaced by weary acceptance. You stopped trying to stop it. You stopped trying to change anything.
Every night, it ended the same way. You and your aunt in the motel room, the flickering neon light outside casting sickly colors across the wallpaper.
You ranting - voice hoarse, hair a mess - pacing like a caged animal.
âI stopped the fire! I unplugged everything! I left early, I took six different routes, and somehow, some way, I still end up soaking wet, still lose my stupid art spot, still find Aaron sucking face with Erica!â
Your aunt would just watch you quietly, stirring her tea.
âYou think Iâm losing my mind, donât you?â you accused once, tears prickling your eyes.
Her lips curved faintly in that small, knowing smile that made you want to scream. âI think youâre learning.â
You huffed in frustration, barely listening. âLearning what?â
âPatience,â she said softly. âPerspective.â
You threw your hands up. âIâm learning I hate Tuesdays!â
But she just sipped her tea. âDrink yours before it gets cold.â
So you did. And every single time, you fell asleep with the taste of honeyed herbs on your tongue, vowing youâd fix it tomorrow.
No more panic, no more sprinting to save your doomed house, no more pretending to care about a day that clearly wanted to destroy you. The universe wanted to play games? Fine. Youâd play right back.
When you woke at 6:45 a.m., you didnât even move. You stared at the ceiling, feeling that same dull ache in your chest that came every time you realised you were still here. Still stuck in the same twenty-four-hour nightmare, doomed to repeat it again and again until the world decided youâd suffered enough.
You didnât jump out of bed. You didnât rush to find a cute, polished outfit. You didnât even pretend to care about the faint scent of smoke you knew would soon thread through the air.
Instead, you sat up, raked a hand through your tangled hair, and muttered, âFine. Burn, then.â
The house didnât wait long to oblige.
From your spot on the bed, you could see the faint orange flicker under the door, hear the soft crackle that had once sent you into panic mode. You didnât even blink. Just crossed one leg over the other and watched the light grow stronger, the way people might watch rain slide down a window. Somewhere in the house, your aunt shouted something and you almost smirked.
Your hands moved on autopilot, rifling through your wardrobe until you found something that felt right. Something that matched the black comedy of it all. You tugged out your long, flowy black skirt that brushed your ankles like storm clouds when you walked. A deep burgundy top with glass bead embroidery that shimmered faintly in the light. And your boldest lipstick - that deep, unapologetic blood-red.
You applied it carefully, slowly, watching the person in the mirror become someone new. Someone who didnât chase buses or beg the world to notice her. Someone who let it all burn and looked beautiful while doing it.
You added rings - too many, silver and obsidian and one sharp enough to draw blood - and pulled on your old black boots. You left your hair loose, messy waves falling over your shoulders, and looked at yourself one last time.
You felt like yourself.
The air outside your room shimmered faintly with heat when you opened the door. The fire had spread. You could see the orange glow crawling up the wallpaper like veins of molten light. Your auntâs voice carried from the kitchen, sharp and commanding.
You leaned against the wall, arms folded, and watched as water erupted from the hose, dousing the flames. Steam hissed. Smoke rolled across the ceiling. You didnât flinch.
âKitchen fire again?â you called out.
Your aunt turned, wild-eyed and soot-streaked. âYouâre not helping!â
âWasnât planning to,â you said casually, stepping over a smoldering rug on your way to the door.
She glared at you, broom clutched like a weapon. âYouâre becoming far too calm about this.â
âGuess Iâve had practice.â You winked and stepped out into the cool morning air.
You didnât even pretend to hurry. The bus was pointless. You could sprint, you could take shortcuts, you could leave early, but it always left without you. So you let your boots squelch through the damp ground, skirt swaying behind you, as the smoky taste of the morning drifted away.
You walked past the bus stop without looking at it. The group of kids waiting there stared like you were something out of a horror movie. You met their eyes and smiled faintly. Let them think what they wanted.
You were halfway down the road when the familiar squeal of tires sounded behind you. You didnât even need to look to know who it was.
And when the powder blue Jeep pulled up beside you, you didnât even turn your head before saying, âYouâre late.â
âUh, hi?â came Stilesâ voice, incredulous and amused. âYouâre, uh, walking straight through puddles like youâre auditioning for a gothic perfume ad.â
You turned to him finally, meeting his raised eyebrows with a smirk. âWhat, you donât like it?â
âOh, I like it,â he said, leaning across the passenger seat to push the door open for you. âJust trying to figure out if I should be impressed or concerned.â
You shrugged. âMaybe both.â
He laughed, loudly, warmly, and far too genuine for this cold morning. âGet in. You look like youâre about to hex someone.â
âTempting,â you muttered, but you slid into the seat anyway. The jeep smelled like old coffee, pine air freshener, and something youâd learned to recognise as donating Stiles - a woody cologne.
You rested your chin on your hand as he drove, your skirt pooling around you like a shadow.
âLet me guess,â you said, smirking. âYouâre listening to your murder podcast again, arenât you?â
His head whipped toward you. âHow did youâŠ?Wait, did I tell you that?â
You smiled cryptically. âLucky guess.â
He shook his head, chuckling. âYouâre weird.â
âThank you,â you said sweetly.
The ride was easy. For once, you didnât try to fill the silence or hide how much you liked the feeling of the wind threading through your hair. You even caught yourself laughing at one of his terrible jokes about the sheriffâs department.
The Jeep rattled a little, the heater blowing lukewarm air. You rested your elbow against the window, watching trees blur past. Stiles glanced at you.
âSo,â he said after a beat, âwhatâs the soundtrack to your silent rebellion today?â
You raised an eyebrow. âExcuse me?â
âOh come on, you ditched the whole girl next door image, so clearly rebellion is on the agenda today. So whatâs your poison? Is it, like, Florence and the Machine? Or moreâŠMy Chemical Romance?â
You snorted. âWow, stereotyping much? You think because I suddenly wear black I cry-listen to emo anthems?â
âDo you?â
ââŠMaybe,â you admitted, smirking. âBut I also like Arctic Monkeys, Fleetwood Mac, and Lana. Depends on the loop.â
âLoop?â
You froze for a split second, then recovered with a shrug. âYou know. Routine.â
He looked amused. âYouâre hard to figure out.â
âGood.â
By the time you reached school, you were almost disappointed the drive was over.
You could feel Lydiaâs eyes before she even spoke. She looked you up and down like she always did, nose wrinkling slightly.
âOh my god,â she said, voice dripping honey and venom. âAre you, like, auditioning for a vampire movie?â
You turned, smiling sweetly and eyeing her extremely low cut top and tight skirt. âYou auditioning for the latest step-sister porno?â
Her mouth dropped open. âExcuse me?â
âYouâre excused,â you said brightly and brushed past her.
The collective gasp from her little group of followers was satisfying. You didnât even look back. It felt good. Extremely good. And Aaron was next.
You didnât hide from him this time. Youâd spent too many loops crying in bathroom stalls, too many hours trying to protect him from Ericaâs lips, from his own stupidity. You were done.
Youâd planned this part carefully. The printer in the library lab whirred for almost an hour through lunch. Now, your bag was stuffed with your own particular flavour of justice - hundreds of grainy flyers with Aaronâs name splashed across them like a curse. Each one had some embarrassing photo, or a screenshot of a problematic text exchange. Youâd even included one of those cringe-worthy selfies heâd taken with a duck face. And in bold red, across every sheet: CHEATER.
You started in the main hallway. One on the trophy case. One on the cafeteria door. One right next to the football teamâs sign-up sheet. The more you pasted, the lighter you felt.
By the time the bell rang, whispers were already circling like vultures.
âDid you see what sheâŠâ
âOh my god, is that?â
âNo way, she actuallyâŠâ
Then came the voice youâd been waiting for. âWHAT THE HELL IS THIS?â
You turned. Aaron was storming toward you, flyers crumpled in his fist. His face was an angry shade of pink. âHave you completely lost your mind?â
You tilted your head, innocent. âNo, I think I finally found it.â
âDo you have any idea howââ
You quickly interrupted. âHow satisfying this is? Yeah.â
He blinked, stunned. âYouâre making a fool of yourself!â
âFunny,â you said. âI thought you already did that when you cheated on me.â
The hallway erupted in laughter. Someone actually whistled. Aaronâs jaw clenched as he looked around at the growing crowd, then back at you.
âThis isnât over,â he muttered.
âOh, itâs so over,â you said, loud enough for everyone to hear. âWeâre done, Aaron. Consider this my official breakup notice.â
And with that, you turned and walked away, your heart pounding, lips curved into a smirk.
You made it through half of Harrisâs lecture about your behaviour before you had enough. The class tittered. Harris scowled. âYou think this is funny? Detention. Today. After school.â
âPerfect,â you said, grabbing your bag.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â
âAnywhere else.â You didnât look back as you walked out the door, the sound of his angry shouting fading behind you.
You didnât care anymore. Not about the fire. Not about the bus. Not about Aaron or Lydia or even the gossip that now followed you like a shadow.
Because for the first time in a hundred repeats, you werenât surviving the day. You were living it.
Mr. Harris was up at his desk, shuffling papers, his sharp, nasal voice slicing through the silence. âYou will remain in absolute quiet for the remainder of the hour. I have better things to do than babysit teenagers who canât control their impulses.â
There were only two of you in the room, you and Stiles. He sat diagonally in front of you, tapping his pencil in a rhythm that matched the twitch in your jaw. His leg bounced, his fingers drummed, and every few seconds he glanced at you with that lopsided smirk like he could sense the storm brewing inside your chest.
Finally, you whispered, âIâm bored.â
Stiles turned around in his seat, whispering back, âYou? Bored? No way.â
You raised an eyebrow. âIâm serious. This sucks.â
âYouâre in detention. Itâs supposed to suck.â
You leaned forward, voice low. âNot if you make it interesting.â
He tilted his head, curious. âWhat do you have in mind?â
You smirked, eyes flicking toward the desk where Harris sat marking papers. âSomething harmless. Maybe.â
His grin spread slow and dangerous. âYouâre scaring me a little, but go on.â
âRemember that chemical reaction kit in the back cupboard?â you said softly. âThe one he uses to demo basic exothermic reactions?â
Stiles blinked. âYouâre suggesting weâŠ?â
âCause a tiny explosion?â you whispered. âYeah. Just a little one. Enough to freak him out.â
He looked torn between terror and awe. âYou are so going to get us expelled.â
For a second, he hesitated. Then he stood abruptly, stretching exaggeratedly. âHey, Mr. Harris? You mind if I, uh, grab a tissue from the cupboard?â
âCool, yeah, sure,â Stiles said, and immediately walked to the cupboard anyway.
You bit back a laugh as you joined him, opening the door with a squeak. Inside were rows of jars, labelled powders, a small burner, and one half-empty bottle of ethanol. Perfect. You exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
âThis is insane,â Stiles muttered.
âExactly,â you said.
It took less than a minute. You knew just enough chemistry to make a small puff of harmless smoke rise from the beaker. You slid it back into place, barely containing your laughter.
Thirty seconds later, it hissed and popped with a small bang.
Harris shot up like heâd been electrocuted. âWHO DID THAT?â
You and Stiles both pointed at each other immediately. âNot me!â you shouted in unison, bursting into laughter.
âYou think this is funny?â Harris snapped, face turning red.
âYes,â you said honestly, tears of laughter spilling down your cheeks. âGod, yes.â
Stiles was laughing too hard to even breathe. âYou have to admit, it was a pretty solid reaction!â
But you were already out of your chair. âWeâre leaving.â
âYou canât just walk out of detention!â
âWatch us,â you said, grabbing your bag.
And before he could finish his sentence, you and Stiles were sprinting out the door, laughter echoing down the hallway, sneakers slapping against the floors.
You didnât stop running until you were outside. The late afternoon light painted everything gold and warm. You were breathless, dizzy, alive.
Stiles leaned against his Jeep, laughing. âYouâre completely unhinged!â
âMaybe,â you said between breaths. âBut tell me that wasnât worth it.â
He grinned. âOkay, yeah, it was legendary.â
You stared at him for a long moment. At his messy hair, his stupidly bright smile, the way he looked at you with that soft expression. âLetâs not go home,â you said suddenly.
He blinked. âWhat?â
âLetâs not. I donât want to go back to that house. Or that motel. I want toâŠI donât know, do something crazy! Just for one night.â
He hesitated, then shrugged. âOkay.â
You blinked. âOkay?â
âYeah. Why not? Youâve already got me breaking school property. Might as well commit to the bit.â
The neon sign of Beacon Hills Liquor buzzed overhead. It looked like every bad decision made between the ages of 16 and 23 had passed through its door.
You pulled your fake IDs from your bag - one that Aaron had insisted Danny make for you to help practice using his machine. Stiles instantly gawked at it like it was a cursed artifact. âThis looks fake.â
âIt is fake.â
âNo, no,â he gestured, flapping a hand. âI mean it looks fake in a spectacularly terrible way.â
âRelax.â You giggled, unable to even pretend you were nervous when you knew no matter how badly this went, youâd experience no consequences tomorrow when the loop reset.
âRelax?!â His voice cracks. âRelax?? Do you know what my dad would do if I got arrested for underage drinking? Iâd never see the outside world again. Iâd have to telepathically communicate with Scott from my room like some kind of suburban hostage.â
âStiles.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre not even coming with me.â
He tried to protest, but you were already walking into the store. He followed, mumbling his own eulogy as he stopped and waited outside with a very forced-casual pose.
The cashier - a bored man with ear gauges and a shirt that said âI Hate Everyoneâ - barely glanced up.
You slid a bottle of cheap whiskey onto the counter. âHi.â
The cashier lifted an eyebrow at you. âID?â
You handed it over and he stared at it for a painfully long time. You could practically see Stilesâ eye twitching as he watched through the window.
The cashier hummed in acceptance. âGood enough. Anything else?â
You smiled calmly and handed over some cash. âThatâs all.â
When he handed you your changed to grabbed the coins and the bottle and left. Out in the parking lot, Stiles fell into step beside you and stared with profound disbelief in his honey brown eyes. âI cannot believe that worked.â
You smiled nonchalantly. âConfidence.â
âNo. Witchcraft. Iâm convinced your aunt taught you witchcraft.â
âMaybe she did.â
He blinked. ââŠReally?â
You grinned. âWouldnât you like to know?â His face did something complicated that made you laugh. âNow, you know anywhere that we can crack this open?â You lifted the bottle and the moonlight glinted off the glass.
âYeah, I know a place,â he twirled his keys around his finger and walked around to open the passenger door for you. He held it open while you climbed in and the small gesture made your stomach flip.
You and Stiles hiked way into the preserve until the trees swallowed the noise of town. The sky was turning indigo, the world growing quieter, like it was waiting to hide your secrets.
Stiles collapsed onto a fallen log when you finally arrived to a spot with a few rocks surrounding a pit out fire bin. You imagined that meant Stiles had been here before, and the sudden image of him bringing another girl here made something flare in your stomach. âOkay. Operation âNot-Sucky Nightâ is a go. Step one, alcohol poisoning.â
You snorted, taking a swig from the bottle. It burned like fire. âUgh. Thatâs disgusting.â
âRight?â He held his hand out for the bottle and took a sip, recoiling dramatically. âWhy does it taste like a war crime?â
You were still laughing when he nudged your knee gently with his and passed the bottle back to you. âAll right, your turn. A shot a truth.â
You reached for the bottle. âAlcohol first.â
âCoward.â
You took another burning mouthful. Then you inhaled, feeling the liquid courage settling warm in your chest. âI feel like Iâve been stuck,â you say quietly, trying to word your situation in a way that sounded grounded in reality. âLike aâŠglitch. Like my life is just this repeating pattern of bad decisions and worse luck.â
Stiles was silent for a moment. Then he said, softer than youâve ever heard him speak, âYeah. I know that one.â
You glanced at him with surprise and doubt written on your face, but he was staring at the bottle, not you, so you passed it over.
âI spent years watching my dad fall apart,â he murmured. âAfter my momâŠI had to be the adult most of the time. And now I justâŠI donât know. I feel like Iâm always one wrong turn away from ruining everything.â
His voice cracked and you handed him the bottle. You watched him as he took a long drink, wondering how youâd never considered that Stiles had lost a parent too. Sure, it was a bit different than losing both, as you had, but if anyone was able to understand you maybe it would be him.
You shifted closer, your knees brushing his.âStiles,â you said gently, âYou didnât ruin anything.â
He laughed once, bitterly. âYou donât know that.â
âI do, because when I lost my parents I felt the same. Sometimes I still do,â You answered and his eyes meet yours - raw, unguarded.
Something warm twisted inside your chest, as you whispered, âTell me something else.â
He exhaled shakily. ââŠI didnât think you liked me.â
âI didnât,â you admitted. âAt first.â
His mouth quirked into a slight smile. âWow. Thanks.â
âNo, I meanâŠâ You shook your head, trying again. âI had you wrong. Youâre kind of great.â
He went silent, those amber eyes that you suddenly found entrancing gazing into yours like they could see straight through to your innermost pain.
âI think youâre great too.â He finally said and your heart stuttered.
You wondered, was one day of knowing someone too soon for him to start having that effect on you?
It was half past eight when you and Stiles wandered out of the preserve, whiskey warming your blood and the soft buzz of intimacy already threading between you. Instead of driving back home in the Jeep, you decided to walk around downtown, exchanging stories of your childhoods as you tried to keep your path straight across the pavement.
âThereâs no way thatâa true!â You laughed uninhibitedly as he recalled a story of him and Scott being chased by an angry old woman at the skate park.
âI kid you not, she chased us all the way to my house and we hid under my dadâs car in the driveway because we couldnât get the front door to open.â Stiles recounted loudly.
When you spotted the tattoo shop, glowing with neon blue light and the OPEN sign flickering, you paused in your tracks.
Stiles stopped dead on the sidewalk beside you. âNo. No no no. This is where I draw the line. I cannot explain this to my dad. Heâll think I joined a biker gang. Or a cult. Or a cult biker gang.â
You looped your arm through his. âRelax. Iâm the one getting a tattoo.â
His jaw dropped open like a cartoon character and you laughed, starting to find the way he emoted so dramatically endearing. âWhat?! YouâŠWait, youâre serious?!â
You were already pulling open the door and the bell jingled over your heads as you walked in. Stiles followed, muttering nervously under his breath. Inside, the tattoo artist looked up from her desk.
âYou kids got IDs?â The woman asked, the overhead light shining off her tattooed scalp.
You slid your fake ID onto the counter with a confidence that would make your aunt proud. âSure do.â
Stiles watched you like you were a live grenade. The artist looked you over, squinted at the ID, and nodded. âWhatâre we doing tonight?â
You turned to flip through the folders of art available on the counter, grinning. âSomething fine line. Iâve always wanted a celestial theme, maybe on my wrist.â
âHow about a crescent moon?â the artist suggested and flipped to a page, showing a beautiful moon smattered with glittering stars around it.
You considered it for a moment, then nodded. âYeah. That.â
The woman - whose are you learned was Dawn - led you over to her station. You dropped down into a comfortable leather chair.
Stiles stood behind you the whole time, pacing so much the artist eventually snapped at him.âDude. Sit down. Youâre making me nervous.â
Stiles collapsed onto the stool beside you. âIâm sorry, I justâŠI get a bit squeamish.â
You rolled your eyes. âYou can hold my hand if youâre scared.â
âIâm not scared,â He insisted, his face going pink. âI just get a bit grossed out and lightheaded and sometimes I faint.â
You offered him your hand that wasnât getting tattooed, and he took it silently. He didnât let go, not even after the needle started. You hissed at the first sting, and Stiles squeezed your hand tighter.
âHey,â he murmured softly. âYouâre okay. You got this.â
And something shifted there in that chair, with you breathing through the sting and Stilesâs hand in yours. You didnât look at him, but you felt him - warm, nervous, somehow protective. When the artist finished, Stiles lets out a breath like he was the one under the needle.
âYouâre insane,â he whispered.
âMaybe.â You admitted.
âBut it looks good on you.â He complimented.
You finally tuned to face him and he was looking at the tattoo, then at you. For some reason, that same soft look behind his eyes made your heart beat just a little bit faster.
âI know where we should go next,â you said, a devious smirk already spreading across your lips.
âOh no, I think thatâs enough for tonight,â he chuckled and shook his head but your smile only widened. You knew there was no way you were going to end the night there.
The club was loud, humid, and pulsing with bass. You slipped in past the bouncer while Stiles distracted him with a frantic, very unconvincing rant about parking violations.
Once the guard turned his back and you were both inside, Stilesâ hair windblown, his expression was one of astonishment. âI canât believe that worked.â
âI canât believe you managed to lie for thirty seconds,â you shot back.
âI can lie!â he retorted, insulted. âOkay, I canât lie well. But I can lie.â
You grabbed his hand before he could ramble more and pulled him toward the dance floor. âCome on.â
âWait, I donât dance!â He tugged his arm back but you tightened your hold on him insistently.
You shouted over the music, âYes you do!â
âNo I donât!â he shouted back.
But you were already pulling him into the lights. The beat thumped through the crowd and the two of you moved in an awkward, hilarious, strangely perfect rhythm. Stiles loosened up fast - maybe due to the music, maybe the whiskey, maybe the fact that you were laughing and leaning too close. The whole world felt far away.
At one point, he leaned in, breath warm against your ear. âYou knowâŠyouâre kind of incredible.â
You blinked up at him, your heart skipping. âWhere did that come from?â
âDunno,â he said, grinning crookedly. âAlcohol. Adrenaline. Spending way too much time looking at your pretty face.â
You shoved his shoulder, laughing. He stumbled dramatically, arms windmilling and you grabbed his jacket, pulling him back toward you so he wouldnât fall.
You were close. Too close. So close that his breath fanned across your lips. For half a second, you thought about crossing the distance. But then a shout echoed across the crowd.
âHEY! YOU TWO!â
You turned to see the security guard that youâd distracted to sneak in.
âRun!â you shouted,
You both sprinted out of the club, laughing uncontrollably as the bouncer chased you for half a block.
âThat was close!â You squealed as you tossed yourself into the Jeep and pulled the door shut behind you.
âToo close!â Stiles jumped behind the wheel, breathing heavily as he shoved his keys into the ignition.
You were barely three minutes on the road when red-and-blue lights flashed behind you.
Stiles slammed his head against the steering wheel. âOf course! Of course this would happen.â
Stiles slowed the car and pulled over to the side as Sheriff Stilinski approached, his flashlight raised. He stopped at the car window and leaned in, pausing his flashlight on you when he saw you in the passenger seat. Then he sighed with fatherly disappointment so intense you almost shrivelled.
âStiles.â
âDad.â
âWhy do you look sweaty?â
Stiles began sweating more. âUh. BecauseâŠthe weather?â
âItâs fifty-eight degrees.â
âUh. Humidity?â
The Sheriff looked at you. âAre you okay?â
You nodded. âPerfect, Sheriff. Totally fine.â
He narrowed his eyes at Stiles again. âYou werenât drinking, were you?â
You subtly nudged the whiskey bottle deeper under the seat with your foot.
Sheriff Stilinski sighs. âJustâŠget home, okay? Both of you. Itâs late.â
âYes,â Stiles said quickly. âImmediately. Straight home.â
The Sheriff walked back to his cruiser and Stiles waited until the door shut. Then he whispered, âIâm. Going. To. Die.â
You burst into laughter and after a moment, he joined you too. âLetâs get out of here Stilinski. Iâd say this was a pretty successful non-sucky night.â
âYeah, it was pretty great.â He grinned and pulled back out onto the road.
Stiles followed your directions until he pulled into the driveway of your family home. The house was dark and you knew the inside was charred from the fire earlier. The sight gutted you all over again.
Stiles noticed. He seemed to do that quite often - see things others didnât. âHey,â he said softly. âWe donât have to go in if you donât want to.â
âNoâŠI need to grab a few things.â
Inside, the air smelled like smoke. The living room was blackened, the wallpaper curled, the floor warped. It was the worst youâd seen it. It hits you harder than you expect. Your throat tightened.
Stiles stayed close but didnât touch anything.âTake your time.â He said gently.
But you couldnât. It was too much. The memories of the fire. The exhaustion of reliving this hellish day again and again. The sight of the place that held so many memories destroyed. Picture albums with your parents smiling faces inside lost to the flames.
You crumbled right there, next to the scorched sofa. And Stiles caught you. He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you against his chest. âHey, heyâŠI got you. Itâs okay. Itâs okay.â
You sobbed into his shoulder. All the stress, all the grief, all the fear of the loop never ending, everything youâd been holding inside finally boiled over.
âWhy does everything keep going wrong?â you whispered into his jacket. âWhy do I keep losing everything?â
His voice cracks. âI know that feeling.â
You pulled back slightly. âWhatâŠwhat do you mean?â
Stiles swallowed hard. âMy mom,â he answered quietly. âBefore she diedâŠI kept trying to fix things. Be better. Be stronger. Be enough. But you canât outrun life. You canât stop everything bad from happening.â He shook his head, eyes shining. âBut youâre not alone. At least, not tonight.â
You stared at him and the realisation hit, slow and warm. Youâd never felt this understood before.
On the way to the hotel, the Jeep was filled with soft music and even softer breaths. The night felt like it was folding around the two of you, cocooning you in something fragile and temporary and impossibly precious.
Stiles drummed lightly on the steering wheel. âCan I ask something?â
âYeah.â You nodded. Youâd learned to be transparent with him, and had spoken about all of the things youâd never told anyone before. Youâd fallen into an oddly comfortable dynamic that you never would have expected to develop. Especially not with Stiles, of all people.
âWere you happy? With Aaron?â He asked.
You exhaled. âNo. Not really. I thinkâŠI just liked the idea of not being alone.â
He nods slowly. âYeah. Makes sense.â
âWhat about you?â you returned to question. âAnyone special?â
He hesitated, then shook his head. âNo. Just a crush. Entirely one-sided.â
You smiled gently, noticing a strange feeling once more in your stomach at the thought of Stiles spending a night like this with any other girl. It felt special now, what the two of you had shared. Almost sacred. âWho?â
He glanced at you for half a second too long. âYou wouldnât believe me if I told you.â
You looked out the window, your heart thudding. âTry me.â
He didnât answer, just smiled to himself, soft and nervous.
When he pulled up to the hotel, you felt that ache. The bittersweet one that comes before something fantastic ends.
You unbuckled your belt, turned toward him, and blurted the truth, anxiety rising in your belly. âYou wonât remember this tomorrow.â
He rolled his eyes at you, misunderstanding. âIâm not that wasted.â
You shook your head. âJustâŠtrust me. You wonât.â The confusion on his face twisted your heart. âSo,â you added quietly, âmaybe I should just do something Iâve been wanting to do all night.â
âWhatâs that?â
You leaned across the console, your hands cupped his jaw, and you kissed him. It started soft. Just lips brushing lips. Testing. Asking. Then he exhaled with a tiny, broken sound, and kissed you back.
His hands slid to your waist, yours tangled in his hair. It wasnât rushed. Wasnât messy. JustâŠperfect. Desperate in a sweet way.
You broke apart only when your aunt shrill voice echoed through the parking lot. âWHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!â
You jumped apart, turning to see aunt Maggie standing outside the Jeep, her arms crossed, furious and terrified and relieved all at once.
âOh my god,â Stiles whimpered in panic. âSheâs gonna hex me.â
âShit,â You muttered and stepped out of the Jeep, your cheeks flushed.
Maggie launched into a tirade about worry and responsibility and disappearing for hours with no notice. Stiles watched you with soft eyes through the window.
Before you followed Maggie inside, you turned back to the open window and said. âThank you. For everything. For tonight.â
He smiled shyly. âYeah. Thank you too. ForâŠeverything.â
You stepped away and as you walked into the hotel room, exhausted and strangely happy, a heavy sadness hit you. Tomorrow would reset and he wouldnât remember. But you would.
You woke up expecting smoke. Your lungs braced for it before your eyes even opened. You were certain youâd be back in your bed, in your house, inhaling that thick, choking smell that always signalled the loop had reset. But when the air hit your throat, it wasâŠclean.
Too clean. Hotel-clean.
Your eyes snapped open. The cheap patterned ceiling stared back at you, and your stomach dropped so violently you swore the mattress tilted.
You were still at the hotel.
Not in your bed.
Not in yesterday.
Not in the loop.
âOh, fuck,â you breathed, sitting up so fast your head spun. Your arm flailed out, accidentally tipping the mug on your bedside table. The mug fell to the floor with a clatter and shattered, though thankfully no liquid sprayed anywhere because it was empty.
The tea.
The idea hit you like a punch to the throat. Every night youâd come to the motel, every night before the loop had reset, youâd drank the tea your aunt had made you. Except for last night.
The tea. It must have been. Perhaps aunt Maggie was a witch after all.
You clutched the blankets, your heart hammering against your ribs. The memories of yesterday flooded back like a tidal wave - Stiles, the club, the alcohol, the dancing, the tattoo, the makeout in the parking lot, your auntâs face when she found youâŠAnd the flyers. The detention. The yelling. The absolute zero-fucks chaos that you left behind like scorched earth.
A part of you wanted to crawl under the covers and die. Another part - smaller, but louder - grinned. Because of Stiles. Because the night youâd shared with him has been amazing. And the kissâŠeven more so.
You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering. âOkay. Okay, I can do this,â you whispered to yourself.
You pulled on the spare clothes youâd picked up last night with shaky hands. Then you walked to school, heading out before Maggie could wake but sending her a message so sheâd know where you went.
Your stomach flipped with dread as you got closer and closer. The minute you walk through the doors, someone called out your name. You looked to your right to see none one than a very pissed-off-looking Harris himself.
âOffice. Now.â He demanded coldly.
You closed your eyes and sighed. âOf course.â
Inside the office sat the principal, the deputy, and a stack of your flyers like a damning deck of cards. The top one showed Aaron mid-sneeze. Another had him wearing that hideous beanie he once insisted was âironicâ.
You winced.
The principal folded his hands. âIâm going to be honest. This is one of the mostâŠenthusiastic displays of poor judgment Iâve seen in a long time.â
You rubbed the back of your neck. âThank you?â
âThat was not a compliment.â
âOh. Right.â
He sighed, exhausted. âGiven your spotless record, weâre assigning you a week of detention. And we strongly recommend a session with the guidance counselor.â
You nodded quickly, spine straightening as you realised your punishment would not be nearly as severe as you were expecting. âYeah. I, uh, Iâll book that. Totally.â
They studied you with narrowed eyes like they were waiting for you to crack or lash out, but you didnât. âAlright. You can go.â
You stood, grabbed your bag, and escaped before they could change their minds. You practically crept down the hall, terrified Lydia might be lurking, sharpening her claws and rehearsing insults to get you back for the day before.
When you finally saw her at her locker, your breath caught in your chest. She looked right at you. Paused. Tilted her head.
Then your jaw practically falls off when she says, âI like your skirt.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
Lydia shrugged lightly, closing her locker with a soft click. âItâs veryâŠyou. Itâs for character, itâs intentional. You should wear it more often.â
You stared at her, stunned. âOh. Uh. Thanks.â
âAnd,â she added casually, âIâm having a party this weekend. You should come.â
âMe?â
âYes, you.â She waved a hand at you as though youâre being dense.
You nod slowly. âRight. Okay, sure.â
Lydia smiled and walked away without a backward glance. You stood there, dazed, until you saw Aaron. He was at his locker, head down, alone. For the first time since youâd known him, he lookedâŠsmall. He didnât even glance at you when you finally walked past.
A weird, soft ache ran through you. Not for him, but for the version of yourself that let him waste her time.
You kept walking. You were almost to class when Erica stepped into your path, though not with the confident swagger youâd come to expect of her over the past weeks. Not with that smirk sheâd been weaponising for months.
She stopped in front of you, her arms crossed tightly, eyes uncertain. âHey,â she said quietly.
You stiffen. âWhat do you want?â
âIâm sorry.â She blurted it out all at once, as though the words pained her to say. You stared, caught off-guard as Erica took a breath. âWhat I did with Aaron was shitty. Like, cheap, insecure mean-girl-shitty. And I know it.â
You swallowed, unsure of what to say. âI donât care about him,â you finally answered. âI care that you justâŠchanged. Overnight. And left me behind.â
Erica winced. âYeah. I did.â
âWhy?â You wondered aloud for the first time since it had happened.
She hesitated. âBecause I was jealous of you.â
You froze. âOf me?â
She nodded slowly. âYou were always so sure of yourself. I wasnât. And then life changed and I changed too. Maybe too much.â
Your throat tightened because she was right. She had changed too much. Too much for you to still align yourself with her as her friend. âAre you happy now?â you asked softly. âWith who you are.â
She thought about it for a moment. âYeah. I think I am.â
âThenâŠI think weâre not really friends anymore.â You admitted.
Ericaâs shoulders dropped, but she nodded back in understanding. âYeah. I think so too.â
You both stepped aside and went on your way. It was a peaceful disbanding. A part of you stung at the loss of what your friendship once was, but you knew it was for the best. Besides, there was one other person you were anxious to talk to. Except, you hadnât yet seen him.
Over the course of the day, you checked every hallway, every classroom, out every window. There was no sign of Stiles. Not even a glimpse of plaid or frantic hand gestures.
Your chest twisted painfully as a torrent of worried ran through your mind.
What if he regretted last night? What if he thought it was a mistake? What if he was avoiding you? What if the best part about that damn time loop didnât want anything to do with you?
When the lunch bell rang and you still handâs seen him, you pressed a hand to your stomach, trying not to be sick from the anxious storm raging in there.
âHEY! HEY, WAIT!â When you finally heard his voice echoing in the hallway relief filled you.
You turned just in time for Stiles to skid to a stop in front of you, gasping for breath. âFar out, donâtâŠmoveâŠso fast! I swearâŠI ran likeâŠhalf the school, trying to find you!â
You stared at him, stunned.
âI wasnât avoiding you,â he blurted. âI swear. I had thisâŠthing. An important thing, that I had to do today. But the whole time I was just thinking about last night and how insane it was and how and how funââ
âStilesââ You tried to interrupt but he kept talking in a nervous race.
ââand how I really wanted to see you again and make sure you didnât wake up and think it was a mistake because it wasnât, not for me, and I justââ
You finally had enough of waiting, so you grabbed his face and kissed him. Right there. In the hallway.
His hands hovered for a second, shocked. Then he melted into it, fingers sliding to your waist, pulling you closer. You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his.
âYouâre giving me a ride after school,â you said softly, breathless.
Skaterboy! Peter Parker x Punk! Reader HeadcanonsÂ
a/n: all sfw, friends to lovers, fluff, general high school shenanigans
Peter and you are best friends throughout middle school and high school
As a kid Peter was awkward and shy while you were prickly and aggressive. The both of you were loners and frequently sat alone during lunch. One day you complimented his Pikachu keychain on the subway ride back home and have been friends ever since.
He is your date for your first middle school dance and you go as friends. He shows up in an oversized suit and tie that he borrowed from Uncle Ben and a wilted corsage. You wear a dress and knee high black converse sneakers. The dance ends up being boring and Peter sweats so much he needs to take his blazer off. You end up leaving early together to get ice cream and spend the night making a pillow fort and arguing about Star Wars light saber colors.Â
Peter has been there for every phase your hair has gone through. He has witnessed you dye it hot pink and seen you hack off huge chunks in fits of teenage rage. You once trusted him to bleach your hair and it ended up turning orange. That was the first time he saw you cry. Peter felt so bad that he stayed with you all night and in the morning he walked you to the closest hairdresser.Â
Sometimes Aunt May will insist that you stay for dinner. You always help with the dishes afterwards and bring over homemade cookies the next time you come over. Â
After class ends the both of you usually head to the skate park, still carrying your bulky school bags. Peterâs a better skater than you and can do more tricks, but you donât mind. Most of the time youâre blasting music on your boom box while Peter attempts new moves and spins, the both of you talking about whatever comes to your minds. You usually grab a snack from a nearby bodega afterwards and skate home together.Â
You DIY your own clothes all the time and your favorite leather jacket has a bunch of funky iron-on patches, buttons, and bottle caps you sewed on. Peter always comments whenever you add more additions.Â
He gives you all the sweaters and shirts heâs grown out of and you turn them into patchwork jeans and funky tops. Youâve distressed and customized several of Peterâs pants. You also made Aunt May a cute kitchen apron.Â
You taught Peter how to sew and thrifted him his own sewing machine
Heâs your go-to concert buddy for all the local rock shows and punk bands you attend. He doesnât really enjoy moshing, but heâs there to support you and take polaroids. Sometimes youâll get turned away because the both of you are underage. Peter will then stage a distraction while you sneak in with a group of college students too high to think straight.Â
Peterâs a lot better at school than you are. He frequently lets you copy off his homework and sporadically tutors you in Science and Math. However, youâre a lot more assertive than he is, not afraid to push away the one couple that keeps making out near his locker, hype up his photography to the upperclassmen of the yearbook club, and yell at the emos for walking too slow in the hallway. You balance each other out.Â
You stick up for Peter when he gets picked on by Flash. One time you dumped a carton of chocolate milk over Flashâs head after he threw a basketball at Peterâs camera and cracked the lens, landing you in detention for a month. During that month Peter stayed after school and waited for you to walk home together.
Peter let you give him a makeover once. You put him in thick black eyeliner, slick his hair into exaggerated spikes with hair gel, and make him wear silver clip-on earring studs. You dress him in a band tee and too tight black leather jeans. He never lets you do it again. Â
You helped customize his own skateboard. He gets super upset when it eventually breaks and you thrift him a new one for his birthday.Â
Peter is always mesmerized when you play your guitar. He loves listening to you practice and will work on homework and his little side projects as you crone to David Bowie. Youâre not always great and frequently mess up the chords, but he finds your passion and energy quite comforting, even when you start screaming to Bikini Kill and Joan Jett. You know how to play some of his favorite songs.Â
He taped the first few times youâve tried playing guitar on a shitty camcorder. He sometimes replays it for you to show how much youâve improved. He also replays it just to annoy you.Â
Youâve tried teaching him basic guitar lessons a couple times but he much prefers it when you playÂ
Youâre not sure when exactly you fall for him. You think itâs when he hands you a bunch of old magazines and tabloids he found in a garage sale. He says theyâre for the zine you were making. He points to specific images and articles he thinks you might find useful and where you might paste them. Itâs so sweet and thoughtful youâre at a loss of words.Â
He doesnât know this, but you sleep in a pilfered sweatshirt he left in your room one hot afternoon and forgot about entirely. Itâs your favorite piece of clothing and smells like him.Â
You formed a band with a disgruntled 8th grader who has been held back five times, a 19 year old stoner whoâs a regular at the Chinese restaurant you work at, and your twin cousins. Peter goes to all your shows and takes photos of your guitar riffs even though the music hurts his ears. Sometimes you'll play a couple Ramones covers for his enjoyment. He has some of your photos pinned up in your room.Â
Peter asks you out by setting the record player in your room to an old rock ballad and handing you a bouquet of flowers he made from thrifted guitar picks, beads, and wire. He confesses that youâre his best friend and heâs wanted to do this for a while but was afraid of ruining your relationship. He sputters out that he thinks youâre cool and pretty. Heâs nervous but also gushing with admiration the entire time. When you say yes heâs so thrilled he hops a couple times out of joy and asks to hug you, even though youâve hugged before and have slept in the same bed. He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe.Â
jungkook was undeniably your closest friend. you two came as a pair, packaged tightly together and wrapped in clingfilm. youâd known each other since you were both ten, sat together in primary school, stealing glances at one another as though the intrigue you both kept could hardly make either of you look away. the boy had won your heart in a flash when he offered his banana milk to you after punching the horrible boy that kept bullying you, all whilst offering you a big toothy grin.
he came shopping with you, standing outside of changing rooms with crossed arms and big biceps, analysing every short little skirt and blouse. heâd sit beside you in all of your classes, helping you with your note taking, buying you special highlighters so you could make them prettier. and at parties? jungkook would stand, arm around your waist, eyes shooting daggers at any man that tried to even think about coming near you whilst he took care of you.
you see, jungkook being your best friend was indeed undeniable. the other undeniable fact? he was utterly, completely and entirely in love with you.
it would have been fine, if you werenât so clueless. you took his actions as nothing more than him being friendly, and comfortable with you and sure - you both dated other people, but heâd made it abundantly clear to every woman in his life that you came first in the peking order. naturally, this didnât make them stay long.
he had a deep, twisted sort of obsession when it came to you, constantly needing you close, wanting to hold you, smell you, caress you in anyway possible. you let him, of course - you were a sweet little thing, you always assumed it was normal despite everyone in your life questioning it. you were asked a million times a week whether you and jungkook were dating to which youâd always tilt your head, mumbling out a confused no. whenever he was asked, heâd simply smirk, and shrug his shoulders, playing the ambiguity card.
you werenât sly, however. he could see right through you. no matter how innocent youâd act, he knew you enjoyed the attention, craved it and needed it in a way that resembled himself - you were a mere reflection of one another. he had just come to understand his feelings first.
y/n and jungkook, a simple pair. you couldnât find one without the other, and despite him being the openly touchy and expressive one out of you both, the only person who thought it was friendly was you. the irony was, you knew deep down it was all a facade you were keeping up in hopes he would never stop. it felt too good to change the game now.
even now, jungkook knocked on your door at 2 in the morning, hair messy, coming from one of the libraries after a long PHD study session. you sleepily rose from your bed, already half way to dreamland as you lazily opened the door. though you werenât expecting him, you knew it could only be him knocking.
âdid i wake you?â he murmured quietly as you yawned against the door, letting him in.
he walked in, placing his bag and shoes by the entrance whilst he watched you sleepily turn back to your bedroom. âmm, but itâs okay.â
he followed you in, watching you snuggle back against your pillow. âscoot over.â
you did exactly that, shuffling, watching as he joined you in your bed, taking over a large majority of the space. you groaned a little as his hands found your hips, large fingers pressing into your skin whilst he pulled you into his chest with utter ease.
âsmell good.â you purred, curling your face into his neck. he felt himself visibly relax, breathing in the scent of your hair.
âitâs the cologne you got me.â he murmured down at you.
you groaned in response, pleased at his answer.
if anyone were to see you both right now, the last possible thing theyâd ever assume you to be was friends and yet here you were. best friends, even, through thick and thin. youâd learnt not to question jungkookâs wandering hands, how it brushed your ass every time he ran it up and down your back. he, in return, didnât question you on the way youâd steal his clothes, curling into them whilst demanding to lay on his chest, wrapped tightly in his thick biceps. a mutual understanding, if you will.
âhey, weâre still on for tomorrow right? jiminâs party?â he whispered down, causing a subtle shiver down to go down your neck.
you huffed a little. âyes. now shut up, iâm sleepy.â
he grinned at that, bunny teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he pressed quick peck to the top of your head, finding himself joining you into dreamland.
â
you could hear the boom of jiminâs house minutes before youâd even arrived, offering a look over at your best friend yejin who was a giggling mess at the back seat of the uber. the blonde haired boy was notorious for his gatherings, unlimited alcohol thanks to his connections, and a gathering of people that rivalled multiple parties combined. he was a self proclaimed man of the people, offering his large home as a service to society. or so he claimed.
you slipped out once youâd arrived, pulling the hem of your tiny little dress down. the vibe for tonight was to have fun, find someone, get drunk, get ruined all before cosying back up in your warm, big bed. it didnât feel like too much to ask for, and jiminâs party was the prime location to do it.
you followed yejin inside the too large house, immediately saying hi to people upon your arrival. within minutes, youâd both done your round, and you were finally walking up to your friends who were all mingling in the kitchen.
âhi.â you squealed at the sight of your party host, who grinned widely before giving you a big hug. âhaving fun so far?â
âjimin, this is insane.â you laughed, taehyung wrapping his arm around your shoulders. âmore than insane, should of seen what happened 20 minutes ago, some girl slapped her boyfriend for flirting with someone else.â
âyeah well, had to try out do the other one.â jimin quipped, referencing his previous gatherings whilst already preparing you a drink.
âthe fact youâve managed that is insane.â yejin grimaced whilst taking a sip of the concoction yoongi had prepared.
your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted boy stood by the wall, back pressed against the surface. a loose tshirt sat on his figure, and though it shielded you from seeing the hard panels on his body, the sheer expanse of his shoulders were enough to have your legs move towards him within seconds.
jungkook was staring at you, gaze as intense as ever. his tongue draped over his bottom lip momentarily, wetting it at the mere sight of you. âhi.â he murmured down at you, lowering his head so his lips would graze your ear just slightly.
a shiver went down your spine. your fingers reached for his stomach, clutching his top gently. âalready drinking? thought youâd wait for me.â
âbeen nursing it. donât drink that.â he moved the cup jimin had given you out of your hand, preparing one for you instead. he was possessive like that, small acts that you could never pin point.
âhm? this tastes good.â you hummed, resting against him.
his arm slipped around your waist, done too casually despite the weight of it on your body. his eyes wandered over the tiny dress you were wearing, eyebrows furrowing.
âis this new?â
you peered up. âyeah! you like it?â you twirled a little, his arm loosening slightly. âgot it today, yejin said it makes my legs look good.â
âi do like it. arenât you cold?â he asked with narrowed eyes, hand returning to the bottom of your back.
you grinned into your cup, tilting your head. âthatâs what youâre for, duh.â
at that, a smirk formed in his lips, the thought of you needing him in a way he was only more than happy to be was comforting to his obsessive brain.
the two of you muttered away, hidden away in a corner whilst your friends chatted around you. to the naked eye, you both appeared to be much more than the best friends you claimed to be. with your hands curled onto him, feeling his abs and hard chest under his clothes whilst his own were wandering up and down your back, often dipping low enough to touch your ass.
it didnât register in your head that this wasnât a normal thing. that friends shouldnât touch each other so intimately, especially not ones that were as close as you and jungkook. the mask of friendship acted as a guide for you both, offering a rope of direction despite both of you often letting go, making your own decisions that completely disregarded what was supposed to be.
âgonna go to the bathroom.â you groaned suddenly.
jungkook had been stood in front of you, leaned over so you were caged against the wall, forcing you to push his chest lightly. âwant me to come with?â
âwhat, so you can watch me piss? does that get you off?â you teased, watching as he rolled his eyes.
his tongue pushed against his cheek. âyeah, yeah, hurry up. iâll hold your drink.â
you giggled to yourself, loving how riled up heâd get at a mere poke or jab, before sliding out of his grip, feeling his fingers tighten against you before letting go. jungkook watched you walk away, greedily taking in every inch of skin he could get. from your legs to your arms, the way your ass looked so fucking good in that dress. he let out a quiet groan.
you walked up the stairs, avoiding the moans emitting from different rooms like the plague. slipping into the bathroom, you quickly did your business before looking in the mirror whilst washing your hands. the alcohol had allowed for a flush against your cheeks and your pupils were dilated, you felt a rush all over your body. tonight was supposed to be chill, but the air felt electric.
you werenât sure if it was the music, the amount of people or even the selection of drinks - but you felt slightly out of it. you shook your head, forcing yourself to stay present again before you began walking back to your best friend, almost too excitedly.
unfortunately for you, by the time you were slipping back into the kitchen, your tatted friend wasnât there anymore, with hobi letting you know heâd gone into the main foyer. you, of course, listened and snuck between multiple people, exploring the house in a bid to find jungkook.
you huffed a little, realising he wasnât there either. curse jimin, you thought, who needed a house this big anyway? your legs travelled around the expanse of the house, feeling slightly annoyed at the loss of your best friend who was usually stuck to your hip. you knew he preferred to stick together on nights like this, so you werenât sure where he could be.
your legs took you to the living room, finding him leaning towards a corner which made your head tilt slightly, walking over immediately only to be stopped in your tracks the second you realised what was going on.
he had a girl in front of him, tall and leggy, and it took you no time to figure out who it was. yuna. his on and off ex of two years, toxic as could be, the one woman in the entire world you truly couldnât stand whatsoever. unbeknownst to you, everytime youâd get into a relationship or begin seeing anyone, jungkook would return to her as a distraction, in hopes of making you jealous, to evoke any emotion he physically could. was it healthy? certainly not, but he didnât really care for anyone that wasnât you anyway.
you werenât privy to this information, which meant your disdain for the frankly horrible woman felt unfounded. you felt guilty whenever youâd think about it, knowing you didnât like her simply because she had jungkook when he felt more yours than anyone elseâs, not that you could ever discuss that with anyone. you huffed at the sight, arms crossed whilst staring right at them.
you both had made a pact. youâd broken up with your ex boyfriend a few months ago, and at the time you felt like it was potentially a mistake, but jungkook had talked you out of it. said if you donât go back, he wouldnât go back to his ex either and selfishly, you knew that was what you wanted. yeah, you might have missed your ex, but the secret possibility of having him all to yourself was too much not to indulge in. seeing him now, however, had you drowning in annoyance.
yunaâs gaze flickered over jungkookâs shoulder, noticing you stood a few metres away looking at them openly. she wasnât very fond of you either. it was hard to stomach the fact she would always be second in jungkookâs eyes, if even that, compared to the best friend he kept so closely to him. you could call and heâd drop the entire world to be by your side, so it made her bitter, naturally. seeing you stood there, visibly losing in comparison to her made a small smirk form as she tilted her head upwards to look at jungkook, her hands suddenly sliding all over his chest and shoulders.
you scoffed, deciding youâd had enough as you turned on your heel and exited the room with a grumble. if he wanted her so bad, he could have her, you didnât care. he wasnât allowed to come back to yours after though, a broken promise is still a broken promise and you held a grudge like no one else.
ânow whatâs got you frowning at a party like this?â jin questioned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, seemingly appearing out of no where as you trudged to the kitchen to get drunk.
ânothing. itâs stupid.â you shook your head.
âprobably, but if itâs upset you, letâs talk.â
you sighed, as you grabbed the bottle of vodka, making a concoction you knew would be too strong for you to handle. you were a lightweight after all. âjungkookâs in a corner getting all close with yuna.âexess
âstupid boy.â he shook his head. âare you upset because you donât like seeing them together?â he asked, leaning against the fridge, watching as yoongi and jimin walked in, seemingly with the same idea as you.
âwhat..no itâs not that.â your cheeks flushed, a cheeky grin forming on his face that jimin was beginning to rival, understanding the context of the conversation immediately. âyeah? why you getting all red then?â the younger man teased.
âshut up.â you hissed, making him throw his hands up.
âokay. letâs say for arguments sake youâre not jealous, are you really gonna let that something as silly as that ruin your night?â jin asked, bumping your hip whilst making his own drink. âyou canât let his bad decisions dictate how you feel, enjoy yourself.â
âgod. boring. donât listen to him, y/n.â jimin huffed, grabbing your arms and twirling you a little. âdonât get upset. get even.â
âhuh?â yoongi asked, eyes narrowing. âokay, feels like it goes without saying that you shouldnât listen to jimin right now.â
you were intrigued, however. âwhat do you mean?â you asked, peering at him.
âget even.â he reiterated with a smirk. âgotta play him by his own game.â
âyeah, well, itâs not like my ex is here.â you grumbled at him, taking a sip of your too harsh drink, making you wince. jin tutted, stealing it out of your hand and making you another, more appropriate one.
jiminâs smirk could have rivaled the cheshire cat, with the way it pinned to either side of his face, clearly loving this game. he knew about jungkookâs feelings for you, and about the hidden feelings you could barely admit to yourself - wasnât it time he had some fun, and made sure progress was being made?
âah, but i have something better.â he tutted, leading you out to the entrance of the kitchen so you could look out all of the people here. âso many eligible bachelors. why go for something youâre used to, when you could try something new?â
you pondered his words whilst you heard yoongi groan, taking the drink jin was preparing for you and downing it himself.
soon enough, you had found yourself the perfect man. you couldnât really remember his name, jaehoon, jaehyun, something along those lines - not that it really mattered. he was the right fit for what you needed. you flirted in a way you knew worked best, eyelashes fluttering and a few casual touches here and there, he was practically smitten by the end.
youâd even gotten up to dance, his hands travelling all over the expanse of your stomach, your hips and hair. he was letting you know exactly what he felt and what he was thinking through his eager touch. normally, youâd feel disgusted, you werenât someone that revelled in attention like this but it was hard to think when you were being guided by jealousy.
âwanna get out of here?â he whispered down at you, voice heavy with intent.
at first, you faltered, as though ice water had been splashed onto your face, suddenly aware of what you were doing. one look upwards and you noticed jungkook wasnât even around you, and for some stupid reason you couldnât rationalise, it made you angry. he broke the pact. he had you walking around the party looking for him. him and his touches, wandering hands and fleeting looks - you knew friends didnât do that, but it was jungkook. it was okay if it was him, you preferred it even, and yet here you stood, about to make the biggest mistake of your life out of pure ego.
âyeah.â you huffed a little, carried away by your thoughts.
the man in front of you couldnât believe his luck, you were easily one of the prettiest girls at the whole party and entirely out of his league so he wasnât about to waste a single minute. he took your hand, smirk big whilst leading you through the house, and towards the door.
you passed some of your friends, who were all looking at you inquisitively, managing to get to the foyer before you were so rudely stopped by a hand yanking your own away from his grip.
âwhat the fuck are you doing?â jungkook appeared, chest big and shoulders as wide as they could be.
he was inching towards the shorter man, eyes narrowed dangerously as though something completely unfathomable was taking place in front of him.
âwho are you?â his eyebrows narrowed. âlet go.â you hissed at the same time, yanking your hand out of his grip.
he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing in half confusion and annoyance. âwhat, youâre gonna leave with this guy? are you fucking stupid?â
âwhatâs it to you?â your eyes were matching his in emotion, whilst the man beside you watched you both in confusion. âlisten, man, she told me she was single..â
âyeah, well sheâs not.â he broke eye contact; facing him once more. âtouch my girl again and iâll fucking kill you.â
that was all he needed to hear; backing down immediately and all but scurrying away. jungkook was very well known, he had a presence that made most men uncomfortable, a cocktail mix of strength and anger that anyone would shy away from. it was secretly one of your favourite things about him, you were convinced he was invincible - the thought of him being able to protect you so thoroughly had butterflies erupting in your stomach.
âjungkook.â you hissed once more, anger bubbling in your stomach.
he didnât bother to respond, grabbing you by your hips and pushing you almost harshly against the wall, secretly making sure your head didnât bang. âwhat was that? leaving with some guy, you donât even know who he was.â
âwould it have been better if it was someone i knew, then?â you scoffed, hands gripping his shirt where his hardened chest sat beneath, pushing him away though he didnât budge whatsoever. stupid, concrete body.
his eyes were darker than youâd ever seen them. âyou donât fucking leave with anyone that isnât me, you hear me?â
you rolled your eyes. âyou donât get to act all innocent with me, iâm surprised youâre not upstairs with yuna right now.â
âwhat are you talking about?â
âi saw you, so donât even bother.â you huffed, pushing him by his chest once more only for him to grab your hands, pinning them to the wall above you.
âyeah? tell me what you saw, hm.â he darkly whispered down at you. âdid you hear what we were talking about, or are you jumping to conclusions?â
you wiggled slightly, his chest now all but pressed against yours. this position was entirely indecent, and if either of you were more aware of your surroundings, youâd be thankful that everyone was currently too drunk to notice you.
âyou said you wouldnât talk to her anymore, that was the pact.â you hissed. âyou promised and now youâve broken it, so i can do whatever i want, you donât get to dictate my decisions.â
he scoffed in your face, and your eyes widened lightly at the mere audacity, wiggling again against his grip. all this was doing was pushing your body tighter against him.
âyou know, if you had stuck around longer than 5 seconds you would have actually heard what we were talking about.â he all but grumbled. âshe approached me, wouldnât leave me alone, iâve spent the last 15 minutes telling her to fuck off, that iâve only got my eyes on one girl, only have time for you.â
you stopped wiggling, his words hitting you one after the other.
âimagine my fucking surprise when i try find you, only to find some fuck leading you out of this place.â his face was dangerously close to yours. âwhat were you planning, y/n? trying to get me angry? was that your game plan?â
you didnât respond, nervously keeping eye contact. your thighs were pressed against each other tightly, a sick part of you enjoying this more than anything, the way he was being a little rougher with you whilst still being protective - it made your brain sing.
âand what would you have done once you were both alone, hm? he wanted to fuck you.â he growled harshly, making you grumble under your breath. âyou think a guy like that is worth fucking?â
âokay, fine, i shouldnât have jumped to conclusions. but you still broke the pact.â you weakly pushed back, your ego too high to let him win.
jungkook knew it, knew the only reason youâd gone so far was out of jealousy and it made his heart clench harshly - it felt fucking incredible. his girl, his y/n, so bothered at the sight of another woman staking their claim on him that youâd become this blind? if only you knew the way he had shut yuna down, leaving the girl practically in tears after he explained how deeply his heart and brain were intertwined into you - that heâd take morsels from you if it meant being close to you, whilst he wouldnât even look at her twice even if sheâd offer herself whole. he knew it was cruel, but in that moment, when all he wanted to do was return to you, he hardly cared.
âyeah, i did.â he murmured after a moment, slowly easing your hands back down from the wall, now pushing them back onto his chest. he could feel your fingers pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt once more. âforgive me, baby. swear my intentions were good.â
you nibbled on your bottom lip. he was still so close, his nose bumped against yours gently, âfine.â you huffed a little, despite one of your hands drawling down to his stomach, feeling the tightness of his abs beneath.
he dipped his head so your cheeks were pressing together, his lips ghosting against your ear. ânow, stay with me for the rest of the night. next man i see touching you, iâll fuck up.â
and as you both walked away, you sported a triumph grin, not only having jungkook possessively lead you to a spot on the couch, but also have his wandering hand go from your hip to firmly grabbing your ass.
â
âhow much longer?â jungkook groaned alongside yoongi, who sat beside him, arms crossed and eyes closed.
the two men were sat within the confinements of what felt like a jail, but was actually a mere clothing department. surrounded by pretty dresses and a flourish of colours, the pair felt utterly out of place, dragged here by either girl. yoongi and yejin had a weird back and forth that had been building for years, incredibly similar to your own relationship with jungkook? the difference between you, however, was they at least tried to be subtle for the sake of appearances.
âgod, just wait, youâre both so impatient.â yejin huffed, whilst you both chatted away in your respective dressing rooms. âi donât know about this one.â you murmured, loud enough for jungkook to pick up on the slight tinge of anxiety in your voice.
âcome out, y/n.â he gently coaxed, noticing your feet from underneath nervously shuffling.
you did exactly that, however, your hair pulled up into a messy ponytail that he couldnât tear his eyes away from.
âwait let me see too!â yejin excitedly rushed out, the lilac tone of her dress catching yoongiâs attention.
jungkook couldnât look away from you. a sweet grey dress that hugged every inch of you - from where it sat on your calf to the way it dipped in at your waist. it felt like your legs went on for days, your breasts accentuated. you were perfection in a bottle, and the fact you werenât sure drove him insane.
âi really like that, actually. you look nice.â yoongi nodded in approval, yejin walking over and adjusting the straps. âoh, you are so getting this. you look hot.â
you looked over at jungkook. it was his opinion you really wanted, and you knew it wasnât healthy, but you craved his thoughts the most. he was soaking you in hungrily, eyes dark and legs parted slightly, causing you to flicker down secretly. he was enamoured by you.
âi like it.â he grumbled. âi like it too much.â
your cheeks flushed a little, pleased with your best friendâs approval. âyou sure kookie? just think this grey is too moody for a wedding, and maybe itâs too tight?â
âitâs perfect. iâm wearing black, so weâll match.â he shook his head. yejin grinned to herself before flaunting her outfit towards yoongi who was equally as enamoured.
âooh, are you wearing that suit we got together at the start of the year?â you excitedly asked, shuffling over to him. you were now in front of him, his legs parted as he leaned back in his chair, your body inbetween.
he was taking you in, openly. from your eyes to your lips, lips to your neck, neck to your boobs and downwards. he couldnât get enough.
âmm, yeah. remember you saying how much you liked it.â his hands were touching you now, on your hips, sliding over the material hungrily. âi really do.â you admitted, a small, too cheeky grin forming on your face.
yejin had returned to her dressing room now, you promptly doing the same, jungkookâs hands falling off of your body, watching the dress pool at your feet from the bottom of the door. he spread his legs a little wider, accommodating for the already growing nature of his length.
âhey, you guys joining us for dinner?â yoongi asked him quietly, watching as yejin walked out, hands playing with her hair. âdunno man, might have to pass, sheâs kinda tired so thought iâd take her home.â
he nodded, watching as you too came out. jungkook admired you whilst you both said your goodbyes, soon enough standing in front of him, in between his legs slightly, like before. âyou donât have to come with me if youâre hungry, kookie, i donât mind making my own way back.â
he scoffed, whilst standing, height towering over you immediately. âgotta take my girl home, hm?â
you didnât want to admit the pounding that formed in your chest at his words and the ease in which he said them in. he took a hold of your hand, both protective and possessive whilst leading you to the counter, not sparing you a single glance as he paid for your dress. you had known him long enough to know heâd sooner die than let you pay for anything, another thing that had you kicking your legs and screaming into your pillow.
âwait, can we go to yours instead? just remembered my house is a mess and i donât wanna deal with that right now.â groaning into his arm whilst you walked beside him, peering up with big, hopeful eyes.
jungkook wanted to scream. as if he could say no to you.
âmm, sure. you left your stuff from last time too in case you want to shower.â
you grinned wide at the confirmation. âhm, maybe iâll have a bath.â
within the next half hour, you were in jungkookâs bath, soapy bubbles covering your naked body whilst you hummed in delight, candles littered everywhere to create some sort of ambience. you loved coming to his place, it was much bigger and warmer than your own apartment. his scent was also everywhere, which made your brain keen.
âyou hungry?â jungkook called out from the kitchen, prepared to make you a whole ass meal at your mere confirmation.
you were away with the fairies, too cozied up in the warm water and scented bubbles to even begin to hear him. jungkook frowned, realising you hadnât responded, making him walk towards the closed door, knocking lightly and asking again.
in return, all he got was a slight hum, as though you were confused of what he was asking. without thinking, the door was already being pushed open, revealing you.
your hair was pulled up in a cute little bun, whilst your knees propped up in the water, the only sliver of skin jungkook could see whilst the rest of your body lay hidden underneath the expanse of bubbles. he watched as you peered up at him lazily, as though this was the most normal thing in the world - as though friends were supposed to walk in on each other naked.
âwhat did you say?â you murmured up at him whilst exhaling a little, seemingly content.
his lip quirked upwards slightly, whilst his cock thumped against the expanse of his boxers and jeans angrily. if you shifted, just slightly, just a littleâŠ
âasking if youâre hungry.â his voice has become rough, causing your eyes to flicker over to him, before slowly trailing down, noticing the way he was evidently hard.
in all honesty, youâd noticed it constantly. whether it was you waking up to his morning wood pressed tightly against you, or whether it was at parties where youâd sit on his lap only to be left with a core aching for something you werenât sure youâd ever get.
ânot really. this feels too good to leave.â a sigh left your lips dramatically, making him crouch beside you, his hand dipping in the water slightly to feel the temperature. âthat does feel good.â he confirmed.
âi even put the salt thing you bought for me. feels so nice.â
if jungkook was any other man, he wouldnât have been able to pick up on the secretive tone you were using. but, alas, he knew you better than you knew yourself, which meant he could recognise the teasing tilt to your voice with ease. you were enjoying this. you liked seeing him rock hard for you, and judging from the way your eyes kept flickering down, you were just as needy.
âyeah? mind if i join you, baby? wanna see whatâs got you like this.â he was suddenly so close to your face; watching the way your pupils were dilating, your eyelids hooding whilst you offered a little nod, almost delirious.
hungrily, you watched him. he discarded his top, his jeans. he made sure your eyes were connected as he was left with his boxers, his length imprinted against the thin material, watching the way your gaze flickered down almost hungrily.
âmake some room.â
it was though you were taken out of your trance, slowly pulling yourself to the corner of the massive bathtub whilst he himself got in, his boxers sat on the floor of the bathroom. jungkook rested against the opposite side of you, his back against the tub whilst you did the same, the bubbles mostly hiding you.
him, however - no he was a different story. his cock sat heavy against his stomach, pink and long, thicker than anything youâd ever seen before. it looked angry, the way it was twitching, hard and begging to be touched, visible to his sweet best friend.
he watched as you stared, little gasps leaving your mouth as you hungrily took him in. you werenât hiding it, something he appreciated greatly.
the problem with your shared dynamic was that neither of you were shy about how you felt, making it clear to the world whilst never discussing it to one another, leaving you in this tension filled relationship where you both wanted each other in a way that felt stifling.
jungkook watched the way your chest and rose and fell, hints of your pebbled nipples coming to the surface before being hidden away once more.
âyou were right. does feel good.â he casually murmured, wet hands running through his hair to keep it out of his face, as though his cock wasnât leaking pre cum in front of you.
you werenât sure what to say, core thumping and begging for something, anything.
he smirked slightly. âbut colder than i expected.â your eyes looked up at his voice, finally listening again. âc-cold?â
âyeah. warm me up?â he tilted his head, watching as your body moved before you could even think.
you moved towards him, water sloshing, not that either of you cared, so your back was now suddenly against his chest, your naked bodies curling into one another with ease. your nudity wasnât an issue for you, and certainly not for him, but the second you moved, you hadnât realised this meant the bubbles were now moving away from you too.
your visibly naked body pressed against him, whilst his arm curled around you. he could see your breasts, the way they jolted with every move, causing his cock to twitch much to your non-secret enjoyment.
âfeels better.â he breathed down at you, air tickling your ear, making you curl further into him. your hands were against him, one on his chest and the other at his side under the water, but your gaze had fallen directly onto his cock once more.
âpretty.â you whispered up at him. his ego was beyond anything at the minute. what do you mean his pretty little best friend was perched, naked on his chest, admiring his fat length?
he nuzzled your nose, almost condescendingly with his own, eyes dark and dilated to match your own. âyeah? you like it?â
you nodded, curling into him further whilst one of your hands drew circles against his stomach, dangerously close to where it sat. you werenât as innocent as you looked, and jungkook fucking loved it.
his own hand curled tighter against you, fingers touching just above where your own pussy sat. âbeen like this since the dress shop. you looked so pretty.â
the way he was cooing at you had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small grin beginning to form. âiâm happy you liked my dress.â
âi fucking loved it.â he scoffed, drawing his own circles against you. âalways look so beautiful.â
the ending of his sentence was whispered down at you, as though they were words too big for either of you to hear. it did nothing to stop your grin from growing, giggling a little into him as you nuzzled closer to his chest, your fingers brushing against his cock more openly.
you watched as it twitched, whilst his own hand was beginning to fall forwards, almost cupping your heat entirely.
âkookieâŠâ you began, nibbling down your bottom lip as you nervously looked up at him. âcan..can i?â
instead of responding, jungkook took his free hand and took your own, pulling it up to his lips to plant pepper kisses all over it. your eyes were batting up at him, enjoying the affection and attention beyond anything you could ever describe, before watching him take your hand, and slowly wrap it around his dick.
your little gasp nearly had him bucking up into your hand. the way it couldnât wrap around fully, your fingers much smaller than his and yet you wasted no time, beginning to pump him slowly, up and down.
âyouâre so thick.â your voice was filled with awe, and again, his ego felt like it was about to sky rocket. jungkook wanted to close his eyes, relish the pleasurable feeling of you exploring him for the first time like he had dreamt of on so many occasions. and yet, he couldnât look away from you, the way your eyes were hooded and your hands were moving up and down in pure intrigue. it made him want to ruin you.
âmy turn.â he whispered in your ear, making you shiver. his hand that was grazing against you, now moved purposefully. jungkook ran two fingers up your slit, groaning a little at how wet you felt. despite the water growing colder each passing minute, you both felt on fire.
you let out a breathy moan, head pressing against jungkookâs cheeks as your legs opened up for him, the two of you peering up at one another.
âprettiest pussy iâve ever seen.â he huffed through a moan, your hand moving up and down his length. your faces were turned to one another, breaths mingling as your lips sat dangerously close.
god, you were so beautiful. jungkook couldnât get over the hazy look in your eyes, the way your gaze only ever looked away to look at your hand pumping him, or his own fingers moving against you.
a loud moan left your lips once you felt jungkook push a finger in, deep and full. he wasnât waiting for you to adjust, merely pumping it with a curled edge, hitting you exactly where you needed it. your forehead now touched his own as you adjusted your body, giving him more access whilst you too sped up your actions.
neither of you could look away, pleasuring one another as though it was the most natural thing on earth, both yearning to kiss each other and yet there still seemed to be an air of uncertainty. soon enough, he added another finger, watching as your mouth fell open and eyes shut tight.
âcmon, baby, want your eyes on me.â he whispered against you, pressing too gentle kisses to your face, making you whimper and nod whilst doing exactly that.
your hands were sloppy, almost unsure of yourself as the pleasure raked up and down your body. fortunately for you, jungkook was of the opinion you didnât need to ever work, the concept both foreign and offensive to his mind. his hand darted out, taking a hold of your own on his cock and guided you, taking control of you whilst also fingering you, actions growing harsher.
âfuck. a pussy like this needs to be ruined. look at you; just begging to be stretched out.â his words were pounding in your brain. âbet you canât think unless youâre leaking cum.â
you stretched your legs impossibly wider, water sloshing around you as you nodded along to his words, feeling them in the pit of your stomach. you wanted that so badly.
âjungkook, i canât..â the moans you were letting out were loud and bouncing off of the walls of the bathroom, whilst you both grew more and more erratic.
his fingers ploughed into you, in and out, curling right against that singular spot that had you arching your back into him whilst he helped you fist his cock.
âyou can.â he hissed, biting your jaw, leaving hickeys against your neck and jawline as though he had every right. âwanna feel you cum for me, sweet girl. hm? so good to me, just letting my ruin your little pussy. who does it belong to?â
âyou.â you responded almost instantly, back arching as you felt something grow in the pit of your stomach. âall yours, kookie, always.â
he nodded, forcing you to look at him as he too could feel his orgasm approaching. your words were like a drug to him, feeding ever warped belief heâd ever thought. you were both on the edge, so close, so ready to break, feeling higher than ever in one anotherâs arms.
he pulled you in suddenly, fingers leaving your core and dropping your hand away from his own cock. you wanted to whine until you realised what he was doing, positioning your body on top of him so he could slide his cock between your slit, pushing the tip into your tight hole.
âyouâre going to cum on my cock, y/n. you hear me? gonna fill you up, make sure it fucking sticks.â his words were so dark, so possessive and yet they bounced around your brain in mere pleasure.
your body was shaking, he was a tight fit, but he wasted no time, only managing to fit the tip and an extra inch inside before roughly thrusting inside of you, building on both of your impending orgasms. if you thought his fingers felt good, the painful stretch of only a part of his cock had you screaming into his face. he couldnât stop, his hands harsh and leaving bruises on your ass as he clutched, chasing both of your orgasms. neither of you were thinking clearly, which caused jungkook to lean even closer and press his lips tightly to yours.
your brain blanked.
the movement of his lips, the way your mouths moved in unison hungrily, both of your hands moving against one another was enough to finally push you over the edge.
your legs shook whilst jungkook came too, a loud grunt leaving his lips as ropes of cum painted your walls, whilst you cried out in pleasure, the too harsh coil bursting all over your body.
you felt like you were on cloud nine, and once you had finally come down for your high, you realise you were perhaps out out of it for longer than youâd realised. your back was against jungkookâs, his arm around your waist whilst the shower head above washed both of your bodies. your legs felt weak and hard to stand on, but his grip was tight and made you steady.
âyou okay?â he gently murmured down at you, with a small kiss to your forehead, causing you to nod with a little curl. âi feel so good.â you hummed, aching core a reminder of his love for you.
âgood. did so good for me, sweet girl. fingered all that cum back in you too, so itâs all inside.â
his words would have scared any other girl, and yet here you were, quietly giggling to yourself like he had just said the most romantic thing on earth.
you reached over so you were turned in his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling entirely dwarfed in this position and yet it was exactly what you needed. the grin on jungkookâs lips rivalled that of a cheshire cat.
âcmon, letâs get you fed.â
the rest of the day was spent with you sat in jungkookâs arms, continuing your usual routine. youâd always been touchy, holding one another, nuzzling in one anotherâs neck and cuddling but this? no, this was completely different.
he had you sat on the counter whilst he cooked for you, shirtless, feeding you spoonfuls whilst he kept a hand on you at all times. later, he fed you from his lap, making sure you were full and satiated. once you were done, you both popped on a movie, watching until you felt sleepy, his arms carrying you to his bed. you slept good that night, feeling protected as you curled into jungkookâs arms, biceps wrapped around you and his fat cock hidden away in your gummy walls.
though neither of you rushed to talk about what had happened, you almost didnât feel the need to. jungkook was yours, he always had been, and yeah you didnât have a label, but you werenât sure anything could accurately describe what he was to you anyway.
you fell asleep in the arms of the only man youâd ever truly cared about, body and soul, heart and mind.
â
you loved weddings more than anything else on earth. to be around people expressing joy for shared love felt pure in the sweetest of ways, and it was always an honour you held deep in your heart whenever you were invited.
you sat on a table with all of your friends. jungkook sat behind you and jimin to your right, the circular table wide and chatty, laughing with one another and clapping your hands excitedly when namjoon made his toast.
ever since that night with jungkook, things had changed. not in a bad way, oh contraire - his lips would often find your own in a sweet embrace, fleeting but gentle, his hands wandering inappropriately in their usual fashion but now it held more weight. youâd lost count on how many times heâd cum inside of you, it slowly becoming an addiction for you - you couldnât function if he wasnât inside you in some way. it was like a switch had shifted in both of your brains and it made you realise you didnât want to pretend anymore, you liked his attention, yearned for it, wanted more and more and more.
you hadnât seen him for a few days which felt like a lifetime, but your exams and your part time job kept you away from him, not that this was a deterrent. heâd send you videos you know youâd giggle at, or facetime you like he typically would. it felt different, the air had changed, and you found yourself longing for something you knew you could have.
jungkook had picked you up from yejinâs apartment, some of the other guys coming with too so you could all attend together, and he could have sworn youâd stolen his breath then and there. heâd seen you dressed for parties, or even half naked, but it didnât compare to seeing you now. elegance dripped from every inch of you, your dress from the shop heâd bought you adorned on your body and your hair pulled back in a sweet bun, wispy pieces adorning your face. he was wearing the suit you loved so much, and the both of you couldnât help but grin at one another.
on the ride there, the both of you sat in the back of yoongiâs car. his hand was against your thigh, possessive and meaningful and you found yourself playing with his fingers almost excitedly. you liked how visibly he wanted the world to know you belonged to him. made you feel good.
walking in, you werenât sat together for the ceremony, with jungkook being further down in the row whilst you and yejin sat separately from the boys, much to his disappointment. this proved beneficial when he realised his position allowed for direct access to you, watching you greedily as he took you in. he couldnât help but notice how many of the groomsmen were eyeing you up, and it made him clench his teeth but he remained quiet. a problem heâd deal with later.
the bride soon walked in, a vision in white, and jungkook watched the way your eyes utterly lit up, a little gasp leaving you. his gaze was hungry, obsessive, he couldnât look away even if he wanted to - the way your small hands were clutched by your chest as though the mere sight of the bride had hearts pooling at your stomach. you wanted to be a bride? done, heâd get you a ring first thing tomorrow.
he was being quiet tonight, and despite now being sat behind you at the table, heâd not talked to you much. you were a slight over thinker, so you were assuming it might have been the environment, maybe he was uncomfortable at weddings? he didnât seem uptight or anything, merely contemplative, and he was still being touchy so you assumed it was about something else as opposed to you.
silly little you had no idea that jungkook was thinking of the next steps. heâd propose to you, obviously, the title of boyfriend and girlfriend was insulting to him and heâd never stoop so low than to claim you in such a way. secondly; youâd get married, and heâd buy you a big house - he was already lined up for a high paying job that he was about to start, and he was pretty comfortable considering his familyâs fortune. did you want a lot of kids? lord knew jungkook would give you a hundred if thatâs what you wanted, or heâd live a life solely focused on you if thatâs what you preferred. he knew you well enough to know you liked children, always cooing and complaining about baby fever to him as though he wasnât correctly equipped to heal you from it.
after a while, you simply couldnât take it anymore, pulling at his sleeve a little, forcing him to look at you whilst everyone ate.
âyou okay?â you tilted your head at him, wispy hair falling into your face.
fuck, jungkook thought. you were beauty defined.
âyeah, iâm all good.â he confirmed, taking your tugging hand and intertwining his fingers with them underneath the table. âsorry, just been lost in thought.â
âwhatâre you thinking about?â you asked curiously.
he peered over your features, the way your big eyes were blinking up at him as though he held the answers to the universe.
he pressed a little kiss to your hand. âabout how pretty youâd be in a white dress.â
you gasped almost immediately, catching the attention of yejin and seokjin who sat beside jungkook, before they looked away. you couldnât tear your eyes away from him, chest beating hard at the insinuation of his words, gaze dropping to the way his lips quirked slightly at your reaction.
âwhy..â you cleared your throat. âwhy are you thinking about that?â
his thumb was tracing patterns against your skin, leaning closer to you for a minute. âi always think about you. feels fitting for the setting.â
your heart was beating. was he teasing you? you didnât even need to think to know the concept of jungkook being your future husband was something akin to having heaven on earth. a man utterly, entirely obsessed with you, showering you with love and affection whilst being a six foot something adonis. the fact he was your closest, most cherished best friend since childhood only added a little cherry on top.
âshut up.â you pushed him lightly, but the dusting of pink in your cheeks was enough for anyone to notice.
soon enough, the wedding party actually began, with namjoon forcing all of you to dance and have fun, laughs being heard all around the room as you and other guests danced the night away. you knew you were lucky for having such a sweet circle of friends, all caring and uplifting, unafraid to make fools of themselves in the pursuit of joy.
you slipped away, grabbing yourself a champagne flute and heading out to the open balcony to get some air. you were having the time of your life, and despite having jungkook in your mind all of the time, it felt refreshing to be around such love whilst thinking of him. your best friend. your man.
a small smile formed on your face as you found yourself wanting to scream out loud, feeling so many happy emotions, humming a little as the nippy night air chilled the heat on your body, your exposed arms forming goosebumps.
âgod, itâs loud out there.â a voice chirped to your left, making you gasp a little as you looked over.
a tallish man; blonde, green eyes. he was lanky, and resembled one of your exes. on any other occasion, youâd be ready to admit that he was undoubtedly your type, but at the minute, the only thing that could begin to occupy even one moment of your thoughts were that of big boba eyes and a bunny smile.
âyou startled me.â you breathed, letting out a light laugh.
he grinned. âsorry.â he turned to you fully. âtoo much for you too?â
âjust wanted some air. got myself a drink, so, canât complain.â
he laughed in response with a little nod. you found yourself chatting to the stranger, finding out he was a close friend of the groom, was currently working as a lawyer, financially responsible, even had a dog. on paper, this man was the total catch and the fact he was being so openly responsive with you, it didnât take a genius to figure out he clearly desired you.
however, you felt absolutely nothing.
sure he was attractive, but hardly anything could pull you away from the warmth jungkook provided. he felt like home. twisted, warped, dark and yet it felt safe, something you knew no one else could replicate. heâd known you since you were in pigtails, held your hand through every single thing youâd ever experienced and still stood tall. if not him, then who?
âokay, iâm just gonna ask. gotta shoot my shot, so..â the green eyed man, nate as youâd come to learn, turned to you. âare you single?â
your cheeks flushed almost instantly. you had a sneaky suspicion his interest was blooming from that angle and yet assumed the best. âoh..uh, not really.â
âthat doesnât seem like a confident no?â he tilted his head.
you bit your lip, a slight smile forming. âguess itâs complicated.â
âa girl like you shouldnât be wasted on complicated. you deserve a clear answer.â
you peered up at him, nibbling on your lip and contemplating. âi know what i mean to him, weâre best friendsâŠweâre more than anything i can describe, really. i donât even know what youâd call us..i guess thatâs why it feels complicated.â
nate took a swing of his drink. âwhat a lucky son of a bitch.â
you giggled at that, before feeling a heavy warmth against your back, thick fingers clutching the side of your hip and breath tickling the back of your neck, a single kiss being pressed against it. your brain swirled with content, recognising the touch almost instantly, as though you were tethered.
âvery lucky.â jungkook all but purred into your skin, a small and almost shy smile forming at your lips.
the man beside you instantly understood this man to be the exact one you had spoken about, and the sight of you together, the way you both melted into each others touch floored him for a moment. you were right - this was the epitome of complicated. as a stranger peering in from the outside, he wasnât sure what heâd call you. boyfriend girlfriend felt foolish, anything more would be too little, but the way you were reacting and touching one another felt fated.
he took his leave, the once disappointment that swirled in his stomach quickly replaced by an understanding - you were each otherâs person. he didnât stand a fucking chance.
âyou scared him away.â you teased, whilst jungkook turned you in his arms, looking down at you with arms locked around your waist. âbad dog.â
âyeah, i guess i did.â he hummed. âbeen doing that with every man that comes your way for years. some slip through.â
you giggled. he wasnât joking. not that you needed to know.
he twirled a strand of your hair. âyou seem contemplative.â
âis a girl not allowed to think?â
âhm. i encourage it.â hands slowly slipped up to the small of your back. âtell me your thoughts?â
you bit your lip.
âwhat are we?â you asked quietly, as though afraid youâd break the peace in the quiet you shared with him.
jungkook didnât falter, though. not that you expected him to, but you knew that it was an age long question that made most people uncomfortable. it was about time you realised that jungkook wasnât like most people, and he hadnât been for the past 15 years youâd known him.
he tilted his head slightly, so that your eyes would meet his directly.
âyou are everything.â he simply responded. âi feel like anything i label you as is too small and it feels insulting, but iâll take anything you give me.â
you nibbled further, nodding. âi know.â your voice came out a whisper. âiâve always liked you to be honest. i guess i just put our friendship first because youâre my best friend, you mean so much to me.â
your admission was sweet, and he could feel it in the depths of his soul.
his finger reached up, tilting your head back gently and pressing a small kiss to your jaw. âi feel a lot more than like for you, y/n. think youâd run for the hills if you truly knew.â
âi wouldnât.â you breathed out, pulling at his shirt, tugging. âwanna hear it. you can tell me.â
jungkook stared down at you.
âyou are the only thing i ever think about.â his finger under your chin was now caressing your cheek. you were so delicate. âmorning, afternoon, evening. i feel physically sick if i donât see you, donât touch you or talk to you. your voice alone feels healing.â
you breathed out a shaky breath of air.
âremember our pact? i donât talk to yuna, you donât talk to your dumb fuck ex.â you nodded.
âonly reason i ever entertained her was because i couldnât stomach the thought of him being around you, getting to hold you and kiss you. even now, i feel angry, feel sick even thinking about it ever being a reality.â
âjungkook..â you all but gasped out.
âi know itâs fucked up. i know itâs not normal, but my brain is warped. iâm obsessed with you, felt this way ever since we were kids and itâs just gotten worse and worse and worse. but i donât care, baby. youâre it for me and iâm spending my life making sure you feel every bit of that, i donât care if it means i have to tear this world and make a new one for you.â
your heart was beating out of your chest as you peered up at him, hands shaky and lips parted.
âyou, y/n, are mine. iâm yours too.â he nodded. âso call me your boyfriend, or whatever you want, because soon enough, iâll be standing up there with you walking down the aisle all pretty in white.â
he brought you closer.
âand even then, when you call me your husband, iâll feel fucking sick. because itâs a cheap comparison for what i feel for you, what i wanna be for you - youâre one half of me, and iâll never make you feel any less.â
peering into jungkookâs eyes, you saw a swirl of two things. love, undoubtedly, which swam in pools of ebony brown, curling around his iris and hugging the whites of his eyes as though it was the most natural thing on earth. behind it, bigger, stronger even, sat infatuation - deadly, all encompassing.
if you were a better woman, youâd run for the hills, recognise him as the apex predator whilst identifying yourself as his ideal prey. unfortunately for you, every line of obsession that made up jungkookâs entire being was matched within your own. you were every inch of what he was to you, you felt the exact same emotions, the same need, the same awe, the same primal want that you couldnât explain to anyone else.
he was yours, yours alone and youâd never let him forget it.
you were both leaning in, about to kiss, reaching a new high and understanding when your name was called out from inside the building. within seconds, it seemed you were pulled away out onto the dance floor where the bride was ready to toss her bouquet, your figure hidden amongst the other excited women around you.
you turned, your intention to simply watch as red petals flew in the air, cascading through the crowd and landing gently within your hands, brushing your fingers gently until they found a home in your embrace.
jungkook watched from the balcony, small smirk forming as he too clapped alongside everyone else in the room.
figures, you thought, catching his gaze as you inhaled the scent of the fresh roses. even luck knew where you belonged. captured tightly against harsh thorns, possessive and rough - no way out with no will to find one.
a young man returns to a small town he hasn't seen in years, and a house he hasn't lived in since before the last president was born, only to find that a stray cat has given birth to kittens in his closet.
pairing:Â vampire!jeongguk x nerdy f veterinarian!reader (with a special interest in the science and biology aspect of the supernatural lol)
genre:Â sorta scifi-ish, fluff, minor angst, some smut later on
"Yes," Nayeon argues, thrusting the bag of chips further at you. "Try them."
"I saw you all up in Captain's lice-infested fur without gloves and not even wash your hands before you dipped them in there. I'm good."
She rolls her brown eyes, leaning back in her chair. "He does not have lice."
"Yeah, anymore."
"Exactly," she says, popping another chip in her mouth. "So, remind me what the problem is?"
It's your turn to roll your eyes. Throwing a quick glance at the wall-mounted clock, you jump to your feet, seeing that you're already one minute late.
"Shoot, I gotta go."
"Come hang with me later if you get a moment," she encourages, wiping her hand on her scrubs. "I'll be in O.R. two."
You pick up the chart from the table, backing toward the door while skimming the first lines to make sure it's the correct one. "Noted."
The door to the break room shuts behind you, and you head out toward the waiting area, nose-deep in the chart that you've already read twice before. A limping cat is who you're about to examine.
"Lilith?" you call, lifting your head to scan the clients all waiting their turn. Which is one person, sitting in one of the green, padded chairs with a small blanket-covered pet carrier in the chair beside him. He's dressed in a thick black hoodie and jeans; such a modern-guy outfit for what he claims to be.
He stands up, almost apologetic straight off the bat. But you can't help it, you gulp and take an instinctive step back, lowering the chart.
Still, your eyes land on the carrier. If the cat is limping, it still needs help. But you don't feel comfortable being alone with him anymore. Even through the thick fabric of the hoodie, he's beyond muscular, and the fabric dips and stretches over those muscles, accentuating his build even more. Superhuman or not, you wouldn't stand a chance.
It was both traumatic and heartless, what he did. Traumatic because he physically prevented you from leaving, even covering your mouth to stop you from screaming. Heartless because you trusted him enough to tell him about your fascination and the story behind your paper, and yet he found it funny to scare you by pretending to be a vampire. He knew very well how people made fun of you for it, yet he did it too, even taking it probably three or so steps further. It made you see him in a completely different light than the golden hue of his chandelier.
"Another vet will be with you in a minute," you mumble.
"Wait," he says as you turn to leave, and for some reason... you pause. Those big, dark eyes of his are so hard to ignore when they seem regretful.
"There's no need. I made up a reason to come and see you because I wanted to talk. Apologize."
You turn back, raising your eyebrows. "You took a nursing cat from her kittens just to talk?"
"No, she's at home," he says, shaking the carrier almost comically to prove its emptiness.
Looking around the otherwise bare room, you fiddle with the chart in your hands.
Any regular man would plead his case, try to persuade you to hear him out. You can't say whether that's inherently good or bad, just that Jeongguk doesn't. He stands there, earnest-looking eyes awaiting your decision.
You think. The clinic is a whole other setting than the bar, and you're not alone, even if it might seem like it at the moment. Nayeon, Momo, and Yoongi are all somewhere in the building, and you know for a fact that Namjoon should be in exam room three right about now. One scream and someone will come running.
"Okay," you nod, nerves on high alert as you gesture for him to follow you. "Come with me."
He returns your nod and walks toward you, carrier in hand. You lead the way in silence, passing room after room until you reach one at the end of the hallway. It's a standard examination room: white walls, grey linoleum floor, and an adjustable exam table in the center.
Jeongguk walks through the open door, and you hold your breath as he passes you. He places the carrier on the table, and you take your spot just inside the door, leaning back against the small counter beneath the cupboards lining one of the walls. The door is left wide open, a clear warning not to try anything. No one is close enough to hear a spoken conversationâor to see insideâbut you won't have any problem notifying your coworkers if you need help.
You look at him. It's been... almost two weeks since you saw him at the bar, you think. Maybe a week and a half. He looks just the same, maybe softer, and you'll admit that you like the way he dresses and carries himself, even if he kinda freaks you out. It's so effortless, so natural and laid-back. Who are you kiddingâyou love everything about him, at least visually.
"I wanted to apologize," he says, scratching his neck. "Out of all the things I am... I'm mostly just an idiot."
His smile is a sad one. "I think that you're pretty cool. And since I know that people have been undeservedly harsh toward you, I wanted to show you. Let you know that you were right, you know? And since you said you wanted to meet one."
You let him talk, listening to his low voice even though any sane person would kick him out.
"But I was drunkâand not supposed to tell you anyway, especially in such a rushed mannerâand I didn't quite realize what I was doing until I'd already done it. I'm sorry. But you were never in any danger."
The thoughts whirl in your head, and you move your nails over the countertop in a thoughtless, repetitive pattern, tracing a subconscious square. What are you supposed to be focusing on?
You clear your throat, inspecting the cat anatomy poster on the wall. "You're saying that vampires can get drunk?" you mumble. "On alcohol?"
Jeongguk chuckles.
"Yeah," he says, and his smile is no longer sad but something between hopeful and careful. "I had what would be around four liters of hard liquor within the span of an hour. It wears off quickly."
Biting your lip, you try not to look at him directly. You're definitely not sure you believe him. Yeah, you saw the fangs and definitely noticed how he seemed to hold you in place with supernatural strength, even for a buff dude, but... a vampire? A vampire? You might be crazy, but you're not insane. And do you believe that he didn't realize that he was scaring the bejesus out of you?
However...
A vampire getting drunk would mean a metabolism capable of processing all sorts of things like carbs and...fermented yeast. It also implies that a vampiric brain could be affected by alcohol. Maybe not by much, if what he claimed to have drunk hadn't landed him in the hospital.
His metabolism would also have to be... crazy fast. Would that apply to all things consumed? Just how much blood would a vampire truly require? And would a vampire not ever risk waterâor fluid, reallyâpoisoning? Four liters of anything in the span of an hour is a lot. Say that vampires have extreme metabolisms and do regularly consume liquidâbloodâin such quantities... the iron alone wouldâ
"Anyway," he starts, his voice a tad more serious. "I just wanted to stop by and tell you how sorry I am. As some sort of... apology gift, if you ever have any questions for me, I'll do my best to answer them. Although I understand if you're not up for that."
Nodding slowly, you watch as he takes the carrier from the table and, with one last apologetic smile, leaves the room. You don't say anything because you don't have the words for the things you're thinking. Padding quietly halfway down the hall and listening closely, you hear him pay for the visit at the reception desk, politely telling Momo that it was a false alarm when she comments on the brevity of the visit.
It's all you think about the rest of the day, no less as you scrub your hands thoroughly, all the way up to your elbows.
"So, since he's already over 50 kilos, he's not..."
"The best candidate?" you finish Nayeon's sentence, looking through the glass at the dog laid up on the operating table. Most of him is hidden beneath sterile blue drapes, only a rectangle cut out to expose his shaved and cleaned hip.
"Yeah. A lot of weight on those joints... But he's young, and if I'm gonna try this approach, it might as well be him."
"Is it bilateral?"
"Yeah, unfortunately. Left hip is moderately dysplastic, right is severe."
You take extra care, scrubbing around and under your nails. "Are you doing both hips? If this one works out, that is?"
"We'll see. One surgery and one day at a time," Nayeon says, and for the first time this afternoon, she lets her cheerfully optimistic façade slip a little. "Hopefully, this works and takes the pressure off quite a bit. Maybe it'll be enough to just do the worst one."
"Yeah. Done?"
She nods, stepping away from the faucet andâwith her hands in the airâwalks through the open door into the O.R., where a veterinary technician waits. You follow, keeping your own hands lifted and sterile until the tech can help you get dressed in the surgical gown and gloves.
Like always, Nayeon demonstrates incredible skill as she operates, and you make sure to tell her so while watching closely, always wanting to learn from others' approaches. But now and then, your gaze catches on her bloody gloves, and your thoughts drift.
You're not gonna go and see him. Of course you're not. You know that vampires don't exist. But even so, going would be the dumbest thing you could do because he's either a lunatic who pretends to be (or maybe even believes himself to be) a vampire, or he is one. A creature who, presumably, lives on the blood of your kind. You couldn't possibly do anything dumber.
It's eight p.m., and the rain is beating down hard as you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, waiting nervously. A second later, the door finally opens, and you can tell that he didn't expect to see you.Â
After all, you waited two whole days.Â
The first thing that inevitably (and idiotically) crosses your mind is how cozy he looks. And handsome, but that's a given.
A black strand of hair hangs attractively across his forehead, the rest of his dark tresses voluminous in that way only handsome, fit young men seem to manage without trying. He's wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, its loose fit doing surprisingly little to hide his physique.
"There's a number of people who know where I am," you inform quietly, looking up at him.
He nods and, without a word, opens the door wider to let you in. You wait for him to retreat a little, not wanting to be chest to chest in the relatively small hall.
"Also," you add as you step inside, watching him stop to turn back toward you. "If you're just... pranking me for shits and giggles, well... then you're an ass, and it's not funny. I also don't know if I believe you."
"I'm not. Pranking you, that is," he assures.
You stay where you are, unmoving just inside the door with one hand still on the handle and the other clutching the strap of your small cross-body bag. You haven't closed the door completely yet, the sound of rain hitting the concrete steps outside still clear. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"I showed you my teeth?"
You lick your lips. "Could be prosthetics. I imagine someone obsessed enough with vampires to get prosthetic teeth would find someone like me tempting to fuck with."
"I can show you again?" he offers. At least he doesn't seem too offended. "I'll answer your questions and show you anything you want."
One part of you jumps with excitement; another narrows its eyes in suspicion. "Say you're actually... you know... Why would you tell me about it, though? I thought you said you weren't supposed to?"
"Like I said. I thought it'd be fun to show you. At this point, I also kinda want to make up for what I did."
You still don't quite get it. Sure, you understand what he's saying, but if vampires truly exist, they've (somewhat) managed to stay hidden. Would he risk telling a human just because it would be fun?
"And," he says, smiling a smile that definitely has a sort of... edge to it. Almost cheeky, although you're not sure if it's intentional or if you're simply seeing him in a different light. "No offense, but I don't think anyone would believe you if you told them."
Meeting his eyes, your heart skips a beat. That's both true and definitely enough to snap you back to reality. You're alone with this man, who claims to be a dangerous creature, and whatever happensâas long as you at least live to tell the taleâno one would believe you.
You close your eyes for a brief second, taking a deep breath, and then you're shutting the door slowly behind you.
"We can sit in the living room," Jeongguk suggests, turning to lead the way.
But there's one more thing.
"Just... if you're telling the truth," you start, watching him stop and look back at you again. "Don't hurt me."
Almost expecting him to laughâmaybe even for your old classmates to jump out from their hiding spots and double over in laughterâyou're surprised to see him still looking genuine.
"I won't touch you. I promise."
You search his face, trying to find any clue that might reveal other plans, but find nothing. It's a risk, following him, but you still let out your breath and bend down to remove your shoes.
Quietly, he leads you into the house. "I don't have any... I don't know, snacks or drinks besides water. Well, except for blood, but I'm guessing that's not very tempting? I wasn't expecting any human guests."
"You didn't think I'd show?" you ask, raising a careful eyebrow at him from behind. It's not that you take his lack of snacks personallyâyou really don'tâbut you find it surprising that he thought you'd be able to stay away.
"No? I mean, I hoped, but I get why you wouldn't."
"Curiosity killed the cat. I'm just hoping satisfaction really brought it back," you chuckle, still very much nervous. "Can I see? The... blood?"
It feels weird to ask, but if anything, that's good evidence, isn't it? Who else would keep blood on hand? Well... Maybe a vampire-obsessed freak, actually.
"Uh, yeah," he says, like the question surprises him. "The kitchen is this way."
Even though the fireplace and main source of heat is in the other direction, you're feeling the homey warmth through the jacket you have yet to remove. For obvious reasons, you don't want to get too comfortable. Jeongguk hasn't commented on it either. Surely, he must realize it too.
The kitchen is almost exactly what you'd expect from a house like this. It's old, matching the elegant decor of the rest of the house. However, there is a somewhat out-of-place, modern-looking microwave on the counter, and a shiny, tall fridge, very quietly humming against the wall.
Did he get a microwave to warm the cats' formula? Why else would a vampire need a microwave? And a fridge? Does he eat too? Blood, if stored, should be frozen, so if anything, he should have a freezer. Maybe it could be in the basement or something.
"How do you get... blood?" you ask slowly, focusing on the more pressing questions. "Blood that's not... directly from a person, I mean."
Without biting is what you mean.
He reaches toward a cupboard, grinning as he throws you a glance over his shoulder. Despite clearly understanding that you're still cautious, he must find it funny how weird it is for you to speak about it.
"There are multiple ways to get blood. Fresh, liquid, human blood is the hardest to come by. It's also the hardest to keep as it goes bad pretty quickly. I mostly use this."
You look at the white, round plastic container he hands you, noticing that the cupboard contains around five more. The containerâbig enough to hold just under a literâis lighter than you expected. Carefully, you peel the lid open, mindful not to spill the red liquid you assumed would be inside. But there's a deep red powder instead, a minuscule red cloud rising as you pull the lid off.
"That's animal blood. Easier to come by, easier to store."
"Powdered?"
If you expected anything, it certainly wasn't for the blood to be powdered. But you guess it makes sense.
"Yeah. Add water, mix it, and it tastes basically just like blood."
"Like... animal blood? Not like human blood?"
"Like animal blood. This is deer blood."
You close the lid again, focused to make sure it truly seals. "But you... you can taste the difference?"
"Yes."
"What's better?" you ask, trying to sound casual, your eyes still fixed on the container.
"Human. But it's such a hassle. Either you have to spend a lot more moneyâand the risk of humans discovering itâwhen this, by comparison, is cheap and produced by a company that markets it as a supplement for dogs. Or you have to find someone willing to let you... bite."
You gulp, hoping he doesn't notice, and hand the container back. "So you can just get these without any suspicion at all? That's smart. What do you use these for?" you point to the microwave and fridge, which were definitely installed recently. At least in the last few years. "I guess the thing about vampires not eating is true?"
"Yeah. I mix a few liters of blood at a time and keep it in the fridge. I prefer to drink it warm, so I heat it in the microwave."
"Warm?" you repeat, skeptical. Blood doesn't seem very tempting to you at all. Warm like a blood soup? Even less.
"Yeah. Around 37 degrees Celsius."
"Oh."
Body temperature.
"Yeah," he smiles.
Stepping closer to the fridge, you place a hand on the vertical handle. "Do you mind if I look?"
While you don't want to intrude, you're both curious and...
"Go ahead."
Opening it, your eyes immediately fall on two large glass jugs. The motionless liquid inside is a deep red and certainly looks like blood. Otherwise, the fridge is barren. There's nothing. Not a lonely egg or even some forgotten sauce that should've been thrown out a decade ago.
"Making sure I don't have human food?"
Closing the fridge, you meet his amused eyes, feeling caught and slightly embarrassed. "You realize how absurd this is for me, right?"
He chuckles. "I didn't say I blame you. So, do you believe me yet?"
"How would I even know that's real blood?"
Jeongguk moves to the counter, pulling out a kitchen drawer and producing a small spoon.
"Try it."
Eyeing the silver spoon he holds out, you hesitate before slowly taking it.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," you mumble, reopening the fridge to take one of the jugs out.Â
It's heavy and cold in your hand as you place it on the kitchen counter. Jeongguk leans against the same counter beside you, watching with interest as you lower the spoon into the jug.
Since you don't need more than half a molecule to judge the classic taste and therefore the contentsâand you're not about to consume a spoonful just becauseâyou barely dip the tip, raising your hand to reveal a tiny part of the silver coated in red. It's a drop's worth, at most.
Catching a glimpse of Jeongguk's face, you see him grinning at your reluctance to ingest what (supposedly) sustains him. It's an insanely attractive sight, and so you do your best to ignore those nerves and instead focus on the task at hand.
It looks like blood, it smells like it too when you bring the spoon to your nose, and when you put it in your mouth, it definitely also tastes like it. Iron. You try not to think about the fact that it's deer blood, but then again, consuming the tiniest amount of human blood would probably make you hurl.Â
"Believe me?"
"Technically, you could've assumed I'd be coming and just put all your human food in the basement and planted this in here for show. Like, yeah, that would be weird and overkill, but it would make more sense than you actually being a mythical creature."
He rolls his eyes, clearly still amused. You wonder how much he truly understands what you're feeling because you're still wary. Whatever he is, he's not normal. And he hid that from you the first few times you saw him.
Your eyes lock onto the jug as you place the spoon down on the counter. "Drink it."
"Huh?"
"I don't know any human who could stomach actually drinking blood. A mouthful, at most. And probably only if paid a generous amount to do it."
He considers for a second before reaching into another cupboard and pulling out a tall glass. "I already had what I needed today, but... just for you, I guess."
Jeongguk grabs the jug's handle in front of you, lifting it to pour blood into the glass in a way that shows off the muscles in his forearms. You watch them flex under his skin and the thick veins as he fills the glass and then heads over to the microwave, setting it to precisely 20 seconds. Tried and tested, you guess.
The glass spins inside the microwave, but you're stuck, looking at Jeongguk without shame as he leans back against the counter again. Could he really be a vampire? AÂ vampire?
He returns the attention, tilting his head slightly, maybe softly urging you to share your thoughts. You don't, because what would you say? That he looks human in the most basic way, but that there's also something... indescribable about him. His dark eyes watching you makes you feel a myriad of ways. Intrigued but nervousâfor multiple reasonsâto name a few.
The microwave dings, forcing him to tear his eyes away from you. Swiftly, he opens the door and lifts the glass out, casually grabbing the spoonâthat you literally just had in your mouthâfrom the counter to stir.
Unsure if he intends for that to mean anything, you still watch him set it back down in its own little puddle of blood before lifting the glass to his mouth. You bite your lip. There's no reaction; not as he first tastes it, and not when he starts to gulp it down.
With every swallow, his Adam's apple bobs, and while you can't deny that this whole thing has you cautious, you're also so confusinglyâand stupidlyâdrawn to him. Mesmerized, even.
"Okay, that's fine, you don't need to finish it," you say when he's downed four mouthfuls without the slightest sign of distaste.
But he continues, tilting the glass higher and swallowing until there's nothing left. You look on, heart beating fast at the show.
When the glass is truly empty, its inside coated in a faint red tint, he puts it down, licking his lips. Focused on setting the glass safely on the counter, he doesn't seem to notice how you notice something.
The fangs.
They're subtle, but definitely there, and they most certainly weren't there before.
Could he have some sort of prosthetics? That retract into the gums? You don't think so, but you honestly don't know. What you do know is that you've been with him from the moment you arrived, and he hasn't had any time or opportunity to put them in without you seeing. Maybe it's just... more plausible that he's an actual vampire?
"Anything else?" he asks, smiling a smile that shows a dimple but no teeth. Except the small white points that peek out between his lips.
You shake your head slowly, somewhat speechless. Are you scared? Is that why your heart is beating 300 beats per minute?
"Okay. Then... do you have any questions you'd like me to answer, or have you had enough?"
There's almost some sort of apology in the way he says that, like he knows that it might very well be more than enough for even someone like you to take in. You think you're scared, or maybe more nervous, but you push those thoughts away, nodding.
Jeongguk laughs quietly.
"Okay," he says, bringing another tall glass from the cupboard and filling it with water from the tap. "This water is like... crystal clear and very safe for humans to drink. From a private well and filtered thoroughly. Follow me."
You do as he says, trailing closely behind as he leaves the kitchen, retracing your steps back into the hallway and then steering into the living room.
It looks the same as the last time you visited to examine the kittens. The fire crackles, and the cat family lies comfortably in the cat bed in the corner. The queen lifts her head to look at you, but when you don't approach, she settles again. There's a small squeak from one of the kittens as they nurse.
"They're doing well?" you ask curiously, gesturing to the cats.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. I think so. I don't bottle-feed anymore. They're all growing and the littlest is almost caught up."
You smile, truly relieved. "That's great."
"Yeah. Here, sit down."
Realizing that you'll be staying at least a little while, you admit defeat and lower your jacket from your shoulders, draping it over the padded armchair before sitting down. Jeongguk sets the glass of water down on the table in front of you before taking a seat on the far end of the couch. Turning his body to face you, he leans back comfortably.
You bite your lip, rummaging through your small bag and fishing out a notebook and a pen.
"Do you mind if I..." you ask, holding them up.
He shakes his head. "No, go ahead."
But when you open the notebook, you find yourself staring at the first page. It's blank. All of the anatomical aspects and biological questions you had are blurred together, and you can't find a single loose thread to start with.
"I thought you'd drown me in questions," Jeongguk jokes.
You glance up at him but quickly lower your eyes again. Seeing him leaned back like thatâmanspreading with his thick thighs and his also-very-thick, veiny arms resting on the back and the armrestâis not doing your focus any favors. You think you can trace a single vein from just around the base of his index finger, all the way up to and over his bicep. And that's just what you see before the t-shirt hides it. At least the fangs seem to be... gone?
"Believe me, I have questions," you mumble. "I just don't know... where to start."
"Well, what do you do when you examine your patients?"
"My patients are animals," you say, tilting your head. "But okay... First... I guess I don't want to pryâI mean, I do, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable, so I'll try to keep it... respectful. I guess I'll just start with the basics?"
"Sounds like a plan."
"Okay, uh..." you look at him, trying to estimate his stats. "You're male, around 180 centimeters tall and... 75 kilos?"
"89 kilos."
Nodding, you note down the numbers. It's not too much of a shocker that he's heavier than you assumed, seeing as muscle, per unit of volume, weighs more than fat. He's clearly very strong, but 89 kilosâ196 lbsâof what looks like pure muscle?
"How old are you?"
"322."
"I'm sorry, what?" You blink a few times, lifting your gaze to see him grinning.
"Yeah. I was born 322 years ago, although physiologically..." He pauses, thinking. "I'd probably be around... 28 or so."
"You're not saying you're actually immortal, are you?"
It's with wide eyes you inspect him, trying to somehow see if his skin has some kind of impenetrable barrier or if he's surrounded by a magical... shining purple aura or something. A vampire's rumored immortality was always something you disregarded and chalked up to pop culture. There are organisms with incredibly long lifespansâlike the Greenland shark, which could theoretically live to 500 yearsâbut those are exceptions. Rarities, really.
"No. You can still kill a vampire, though it takes a lot more than killing a human. But we rarely die of old age."
"How come?" you ask, jotting down a sloppy summary of what he's telling you.
"Okay, I can tell you what I know, but you have to understand that I'm not an expert."
"But you're a vampire? Supposedly."
"How many humans know more than the very, very basics of their own anatomy? I'd argue a majority don't even know how many holes a human woman has. Vampire anatomy isn't... documented to the extent that human anatomy is either."
You blink, surprised by his bluntness. "True. So what can you tell me?"
"We don't really age. You know how you guessed we don't run on glucose like humans?"
"Yeah?" you nod, figuratively on the edge of your seat.
"You're right. We mainly run on the iron and proteins found in blood. It helps us heal a lot faster, and our cells just... don't die. Orâwellâthe cell regeneration never slows or falters."
"Interesting. Iron isn't toxic to you at that level? At all?"
"No, it's what sustains us."
You put your pen to the notebook in your lap, scribbling quickly. "Then an increased level of iron, if not toxic, means more oxygen faster delivered to tissue. Like muscle. That's probably also why you'd be stronger. I would kill to analyze some of your blood. You have blood, right? And a beating heart? You're not some kind ofâ "
Your phone rings, loud and clear.
"Shit, I gotta take this," you say when you pull out your phone to read Namjoon's name on the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Hey, can I ask a favor? Are you sober and free?"
"Uh, yeah," you reply, already knowing roughly what it is that he needs help with. "What's up?"
"I'm treating a colicking horse at the Kim's, and now the Shin farm just called. One of their cows is dystocic. Looks like the calf's been stuck for a while, so they need help."
"Okay, I'll go. Can you tell them I'm on my way? I'll be there in..." you flick your wrist to glance at your watch. "Twenty minutes. I think I have the essentials in the car already, but tell them to have a few buckets of warm water and some towels ready."
"Will do. Thank you."
You hang up, immediately shoving your notebook and pen back into your bag. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Run, actually."
"Cow in need?"
"Yeah."
"Hope it goes well."
"Me too."
"Was this enough to satisfy your curiosity?" he grins, almost as if teasing you.
"Are you kidding? Of course not, but I really have to go," you say, giving him a pained expression while putting your jacket back on.
"Then come back?"
You disregard the way your heart skips another beat. "Tonight? I don't know how long this will take."
"Some other day, then? I don't know how long I'll be in town for, but a few weeks at least."
"I'd love to, I really would, believe me. But I'm so busy. We've had a flu outbreak at the clinic, so I'm covering night shifts for the coming days."
He tilts his head again, watching you put the bag across your body. "You don't need to sleep?"
"I catch some hours here and there. We don't have many inpatients at the moment, so it's rather slow. They just need someone to be in the building and check on them regularly."
"Want me to come visit?"
You glance at him while adjusting the bag, making sure everything's secure.
"Why are you so... willing to do this?"
He chuckles, leaning forward in his seat. "Your eyes literally glittered when you talked about these... animals with mythical creature features. And now they glitter when you look at me. Forgive a guy for enjoying attention."
Blood travels to your cheeks. Why do you have to be such a nerd? But you guess it makes sense; we all like to feel appreciated, maybe even a little marveled over.
"I'm leaving now," you announce, turning away from a happy-looking Jeongguk. "I'll be alone at the clinic from eight p.m. the coming days, so just come if and when you have the time. I'll try to actually prepare my questions."
"Alright, want me to see you to the door?"
"Nope, I'm fine," you say, hearing him laugh.
<previous | next>
author's note: hope you liked it!! i'd be very happy if you told me if you did (and maybe reblogged it)! <3
SUMMARY -> you and jungkook indulge in a nasty makeout session and jungkook is set on not letting you breathe for even a second.
WORDS -> approx. 2k
WARNINGS -> female reader x jungkook, making out, dry humping, coming in pants, established relationship, spit kink, very filthy and disgusting kissing with saliva and spit, jungkook is a freak (the reader too)
- requested [no]
it's way past 11 in the night and you know you should be asleep by now. you're going to start the next day at the crack ass of dawn to get to your schedule and you know it will drag until late as well, so you really need all the sleep you can get.
despite that, you somehow find yourself in jungkook's lap, his hands tightly gripping your waist while yours are tangled in his hair. the only sound being heard in the room is your heavy breathing and the smacking of your lips.
jungkook is literally devouring your mouth, tongue licking every corner and teeth tugging relentlessly at both of your lips. you can't even remember for how long you've been like this, all you know is that one moment you came to jungkook's room to ask for something (you don't remember what that was either, if you're being honest) and the next second you were seated snugly on his thighs and the only thing that's been leaving your mouth have been breathy moans and high pitched whines ever since.
jungkook is on a mission to completely maul your mouth because every time you try to talk or simply catch your breath for a few seconds, he keeps nipping and licking around your mouth, jaw, even your goddamn neck!! he refuses to let you formulate a single word, making sure to interrupt any attempt and reduce you to a whiny, whimpering mess.
you try to break the kiss again, feeling like your lungs will explode if you don't take a moment to breathe properly. you manage to peel yourself off jungkook's mouth and you deeply inhale while looking up, pressing your almost numb lips together. you hear jungkook grunting and feel one of his hands making its way up, grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head down.
facing each other again, you finally take a good look at your boyfriend for the first time since you came here. his hair is a mess, his eyes are half lidded, dark with unadulterated desire, making them look even more intense than usual and his cheeks have a slight red tinge to them.
you allow your eyes to wander lower, having to bite back a pornographic moan when they land on jungkook's mouth. his lips are heavily swollen, slick with what you guess is a combination of both of your spit and they turned such a raw shade of red it has you wondering if it doesn't actually hurt. even the sides are clearly irritated, looking like you smudged lip tint all around them.
it's probably one of the most erotic jungkook has ever looked and you don't realize you're in the exact same predicament, if not a bit worse. jungkook takes a moment to properly look at you as well and he resists the urge to pridefully puff his chest out because you look completely ravished.
your eyes are glassy and almost unfocused, your bangs are slowly starting to stick to your forehead, your face almost glows in the dimly lit room, and your lips. oh, your lips. the sole center of jungkook's attention for the past hour or so. they're bitten red, coated in a more than a normal amount of saliva, looking like they're one bite away from bleeding.
and it's not only your lips. jungkook made sure to run his teeth beyond them. your chin, jaw and neck sporting red marks as well, making you look like you suffered some sort of skin allergy, and this time jungkook really can't stop himself from feeling overly proud of the beautiful artwork he created.
"open your mouth and stick your tongue out. don't close your eyes. " his voice is deeper, a little hoarse due to the lack of talking. you confusedly do as told and you barely hold back a mortified shriek when jungkook does the same, but he straight up flattens his tongue over yours, starting to lap up and down the expanse of it. feeling the underside of your tongue every time he licks downwards has your thighs involuntarily clenching.
you both unintentionally discovered a while ago that your mouth is very sensitive and any stimulation has you turning into a mess, cunt getting wet in just a few minutes. jungkook has been a total tease about it ever since, finding different ways to drive you crazy. however, it seems like tonight he wants to outdo himself and have you barely hanging by the last strand of sanity.
you try to pull back, but jungkook's hand hasn't let go of your nape, keeping your head still. he uses the tip of his tongue to draw random patterns on yours and the warm, wet glide has you going slightly cross-eyed, the awareness of every movement making your skin erupt into goosebumps.
spit is rapidly running down your chins, landing on your laps and you should really find it disgusting, but the emotion you're feeling the most right now is shyness. jungkook's ministrations are filthy, the filthiest he's ever gotten, and while you can't deny enjoying it, the shamelessness of it all is overwhelming.
a few minutes later, jungkook pushes his tongue along with yours back in your mouth and kisses you properly, releasing your nape only to bring his hand to your chest, slowly starting play with your hardened nipple through your shirt.
"you're soâ mmh," kiss, " ahâ fucking", kiss, "nasty", you slur in between kisses. you feel jungkook smiling while doing that damn grunting sound only he can make from the back of his throat and feeling the vibrations right into your mouth is enough to make you spiral even more. your thighs clench around him again and you unconsciously start moving your hips in small motions, your wet cunt humping right into jungkook's abs.
"saying that as if you aren't willingly allowing me to do whatever i want to you. and look at you now..." jungkook speaks, mouth still clasped over yours, "humping me like a dog in heat." you don't get to answer because he starts nibbling on your lips again, soothing each bite with his tongue.
your breathing picks up and you try to move your hips faster, but the iron grip on them stops you. jungkook keeps your pace tortuously slow and very slightly bucks his hips up as well. not with the intention of creating any satisfying friction, just enough for you to feel his erection poking against your ass.
you are getting frustrated with every passing second, the need to relieve yourself growing and becoming borderline unbearable. you pull at jungkook's hair hard enough to tilt his head back and it's now your turn to be a tease.
you bite down on jungkook's lower lip and the grunt you get in response is like music to your ears (and cunt). you give the upper lip the same treatment, alternating between sucking and biting until you feel jungkook's tongue trying to push into your mouth. you allow it, only to surprise jungkook by starting to suck on it. that has his eyes rolling, hips pushing up more intently and both arms winding around you, every inch of your bodies now being as close as humanly possible.
jungkook mentally pats himself on the back because in a year and a bit of dating, he managed to have you match his freak, no matter how unhinged or borderline disgusting you sometimes got. he knows you wouldn't do something you're not comfortable with, but you give into jungkook's nasty shenanigans every time, despite the apprehension or shyness that take over you sometimes.
without stopping the kiss, jungkook leans back, letting himself rest comfortably against the sofa, your upper body laying on him. the change of position takes you by surprise, your body weight fully pressing into jungkook. you're certain you already formed a wet patch on your shorts and now that there aren't any restraints, you start properly humping your cunt on into jungkook's lower abdomen. you moan loudly, not giving a fuck anymore because you're finally getting the stimulation you were so desperately seeking.
you're still messing with jungkook's mouth, now circling your tongue around his in the exact same way you do to the head of his dick when you're sucking him off. jungkook feels like he could start levitating and he's now certain it's not only you who gets worked up by having your mouth messed with, but that's something to get into another time.
he hasn't forgotten this is about you though, so he breaks the kiss and holds your cheek in one of his hands, inserting his thumb in your mouth, running the pad up and down your tongue, pressing at the very back of it and making you gag, the tears that have been gathering in your eyes quickly running down your cheeks.
jungkook has seen many beautiful people and places, but none of them compare to how absolutely ethereal you look in moments like these that only he can bring you to and only he can see. the ugly jealousy and possessiveness unwinding inside him whenever he thinks of someone else having you like this is enough to motivate jungkook to do better and make sure you are always happy and satisfied.
he snaps out of his thoughts and takes his thumb out, running it all over your mouth, smearing even more saliva around it and judging by the aggravated roll of your hips he feels, the sensation is very much turning you on. your hands are holding jungkook's shoulders in a vice grip and your eyes are completely unfocused, jungkook not being sure where you're actually looking at.
he's almost tempted to take a picture, but he knows that if he moves right now he'll get an earful of never-ending annoyed whines. and in all honesty, he himself doesn't want to disturb your rhythm, so he kisses you again, occasionally replacing his tongue with his thumb and he swallows every single pleasured sound he receives in return.
you feel like you're floating. your cunt is close to hurting because of how wet you are and you think you'll have a breakdown if you don't come as soon as possible. you thank yourself for choosing to wear thin shorts and no underwear, the lack of too many clothing items allowing you to feel everything so much better, despite having your movements limited. you try to kiss back, but after a few failed attempts you just keep your mouth open, tongue lolling in and out, letting jungkook do whatever he wants. biting, licking, sucking, pressing, caressing and all the other things your menace of a boyfriend could think of doing.
you focus on moving your hips and you can already feel your orgasm building up, your moans becoming breathier and even more high pitched. that's the cue for jungkook as well. he suddenly straightens his back, gripping your hair, angling your head upward, locking eyes with you.
"baby, baby... i'mâ" you try to let jungkook know you're close, but now that you can properly thrust back and forth, everything is so intense, the only thing you see and feel is jungkook, the heat of your body and the tension in your stomach one step away from snapping.
"mm, yeah, i know. come for me, love", and that's all you needed. you come so hard your entire body trembles, your eyes snap shut, and you bite down on what you guess is jungkook's lip. you notice your hips are still moving, not on their own accord, but because jungkook is guiding them in slow and deep motions, wanting to prolong your orgasm for as long as possible. at the peak of your high, you notice your mouth being forced open and your mind is so fuzzy you can't properly comprehend what's going on until jungkook lets a fat blob of saliva drip from his mouth directly into yours. you gasp. this, coupled with the oversensitivity slowly creeping up on you is too much.
jungkook notices you are about to fall into a headspace where you can't think clearly, so he quickly closes your mouth after making sure you swallow everything. he leans back then, once again making you lay on him and he starts to gently caress your body, whispering praises into your ear and trying to make you feel as safe as possible. his dick throbs in his sweatpants, but he ignores it for now, satisfied with making you come.
a few minutes later you raise your head from where you let it fall on jungkook's shoulder and you just look at each other, taking your disheveled appearances in. your eyes have cleared up, no longer out of focus and your mouth is slowly pulling into a pout.
"what?" jungkook asks while laughing. your eyebrows furrow then and you lightly slap jungkook's chest before bringing your hand and running the tips of your finger along your swollen lips.
"don't what me, you fucking animal! my lips are so swollen, i can barely talk! my entire mouth hurts, you moron!" and you're right, you can't articulate your words properly because besides the extra plumpiness, they've also gotten quite numb. jungkook holds back the laughter bubbling in his chest, knowing that if he laughs in your face right now he'll be left to deal with his boner on his own, a thought he's not very fond of right now.
he clears his throat before answering. "well, this fucking animal", he makes sure to emphasize your words, "made you have one of the best orgasms ever just by kissing you. so i think i deserve more credit for this." he thinks your eyes will fall out of their sockets with how hard you roll them, but judging by the lack of answer, he knows he's right. "plus..." he continues, slightly raising his hips and pushing his cock more in between your legs, "credit isn't the only thing i deserve, no?" he arches one of his eyebrows and a teasing smirk is creeping up on his equally swollen lips.
you scoff incredulously. "you've abused my mouth enough. a handjob is all you're getting tonight", you say as your right hand makes its way down jungkook's body, slipping under the waistband of his pants.
and jungkook can't complain because you do give him a mind-blowing orgasm along with a whispered promise of letting jungkook fuck you in the shower tomorrow night.
a/n: this is my first jk fic SO BE NICE MâKAY? . . . now pls enjoy
synopsis: out of impulse, jungkook gets his tongue pierced, but totally forgot the part that for the next two weeks heâs not allowed to kiss his adorable, oh so desirable gf.
wc: 15.8k (mind you this was supposed to be 5k at the MOST . . .)
cw include: black fem!reader was in mind when written but picture her anyway youâd like <3, literally porn with a smidge of plot, unprotected sex, needy!reader, even needier!jungkook, lots of nasty kisses, tongue sucking, creampie, squirting, choking, oral both receiving, some biting, so much dirty talk omg, jungkook is a major perv, he uses her panties to masturbate and does . . . other things with them, he eats it through her panties, slow & rough sex, prone bone position, riding, sex in front of a mirror, backshots, spit, body worship, jungkook is so in love . . . whew i think thatâs itâoh wait, he eats in while they shower together!
âare you nervous, honey?â
âmmhm?â
the corner your lips lifted into a giggle, gold bracelets on your wrists jangling as you reached over to squeeze your spaced out boyfriends firm bicep. this caught his attention, his doe-like, brown eyes flicking over to meet yours.
âah, sorry. my mind was elsewhere. what did you say, baby?â jungkook grinned, leaning over until his shoulder was bumping into yours. you wanted to ask him what had his mind so preoccupied, but knowing jungkook, heâd most likely already forgotten.
you let out a low hum, slyly maneuvering your fingers into his lap to interlock with his. âi asked if you were nervous. sâprobably gonna hurt getting your tongue pierced.â
jungkook shrugged, âmm . . . not really. if i can handle getting my lipâor even my eyebrow pierced, i think i can handle this. pain will only last a couple days anyway, yeah?â
you were about to answer, but suddenly a voice to your left caught both of your attention.
a bulky man covered in tattoos, and multiple facial piercings approached the two of you, a friendly smile on his face. âwhich one of you is here for a tongue piercing?â
jungkook gripped your hand softly and stood, bringing you up with him. âthat would be me, sheâs just here for support,â he gave your hand a tender squeeze, not bothered by the pda he was showing you in the slightest.
that was one of the things you loved about jungkook.
he was never afraid to show his affection for you no matter who happened to be in the room. friends, colleagues, strangersâit didnât matter who it was. jungkook was still gonna kiss, touch, and hold you to his hearts content. and who were you to even complain about such a thing?
so he held your hand the entire time.
he held your hand while the piercer perfected the placement, while he rinsed his mouth out with a minty mouthwash, and once the needle finally went through his tongue, he held on even tighter.
he preened at your praise, his heart rate increasing tenfold when you whispered a sweet, âyouâre doing so good, babe!â
jungkook winced as the piercer screwed in the tiny, silver balls on the bar, but you just squeezed his hand in reassurance. before he knew it, he was finished.
âhow do you like it? placement okay and everything?â the man had asked, and with three slow blinks, jungkook nodded. the feeling of it in his mouth was foreign, but that was to be expected, and as for the way it looked? he loved it.
âsâgreat. thank you, thank you so much!â
you watched in complete adoration as your boyfriend admired his fresh piercing in the handheld mirror he was given. those big, brown boba eyes of his were so wide in awe you were sure theyâd pop out if his skull. he was too cute.
âhere, rinse your mouth with this again,â the piercer instructed jungkook, handing him another small cup of mouthwash. as jungkook swished the liquid in his mouth the man went over a few, simple instructions on how to properly care for the piercing.
âi would recommend soft foods the next couple of days, nothing too spicy or else itâll get irritated, and thisâll probably be the hardest rule to follow but absolutely no kissing. swapping spit with someone, even your girlfriend, is the quickest way for it to get infected and reject, but other than that you should be good, man.â
jungkooks lips parted then shut. fuck.
the thought of not being able to kiss you whenever and wherever he wanted hadnât crossed his mind. not even once. fuck. fuck. fuck.
âhowâum, h-how long am i gonna have to do all that for?â and as soon as the words âten to fifteen daysâ left the piercers mouth, you could see jungkooks shoulders visibly deflate.
how will he ever go over a week without kissing your soft, pretty lips? your cherry gloss was like heroine to him. he loved swiping it off with his tongue, and letting the subtle cherry taste coat his tastebuds. and not to boast, but jungkook was the biggest munch he knew! how on gods green earth is supposed to go a whole fifteen days without tasting your cuâ!
âhey, you alright? feeling lightheaded?â
jungkook blinked rapidly, and with a low hum he shook his head no.
âdonât know how iâm gonna go so long without kissing her . . . or eating spicy foods,â he chuckled, throwing his his back so dramatically you didnât know whether to laugh or scoff.
âplease excuse him. now pay this poor man so we can go get you some ice chips for your tongue,â you smirked, linking your arm around his muscular one. he glanced down at you, and fuck. he already wanted to give you a smooch.
you looked so cute in your pink, oversized sweater and miniskirt. not to mention you were trying out a new blush and lip combo that just made you look so sweet, he couldâve ruined you right then and there.
âwhy donât you go hangout over there while i pay him, hm? maybe one of those pieces you see will inspire your next tattooâ he spoke lowly in your ear, giving your side a soft squeeze before sending you on your way.
as jungkook talked to the man about his form of payment, you stood to the side, wrapped up in your own little world. you nibbled on your bottom lip, manicured fingers playing with the hem of your skirt as you thought about how much of a pain in the ass jungkook will be for the next two weeks.
your sweet bunny of a boyfriend required physical touch on a daily basis, so to take out such a key part of it left both of you feeling less than thrilled. at least you had a tad of self control, jungkook on the other hand . . . need i say more?
he was the most impulsive person youâve ever met, not to mention the neediest boy in the fucking world. underneath the leather jackets, tattoos, and piercingsâjungkook was as soft as the strawberry crĂšme cakes you made him on a daily when it came to you.
a hand squeezing your hip broke you out of your thoughts, âyou ready to go, sugar?â
when you nodded, jungkook laced his tatted fingers with yours, bidding everyone in the shop a farewell before leading you out the exit and to his car.
it was a beautiful day out; a cool seventy eight degrees and the sun shone brightly above you. a perfect day for running errands and a late lunch!!
a little squeal slipped past your lips when jungkook lightly pushed you against the side of his car, his front pushing ever so softly against yours. âso whatâs on the agenda for the rest of the day, hm?â he spoke softly, encasing your hips in his large hands.
you placed your hands on his hard stomach, blindly tracing the ridges of his abs over his shirt. he was so manly . . so masculine . . . and so all yours.
âwell . . .â your voice trailed off, head innocently cocking to the side, âi wanna go to t.j. maxx, and get that hello kitty vanity chair. i also wanna head to that herb store and get more raspberry leafâif i run out before my period comes iâm a goner!â
jungkookâs smile only faltered slightly at the mention of your awful period cramps. sometimes during that time of the month for you, heâd find you in your shared bathroom, head tucked between your knees as your body racked with sobs. he never minds it truly, but it shatters his heart every time he kisses those little tears streaming down your puffy cheeks away.
he tenderly rubbed your lower belly, forehead knocking against your gently as he nodded. âmm, donât worry. weâll get your herbs nâ your chair. maybe something to eat too?â
he was absolutely speaking your language.
âyes, that sounds perfect,â you grinned, scratching lightly at the hairs on the nape of his neck. jungkook practically purred at the contact, damn near forgetting you were out in the open. not that he really cared.
he wanted to swoop in for a kiss. just a tiny, little kiss. but the moment his head ducked down, his lips were met with the smooth skin of your palm.
he frowned, a noise of disapproval rumbling in his chest that was soon hushed by little kisses on his jaw. the feeling of your lips running over his hot skin had him shivering, brain nearly short circuiting.
you looked up at him through your freshly done lashes, âmâsorry for doinâ that, but you heard that man in there! no kisses for kookie for at least ten days.â
jungkook wanted to just collapse to his knees, and cry, and be as dramatic as possibleâbut chairs nodded to be bought, and herbs needed to be collected so heâd have to save the dramatics for another time.
he let out a small puff of air from his cheeks, his tongue already starting to sting from swelling, âyouâre right. youâre always right, my smart girl.â he squeezed your sides gently, and nudged his nose against yours, âletâs go get that chair.â
after a short trip, and lots of lingering touches later, your chair and raspberry leaf were secured, and so was your hunger. on the way back home jungkook had made a surprise stop at your favorite taco spotâa small truck ran by two older women who absolutely adored the two of you.
the way home was pretty quiet. while you bashed on your three carne asada tacos with extra lime and salsa, jungkook casually sipped on a small horchata, the cool liquid bringing some relief to his sore tongue.
âitâll always shock me how you make no mess,â he chuckled, putting his car in park. you dabbed the corners of your lips with a napkin, and did a quick check in the mirror to make sure no cilantro was in your teeth before giving him a small smile. âonly because i know iâll get an earful from you if i do.â
and right you were!! jungkooks mercedes amg was his pride and joy (right after you).
âneed me to carry anything, honey?â you hummed, watching as jungkook balanced your bags and the small box containing the parts to your new vanity chair in his arms. he, of course, shook his head no, and instead gave you the job of unlocking the door.
before you even set your purse down, jungkook was already kicking his shoes off and ripping at the box, an obnoxious tearing sound echoing throughout your apartment. building furniture was a random favorite hobby of his, and he always looked damn good doing it.
âlemme get these outside clothes off,â you muttered, using your socks as little skates to slide into your shared room, little giggles slipping past your lips as you did so.
âyouâre going to bust your behind one of these days if you keep doing that. hardwood floors hurt yâknow!â jungkook called out to you, his boyfriend voice turned all the way on.
âyeah, yeah, whatever. are you gonna need your tools?â you called back, slipping off your skirt and sweater. your bra was the next thing to go, and after little to no thought, you settled on wearing one of jungkooks t-shirts.
the fabric smelt just like him. a citrusy, vanilla scent that made you sleepy every time you smelt it for too long. it also made your cunt feel tingly, but due to certain circumstances, you decided to keep your horniness at bay for jungkooks sake.
youâd be lying if the urge to kiss him hasnât hit you once or twice, but who could blame you? your boyfriend had the most kissable lips ever, and the two lip rings that adorned the left side made you want them against yours even more!
but unfortunately itâd have to wait.
you brought the collar of his shirt to your nose one last time, inhaling deeply before getting on your knees and shimmying over to jungkooks side of the bed. now he did say which tools he needed, but you werenât exactly a handy woman, so you just decided to bring his entire tool box.
when he heard the obnoxious sound of metal clanking together his eyes darted to the direction of the sound. his lips broke into a smirk when he saw you carrying his entire toolbox. you were so precious without even having to try.
you wearing little to nothing around your place wasnât anything out of the ordinary. in fact, you did it so much that jungkook almost found it odd whenever he would come home from work and see you still fully clothed.
yes, you prancing around in just your panties and a top all the time was pretty distracting, but it was the best distraction a man could ever ask for. you have the prettiest, phattest pussy heâs ever seen, and she looks even more enticing hidden behind the soft cotton of your panties.
with a small grunt you set the metal box down, âhere ya go.â
when your hands found purchase on your hips, your his shirt rose up, giving him a nice, close up view of your panty clad cunt. the pair you had on today were hot pink, with âjuicyâ written in black cursive right on the part where your mound was.
âiâll fuckinâ sayâ he thought to himself, teeth tugging on his lip ring to surpress the urge to pull you closer to him. it didnât help. like at all, because three seconds later jungkook was pulling you two steps closer by the backs of your thighs.
your nose scrunched up, a giggling bubbling in your chest. âyou know . . . you could at least try to be a little more discreet with your staring.â
jungkook groaned at your words, nosing at the inside of your petal soft thigh. ânothing fun about being discreet, babe,â he sighed giving your thigh a light peck.
you were out of his grasp a millisecond later, your head cocking back and forth. âwatch those lips mister!â
âit was just a peck, it wonât do any harm, babe!â he pleaded, pulling you closer. his ring clad fingers held rather tightly onto your flesh, preventing you from moving an inch.
âmm, sure, but a peck with you always leads to something more,â you spoke softly, ruffling his jet black locs.
a drag of air got caught in your throat when his nose nudged against your cunt. âh-hey, thatâs enough, mister! get back to work before i thump you.â
and with that, jungkook released his hold on your body. his fingers lingered for a second or two before letting go completely, his lips jutting into his signature pout.
âmean . . . very mean,â he muttered, turning his back to you to give your unbuilt chair his undivided attention. he knew he was being unfair, but shit, this entire thing this was unfair!!
it was dumb to say aloud, but truly, the thought of not being able to kiss you or any part of you didnât cross his mind in the thought process for getting his tongue piercedânot even once! it was a cruel, sick, joke that was one hundred percent preventable, and now you both had to deal with it :(
you let out a little puff of air from your cheeks, and knelt behind your pouting boyfriend. âyou say mean . . . i say responsible,â you whispered in his ear, kissing the shell of it before placing another soft kiss on his neck.
âdonât be sad, âkay? itâll go by before you know it.â you knew your man, and you knew him well. you knew if he was challenged to do something, heâd do it and heâd do it well.
he whined at your words, thick brows scrunching together, âit canât go by fast enoughhhh.â
seven hours later . . . .
jungkook felt as if he was going to combust into a million pieces. the urge to have his lips on yours didnât curve in the slightest, and to make things even more difficult, he was now sporting a painful boner.
you were sound asleep on his chest, little snores leaving your slightly parted lips every so often. you were still wearing what you had on earlier, the only difference being a lavender colored, silk scarf wrapped securely around your head.
âhells paradiseâ played quietly on the tv, and the ac was on full blast giving jungkook the perfect background noise to fall asleep to. but he couldnât. his mind was racing.
his legs felt stiff, begging to be stretched, but he knew if he moved even a muscle, youâd stir in your sleep and switch positions. when he held you like this he could feel the heat from your pussy right against his thigh, and as sick it sounded it made him feel so at ease.
with the way his tongue throbbed in pain, jungkook could use all the comfort he could get.
he slowly craned his neck to look down at your sleeping form, and fuck. you were the most beautiful woman heâs ever laid eyes on. even when you were deep in sleep.
the semi-bright glow from the tv gave him just enough light to see that your eyes were moving every so often. he wondered to himself what you could possibly be dreaming about. selfishly enough, he hoped it was him.
âaish . . .â he muttered, shifting his leg the tiniest bit. you made a small noise in your sleep, and this had jungkook freezing in his spot. his heart pounded against his ribcage as you nuzzled closer into his side. and then you moved again . . . and again . . . and again, until jungkook was questioning if you were really asleep or not.
the dull throb against his thigh had his pierced brow twitching.
should he wake you? should he leave you be? should he just cut his losses and jerk off in the bathroom?
a gentle squeeze pulled jungkook out of his thoughts, and when he looked down, he was met with the sight of his sleepy girlfriendsâ scrunched up face.
âmm, kook . .â
your voice was whiny, and laced with sleep. if only he was able to kiss away that tiny furrow between your brows.
âwhatâs up, baby?â he spoke softly, pulling your body impossibly closer to his. you breathed out a small hum when he cupped your ass, gentle fingers gripping the soft flesh.
goosebumps rose on the dark haired mans skin when you nuzzled your face in his neck. your lips brushed against the sensitive spot below his ear, âcanât fall back asleep . . . need your help, please.â
and there it was.
jungkooks hands shook as they ran up and down your body, squeezing and fondling any part of you that he could. ây-yeah? what do you need me to do for you, babyâi know youâre sleepy, but try to use your words for me.â
he heard a small sniffle and then, âfuck me back tâsleep, kook. pleaseee.â your hand lazily rubbed along the length of his covered cock, saliva pooling on your tongue at the thought of having him inside you.
without a second thought, jungkook maneuvered your body on top of his with ease. his dick was pressed snugly against your pussyâhot, hard, and ready to put you tf back to sleep!
jungkookâs breath fanned over your face, still minty from when he brushed his teeth. âreally wish i could kiss you right now,â he grunted, lifting your body up just enough to pull his briefs down.
âi-i wish you could kiss me too,â you whined, back arching when he rubbed his leaking tip over your panties.
he didnât take your panties off, instead he just pulled them to the side with two fingers, and slipped his cock right between your soaked folds. wet was an understatementâyou were drenched. small pearls of your essence began to drip down his cock, already creating a mess between your bodies.
ânghâput it in please,â you sniffled, bottom half slowly moving up and down the length of his dick. jungkook didnât need to be told twice. he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, tatted hand gripping the base of his cock before slowly pushing the tip through that tight ring of muscle that greeted him so sweetly every time.
his free hand cupped the back of your neck, smushing your forehead against his. âso wet, princess. slipped right in like you were made for me,â he groaned, planting his feet in the bed to push more of his cock into your tight heat.
with a sloppy kiss to the corner of his lips you whispered, âbecause i was.â this nearly killed jungkook of course, his hips stuttering the tiniest bit.
he throbbed all around you. every protruding vein caressed your sensitive walls, and it didnât make things better when his spongy tip started knocking obnoxiously against that spot deep inside you that had your toes curling.
you mewled at the stretch, grabbing onto his shoulders as you found your place in his neck once again. every moan, whine, every hitch of your breathâhe heard it all, and it was driving him fucking nuts.
he wanted to talk you through it, whisper dirty praises and promises in your ear, but alas his tongue was just too fucking sore. he knew you liked him to be vocal, so he settled with matching your volume in moans.
jungkookâs hands roamed all along the expanse of your back. your skin was hot to the touch, his cold hands bringing you some sweet relief.
you wanted to melt into him. let your minds and bodies become one forever, but for now this would have to do.
âlemme take this off,â you muttered, sitting up to remove his shirt from your trembling from. the new angle had his cock hitting deeper, and this had you tightening up, forcing a hiss from the man below you.
he wasted no time fondling your breasts, a whine bubbling in his throat from lack of them in his mouth. you always made the prettiest noises when he sucked on your nipples. they were always so sensitiveâeven as he softly ran his thumbs over them.
âk-kookââ
âi knowâshit, i know.â his voice was raspy from lack of speaking. his throat felt so dry, like someone had stuffed cotton down it. jungkook had a thirst, but not for a beverage of any kind.
as you began a steady rhythm moving back and forth, jungkook thumbed at your swollen clit. his jaw clenched, a groan rumbling in his chest at how wet you actually were.
sucking your clit into his mouth would definitely fix him right nowâwhy, oh why did he have to get this stupid fucking piercing.
your hips stuttered slightly when he pulled his thumb away, and without a second thought he brought the digit to your lips. it wasnât hard to find his eyes in the darkness of the room, and once you did you sucked the digit between your lips, humming at the sweet, yet tart taste that coated your tongue.
all your nerve endings felt as if they have been set ablaze. you could feel everything. you didnât know what it was, but these intimate moments with jungkook always made you so beside yourself.
âwhatâs it taste like, hm? describe it for me,â he rasped out, pressing down lightly on your tongue before removing his thumb entirely.
your movements halted, but not for long, because jungkookâs hands were on your hips seconds later, resuming your slow paced grinding. âdonât make me say it, babe,â you whimpered, feeling your cheeks get hotter than they already were.
he couldnât help but chuckle. you were still so bashfulâeven when getting split open by his thick cock.
it was silent for a few beats, and then without warning, jungkook cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back down to his level. his feet planted into the bed, and with that he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts.
âwas is it sweet? i bet it was, youâre always so fuckinâângh, sweet,â he panted against your lips, making you whine veryyyy loudly.
your cunt started to became rather noisy, an obscene squelching sound becoming louder and louder as the minutes went by. but it wasnât quite loud enough for your boyfriend.
your once warm body was suddenly met with a chill, goosebumps rising over the entire expense of your back. jungkook had also taken this as an opportunity to go fasterâharder. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed noisily throughout the room.
âlove that sound,â he grunted, tucking your face in the warmth of his neck to shush your whines. between being overly drowsy, and jungkook fucking you like his own personal toy, your brain had turned into a complete pile of mush.
not a sentence, nor thought could be formed in your head. the only thing you could even think to do was kiss himâwell kiss his neck specifically since his lips were off limits.
your lips latched onto the spot below his ear, sucking feverishly until he was squeezing the back of your neck in sensitivity.
ây-yeah, mhmm. keep kissing me. i need it,â he whispered the last part directly in your ear while also delivering a particularly harsh thrust. you made a noise between a sob and a gasp, and for a second you couldâve sworn you saw white.
both of his hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them only slightly so he was able to fuck you deeper.
a never ending chorus of âah ah ahâs left your drooly lips, and soon, it wasnât long before you were whining in jungkookâs ear about how you were about to cum.
you lifted your head slightly, âiâm *pant* i-iâmâ!â
jungkook shoved your face back in his neck, the pace of his thrusts increasing to a speed so fast it had you seeing spots.
âi know, baby. i know. fucking do it.â
your ears started to ring, and your back arched, a beautiful symphony of moans following seconds later. jungkook fucked you through it all with one hand still securely on the back of your neck, and the other now grabbing onto your hip so roughly you were sure to feel it in the morning.
his toes curled when he felt you gush around him. your pussy was practically suffocating his cock, convulsing around him so harshly it was almost difficult to continue moving.
you heard a few curses in korean, follow by one more hard thrust before a sudden warmth flooded your lower belly. jungkook ground into you from below, milking his orgasm for all it was worthâwhich was a lot.
without even thinking he pressed a quick peck to your shoulder, his lips lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.
â . . . you okay? was i good?â he whispered into your ear, but the only response he was met with was a small snore. your body was completely limp, occasionally twitching in his arms.
jungkook hummed contently, nosing at your cheek. his hands ran slowly up and down your back, tracing random hearts and shapes as he did so.
he was gonna have to wake you up soon so you could pee, but for now that would wait. he just wanted to bask in this moment for as long as he could.
itâs been nine days since then, and you two have been fucking like rabbits everrrr since.
morning, afternoon, midday, the middle of the nightâit didnât matter what time it was. if jungkook was in the mood, he had to have you.
the urge to kiss you hasnât lessened. in fact it only grew stronger and more unbearable as the days went by. his cock leaked pathetically with pre every time he thought about your lips against his. he craved the feeling of biting into the plushness of your bottom lip, and tugging just enough to have you whimpering.
when his tongue became less swole the first thing he tried to do was kiss you, only to be met with the petal soft skin of your cheek. âitâs only been three days, kook!â you had scolded him, breaking his heart for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
you being the sweet, amazing girlfriend you were, fucked the sadness out of him every single time though hehe.
the situation always ended up the same way. jungkook would be underneath you, brown eyes the size of saucers while you rode him into a blissful oblivion. you rewarded his restraint to kiss you with sloppy pecks across his neck and throat, your tongue tracing random shapes and lines into the sweaty skin.
he felt like a fucking teenager with the way he was so quick to jump your bones.
it was now day ten, and jungkook has surely lost his mind by now.
he was currently home alone, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as he waited to hear the familiar click! of the door unlocking.
you werenât home, obviously. you had picked up an extra shift at the bakery you worked at, leaving jungkook all by his lonesome.
youâd been gone for seven whole hours, and to make things worse, you only texted kookie a handful of times before it was silence on your end.
he thought about going up there to visit youâmaybe even partake in a sweet treat, but that would only end up doing him more harm than good. so here he sat, scrolling through your social medias for the umpteenth time.
fuck, you were so pretty. how did he end up with such a gorgeous girlfriend, hm? how did he manage to have the literal embodiment of perfection land in his lap?
he usually asked himself these questions when he was missing you really bad, or while he watched you sleep. is that creepy? eh, maybe, but who even really cares?
his eyes flicked up to the corner of the screen reading the time. it was fifteen minutes till five, and he still hadnât heard from you since you last texted at noon.
âhope she isnât working herself too hard . . .â he sighed, slumping back against the plush, gray couch cushions.
you were a bit of a perfectionist, and although he admired how much time and effort you put into your craft, he didnât particularly care for how hard you were on yourself if the outcome wasnât exactly what you wanted.
when you told jungkook baking was a âfun hobbyâ of yours, he expected you to laugh off your minuscule mistakes, and enjoy the sweet treat. boy was he fucking wrong.
* cue super cute flashback *
âone more, one more!â jungkook chuckled, his tatted fingers gripping onto your chin to bring you in for another slow, nasty kiss. before you could even protest, his lips were against yoursâsoft and swollen from your previous kisses.
you giggled against his lips, a small gasp getting caught in your throat when he grabbed a handful of your ass over your pajama shorts. âmm, babe. i gotta get the cookies out before they burn,â you hummed, cunt clenching around nothing when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth.
the sweet smell of brown sugar and chocolate wafted into your nose, and you knew soon enough the enticing smell would soon turn burnt and bitter if you didnât act quickly.
jungkook gave you one last peck before releasing his grip on you, a lazy smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. âalright, alright. iâll leave you alone . . . for now. now lets go check on those cookies,â he grinned, showcasing those oh so cute dimples that made you swoon every time you saw them.
he let you lead the way to the kitchenâ why you ask? so he could fondle and smack your ass to his hearts content. you didnât bother to say anything, allowing the giggling man behind you to continue his antics.
when you opened the oven your lips pulled into a thin line, already dissatisfied with the slightly burnt smell that greeted you.
while you were screaming in your mind twenty seven different ways, jungkook was behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for you to pull the tray out. he was so blissfully unaware of how homicidal you were over these damn brown butter cookies.
he leant over the pan, taking a deep inhale of the sweet treat. âshit, these look incredible, baby,â he muttered, mouth now beginning to water.
all you could do was sigh, your brows pulling together in a deep frown. jungkook noticed this and it had the cogs in his brain turning. what could possibly be so wrong? these were the most perfectly baked cookies heâs ever seen!
without saying a word you slowly lifted up a cookie with a thin spatula. just as you thoughtâthey were burnt. the bottom was entirely too dark for your liking. once they cooled they were going to be hard instead of soft. this just broke your heart.
jungkook noticed the cloudy look in your eyes and stood up straight. he turned your body towards his quickly, but gently. âhey, hey, whatâs wrong? why do you look like youâre about to crâi mean, umââ
it was too late. two fat tears were already rolling down cheeks, waiting to be wiped away by jungkook.
âugh, why would you ask me thatttt? you know i always cry when you ask me that,â you sniffled, blinking away more tears. jungkook puffed air through his cheeks, and cupped your face with both hands. this made you want to cry even more, but you managed to pull it together with a slow, but shaky breath.
you tried to look everywhere besides in front of you, but it was painfully hard to avoid your boyfriendsâ intense gaze.
âwhy are you crying? your cookies look perfect . . . iâm sorry, but i donâtâi donât understand,â he spoke softly, sliding his hands from your jaw to your shoulders.
your eyes flicked to the tray beside you, and then to the floor. âiâve . . . made these cookies so many times . . but the one time i wanna make them for you, i fucking burn them. what kinda sick joke is that?â
âbut baby they look perfectly fine toââ
âuhn uhn!â you grabbed one of the now cooled cookies, and showed him the dark brown bottom. âtheyâre not moist! theyâll be hardâinedible soon enough,â you sighed, pulling apart the cookie to reveal the steaming inside.
jungkook was completely stumped. burnt cookies were a very dark brown, blackish color, and they usually left a foul stench in the air . . . yet these were a perfect golden brown, and smelt so sweet he couldâve gotten a tooth ache. was he missing something?
âhmph, i donât know what went wrong. maybe i cooked the butter too long? maybe they werenât cold enough? i donât know . . . will you try, please?â you pouted, holding one half of the cookie in front of him. without a second thought, jungkook scarfed down the entire thing, along with the other half.
the still warm chocolate chips melted on his tongue, making him hum in content. you watched with an intense glint in your eyes, waiting for any sign that he disliked the cookie.
his tongue slowly ran over his bottom lip, and without saying a word he grabbed another cookie, devouring it in only two bites. your eyes softened, tear stained cheeks now feeling extra hot from embarrassment.
âshut up . . thereâs no way theyâre that good,â you muttered, hiding your face in his obscenely large pecs. jungkook only chuckled, his hand coming up to pet at your hair softly.
âi think youâre being entirely too hard on yourself, no? they may not be as soft as you want them, but theyâre certainly edible, babe.â his words were so sweet, and so gentle, it made you want to start crying all over again.
when you didnât say anything he continued, âyou could serve me flour on a paper plate, and iâd still eat it because it was made by you, and iâm so serious.â
when he heard you giggling into his chest it made his heart clench, but in a good way! your laugh sounded like the finest of symphonies to him, a sound he could hear on repeat for all his days to come.
âthere she is, thereâs my girl. no more crying, âkay? makes my heart hurt to see you so sad,â he spoke lowly, giving the crown of your head three gentle kisses.
your eyes slowly shut, the sound of his heartbeat making you drowsier by the minute. you couldâve fallen asleep right there, standing and all, but the sudden smell warm brown sugar had your eyes fluttering back open.
âtry it,â you heard him ask, although it sounded more like a demand. your lips parted, and with a little hesitation, you took a bite of the cookie. the taste of brown butter and vanilla had you humming in delight, and this brought a smirk to jungkookâs lips.
âgood, right?â
you hummed a small âmhmâ in response, and took another bite. âstill kinda dry. theyâre decent at best, and iâll never get hired at âthe sweet spotâ with decent cookies.â
your body went stiff when you heard jungkook let out a particularly loud sigh.
he wasnât bothered that you were talking about working at your dream job again, no, never that. what bothered him so damn much was that you really didnât believe your baking was good enough to get the job.
jungkook cupped your jaw firmly, forcing you to look up at him. he muttered âstop thatâ in korean. two words that you were very familiar with (due to you being a massive brat), and like every other time it made your cunt feel tingly.
âstop what . . .â you murmured, clearly acting clueless to what he was talking about.
he breathed out a small laugh, and tongued at the inside of his cheek, already caught on to your little game. âi believe my girl is smart enough to know what iâm talking aboutââ
with little to no strength he lifted you by the backs of your thighs, and set you on the counter. the cold marble had goosebumps rising all over your skin, and youâd be squealing right now if his lips werenât smushed against yours to keep you quiet.
he kissed the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, and then the shell of your ear before whispering, âbut if you need me to help spell it out for you, i really donât mind.â
jungkook couldâve popped a boner right then and there at the way your pupils blew out at his words.
thatâs how you ended up on the couch, knees pushed allll the way to your shoulders while jungkook edged you with his mouth. his tongue caressed your clit for what felt like hours, and you werenât allowed to cum, let alone even move out of his grip, until you were screaming out affirmations about how you were going to get that job at the bakery.
two days later you woke up bright and early to prepare some sample pastries for your interview, and to no ones surprise (not even your own) you got the job! that same night you rewarded jungkook with his favorite apple and brown sugar strudels, and some mean head to thank him for encouraging you so much. <3
* end of cute flashback *
when jungkook had zoned back in from reminiscing, his jeans felt five times tighter than they did before, and his hands felt clammy. he needed you. all of you.
he needed to feel the soft bud of your nipple graze his tongue as he sucked on it. he needed to feel the pressure of your thighs squeezing against his head as he devoured you like you were his last meal. and most importantly; he needed a fucking kiss god dammit!!
he could barely even remember what it felt like to suck your tongue into his mouth. shit, he could hardly even remember the taste of your cherry gloss!
damn, that lip gloss you wore always looked so prettyâespecially when you would suck him off and leave remnants of it all along the base of his cock.
âaish . . .â the frustrated man huffed out, giving his cock a quick palm over his sweats. his nose twitched, much like a bunny, when a shot of pleasure rushed down his spine at the contact.
his dick throbbed, almost painfully, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would cave and help himself. he was only human after all!
before he could even process what he was doing, jungkook clicked the phone icon right above your name, and pressed the phone against his ear. as the line rung he was internally pleading for you to answer the phone. all he wanted to do was hear your voice.
suddenly he heard a click on the other lineâ
âhello?â
âo-oh!â jungkook sat up straight, his lips breaking into a dopey half-smile at the sound of your voice. âi didnât expect you to answer . . . you never answered my textsânot that thatâs a problem. i know youâre busy being the best pastry chef in the world.â
he could hear the smile on your face as you talked about the ups and downs of your day, and shamefully enough, it was making him harder.
god, he hated himself right now. why has this temporary ban on kisses made him to beside himself?
âanâ now iâm just hanging out in the office to take a break. i think iâm gonna head out soon, though. iâve been so spaced out today.â
âmm, what have you been thinking about?â
jungkook didnât mean to have that oh so familiar seductive tone in his voice, but unfortunately for him, he practically purred out the question.
there was silence, and thenâ
âhonestly? . . . you giving me head.â
jungkook almost moaned aloud at that, but instead let out a sound that was a mix of a whine and a gasp.
this is why you were made for him, why you were his girl. you both craved each other so much. its always been an ongoing match of whoâs the biggest yearner between the two of you.
âyou there, babe? too crude for the workplace?â
your sweet laugh only fueled the fire in his lower belly. jungkook was so horny it was almost difficult for him to speak.
ân-no . . no, not at all. iâve been thinking about the same thing actually. remember that day when you baked those cookies?â
he heard a small, barely audible noise that sounded a lot like a whimper. âmhm.â
with a shaky hand, jungkook pushed himself up using the armrest of the couch. everything was entirely too hot, he needed to feel some kind of relief.
âi remember how you couldnât stop shaking when i was done. you came for, like, a whole minute. i couldnât believe it.â as jungkook dumbly babbled about eating you out, he was also making his way to the bedroom.
the first thing that caught his attention when he walked in the room was your discarded panties from that morning. it felt like the peach colored garment was calling out to him. begging to be fucked nâ soiled by his sticky cum.
he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard the airy sound of your voice. âcâmonnnn. donât say stuff like that, or else iâll look like a total mess in front of everyone.â
âmm, and what if i want that to happen?â he breathily chuckled, swiping your panties off the floor in one swift movement. he tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder, and pulled his sweats down mid thigh before taking a seat at the edge of your shared bed.
âi think you look pretty cute all flustered and shy. iâm sure everyone else will think so, no?â jungkooks tone was very teasing, which was funny because he was honestly one stroke away from combusting into bits.
âmmcht. it might be cute to you, but i doubt my bosses will think it is.â
âhahâyeah . . . yeah, maybe youâre right,â jungkooks head tilted back when he finally wrapped the soft fabric of your panties over his swollen cock. it wasnât nearly enough to satisfy him like you ever could, but it would have to do for now.
an attempt to stay neutral, and quiet was never even made because your man knew just how much you liked to hear him.
âk-kook, câmonââ
âjust fucking come home already, y/n. i donât mean to rush you at all, baby, butâfuck. justâjust listen,â his slurred sentenced trailed off with a moan, and suddenly your ears were met blessed with a wet shlicking sound.
âpleaseââ
âiâm using your panties. the ones you left on the floor this morning to beângh, specific.â
jungkook knew he was being sooo mean, and sooo unfair, but unfortunately my mans was fresh out of self control.
âhurry up, and come home so we can ruin each other,â he rasped, letting out one last moan to break you even more.
the dark haired mans eyes fluttered shut, and the first image that popped in his head was you; stark naked, and spread out for him, ready to have your pussy eaten until you cried.
he brought your panties to his nose, and took a deep inhale, while his other hand steadily pumped the thick base of his dick. they sorta smelled of him now, but the scent of you was still overwhelmingly there.
âmm, fuck,â he panted out, poking his tongue out to take an experimental lick at the crotch part. what he was going was disgusting, humiliating, and beyond perverted, butâ
âshittt. it tastes just like her.â
his ring clad fingers squeezed harshly at the tip, and when he ran his thumb over the leaky slit, he tried his absolute best to imagine it was you.
time had seemed to go by rather fast, because just as jungkook was about to edge himself for the third time, he heard the door, followed by quick footsteps. there was no point in trying to hide what he was doing because; 1. he was too horny to give a shit and 2. he actually wanted you to see him like that.
your reaction was just as he pictured in his head only moments agoâflustered and intrigued. âoh . . . youâre here. i missed you, baby. so much.â
the evidence of his confession was leaking obscenely in front of you, and all you could do was stand there with parted lips, and clenched thighs.
with a low grunt, jungkook released his firm grip on his cock. âcâmere. âwanna touch you.â
your bag was the first to go, the designer accessory hitting the carpet with a soft thud. it was like your feet had a mind of their own, one taking a step after the other until you were nearly in your boyfriendsâ grasp.
the moment you were in reach, he was tugging you closer by your flour stained shirt, and burying his face between your covered breasts. âh-hey!â you gasped, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. âthis shirt is all dirty, honey, câmon.â
âthen take it off,â jungkook grunted below you, lifting up your shirt to finally kiss at your skin. he just didnât give a shit anymore about the piercing rejecting, and if he kept this up, you were going to soon stop caring as well.
he kissed around the curves of your hips, making sure to give each side a cheeky little nibble, before tracing his tongue around your tummy.
âiâll never get over how cute this is . . . suits you so well, sugar,â he spoke lowly, referring to the baby pink hello kitty jewelry that was pierced through your naval.
a purr rumbled in jungkooks chest when you scratched lightly at his scalp, murmuring a small, but sweet âthank you.â
âjustâjust lemme get these yucky clothes off, and take a shower before we get down to . . um, to business.â words that you were barely able to get out in the first place were quickly washed away, and long forgotten as jungkook suckled at your hip bone.
âyou took a shower this morning, iâm sure youâre fine.â
this earned him a scoff, followed by a weak push to his shoulders. âi just worked for almost ten hours. not so sure iâm at my freshest.â
suddenly jungkooks nose was pressed against your lower tummy, âand yet you smell like sugar and . . . mm, strawberries?â
âclose,â you whispered, taking his chin between your fingers. jungkook preened at the physical contact, leaning into your touch even further. his eyes widened slightly, patiently waiting for you to finish what you were saying.
âthatâs cherries youâre actually smelling. i made a batch of cherry strudels before i left,â you finally spoke, scratching at his chin.
his lips parted, but you were quick to interrupt him, âi already know what youâre going to ask, and yes, thereâs some in the kitchen waiting for you. âcould never make some strudels without bringing one home for my kookie.â
fuck. you were just so sweet, and considerate, it made jungkook feel feral. his neglected cock twitched, begging for some kind of attention.
his fingers fiddled with the button to your jeans, and with those wide doe of his, he silently asked for permission to undo it. you bit your lip, hesitant at first, but after a little thought you slowly nodded.
his eyes stayed on yours, never once breaking contact as he undid the button of your jeans, the zipper soon following. âlove you so much,â he whispered into your skin, slowly pulling them down.
you didnât know what to expect during this very intense moment with your man, but what you certainly didnât expect was for him to just start eating it through your panties!
his nose nudged against your clit as his tongue caressed the crotch area of your strawberry patterned panties. he could taste you. barely, but just enough. he couldâve passed away right then and there, and wouldâve died happy, and content.
you were still standing, knees knocking together as you tried to keep yourself up. âbabe, i really should freshen up f-first. h-hah, what about your piercing?â
suddenly a rush of pleasure shot down your back, making your body jolt forward. the sensation felt . . . foreign. this was odd, because jungkook has eaten you out through your panties plenty of times before.
âdid you like the way that felt?â you heard the man below you speak, a cheeky smile spreading across his features. âwant me to do it again? hereââ
that same feeling returned, except it was more sloppy, more wet. it had your head tilting back, and if it werenât for jungkook holding you up by the backs of your thighs, you surely wouldâve collapsed.
you were absolutely speechless. your cunt was doing more of the talking than you were at this point, dripping into your panties, and creating an even bigger mess.
when you didnât say anything, too wrapped in your own head, he spoke once more. âyou like that, huh? like the way it feels on your pussy?â
your eyes fluttered rapidly, and when you peeked down, jungkookâs tongue was shallowly sticking out, giving you a nice view of the silver ball in the center. his tongue cupped your clit over your panties, slowly moving side to side.
jungkook was genuinely surprised he was keeping it together so well, and taking his time with you. before you arrived, the only thing he could think about was tearing these same panties he was kissing and licking on into two.
all you could do was watch in awe, the inside of your mind sounding like nothing but static. jungkook nipped at the inside of your thigh, regaining your attention.
âjust a little taste, cutie. i can rinse with mouthwash after *kiss kiss* to make sure it doesnât get infected.â you could practically feel your heartbeat in your clit as jungkook kissed over your clothed mound.
his fingers looped in the lacy waistband of your panties, and with a gentle tug, he pulled them down low enough just to get a peek at the fat of your pussy. he could see your clit peeking out from between your slicked folds, swollen and looking as tempting as ever.
âbefore you do that,â you whispered, carefully stepping out of your jeans, âi want a kiss.â
your man wasted no time pulling you into his lap, and it felt heavenly to be able to feel his dick press against your clothed pussy.
his tatted hand cupped the side of your face, âi just might die, and iâm not even kidding.â
this made you laugh, and although he was pleased to have made you smile, he was deadly serious. being denied your kisses had him nearly climbing up the walls!
âmm, youâre so dramaticââ
and that was the last thing that was said before jungkookâs lips were smushed against yours.
soft. that was the first word that popped in his mind. your lips, your skin, the little noises you made as he deepened the kissâit was all just so soft.
you could tell he was trying to be gentle, and take his time, but it wasnât long before his thumb was pushing down on your chin to part your lips wider.
the kiss was slow, deep, everything that he had imagined for the past ten days. feverishly, he sucked your tongue into his mouth, and the faint taste of cherry compote had him moaning into the kiss.
you could feel his piercing slide against your tongue. it had you shaking, like it was your first time kissing him all over again.
âhahâshit,â jungkook moaned, greedily kissing his way down to your neck. your skin was a bit sweaty from working so hard, but he didnât mind in the slightest. âneed to taste you now.â
you squeaked, eyes squeezing shut as he flipped you on your back with ease. his face burrowed into your neck, and while he whined apologies into your ear about the sudden roughness, his bottom half was also rutting pitifully into yours.
âoh my . . .â your lips parted in a dreamy sigh, lashes fluttering when you felt his swollen tip rub directly onto your clit. âp-please do something, kook.â
your shirt was pushed up, along with your bra, and seconds later you felt a pair of lips wrap around your left nipple. jungkook wasnât pretty with itâhe slobbered and licked all around your breast, making sure to swirl his piercing around your nipple in between licks.
âi am, baby. i am,â he gave your neglected nipple a wet kiss, âi got you, donât worry.â
while you made quick work to rid your shirt and bra, jungkook kissed his way down your body, leaving a glistening trail behind him. when he reached your pussy, your thighs twitched making him smirk.
âyou may be crying by the time iâm done with you,â he spoke softly, giving you clit one last kiss over your panties. âso i wanna apologize beforehand.â
he took his time removing your panties, his eyes zeroing in at the way your essence clung to the soaked cotton.
the second his tongue swiped between your sopping folds, he was greeted with a taste sweeter than anything you have ever baked for him. there was a slight tang that had him salivating for more, but the sweetness overpowered everything.
you knew jungkook was bound to have his dramatics turnt all the way up given the circumstances, but you definitely didnât expect him to let out the loudest, most whiniest pornographic moan youâve ever heard!
âbabe,â you breathily giggled, combing your fingers through his hair. you tugged lightly on the strands when he sucked your swollen button into his mouth, the tip of his tongue caressing the pearl ever so gently. âp-pace yourself now, we have all the time in the world.â
jungkook hummed, but you honestly couldnât even tell if he had heard a word you just said.
with a low grunt he pushed the backs of your knees up, and used his entire mouth to cup your pussy. his tongue slithered all between your folds before the infamous piercing finally swiped against your clit.
your stomach clenched when he did it again, and when he did it a third time, his ears were rewarded with you moaning out his name oh so sweetly.
âmm, you like that, baby? how does it feel? describe it for me,â he purred, circling his tongue around your clit. a shudder ran down your spine, and your cheeks felt as if someone placed hot coals on them.
âbabe p-pleaseââ
âdo it.â
your lower half thrusted into nothing as jungkook spit directly on your clit. you could feel the saliva trickle between your folds, creating a wetter, even bigger mess between your thighs.
the center of of his tongue circled figure eights onto your clit, and you could feel the silver ball with every movement. your boyfriend was slowly, but surely, pushing you to your limit.
âit feels . . . u-um, like, different?â
âdifferent in what way, baby? câmon, i know that pretty head can come up with some smart words. you got the smartest mouth i know.â you could feel his smirk in your skin when he finished his sentence.
jungkook cupped your clit with his lips, and dragged his tongue all around the nub. his eyes fluttered shut at the symphony of moans that spilled past your kiss bitten lips.
the more he licked, the more your mind became a muddled mess. âkookâplease slow down. i canât thinkkk!â you whined, weakly pushing at his forehead.
your pleas only made him more feral for you, unfortunately.
the back of your head flew into the mattress when he hiked your thighs over his shoulders, bringing his face impossibly closer to your cunt. the grip he had on your thighs was kinda fucking ridiculous. you couldnât move an inch!!
he has been hitting the gym a little harder to deal with all his pent up frustration, but jesus, you didnât think heâd bulk up so quickly. if you were to compare your head to his biceps, you were sure theyâd be bigger.
after ogling his physique from above, a pinch to your thigh brought you back to reality.
âi believe i asked you a question some time ago, and you still havenât answered it.â his words were muffled into your thigh, and once he was done speaking he nipped at the skin just to hear you whine again.
âu-um, it feels hard . . weird, nâ makes her feel extraângh,â you tried to shut your thighs around his head from sensitivity, the word you were trying to say before you were interrupted, but jungkook was not letting up.
the sudden intrusion of his tongue in your clenching hole had tears springing to your eyes, but as soon as the feeling was there, it was gone just as quick.
âoh . . did you like that? maybe you should finish what you were saying, and iâll reward you for it.â his tone was teasing, and just when you were gonna snap back at him, he was slurping obscenely at your cunt.
âiââ
with one final lick to your throbbing clit, you were cumming all over jungkooks tongue with a weak cry.
you couldnât form a word, nor thought. all you could do was go limp, and let him have his way with you. he didnât even mind that you came without permissionâfrankly, you could do anything you wanted, as long as he got to remain between your soaked thighs.
your essence coated his tongue like dribbles of honey, and he drank up every drop until your thighs were twitching against his reddened ears.
with a deep groan, jungkook pushed your knees alllll the way back, and when you wrapped your hands around your ankles to keep them in place, his chest swelled with pride.
jungkook latched on your clit, and hollowed his cheeks, earning a squeak from you. when his head shook back and forth, thatâs when the tears in your eyes started free falling.
âo-ohh my,â you cried out, thighs now beginning to shake.
jungkook stopped, and only stopped, when he felt your finger tips tap repeatedly at his shoulders. something you only did when you were way past your limits.
he nosed at your clit, and gave her one more sloppy kiss before pulling away, but only by an inch. he didnât want to stray too far from he wanted to be most.
it was silent for a few minutes; the only thing being heard were your shaky breaths, and the occasional whimper.
his lips brushed against your thigh, and when he started covering the dewy skin in kisses, you were mewling in protest. âi canât, kook,â he heard you sniffle from above him.
ânghâyouâre lucky iâm so hard. otherwise iâd make you do it again,â he growled, slapping your pussy with his palm. your body jolted, and when you attempted to push yourself away from him, you were surprised to see you were out of his iron grip.
there you laid at the top of bed; chest heaving and legs shaking, meanwhile jungkook stayed knelt at the edge, eyeing you very intensely.
you felt your heart begin to hammer against your ribcage when he stood at his full height. the new addition to his sleeve tattoo that he had gotten a few weeks prior had him looking intimidating as ever.
he was silent as he removed his shirt, and he was still quiet as he shed his sweats and briefs. his cock was now an angry red shade, and leaking like a damn faucet. it had saliva pooling on your tongue.
âyou gonna come down here, and take it? gonna come take whatâs yours?â he spoke lowly, brown eyes never once leaving yours as he spit in his hand. he used that same hand to pump his twitching cock, slowly and teasingly.
your lips pushed into a pout, but you nodded, completely disregarding the throbbing between your legs. you needed him in your mouth immediately. even if it was just a taste.
his nostrils flared when you crawled over to him on all fours, and once you were finally in reach, his thumb hooked into your mouth, forcing you to look up at him.
âmm, you want some donât you?â
his thumb was pushing down on your tongue, preventing you from speaking, so you just nodded. to drive him even crazier, you started sucking on the digit, even going as far as to moan around it.
âbaby please,â your boyfriend panted above you, his cock twitching wildly at the action. he was so close to busting a nut, but he had to keep it together so you could have your fun with him.
he truly had you so spoiled.
he took the throbbing muscle in his hand once more, and slapped it against your cheek. âcanât do this for long. iâm already close enough as it is,â he warned, tracing the dribbling tip over your lips.
your eyes flicked from his cock to those big, brown boba eyes, and with a slow lick to your lips, you nodded.
when your lips wrapped around his cock, jungkooks jaw went completely slack. you gave him the same treatment he gave you; wet and messy.
thanks to copious amounts of throat training, you were able to take more than half of his cock in your mouth with ease. when the tip brushed against the back of your throat, his hips stuttered. âshitttt.â
you tried not to get carried away, but the nosies he was making were so pretty :(( you never wanted them to end.
your hand cupped his balls, and this earned you a nice, strained groan from him.
âgeumanhae,â he muttered, yanking you back by your hair until only the tip remained between your lips. a shiver ran down his spine when he felt you exhale through your nose, and with one last trace around the head, you were pulling back completely.
you looked at him through your lashes, batting them softly. âstop what?â
jungkook chuckled softly, running a tatted hand through his slightly damp hair. âstop trying to make me cum. youâre not that slick.â
you fake pouted, and leant forward, messily kissing all across his thighs and lower abdomen. âwhat gave me away?â you spoke softly, trailing your kisses higher up his body.
when you reached his lips, jungkook gave in and gave you a single, slow kiss. âwas too wrapped in it to realize anything . . . until you started moaning too. you know that shit makes me cum quick,â he chuckled, bumping his nose against yours.
âpfft, whatever. now gimme another kiss.â
jungkook didnât need to be told twice. he squished your cheeks together, and slithered his tongue into your mouth. when you started sucking on his tongue, his chest deflated in a deep breath he didnât even know he was holding.
you both were as physically close as two people could be, but it just wasnât enough for him. god, he just wanted to live in your skin all day, everyday.
âhow do you want it?â he hummed, kissing his way down to your neck. your chest arched into his, and with a dreamy sigh you said, âon my stomach.â
you heard a small âmhmâ and then you were turnt around, and pushed to your tummy. your lashes fluttered weakly, trying to process jungkookâs quickness. you shimmied further up the bed to rest your head on the mountain of pillows at the top.
âoh, baby. you donât need those,â you heard your man chuckle behind you. you felt the bed dip, and then a sudden warmth against your back. jungkook lifted your head up gently, and slid him arm underneath with ease, allowing your head to rest prettily on his bicep. ânot when you can lay right here.â
his bicep was nice nâ strong, but soft enough to rest against. the perfect pillow.
you used whatever strength you had left to spread your thighs apart, you didnât stop until your knees knocked against his muscly thighs. âplease put it in.â
jungkook rubbed the fat tip of his dick between your swollen folds, his nose twitching at the intense warmth that greeted him.
âhahâiâll try to go slow . . canât guarantee anything after that.â
he circled his tip around your clit, relishing in the wet noises that he heard, and with a shallow inhale, he finally pushed the first couple of inches inside your pussy.
he heard you let out a tiny gasp, and your body tensed slightly at the intrusion. âd-donât clench so hard, baby,â he panted in your ear, âsâjust me. ease up.â
the warmth that you felt on your back suddenly spread all along your body. jungkook covered you like a blanket, not letting a single sliver of your skin go untouched by him.
that sweet, citrusy smell of his wafted into your nose, and thatâs when you finally eased up, allowing him to push more of his cock inside your tight heat. jungkook was careful with it at first; slowly sliding in and out until he was pumping into you with ease.
your brows scrunched together in pleasure, âoh fuck.â
jungkook made a noise in his chest so low at you cursing, it sent shivers down your spine. his free hand snaked underneath your bodies, and pinched at your clit. âw-watch that fuckinâângh, mouth.â
âs-sorry, sorry! can you go faster, please?â
you could feel jungkooks cock twitch inside you at your request, and without saying a word, he pulled alllll the way out before slamming back inside you. he moaned into your shoulder when your ass shimmied against his front. âwhatâre you doing, baby?â his voice was raspy, and strained as if heâd been hurt.
âneedâneed all of it in me,â you slurred out, too cockdrunk to even care about how stupid his dick has made you already. all you knew in this moment was that you needed every. single. inch of him.
âdonât worry, you got it all. just focus on feeling good for me,â jungkook whispered in your ear, now starting a steady rhythm of deep thrusts. you didnât need to be told twice, and just completely went limp, allowing him to have his way with you once more.
his rough fingers grabbed at the fat of your hips, pulling you more into him, so he could fuck you harder.
âyou like that? like when i fuck you like this?â he growled, wrapping his tatted bicep around your neck. your chin was resting on his forearm, and soon enough drool was dribbling from between your plush lips and onto his skin.
the loud moan you let out was more than enough of a response for him.
being trapped in his arms like this always made you excited, and a little scared. he was just sooo much bigger compared to you, and the fact that he was able to keep you in place or manhandle into any position he wanted didnât make the obsession any better.
âah ah ah! o-oh my goddd,â your baby pink, sock covered feet kicked wildly against the bed when his cock hit a spongy spot particularly deep inside of you. âgonâgonna cum soon,â you wept into his skin, the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as the seconds passed.
âi-i know. i can feel it.â
and he wasnât lying. your walls pulsed around him like crazy, warning him of your nearing orgasm. the loud squelching that happened each time he pushed into you was also a dead giveaway.
jungkooks hand snaked beneath your bodies once more, stopping at your lower tummy. he used three fingers to push down, hard.
this had your eyes crossing, your back arching into his scorching hot chest.
âj-jeonnnâ!â you squealed out, limbs having a mind of their own as they twitched and shook violently underneath him.
jungkook tightened his grip around your neck, and fucked into you even harder, milking your orgasm for all it was worth.
âuhn, shit. squeezinâ me so tight, baby. whoâs fucking you so good like this, huh?â he grit out, lowering his head to smush the side of his against your own. his tongue darted out to lick at a stray tear falling down your temple.
you couldnât speak. your entire mind sounded like static, completely useless. that definitely wasnât sitting right with your man.
âa-ah! jungâjungkook!â you sobbed out, the nerve endings on you shoulder going crazy from being bitten by him. it hurt, like a lot, but it also felt fucking amazing.
jungkooks tongue lolled out to soothe the bite, and each time his piercing swiped across the sensitive flesh you shivered. âthere you go, baby. thatâs all i wanted to hear.â
his heavy, brutal thrusts were no more, instead he settled for shallow grinding. god, he was so close to cumming, but he couldnât. not now at least.
âcâmon. wannaâ *huff* wanna fuck in front of the mirror.â
you whined at this, shaking your head weakly in protest. jungkook chuckled, sitting back on his knees, cock still nestled snugly inside of you. he spread your ass cheeks, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip at the sight of your cunt hugging his length so nicely.
âugh, babe. mâso sensitive, please,â you sniffled, brows scrunching together in pleasure once more. this fucker had the audacity to flex his cock inside you, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face.
âpleaseee? iâll be extra gentle i promise.â
you let out a small sigh when his rough hands began to massage at your lower back, careful not to press too hard.
âyouâre such a liar. as soon as you have me bent over, youâll be rough again,â you giggled, arousal starting slowly to pool in your belly once again.
you could feel the way his cock twitched, the way the thick veins wrapped around the base thrummed against your walls. fuck, you really wanted to feel the warmth of him nutting inside you.
jungkook mumbled a small apology as he slowly pulled his cock out, and wow. you had his shit glistening. streaks of your cream coated the base, and if you werenât feeling so tired, heâd make you clean up your mess.
âturn around for me, pretty girl. wanna see your face.â
it took a minute, or three, but you finally managed to turn over with a loud huff. jungkook was still sitting back on his knees, eyes now glued to your swollen cunt.
you were so wet.
dribbles of your cum trailed down your ass cheeks and onto the bed, soaking the black cotton sheets even further. he chuckled, âguess iâm gonna have to do laundry . . . again. what a sloppy pussy you got, princess.â
he slapped your pussy once, twice, and when he did it a third time your thighs were closing in sensitivity.
âwhatâs wrong? thought you liked when i slapped her like that?â he tongued at the inside of his cheek, admiring how phat your pussy looked with your thighs closed the way they were.
âmm, i do. just extra sensitive right now,â you giggled hugging your knees to your chest.
jungkook slowly got off the bed, and with little to no strength, he pulled you down to the edge by your thighs. your arms reached out for him, and he was happy to lean down to let you wrap your arms around his thick neck.
âgonna let me have my way with you again, cutie?â he smirked, lifting your body off the bed. his rough hands cupped your ass, keeping you flush against his chest. the tip of his cock bumped against your cunt, and if he wasnât so bent on taking you in front of the long mirror against the bedroom wall, you knew heâd fuck you right here, standing and all.
âyou may . . . but you better be gentle. i have work tomorrow, nâ donât wanna be sore,â your nails scratched at the nape of his neck, making him sigh contently. âyouâre the best, baby.â
your legs slowly unwinded from around his waist, allowing him to set you down. you heard a giggle, and whipped your head around. âyou laughinâ at me?â you smirked, getting on your knee in front of the mirror.
jungkook joined you on the floor, his lips breaking into an even bigger smile. âyes, yes, a little. your legs are shaking so much, i canât help it.â and there he went showcasing those two, front bunny teeth that had you falling in love with him all over again every time you saw them.
you shifted towards him, your eyes sparkling like the finest of diamonds. âyouâre so handsome,â you whispered, resting your hands on his thick thighs. âgimme a kiss.â
it was so nice to kiss your man again, it really was. his lips were always so soft, and plush. he did things with his tongue during kisses that you didnât even know were possible!
âs-so obsessed with you,â jungkook moaned into your mouth, his hands gripping onto the fat of your hips so harshly, you were sure to feel it for the next couple hours.
your hand wrapped around his leaky, neglected dick, giving it a few slow pumps. jungkooks abs clenched, and his mouth parted, allowing you to suck his tongue into your mouth.
you let out a small squeak when he smacked your ass, tatted hand grabbing onto the soft, jiggly flesh afterwards. âyouâreâheh, y-youâre distracting me,â he moaned softly, giving your ass another quick slap.
âmâsorry, baby. just canât help myself, i missed your kisses so much.â
jungkook couldâve fucking cried. he was so turned on, and in love right now, the shit nearly brought him to tears.
âno, no, donât be sorry. never be sorry, especially when it comes to men, remember?â he whined into the kiss, sloppily making his way down your jaw, and into the crook of your neck. âyouâre everythingâa fucking goddess. everyone should be kissing the ground you walk on.â
jungkook wasnât even sure what he was saying at this point, too drunk on you and your body to even care what was coming out of his mouth.
your head tilted back in a moan, giving jungkook more access to your neck. âdonâ say stuff like that. gonna make me an even bigger brat than i already am.â
jungkook didnât mind that honestly. yes, you can be the biggest, poutiest brat heâs ever met, but you were his brat.
his brat to punish and reward as he see fit. his to fuck, and then take care of afterwards. his to spoil.
and spoiled you were!
after many failed relationships/situationships, jungkook became your first real boyfriend when you reached your early twenties. he took care of you financially, and loved you in ways you didnât even know were possible, ruining you for any man or woman that could potentially come after him. (there will be no one that comes after him.)
âi donât give a fuck about that. gotta keep you bratty so you need me all the time. all i wanna do is be needed by you, y/n.â
with one final kiss to your sweaty skin, jungkook removed his face from that oh so comfortable crook in your neck. ânow turn around, and arch for me.â
you didnât say anything. you just peered at him through your lashes, and gave him that look. the look that silently told him you wanted him to fuck you sooo good, and fill you up with his kids.
you turned around, now facing the mirror. you looked completely spent; the light eye makeup you wore to work was now streaky and smudged. the cherry gloss you were once wearing was now nothing but a memoryâjungkook made sure of that.
your eyes found his in the mirror, and never left them as you got on all fours. your back arched, and thatâs when jungkook was the first to break eye contact, his eyes immediately falling on your pussy.
you looked very enticing from this angle to say the least.
âremember,â you spoke softly, regaining his attention, âgo slow.â
he didnât want to go slow, like at all. his balls felt so heavy, ready to fill up your soft walls. going slow was the last thing jungkook wanted to do.
but you were his princess, his special girl, his reason for still having hope in this crazy worldâso instead of fucking you into you floor like he hated you, jungkook took his time. well sorta.
he used no hands to push himself back inside your warmth, something you both very much enjoyed to watch, and slammed all the way in without warning.
you made a noise between a sob and a moan, completely taken aback by the action. your face fell into the plush carpet, your arch deepened, and jungkook could tell you were going to lay into him by the pout on your lips, but he was quick to shush your whines with a few soft kisses on the small of your back.
âso deep like this . .â your voice was light and airy, brain totally convinced that jungkook was almost in your tummy. a whine bubbled in your chest when he pulled your head up by your hair, forcing you to look at him once more.
âkeep your head up. âwanna see your face while i fuck you.â
sigh, he had such a way with words.
a small, dopey smile formed on your lips, and he could see the hearts forming in your eyes at the demand. âiâll keep my head up. promise.â
jungkook offered you a small smile in the mirror, and then his eyes slowly trailed to the sight of your cunt swallowing up his dick. your ass was pressed nice nâ tight against his pelvis, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat from your pussy against his balls.
he tongued at his lip piercing, nostrils flaring as he slowly pulled out an inch, and then pushed himself back in. he just kept repeating to himself âneed to go slow. need to go slow. need to go slow for her.â
while jungkook was having an internal battle to keep his composure, you were having your own challenges trying to keep your head up. each time he pushed back in, he went all the way in to the hilt, letting his fat tip knock against sensitive, spongy spot deep inside you.
a pearl colored ring of cream was now forming on the base of his cock, and that just made it all the more harder to keep his slow, steady rhythm going.
âlove taking you like this,â he groaned, grabbing a handful of your peachy ass. when he glanced your reflection in the mirror; your head was still surprisingly up, but your eyes were low lidded, and your teeth were clamped onto your bottom lip so hard it looked like you were on the verge of drawing blood.
thankfully you released the plump flesh to respond to him, ây-yeah, me too.â
although you couldnât see what he did, you could certainly hear it. the sound of his thick cock splitting open your creamy folds was deafening. you were so wet that at some points, jungkook was afraid his dick would slip right out of you.
âstop clenching s-so much,â he huffed, pulling you back by the fat of your ass to fuck into you not faster, but harder.
each time he was a little more than halfway out, you would clench your cunt around his tip, like you were afraid heâd pull out, and leave you high and dry.
âsorry i justâhah! n-need you to go a little faster? please?â you tried to make it sound like a demand, but under your boyfriendsâ hungry stare, it was hard to give him any kind of orders. he made you feel so helpless when he got like this.
âyeah? like this?â the pace of his hips increased slightly, but not enough to satiate you. your eyes met his in the mirror again, âum, more like thisââ
you pulled your hips forward, and slammed them back. you repeated this action until jungkook began to match your pace while also maintaining how hard his cock was pumping into you.
you thought he was deep before, but this was entirely newâyou could feel him in your chest! it hurt a little, but it hurt so good.
ây-yeahâmm, just like that.â your head was starting to droop, obstructing his view of your pretty, fucked out face. this simply wouldnât doânot when youâve reached being peak cockdrunk.
your head was yanked up by your hair, and kept in place by jungkooks hand, his grip not loosening in the slightest. âdo you even know what your name is right now?â he chuckled, swatting at your ass before gripping the jiggling flesh.
you whined, lips pushing into a pout as you shook your head ânoâ. this made his smile grow wider, and his balls tightenâhe needed you cum inside you now.
his hand moved from your hair to your throat, and with a gentle tug, he finally relieved you of holding yourself up by keeping you pressed tightly against his sweaty chest.
âiâm so fucking cl-ose, god. please tell me youâre close, baby,â his words came out slurred from him mouthing at your shoulder.
you wanted to answer him, please him, but you simply couldnât find the worldsâlet alone move your lips to say them. that was until jungkook threatened to pull out if you didnât.
you knew he wasnât bluffing by the way his hips started to slow, and youâd be damned if they came to a complete stop.
you turned your head towards him, and jungkooks lips caught yours in a nasty kiss. tongues were sucked, teeth clashed together, and while he sucked on your bottom lip, you muttered out a breathy, âiâm close, kook.â
âi love you so much.â
âi love you m-more.â
several bruising thrusts later, and jungkook was cumming inside you with a loud whine, his hand closing around the sides of your throat a bit tighter to keep you in place. he shoved his free hand between your dripping thighs, and with three thick fingers, he rubbed fast circles on your clit.
âo-oh shittt!â your hand wrapped around his tatted wrist tightly, fingernails digging into his heated skin in a weak attempt to stop him.
âi told you to watch your fucking mouth,â he moaned out, pushing your head into the carpet, hard. you barely noticed though, too wrapped up in your quickly approaching orgasm.
he propped one knee up, and began delivering mean strokes. âyouâre kinda struggling to listen today *huff* guess i canât blame you though,â he chuckled, briefly slowing his thrusts so he could let a glob of spit fall into the already excessively wet mess between your bodies.
his cock as completely covered in your essence and his cum, and fuck, he felt so sensitive and raw, but he just couldnât stop. in this moment, he truly believed that fucking your creamed pussy like this was the closest heâd get to feeling nirvana.
you were completely taken aback by how rough he was being with you. you loved it. you wanted more.
just as you were about to cum you moaned out âoh fuck!â so loud, you were sure your neighbors heard. this only made jungkook smush your face harder into the carpet, his body hunching almost completely over yours as he fucked you at a speed so quick it had you seeing white.
you could suddenly feel puffs of air against your ear.
âif you wanted to get fucked harder all you had to do was askâdonât gotta disobey me to get me to do it,â you heard him growl into your ear, and thatâs what had you cumming with a squeal, your back arching completely into the floor.
jungkook fucked you through the entire thing, and then some more.
ây-yeah, thatâs right. get it out for meâf-fuck, you sound so hot,â he whined into your hair, his pace never once faltering. he pressed a kiss to your sweaty shoulder, and straightened up his back. he bit down roughly on his bottom lip as he admired the erotic sight before him.
âp-pull out!â you moaned out, and when your cunt clenched tightly around his cock, he knew what was coming.
jungkook pulled out completely, and a clear stream of your cum followed, soaking the carpet beneath you. your body went limp, slowly slumping into a pile of mush.
you whimpered, tears free falling down your cheeks as jungkook massaged your ass and lower back. you could hear him mumbling praises, but you were entirely too spent to respond.
âcâmon, lets get you off the floor, and into the shower,â he spoke softly, earning a whine of disapproval from you. âyouâre all messy, baby. plus, you need to pee,â he said matter of factly. he never failed to wake you up out a blissful post-fuck catnap to pee.
âfine, but youâre gonna have to carry me.â
âdonât i always, pretty girl?â
fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in the shower with jungkook, steaming water cascading down your sore bodies. jungkook had wrapped your hair up for you before you got in, allowing you to enjoy this quiet time with no worries.
he held you tightly against his chest, and hummed lowly, rocking your bodies side to side. after a few moments he whispered, âyou think you can stand by yourself while i wash you?â
he was always such an intimate, sweet man.
you pressed a gentle kiss to his pec and nodded. âwanna wash you too when youâre done,â you mumbled, immediately missing his warmth as you detached your arms from around his slim waist.
jungkook was quick to squirt your favorite hemp rose soap into a loofa, and with careful hands, he scrubbed your body. first was your shoulders, and then your breasts where he took his sweet time, and as he scrubbed over your tummy and lower abdomen, a certain feeling had your lower half tingling.
âturn around, baby,â he hummed, adding more soap onto the loofa. he washed over your back carefully, afraid that if he added too much pressure, youâd shatter right in front of him.
he had you turn towards him once again, and got on his knees so he could wash your legs. he was very thorough. not a an inch of skin gone untouched by him.
he was eye level with your still messy pussy, and heâd be lying if he said taking a lick or two didnât cross his perverted mind.
he looked up at you through his dripping lashes, âcould you hand me your washcloth, please? gotta, um, clean up between your thighs.â
you brushed dark, wet strands of hair out of his face, allowing you to see those oh so tempting big, brown eyes of his.
âhow about . . you use your tongue?â your voice came out tiny at the end, embarrassment flooding your system. you werenât the best at dirty talk like this freak was.
he smirked at you, âyeah? want me to clean you up?â
he kissed at the insides of your thighs, nipping at the petal soft skin every now again to hear you gasp. your back fell against the cool tiles of the shower wall when you felt his tongue ghost over your slit.
he swiftly, yet calmly lifted your leg up by the back of your knee, and set it carefully over his shoulder. his tongue flattened, and slowly licked between your folds. the taste that greeted him was nothing less than sweet.
because of his great diet, jungkooks cum was on the sweeter side, so he never minded eating it out your pussy, especially when yours was mixed with it.
âkeep going s-slow like that,â you huffed out, bucking your hips up. jungkook hummed and continued slowly stroking your clit, with his tongue. when his piercing brushed over it you mewled like a kitten, brows scrunching in pleasure.
his hand caressed the thigh that was on his shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps with each touch.
âgood pussy,â he mumbled into your cunt, circling your hole with his tongue before slowly pushing it inside. your stomach caved in in sensitivity, a broken moan slipping past your kiss bitten lips.
his tongue massaged your sensitive walls, curling up just enough to have your thighs twitching. his nose nudged against your clit with each movement, bringing you closer and closer to your umpteenth orgasm of the night. youâd lost count long ago.
you nearly collapsed when you felt a finger prod at your entrance, and jungkook was quick to kiss your whines away with small pecks to your clit. âjust one, baby. just wanna get you to where you need to be,â he groaned into your cunt, sucking your clit between his plump lips.
your thighs started to shake, and it wasnât love before you were creaming all over jungkooks tongue with a high whimper. he laved his tongue sloppily over your swollen button, making you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.
he licked your pussy clean, not leaving a drop behind to be wasted. âalways so sweet for me,â he grinned, kissing the mound of your pussy before standing.
ânow let me actually clean you up, needy girl,â he smirked, reaching for your lilac colored washcloth. he was gentle as ever as he slide the cloth over your gooey folds. he would mumble sweet apologies anytime he brushed over your raw clit, and each apology was followed by a kiss.
he was next to be washed down, and trust you took your sweet time running the navy blue loofa over his slicked skin. when you reached his lower half, he just smirked at you the entire time.
âmy eyes are up here, pretty,â he chortled, regaining your attention that was previously on his soft cock. even when he wasnât aroused his cock still looked so enticing.
once out of the shower, jungkook did all the work; meaning he dried you off, covered your body in shea butter, and âdressed youâ which was just him putting one of his shirts on you with nothing underneath.
all that fucking made him work up quite the appetite, so you werenât entirely surprised when he started complaining of a rumbling stomach.
you settled on whipping him up his favorite spicy instant ramen with a fried egg. his body was glued to yours the entire time you cooked, lips occasionally pressing a kiss to your clothed shoulder.
âmm, kook,â you giggled, craning your neck away from his eager lips, âgo sit, iâm almost finished. iâll heat up the strudels while you eat.â
âbut youâre so warmmm.â
âwell, you shouldâve put on a shirt. not my fault you wanna walk around and flaunt your muscles,â you grinned, pouring the steaming noodles into his favorite bowl to eat ramen out of.
it was a red, ceramic bowl that you had made during a pottery class you took with your friend. you were insistent on throwing it away because, lets face it, it couldâve been prettier, but jungkook refused to toss it. he insisted it was one of the most beautiful ceramic dishes heâs ever seen. a lie, but a sweet one.
with a huff, jungkook released his hold on you, and slowly made his way to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. he sat in one of the two chairs, and propped his chin on his elbow, admiring the view of you bustling around the small kitchen.
âthere, all finished,â you said to yourself, carefully placing the fried egg on top of the noodles. âhere you go, baby. careful, its super hot.â
jungkook didnât head your words, of course, and took a big bite after blowing on the steaming bowl a handful of times. âsâhot . . . but sâgood,â he said with a mouthful of food, brows furrowing together almost angrily.
âiâm glad you like them. i tried to eat some, but they were entirely too spicy for me,â you snickered, placing the strudels on a baking sheet.
âoh come onnn, they canât be that spicy to you. câmere give them another tryyyy.â even though you knew you were gonna regret your decision to indulge in the spicy food, you didnât mind in the slightest knowing it would make jungkook happy.
begrudgingly, you stalked over to where he was sitting, your hands glued to your sides. âcome here, pretty girl. got a small bite right here for you,â he smirked, holding up his chopsticks.
you made a small noise that sounded like a whine, and bent down, taking his chopsticks between your lips. sure enough, they were too hot for your tastebuds, leaving behind a painful sting as you swallowed them.
âack! see, kook! too spicyyyy,â you panted out, shuffling your way over to the fridge.
as you downed a glass of ice cold cranberry juice to soothe the ache in your mouth, jungkook just watched with hearts in his eyes.
i've tasted love and it tasted sweet (god's country) âą jud duplenticy
pairing: father jud duplenticy x f!housekeeper!reader
series synopsis: after monsignor wicksâ mess, the church gets popular real fast. you assumed this housekeeping job would be easy enough, but nobody thought to tell you about the hot priest on site.
content: nsfw, 18+ minors dni, wake up dead man spoilers, he's in love your honour, religious guilt, jud justifying why he needs to fuck reader nasty style, two freaks obsessed with each other, corruption but he's really okay with it so probably ooc jud, lust in the house of god, making out, jud's a big big kisser, dry humping, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, a hint of cockwarming, religion kink, college grad reader (not mentioned but implied in the series)
notes: hiiii everybody! thanks for being so patient with me, and for the love and support xoxo this is the final part, and i'm honestly blown away by the response. it's been so much fun, and i really enjoyed gettiing to write again even tho i didn't really have a plan for this series. apologies for any mistakes, it's 5am here T-T hope this chapter was worth the wait <3
disclaimer again that i respect all religions and this is entirely a work of fiction and i do apologise if i get anything wrong as i am not religious myself!
word count: 7.8k
read part one, two and three of ă godâs country ă here!
masterlist
as always, this is an 18+ blog, minors dni!
thereâs a storm brewing in the distance when you pull up to the church for the start of your shift.
the morning starts downcast, and any hopes of the clouds breaking fizzle out by midday when you have to turn on all the lights in the main building just to avoid tripping over your feet, and not because it gets a little spooky when itâs dark.Â
itâs just as well that the ominous rumbling steadily closing in mirrors your sour mood.Â
judâs avoiding you, and you just know itâs because you totally made him uncomfortable by coming on to him in the garage like that. it makes your heart twist in your chest to think that you fucked up so bad he thinks he has to hide.
the worst part is, you wouldnât even have noticed, because even when heâs trying to avoid you, itâs in such a jud way. still too kind, too sparing of your feelings.Â
he still asks about your day, and nods periodically to let you know heâs listening, like always â nothing out of the ordinary.Â
until a lull in the conversation leads to you looking at him for a sustained five seconds. then heâs stammering a half-assed reason on why he has to leave, hightailing it out the door with the tips of his ears bright red.Â
but you could chalk that up to jud being in a rush yet still making time for you, even with so much on his plate. besides, heâd listened so attentively despite being unable to meet your eyes. surely, he was just busy.Â
heâs missing at lunch. the kitchen in the rectory is empty when you get inside, even though heâs always made it a point to align his schedule with yours. you find the note he leaves, stuck to the fridge door with a sacred heart magnet â rain check on lunch? duty calls :)
but why would jud lie? heâs never had a reason to, so itâs easy enough to tell yourself itâs fine. the first time, at least.Â
the next time gives you pause. jud has cleared out from the nave with suspicious efficiency before you can arrive to tidy up. the place is spotless, not even a crumb of communion on the altar. maybe youâre later than you realised, and heâd just cleaned up while waiting? but a glance at the time easily shoots down the flimsy attempt at rationalisation. you spend the rest of the day overanalysing every interaction youâve had with jud, and it always ends up in the damned garage and your hand on his arm.
itâs really only by the end of today, when youâre on your way out, that these barely-formed suspicions are confirmed and transformed into a full-blown, gut-twisting guilt.Â
the sky is a grim shade of grey that bleeds into everything else. the rain gets heavier as soon as you step outside, threatening to soak into your socks â the least of your problems.Â
youâve just gotten to your car, distracted by another day without jud offering to walk you out. as you stand there, fishing through your bag for your keys, thereâs a flash of movement â slow and dark, just out of the corner of your eye.Â
instinctively, your head tips back to look. raindrops pelt at your cheeks, even with the church-loaned umbrella (judâs) as you follow the blur all the way up to judâs attic room. there, in the miniature stained glass window, is the face of none other than the father in question.Â
itâs dark enough that you need to squint, and the relentless sheet of rain is like static in your vision, but even with only the dim lamplight emitting from his room, jud is unmistakable.Â
on a good day, just seeing the shape of his back makes your heart stutter in your chest. finally catching a glimpse after two whole days of missing him sends a jolt down your spine, a feeling so palpable it makes you freeze in place as you stare, lips parted on an inhale.Â
the window obscures half of judâs face, but what you can see â pinched brows, lips downturned as he worries it between his teeth.Â
his blue-green eyes look almost black from where youâre standing, and while the shadows cutting across his scruffy jaw make him look more stern than youâve ever seen him, he doesnât look angry.Â
no, you realise as he drags a hand over his mouth. heâs thinking. you know that pensive look, how his eyes tend to narrow and the creases in his forehead deepen as he gets further lost in thought.Â
that should make you feel better, knowing that judâs not glaring through his bedroom window as you drive off.Â
you watch him watch you, and the weight in your chest pulls tight when something in his eyes shifts. the whites of his eyes become visible when they widen, comically large. even though you canât hear it from the ground, you can make out the beginnings of his startled âoh, shitâ just as he stumbles back from the window.Â
whatever bubble of relief youâd felt pops, right then and there. his silhouette gone entirely. the guilt and shame returns tenfold, making a home in the pit of your belly.
you donât stay much longer after that.Â
â
he couldâve asked you to stay.Â
fuck. he shouldâve asked you to stay.Â
the television in the living room is alive with the ongoing report on the storm landing in the area. jud has to turn up the volume just to hear past the drum of rain.Â
his cheeks had still been flushed from his blunder upstairs when he made it to the front steps, barely catching your taillights as you pulled off the property into the dark. he had half the mind to chase after you, on his bike and everything, but a window slamming shut somewhere in the house had jolted him back to reality.Â
heâs still dripping from when heâd rushed through the woods to close up the church, but the small puddle forming on the rug is inconsequential when it really dawns on him that you shouldnât be driving in this weather.Â
a pang of frustration flares in judâs chest â where did this storm even come from, anyway? if not for the torrential downpour, he mightâve been able to stop you before you drove off. then he couldâve apologised for gawking at you through the window like a creep.Â
but jud knows heâs not really pissed off at the rain. if he were you, he too would drive far, far away from the pervert priest who looks up your skirt and stares at you through windows.
jud buries his face in his hands as a wave of dizziness hits him with how tight his gut twists at the memory of it. he wrenches his mind away from anything relating to you since heâs proven to himself he cannot be trusted with it.
so he decides to keep busy, roaming through the house to triple check the windows and doors, before the paradoxical shame of his lack of it can make him keel over on the spot.Â
â
heâs only just slipped a dry shirt over his head when the knock comes.Â
three taps, and then silence. itâs a little eerie, and jud knows better than to let his imagination run wild, but he swears heâs seen a horror movie exactly like this.Â
the compassionate side of his brain outweighs the caution because what if itâs someone who got turned around in the woods, or someone hurt?
judâs pulling the door open before he can think to brace himself for an axe-wielding killer.Â
he shouldâve braced a little though, because the sight of you there on his doorstep â soaked to the bone with your wet hair plastered to your face â actually punches the air out of his lungs.Â
âiâm sorry,â your voice cracks, shoulders caving from the weight of your wet clothes. âi know youâre mad at me and you have every right but my- my car broke down and thereâs a tree in the road and i didnât know where else to goââ
jud can practically hear his heart shatter from the shakiness of your voice. your chin wobbles, and when he looks past your shoulder, he hopes against all hopes that your car will somehow manifest into existence because he canât bear the thought of you walking through this storm. all the while heâd been safe and in warm shelter, standing there like an idiot debating whether to call you.Â
âjesus,â jud sucks in a breath through his teeth when you visibly shiver. âcâmere.â
he draws you into his chest with an arm hooked over your shoulder. doesnât care that his fresh set of clothes are getting wet. his other arm winds around your waist, effectively locking you against him.Â
the relief is instant, the way you melt into his warmth. your cheek is pressed to his sternum â you can hear his heartbeat like this.Â
his long fingers stroke over the curve of your shoulder, as he speaks, lips just barely brushing over your hairline. ââm not mad,â he murmurs, âcould never be mad at you, angel.â
jud is almost bewildered by how youâd think that, but he finds himself reduced to the base instinct of needing desperately to make you feel better.Â
your head lifts, glassy eyes searching his, and when you find no deceit â that heâs not just lying for your benefit â your face crumples, because you simply donât deserve him.Â
âhey,â judâs voice is soft, and he has to try really hard to not smile at how you feel in his arms considering your tears are falling freely now. one hand comes to cradle your cheek, catching the tears in their tracks.Â
you sniffle, momentarily distracted by how his hand covers the entire side of your face. âare you sure youâre not mad? youâre not just saying that?âÂ
jud canât stop the soft laugh that escapes his chest. âpromise iâm not mad,â he shakes his head, smiling to himself because heâs the farthest thing from it. âwe can talk about that later, okay? letâs get you warm first.â
and part of you is still unconvinced, because heâs confirmed there is something to talk about. but he leads you up the stairs with his hand in yours, and he doesnât let go, even as you come to a stop in front of his room.Â
you donât have time to hesitate, nor do you even need to glance up at jud for his assent before he pulls you over the threshold, and there it is.Â
you donât even bother trying to hide how you look around, taking in the space entirely his. the coat rack with a single coat, the empty duffle shoved underneath it, the pictures heâs stuck on the wall next to his bed.Â
you come to a stop in the centre of his room â sitting on his bed feels⊠overzealous.Â
judâs eyes squint when he gives you a reassuring smile before he turns, letting you snoop in peace as he rifles through the small wardrobe.Â
it hits you then youâve never actually seen jud in⊠normal clothes. the all-black is nice â youâd be the last to argue it isnât â but something about the way his t-shirt sleeves pull tight across shoulders, and how the thin grey fabric does so little to hide the rippling of his back. his sweats hanging low on his hips, drawstring lopsided â itâs the most relaxed youâve ever seen him.Â
he turns back to you with a stack of clothes in his hand and a towel in the other.Â
âi hope you donât mind,â jud says, and he knows he could probably dig up something better fitting in the church basement, something that doesnât belong solely to him, but, alas, the rain.Â
you shake your head, eyes still wide from trying to take everything in, like this is the last time youâll be in this room. youâre glad he doesnât know just how much you donât mind.Â
âthank you, jud,â you tell him, moving to take the stack of fabric from him. your fingers brush his, and when you look up, his eyes are already on you. the intensity nearly makes you flinch, fingers tightening around the clothes just as he blinks quickly, jerking his hands back.Â
âsorry- iâll, uh, iâll be downstairs,â jud stutters, and nearly bumps into the doorframe in his haste to leave, cheeks dusted in a familiar shade of pink.Â
youâre left alone in his room with a stack of his clothes in hand, and the thought that maybe you shouldâve just stayed in your car. but heâd held you against him so easily, and it had felt so right to be cradled against his chest.Â
his hand on yours, big and warm as he pulled you through the halls of his home, as if you didnât know the place inside and out already.
and now youâre about to strip down and put on his clothes, in his room. and you know itâs wrong, so wrong, but you send up a thanks to god for the storm.Â
â
jud busies himself in the kitchen, working on autopilot as he flicks on the kettle and prepares your tea the way he remembers you like it.Â
heâs standing there, watching the water boil when the soft padding of footsteps come up behind him. youâre still blotting your hair dry with the towel, but youâre mostly dried and your cheeks have been washed of the mascara tracks.Â
now that jud knows youâre safe and sound, he should be relieved, but standing there, with a mug in hand, he feels as if heâs walked right into a trap of his own making.Â
you, in his clothes, nearly fells father jud.
god, and heâd hand-picked the clothes too â his old sleep shirt, worn thin from use and gingham boxers. the sleeves fall nearly to your elbows, and the collarâs long been stretched loose, revealing the dip where your neck meets your shoulder.Â
he should be better than this. jud curses whatever remnant caveman dna is making his mind go blank at the idea of you wearing him, smelling like him-
âtea?â jud chokes out, holding the mug out in a last-ditch effort of keeping himself from you at arms length.
mercifully, and to his disappointment, you take it from him â this time without your hands touching. he catches the edges of a smile across the steam billowing in front of your face, and when you turn towards the den, heâs following like a dog with a bone.Â
you settle on one end of the couch, and jud tucks his large frame into the other end, pointedly leaving a respectable gap between his leg and your bare one. jud doesnât let himself linger on the sight of your soft skin, just curls his fingers into the fabric of his sweats and waits, because by now he knows itâs not a matter of if, but when.Â
your nail absentmindedly traces the lip of your mug. you pretend to watch the news for a little, trying to remember the words youâd practiced in the car, but with every shift in his seat, your attention flickers over to jud.
he perks up when your throat finally clears, and you set the mug down on the coffee table. he follows your every move, in the hopes he can get a better sense of what youâre thinking.Â
you twist to face him directly, leg bending as you scoot just the slightest bit closer in the guise of settling in. jud mirrors you, leaning his side into the couch as his arm come up to rest along the back. bridging the distance, yet still so far away.Â
âjud,â you start, and it feels a little pathetic how he wants to sigh at the sound of his name from your lips.Â
âi should apologise. i know youâve been avoiding meââ you shoot him a look when his face scrunches, sheepish as his mouth opens to protest. ââ i know you have, and i know why.â
judâs heart drops to the depths of hell. do you know? did you overhear him in his bedroom that day? his face pales, mortified at the notion that youâve been forced to work in proximity with your utterly corrupt priest every day since.Â
âyou do?â judâs voice is weak, dread filling his lungs. Â
âit was so wrong of me to corner you in the garage like that!â you blurt, hands coming up to cover your face, â-especially after you helped me with the ladder, and said all those kind things about me. iâm so sorry, jud, i was being completely inappropriate.â
judâs mouth falls open, and the repenting on the tip of his tongue dissolves into thin air. his head tilts, eyes narrowing only slightly as your words sink in.Â
youâre frowning, hands wrung in your lap as your gaze fixes on his shirt, all too self-conscious to look him square in the face after naming the elephant in the room. all the while youâre none the wiser to the hiccuping delight spreading in judâs gut because he thinks you might be the sweetest thing heâs ever seen.Â
this whole time, youâve been worried you were inappropriate?
if only to assuage your guilt, he has the sudden urge to tell you the reason heâd had to avoid you in the kitchen every day was because all he could think of in there was pressing you against the counter and kissing you stupid. among other things.Â
like how he couldnât be in the nave alone with you because it wouldâve felt too raw, like picking at a fresh wound for him to be thinking of you in all the ways he shouldnât under the watchful eye of christ on the cross.Â
jud worried it wouldâve felt more sinful to deny these thoughts in front of him. because if the lord had put you in his path, not as a test, but as a blessing, would it be worse to turn away from the gift, than into it?Â
jud catches himself before he can lay it all out, even thought he knows he should. the only way out is through, this much he knows. itâs only his luck that his way out is staring up at him with watery eyes and a pink, guilt-ridden pout.Â
âitâs okay,â jud soothes, low and gentle like approaching a wounded animal.Â
your head shakes, sniffling as you protest, âitâs not okay. youâre a priest, i should know better, and- and this is your home! if iâm making you uncomfortable you have every right to fire me, or-â
âwoah, hey,â jud canât help it, he shifts closer down the length of the couch, hands coming over yours as they wave frantically through your spiral. âiâm not going to fire you. take a breath with me, câmon.â
you follow as judâs chest expands on a deep inhale. on the exhale, the weight of his hands on yours hits you, and your fingers curl tighter into him.Â
âthatâs good,â he smiles, âlisten to me for a second, okay?â
when you nod, albeit reluctantly, he sweeps a thumb over your knuckles in reward.
âiâm not mad,â jud tells you, with all the certainty in the world. your shoulders drop a little as relief starts to take hold.Â
âyou didnât make me⊠uncomfortable, either.â jud shakes his head. quite the opposite, he thinks, and feels his ears burn in consequence. he tries to conjure the right word for what exactly you made him feel â everything comes up too simple. no single word to explain how heâs been kept up for nights on end because he canât stop replaying every conversation heâs had with you. how can just one word describe the devout, pathetically hopeful way he scans the pews at every service, hoping to see your face among the rest, even when he knows he wonât?
judâs always considered himself a man of faith. faith in himself to pull himself out of the ring, all blood and teeth and gore; faith in the lord to embrace him when he least deserves it. and now, with your hand in his, he believes in his very core that the decision heâs making is the right one.Â
âi should be the one apologising.â
your brows furrow as your expression quickly grows puzzled. you canât imagine heâs done anything to you to warrant an apology.Â
âi havenât been honest,â judâs voice is uncharacteristically small, and you lean in to hear him better because god forbid you miss a single word. your fingers squeeze his, as though urging him to spill his deepest secrets. if you asked, he would.Â
âabout what?â
the question lands like a punch. jud knows how to take one, but this one feels like thereâs no getting back up from it.Â
your heart is hammering hard and fast in your chest. a hopeful thread begins to unfurl somewhere deep, and the rational part of your brain that screams to not get ahead of yourself, to expect disappointment, is smothered by judâs thigh bumping into yours. when had you gotten so close?
judâs chin dips, steeling himself with a breath as the last vestiges of sense lose its grip on him.Â
âsince the day i met you, iâve been lying through my teeth,â truth pours from him, and he feels himself getting lighter with every word that escapes.Â
âto you, and to myself. and iâm tired,â jud laughs quietly, because damn, does it feel good to finally breathe his feelings to life.Â
youâre only slightly concerned, just for a moment, that he could be building to something bad, because it sounds bad. but thenâ
âiâm tired of pretending iâm not in love with you.â
your ears ring with the confession. love, love, love. jud is in love. jud is in love with you. your head swims as his face softens, lines smoothed in relief. he sits a little taller, filling out his end of the couch as the weight visibly leaves his shoulders.Â
itâs only when one moment passes into another, and youâre still rooted to your spot, eyes wide and darting all over his face that he begins to feel a little worry.Â
his hand drags against yours, half like heâs trying to snap you out of it and a little too much like heâs pulling back. both your hands fly to keep him where he is, cradled in your lap.
his eyes flicker up to your face, where youâve thawed and your mouth is moving with barely-formed sentences.Â
âyou- this whole time? when did- are you-â you stumble over the words, and jud lets you with an perpetual fondness that heâs only now freely letting show.Â
âare you sure?â you manage, searching for any hesitation in the man sitting before you, knee tucked against yours, letting you take his hand hostage.Â
judâs face brightens in a grin, laughing like itâs the easiest question in the world. âyes, iâm sure.â
the corners of your lips droop, unable to stop the doubt from creeping in, even with how quick heâd been to answer. and you really donât want to ask, afraid to pop the lovesick bubble youâve found yourself in, but no part of you wants jud to suffer in the face of your actions.Â
âwhat aboutâŠâ your hand waves weakly towards the ceiling.Â
before he can think better of it, judâs arm resting on the back of the couch lifts, coming to cup your cheek instead. makes it so you canât look away when he sighs your name, soft around the edges.Â
âthe lord knows what i feel,â jud tells you, voice hushed but firm with certainty. it reminds you of when heâs up in the pulpit, speaking with gentle conviction. âiâve asked for signs, for guidance, and every single time, there you are.âÂ
you worry your lip as the possibilities bounce around your head. he could be defrocked, excommunicated, shunned from the community heâs spent so long cultivating. everything he has, put on the line for you.Â
but he doesnât seem worried, not the way you are. he looks at you with the peace of a man whoâs made up his mind, regardless of the consequences.Â
like he can read your mind, he lowers his face, all that much closer to yours, and murmurs, âwhatever happens to me, itâll have been worth it.â
nobody could blame you for surrendering. not when the pad of his thumb pulls at your bottom lip, smoothing over the indents left by your teeth. his forehead presses to yours, slow, like you might bolt if he moves any faster.Â
âi donât want you to regret this,â you whisper. to regret me.Â
judâs head shakes â the barest turn of his face that nudges his nose against yours. you shudder on an inhale as his breath warms your lips.Â
the last thing you see is judâs lashes fluttering as his eyes shut, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks. ânever going to happen.â
your lips quirk on the ghost of a laugh. for a moment, neither of you move. the house is still, and even the rain seems to have calmed, if only to hear the shared breaths in the space between waiting lips.Â
youâll never be able to tell who closed the gap, but does it really matter, when judâs mouth is finally on yours? his lips press into yours softly, as if heâs scared of getting it wrong. just a little self-conscious, because heâs more than a little out of practice.Â
but youâre moving with him, falling into it â easy as breathing. thatâs all he needs. he kisses you like itâs the only thing that makes sense anymore. pulling you in with a hand on the side of your neck, your pulse jumps under his digits with every slot of his lips between yours.Â
your hands lift from your lap, finding a new home in judâs hair. fingers curling against his scalp, his mouth opens against you with a groan. to his utter delight, you waste no time in licking into his open mouth, tongue sliding against his as you shuffle closer.
braced on your knee, you lean over jud like this, and heâs quick to grab you by the waist to haul you into his lap. he doesnât even bother with the pretense of pulling away â not when youâre practically melting into him, lips soft and wet and tasting like a fucking dream. judâs dignity disintegrated the second he saw you in his clothes, and now heâs greedy, tugging at you like he canât get enough.Â
âjud,â you sigh, settling your weight comfortably atop his strong thighs. his lips chase yours, and he manages to sneak two kisses before youâre parting again. blue eyes blink open at the lack of you, but when heâs met with the sight of you atop him, panting and lips swollen, his mind goes blank.Â
âsay it again,â your request follows your fingers lacing at the nape of his neck. jud looks up at you, eyes glazed and blinking slow. his answering smile is content, and just a little too pleased.Â
ââm in love with you.â jud murmurs, and before he can finish his sentence, youâre descending upon him again.Â
his own hands draw a lazy path up and down your sides, less frantic than he had been just moments ago. he wonders briefly if this is a dream, because it wouldnât be the first time. he kisses you slow and deep, memorising the taste of you just in case it is. jud thinks he could do this forever.
your hips shift just so, and the flimsy boxers do little to disguise the growing hardness beneath you. you feel more than hear judâs sharp inhale, the sound adding to the heat stirring in your core. his fingers grip at your hips, locking you firmly in place so he can grind up. his head is thrown back, a shameful moan tearing from his throat as his semi nudges at you through the layers of fabric.Â
âshit-â judâs voice cracks when you offer one in return, hips drawing slow circles if only to coax more of those sounds out of him. the seam of your boxers nudges at your clit when you drag yourself along his length just right, and youâre whimpering into his ear as you lower your chest to his.Â
âjud,â you pant, unabashedly riding your priest through his clothes. he chokes back a sigh at the breathy sigh of his name, and slips his fingers up the back of your shirt.Â
âyouâre sure about this?â you ask again, dizzy with the effort it takes to form a coherent sentence as your inner thighs grow sticky.Â
jud nearly whines, a huff of exasperation as his hardened cock juts into your thigh. âyes,â his big hands span the length of your spine, and you actually feel him twitch when he realises youâre not wearing a bra under his shirt. âyou donât feel how sure i am?â
your eyes roll, capturing his lips with yours once more. when you part, judâs eyes sober for a moment as he catches your chin, and asks earnestly, âdo you want this?â
your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck as you pretend to mull it over. judâs face scrunches at your exaggerated expressions, because if he still canât tell, then youâll just have to show him. you tell him as much, pecking him once. âi want you, jud.â
the smile that breaks across judâs face is like the sun. he carries you up the stairs, and you have to hide the way the easy display of strength has your cheeks heating.
judâs bedroom door is kicked open, just as your lips latch onto his neck, tracing the tattoo with your tongue the way youâve always wanted. his grip on you tightens, digging into the backs of your thighs when he feels the light drag of teeth against the sensitive skin.Â
you finally get to see the tattoo in its entirety, now that judâs out of his clerical collar. the cherub and its devil counterpart, serendipity inked underneath. jud shivers when you make a happy sort of hum, because serendipity is exactly it. moving back home, taking the job nobody else wanted â it all led you here, straight through those church doors and into judâs arms.
something possessive swirls in your heart when youâre struck by the desire to leave your mark alongside the permanent. lips sealing just under the angel, you suck at his neck until he whines, or bruises â whichever happens first.
you hadnât noticed when jud lowered you onto his bed. it smells like him, clean and soft with the mingling of his soap and the old spice deodorant sitting on the nightstand. you shuffle back to give jud space, but the man lowers onto his knees. youâre rendered speechless at the sight of him knelt between your thighs.
âwill you let me make you feel good?â jud all but whispers, cheek pressed to the inside of your knee. his pupils have taken over the pretty blue-greens you so love, reverent gaze entirely darkened as he peers up, faltering at your covered core. it makes you clench around nothing, watching him try to drag his eyes up to yours only to flicker back down.Â
âplease.â it comes out a little desperate, and when jud doesnât move, you think for a split second to be embarrassed. until his entire chest heaves with a deep moan, and presses his face into the inside of your thigh. he leaves a lingering kiss there, murmuring under his breath â thank you, thank you, thank you.
his hands slide up your legs, smiling at the gooseflesh that follows. he finds your eyes, glassy and hopeful, when his fingers tug at the leg of your boxers. âcan i take these off?â
your hips lift in response, and he muffles a grateful chuckle that sends heat to your face. âalways so helpful,â he hums. the fabric is tossed somewhere behind him, and your head goes fuzzy with anticipation. judâs warm breaths fan over your core, entranced.Â
his head dips, and then his mouth is on you. glides his tongue up your folds, and jud thinks heâs died and gone to heaven because you taste better than he ever dreamed. tells you exactly that with his brows pulled tight, muffled by how he canât seem to drag himself away from your weeping pussy.Â
he suckles at your clit, and smiles to himself when your hips lift off the bed. any worries of his inexperience quashed as your heavy breaths delve into drawn-out keening. jud eats at you like a man starved, drawing out more of your slick and those pretty moans.Â
âsâfucking sweet,â heâs practically purring into your pussy, vibrations shooting up your spine when he groans at the feel of your fingers winding through his hair and tugging.
âfuck,â you choke on a moan when that familiar heat begins to stir in your tummy. your head lifts to say something, anything to warn him, but whatever words on the tip of your tug die on a gasp when the tip of judâs finger sinks inside and curls.
the cry of his name is cracked and utterly broken.Â
âthere?â
you can practically hear the cheeky smirk in his voice and nudge him admonishingly with your knee. he does it again, and your walls clamping down around him is answer enough.Â
jud doesnât even need to look to know thereâs a growing wet patch on the front of his sweats. it feels so fucking right to be exactly on his knees for you, drinking you in â not even god could drag him away now.
âjud, i think âm gonna-âÂ
he pulls away only long enough to say, âlet me have it, honey.â he leaves a sweet kiss at your hipbone, mouth shining in the dim lamplight. âplease cum for me.â
when you do, you can barely tell apart the rain outside from the rushing in your ears. jud clutches at your hips when your back arches, instinctively trying to move away from the source of your blinding pleasure but he doesnât let up. lapping at your release with a grateful sigh, he rides you through your high until youâre tugging his head away with your nails in his scalp.
jud looks entirely pussydrunk â dazed eyes, hair mussed, mouth and chin glistening with you and those signature red-tipped ears. his tongue darts out, tasting the remnants of you and wanting more.Â
âwas that- did i do okay?âÂ
you watch, bewildered, as jud rubs at the back of his neck â the same man that had you clawing at his sheets. your hands cover your face, because you canât stop the giggle bubbling in your chest.
âiâll take that as a compliment,â jud pulls your hands away with a grin, and face-to-face again, suddenly youâre shy. cheeks blazing, you pull his face to yours and kiss him hard, if only so he doesnât get the chance to tease you.Â
you can taste yourself on him, licking into his mouth for more. jud sighs, content to just lay atop you like this and kiss you for hours.Â
his mind is quickly changed when your hand starts a path down, palming at his cock through his sweats. judâs mouth drops open, physically unable to keep up with kissing as you loosen the drawstrings and slide under the waistband.Â
jud pulses in your grip, skin so feverish and soft as you give him an experimental squeeze. his breath stutters as his body draws tight, like heâs bracing for a hit.Â
your thumb glides over his tip, and the reaction is instant. jud flinches with a surprised groan, head falling into the crook of your neck to hide the way his face tightens at the building pleasure, all from your hand alone. his stubble tickles, but the wet breaths heâs gasping against your jugular is worth it.
you stroke him slow and long with one hand, the other coming up to card through his messy locks. âwhat do you want, jud?â you whisper, lips brushing his ear while his hips twitch with little thrusts. â-hm? we donât have to do anything you donât want to.â
maybe itâs something about the tone of your voice. how youâre cooing at him as you cradle his head to your neck, so tender and patient even as he fucks into your hand. judâs brain goes static, images of everything he does want to do flashing before his eyes. but he knows he doesnât want to cum like this, with only your hand and layers of clothes separating you.Â
so he lifts his head, kisses you once and presses his forehead to yours. âi want all of you.âÂ
âyou have me.â
something in the air shifts. jud moves against you, still hungry but lacking the hurry, the greed. hearing you say it out loud makes something click in his brain, slows him down. like this, with you in his bed and the storm outside, he can fool himself into thinking he has all the time in the world.
his shirt comes off, and he lets you trace the tattoo across his chest, run your fingers down the planes of his abdomen. in turn, your hands raise for jud to drag the shirt up and over your head.Â
âyouâre so beautiful,â he breathes, lowering his lips to your sternum and kisses his path down. savours the low mewl he earns when he drags a nipple into his wet mouth, and another when he flicks the other between calloused fingertips.Â
âjud,â now youâre the impatient one, shoving at the band of his sweats as he stays blissfully lost in your chest, sucking lovebites into the tops of your tits. mumbling more to himself, âbeen dreaming âbout this.âÂ
jud hums placatingly at the call of his name, distracted, oblivious to your struggle to not flip him over and have your way. you push up on your heels in search of friction. trying again, this time lacing your plea with a needy whine. âjud.â
âyeah, baby?â
âare you going to fuck me or not?âÂ
itâs bratty enough for jud to pinch your side â not hard, just enough to make you arch even further into him with a surprised yelp,Â
âi was getting to that,â he tells you with a soft laugh, and finally kicks off his sweats. his cock, flushed an angry red hangs heavy against his thigh. on top of everything else, jud is big.
the sight of all of him bare steals your breath. his body tells a story, scars and ink and lithe muscles coming together to form the man kneeling over you now â your jud. kind, sweet, good jud duplenticy.Â
he tries his best not to blush, but itâs hard not to when your eyes are roaming over every exposed inch of him. nobodyâs looked at him like this in years, and heâd wholly believed nobody would again.
âyouâre perfect, jud,â you say it like itâs a fact. he shakes his head, smiling as he looks away, like youâve just told him something funny. that only strengthens your resolve.Â
âhey, i mean it,â frowning slightly at his albeit gorgeous side profile, âlook at me.â
jud follows obediently, fondly. leans into it when your palm comes up to cup his cheek, your thumb stroking under his eye.
âi love you,â you say, because you want him to know. if within these walls, now, is the only time you get to be with jud, you need him to know.
judâs head lowers in the softest kiss youâve shared so far. itâs chaste, and somehow feels like the first ever. jud pours all his heart into it â heâs always been better with action than with words. he thinks about every time his heartâs stuttered because of you, the hours heâd counted until he could see you again, and seals each silent confession with a kiss.
the weight of judâs body above yours is grounding, because with the way heâs parting your lips with his tongue, you feel like you might actually float. the tension in the room thickens, the sloppy sounds of his kisses reaching your ears.
youâre all too aware of his length between your bodies, slotted by the seam of your inner thigh. heâs so warm, and coats your skin in slick â you donât think he even realises how heâs rutting against your leg, too engrossed in tasting your spit.
âwant you inside,â you pull away for breath, murmuring against his open mouth. his cock twitches on your thigh, and you can see the moment it all hits jud. he thinks thereâs something magic about your lips, because the throbbing between his legs returns tenfold the second heâs separated from you.Â
âmmph- shit,â jud bites his lip to muffle the surprised moan when your leg shifts and his length comes to rest atop your mound. his tip nudges at your clit, and just the slightest contact reduces you to near tears. youâre so wet it hurts, and the sight of his leaking cock so close to where you need him has you clenching around nothing in anticipation.Â
âplease, oh my god, jud,â you cry, chasing the sensation with your hips, âneed youâ pleasepleaseplease.â
judâs head clears, tunnel-visioned on how you need him, and how he can make it better. driven by the primal need to take care of you. he nods soothingly, smoothing the sweaty strands of hair out of your face and parting your thighs to slot himself between them.Â
âdonât have to beg, angel, i got you,â he hums, taking his length in hand and notching it at your entrance. he watches you for any hesitation, and when you call out for him again, he pushes in â slow, for both your benefit.
the stretch is intense, even with your first orgasm. but jud is moaning, loud and unabashed in your ear, and you can feel yourself getting wetter â with each broken whimper, the deeper he sinks.
âoh, god,â judâs voice trembles when his gaze lowers to where you end and he begins. eyes the way your lips stretch to take him, and the next thrust is involuntary, driving himself almost all the way to the hilt. âyou feel so good-â
your fingers fly to his biceps, digging your nails in as he carves a space for himself within you. heâs so big, you feel his blunt cockhead nudging at the spot inside that youâve always struggled to reach yourself. he watches you go speechless, eyes rolled back into your head.
âtaking me so well, honey,â jud whispers, head falling to your collarbone with a guttural groan when he bottoms out. he can feel you pulsing around him, and the gripping wet heat makes him falter before he can even begin to move.
âiâm sorry, i- itâs been a while. donât think iâll last long,â jud whines, breathing hard as your nails trail down his shoulder blades. he shudders, and his hips roll experimentally. the drag out makes him see stars, the way your pussy clings to him like you donât want him to go.Â
âitâs okay,â you reassure him. a gush of wetness soaks his cock at the image, and jud thinks you really are an angel.Â
his thrusts start slow, shallow thrusts that give him a fighting chance. when your thighs twitch, he lifts them to his waist. it pulls him in further, and as each thrust grows quicker, harder, your breathing grows more ragged.
jud swears freely under his breath, drawing you up in his arms as he locks you against his chest.
âmhmm- like that,â you whimper, face smushed against his shoulder. he hits that spot with every push inside, and the sticky sounds of his balls hitting your ass makes your ears burn.
âshit- iâm close, so close- iâm sorry,â jud whimpers, sniffling as he actually goes a little misty-eyed from how good it feels. heâs trying so fucking hard not to cum before he can get you there again, but youâre not making it easy with how you keep panting his name like itâs the only thing you can think of.
his fingers drop to your clit, rubbing tight circles in a last-ditch attempt as he feels his orgasm closing in on him. youâre drooling on his shoulder as you jolt, bucking in time with his staccato thrusts.Â
jud moves to pull out, but your legs stay locked tight around his waist. his brows pinch in panic, but he doesnât stop. âbaby, i have to- need to pull out-âÂ
your head shakes, a hair away from tipping over the edge yourself. staring up at him with tears in your eyes, so, so close. âinside,â you whimper, ââm safe. want to feel you fill me up.â
judâs vision goes white, burying himself as deep as he can go when he cums, releasing rope after rope into you. youâre all too happy to soak it all up, milking it out of him as your orgasm hits in quick succession. your back arches, nails cutting into his shoulders as you cling onto him for dear life.Â
he moans sharp and raw, riding out the aftershocks with gentle thrusts, pushing his release deeper inside your womb as you shudder below him. it all gets too much, and his arms give out, bringing his chest to yours.Â
the remaining air in your lung whooshes out of you, because jud is heavier than he looks. he laughs, equally breathless. he rolls off of you, still nestled in your heat as he drags you atop him.
âhi,â you grin, leaning in to kiss him, relaxed and familiar. he smiles into it, running a soothing hand up and down your back.
âhello,â jud chuckles. youâre both sweaty, and more than a little sticky, but neither of you can even fathom moving right now.
âthat was fun,â you hum, tucking your chin under his as his arms curl around your waist. jud huffs in amusement, lips pressed to your hair.Â
âthatâs one way to put it,â judâs chest rumbles, and itâs so comfortable like this, curled under the covers, you feel your eyelids drooping against your will.Â
he thinks youâve fallen asleep, and lets himself blatantly stare. he still canât believe this is real, a little scared to fall asleep in case it really is all just a dream. he wonders if he could go back to before, when having you like this was nothing but a doomed, sinful fantasy.Â
jud gets his answer when you mumble, âhave to get my car.â words jumbled together as you fight the edges of sleep, he knows thereâs no going back.
âiâll take care of it,â he promises.
jud must drift off too, because the next time he wakes, the room is cloaked in darkness. youâre still clinging to him, out cold and snoring softly. itâs still raining, and the world is still turning. he thanks god for the path created for him, and with an angel holding his heart in her hands, jud thinks heâs where he was always meant to be.Â
Summary: Things rarely go according to plan for Morpheus, even something as small as setting out to have a conversation with you.
Word count: 5.1k
A note from the author: I already know that I've completely ruined all momentum this story had by taking so long to get the next chapter out and as a result this will get like a hundred notes, so đ
If you're still here and still reading, I sincerely thank you and hope that you enjoy!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Official String of Fate playlist
To say that Morpheus is not the best at understanding emotions is, some would say, just barely scratching the surface of the truth, which is this:
Morpheus is hopelessly inept at understanding emotions, both his own and othersâ.
The vast majority of his relationships have ended either because of his intensity or, as one lover put it, his âcallous disregard for every beingâ around him. Friends are hard to come by, and the one few he does have have stayed despite his lashing out at the vulnerability that comes with being truly known by another. Even his familial relationships have been both strange and murky, either at separate times or together. The Endless are known for many thingsâbeing a functional family is not one of those.
If there was one positive that came out of his imprisonment, it was the knowledge, the reminder, that he does feel. Often, he feels too much, but he still feels all the same. Not only does he feel his own emotions, but he also feels every single emotion the dreamers carry with them when they enter his realm (fear, joy, anger, tranquility, just to name a few).
It is Thursday afternoon in the part of the mortal world where the New Inn sits, and in a matter of hours, Morpheus will see you once more. As he stands before a large mirror, checking and rechecking his appearance, he finds that he feels unexpectedly, unfamiliarly, nervous. Your last interaction went well, but he believes part of that lies in the surprise of it. There was no expectation that he would actually get to speak with you, and he simply had to trust his instincts; now, he has manufactured a situation where he will most assuredly get to interact with you, and he is already overthinking the many avenues a potential conversation could go down.
Never has he found himself so unsure of his every next move, and the newness of it all is a little jarring. Perhaps finding his soulmate has driven him mad? It seems to be the only possible explanation as to why his usual confidence has been replaced with the second-guessing that usually only plagues humans, or beings lesser than he. But perhaps this is simply what it is like to find the one thing that he has spent his entire existence hoping for. Desperation to make sure that he will not lose it, whether by his words or his actions.
Seeking out reassurance on the matter would be futile, he believes, for he has nobody to reach out to. None of the siblings with whom he is on good speaking terms has much experience in such matters, and that is if he feels comfortable enough speaking about the subject to them (which, beyond his older sister, whom he would hate to drag away from her duties with something as trivial as his attempt to woo his soulmate, the answer remains none). He dares not ask Lucienneâshe has made her thoughts on the matter of his love life obviously clear, many times over. That she agreed to help research soulmates on his behalf was nothing less than a small miracle.Â
Whilst Lucienne is the only one to whom Morpheus would willingly go, there are others (rather, other) who share none of the reverence towards him that most of his subjects do and will give him an opinion whether he asks for it or not. Upon being conscripted by the Librarian to give his mortal perspective on the matter, Matthew had taken it upon himself to see the meeting through, immediately returning to Morpheusâs side when the Dreamlord returned from his âerrand.â
âThat went really well!!â Matthew praised, settling onto the ground of the throne room as though he had been summoned.
âYou were not meant to follow me, Matthew,â Morpheus said semi-sternly.
âI wasnât following anybody, because you didnât tell me where you were going. I was just in the Waking to spread my wings when I happened across you. Total coincidence.â
Matthew did not lie, but Morpheus knew that there was no such thing as a coincidence in this matter. No, Lucienne had surely told him, which gave Matthew the confidence to believe that his opinion was worth invading his lordâs private life to see that he was actually following through with what was necessary.
An invasion that continues with no compunction as the raven perches on the back of the mirror and nods his head approvingly.
âYou look great, boss, really! Nothing at all like an all-powerful nightmare king.â Morpheus must give Matthew a look that reads as unconvinced, for Matthew looks up for a second opinion. âAm I right, Nuala?â
The fae, on her way from one task to another, has paused in the doorway to watch the scene in front of her. She blushes when attention falls on her, embarrassed to be caught spying, but remains standing in place nonetheless.
âLady Nuala?â Morpheus asks.
After a moment, Nuala nods stiffly. âVery mortal, my lord.â
âSee?â Matthew crows, drawing the attention back to him. âYouâre overthinking this. Remember, you did just fine the last time! And also, youâre literally meant to be together, which means that your general off-putting natureâsorry, no offense meantââ
Morpheus levels him with a look that says that he is a little offended.
ââis probably, like, attractive to your soulmate!â
Both Matthew and Morpheus turn once more to Nuala, who likely never imagined that her new life would involve moderating such conversations. âI would not use those same words, but the sentiment would be the same. If you are fated to love one another, then your traits and personality are nothing to be worried about.â
They are both right, but still, doubt lingers over Morpheus like a shroud. But he has run out of excuses to delay his leaving the Dreaming, so he must either wear it or drown in it.
âI should be departing now,â he decides. âHob is surely waiting for me.â
âGo get âem, tiger!â Matthew caws excitedly. When both Morpheus and Nuala look at him blankly, he sighs defeatedly. âMovie reference.âÂ
âOf course.âÂ
One of the biggest developments he missed during his imprisonment, and one that those who know of the media seem to always remind him that he is woefully behind on.
âWe really need to get a movie section in the Library,â he hears Matthew mutter as his sand takes him to the front entrance of the New Inn.
As expected, Hob is already seated at their usual table, a stack of papers in the process of being graded in front of him and a red pen resting between his fingers. Centuries of knowledge have attuned his senses far beyond those of a regular mortal, and he recognizes almost immediately the presence of something Other just as Morpheus begins to move towards their meeting place.
âGood evening, Hob,â he greets.
âMorpheus!â Hob smiles, gathering up the papers and beginning to organize them in a folder. âGood to see you, as always. Busy week for you?â
Where before that fateful 1889 meeting, Morpheus would have seen such questions as inane, now, he sees them for what they areâan opportunity to begin a conversation. And begin a conversation they do, passing their time as two old friends would; by discussing anything and everything. Morpheus has come to hold their talks post-imprisonment, and the insight into both the Waking and himself that it provides, in high regards.
Hob is in the middle of recounting his ongoing battle with the students who staff the campus library and their refusal to, as he puts it, âactually search through the bloody archives for requests instead of standing in a stairwell on their phones for five minutes before telling me they canât find itâ when the door to the pub opens and Morpheusâs own senses know immediately who has entered.
You seem intent on passing through the room without anyone noticing you, which is an impossibility when one knows Hob Gadling. The man in question smiles and waves, and you return the gesture without missing a stride. When your eyes meet Morpheusâs for just a moment, he can see the stress lingering in the tightness of the slight upturn of your lips as you try to match your advisorâs smile.
âAs I was saying,â Hobâs voice draws Morpheusâs attention away from thoughts of what must be plaguing you, âI say to the kid, âunless the bookâs been checked out in the five minutes it took me to walk over here after confirming its availability on this libraryâs website, that means itâs in the building somewhere. And I really would appreciate you taking a harder look this time.ââ
âDid the student have the wherewithal to be embarrassed that you were calling their bluff?â Morpheus asks, attempting to be fully engaged in his friend and not in who he would be able to see if only he would turn his head to the right.
Hob scoffs. âNot at all!â
And on he continues. Though he would never ascribe such a moniker to himself, Hob is quite the storytellerâhas to be, to keep the Prince of Storiesâ attention across so many centuries. Even still, Morpheus cannot help but devote a small segment of that endless attention to stray daydreams. Dreams are loud in a place of recreation such as this, and yours are surely no different. Though part of him believes that he should not peer into the parts of your mind you believe to be secret, he is a greedy creature, and he cannot resist the opportunity to know what you crave.
Sure enough, the delicate, gossamer threads of your daydreams soon begin to speak of a longing to escape from your friends momentarilyâa whisper that he cannot help but to hear. Once the decision forms in your head, Morpheus makes one of his own.
âI believe that I would like a refreshment tonight,â Morpheus says.
âOkay!â Hob begins to stand. âRed wine, orââ
He holds out a hand to stop his friend. âI can procure it myself.â
âYou sure?â Hob asks dubiously.
Morpheus allows himself a slight smile as he rises from his chair. âYes.â
Nonchalance is difficult for him, but it is an affect he attempts as he moves through the room and towards the bar. He turns to look when a voice calls your name, and watches as you receive a request from another seated at your table. It is obvious that your mind and body are on two different pages, unaware of the imminent threat of another so close behind you. Inevitably, you trip over another patronâs foot, arms pinwheeling at your sides as you try, and fail, to regain your balance.
Logically, Morpheus knows that a minor spill such as the one youâre about to take would barely injure you. Yet, he cannot help but think of the sound of his sisterâs wings, that gentle whoosh signaling finality, signaling the end. Humans are so very fragile, after all, and die from all manner of calamities, falls among them. Who is to say that you would not hit your head against the cold, hard floor and fall unconscious, never to wake up? That a tumble would knock free some undiscovered clot that would proceed to travel to your lungs and cause an embolism?
Not even the Endless can manipulate or avoid their sisterâs realm, and such knowledge has him surging forward without a second thought.
He catches you easily, stopping your fall before you get anywhere close to making contact with a surface that is not his arms. You look up at him in surprise, chest heaving from the shock, and it takes you a couple of moments to fully recover.
âHi,â you finally greet as though you simply walked up beside him, so reminiscent of the first time you spoke to him in your dream.
âHello,â he responds, righting you and ensuring that you remain standing.Â
The woman whose foot youâve tripped over anxiously checks on your well-being, and you turn just slightly in Morpheusâs grasp to answer her. Though he should take his hands off of you, he finds that he cannot. If merely being in your presence was a balm to his lovestruck soul, touching you is bliss, a drug that he can already feel himself becoming addicted to.
Your attention soon returns to Morpheus, and he drinks it up like a dehydrated man at a desert oasis.
âThank you for saving my ass. Literally,â you laugh nervously.
âI would not see you injured.â He does not make it a habit to speak in lies, but especially now, with you. To see you injured would cause injury to himself, too.
âThe only thing that would have been hurt was my dignity, but I appreciate it nonetheless.â
You look down, finally seeming to notice his hand on your arm, and he releases you from his hold rather reluctantly.
âI was just on my way to grab a drink,â you explain, successfully completing your journey to the bar.
âI was as well,â Morpheus confirms, making you smile slightly.
He watches as you converse easily with the bartender, Margaret Hughes, about whether you will change your order from what you are known to stick to. When you confirm that your adventurous streak will come another day, the womanâs dark eyes turn to him.
âAnd you, handsome?â Margaret asks. âA glass of red wine that youâll touch maybe once?â
He did not realize that people other than Hob took much notice of him, his mannerisms. Such knowledge would make him flush were he mortal. But he is not, so he simply tries his best not to act surprised. âYes.â
Margaret smirks, proud of how well she knows her patrons. âIâm on it.â
Then, Morpheus is finally left alone with you. For a moment, he believes that he has the right words to begin a conversation with you, and starts to speak. Then, he stops, panicked and plagued by indecision.Â
How does he begin? What does one say in a situation such as this? When has he ever found himself speechless? Finally, Matthewâs initial advice from last week comes to him, and he latches onto it as the first tenable option.
âHowâŠare you?â he tries.
Thankfully, you smile, a glorious sight. âIâm good! Itâs been a busy weekâweird week too, honestlyâbut itâs almost over, and in the meantime, I get to enjoy a night spent with my friends.â
âHow is the work on your thesis progressing?â Morpheus asks.
That lovely smile disappears in a flash as Despairâs shadow begins to creep up on you, her hook gleaming from the dark. Her actions are not malicious, he knows. She is not consciously seeking you out for some nefarious plot meant to negatively affect him; no, his sister is merely performing her duties, enjoying the emotional torment that she is able to so easily scrape off of mortal students. While he knows that he should let this play out as it naturally would, he cannot watch you fall victim to her realm, not in front of him.
Morpheus catches a glimpse of his sister in the reflection of the bartop, and she looks at him in shock. He stares back at her, silently warning her to find a new target; that this mortal is off-limits. After a moment, she nods, confusion evident on her face, before she disappears. He will have to answer for this behavior, he knows; watching the way your shoulders become lighter without Despair lingering, though, is worth it. He shall endeavor to send you dreams of inspiration tonight, hopefully keeping her influence when it comes to such a matter far away from you.
âNot nearly as good, but thatâs a problem for tomorrow,â you settle on saying. âHow are you?âÂ
âMe?â he asks, as though the question has been posed to a crowd and not simply himself.Â
You nod in response.
Such a question is more than a little surprising. After all, beings do not ask how the Lord of Dreams is. They ask how they may be of service or how the realm faresâquestions that are well in line with how one interacts with a ruler. But rarely does somebody care enough about Morpheus as an individual to inquire as to his personal well-being.
âI am well,â he confirms.
In his mind, this exchange of words has been an adequate conversation. Morpheus has learned more about youânamely, that your thesis is not going the way you had hopedâand you have learned that he is well. Therefore, he has accomplished âgetting to know each other a bit,â as Matthew referred to it.
By the way that your lips twitch in amusement, he guesses that you do not feel the same.
âIt was really nice of you to go out of your way to find that copy of Canterbury Tales for Rob,â you settle on beginning with. âHeâs been looking for one for years, so naturally heâs been showing it off to everybody like the prized possession it surely is now.â
âI believe one would say that that is what friends are for,â Morpheus says, echoing Hobâs own words.
âHave you two been friends for a while?â It appears that, for as much as Morpheus is enjoying learning about you, you feel the same regarding him.
âOh, yes. He is my oldest and dearest friend.â
âHow did you meet, if you donât mind me asking?â you ask, hopeful for a story that Morpheus is happy to provide.
Margaret serves your completed beverages before he begins, and Morpheus takes his wine glass in hand.
âIt was in a pub, much like this. Robert wasâŠin his cups,â he would not speak poorly of his dear friend in front of his student, even if said dear friend had described himself as âshitfacedâ during their initial encounter, so he leaves it to you to laugh and imagine the level of inebriation your professor was experiencing that fateful night, âand issued a challenge rather loudly. My sister and I proceeded to wager on whether or not it would come to pass.â
âWho won?â
âThe verdict is still out.â
âSo youâre not a professor,â you pivot the conversation. âWhat do you do for work?â
Morpheus pauses. While he knows that asking how one spends their days is a typical question when getting to know another, he simply had not realized that he would be prompted to answer such a question.
In this moment, he wishes to simply tell you the truth. To reveal that he is the king of dreams and nightmares and that you are his soulmate, the missing piece of himself he has spent billions of years looking for. But to do so would bewilder and distress you, especially here. No, he must be careful when and how the matter is discovered. Such an explanation requires more thought than just casually blurting it out.
âI suppose one could say that I deal in stories,â he decides on. It is not a lie; rather, a facet of the truth.
The grin that you wear in response makes the obfuscation worth it. âNo way! I canât believe you didnât mention that last week! That explains how you managed to track Canterbury Tales down so easily. Are you a writer?â
âNo, but I have had a hand in the creation of many stories.â Again, another half-truth, but one that you take at face value.
âPublishing, then,â you guess eagerly.
âAs you say,â he speaks into his glass before taking a quick sip to prevent himself from having to speak more than that. Anything to keep from confirming or denying your guess.
Your eyes narrow just slightly as you think. âAnything that I wouldââ
A figure appears beside you. âHey!â
âOh!â You startle. âHey, Connor.â
âSorry, youâre, um, kind of holding my drink hostage.â Connor Kennedy has chosen this as his excuse, but Morpheus knows his dreams in an instant. The mortal has had romantic airs about you since May, and sees Morpheus as a threatâif only he knew how true that was.
âOops.âÂ
You slide the beverage to him and start to turn back towards Morpheus, only for the mortal to remain standing in place, much to both your and Morpheusâs dissatisfaction.
âAre you going to keep chatting with yourâŠfriend?â Though he looks at Morpheus in an attempt at derision, he is careful not to meet his gaze. âBecause if not, I could use your help making sure Kylie and Georgia donât eat Ryan alive for his opinions about Victorian-era love.â
âI thought they agreed with him?â you ask, not believing his flimsy excuse.
âHeâs quickly getting too big for his britches. You know how some first years are when theyâre emboldened by having one correct opinion.âÂ
It is obvious that you wish to remain at the bar with Morpheus, but politeness wins out. âIâve once again monopolized your time with Rob! Iâm sorry.â
âThere is nothing for you to apologize about, for you have done no such thing. For now, though, we must go our separate ways.â He cannot hide the disappointment in his tone, but he delights in seeing you bite back a smile at the realization.
âThank you again, for catching me.â
Were this another time, he would gently take your hand in his and kiss the back of it, ever the gentleman. In this modern world with its customs still unfamiliar to him, he simply settles for bowing his head. âEnjoy your evening.â
âYou too.â
Even with goodbyes having been said, it takes a moment before Morpheus feels as though he can move once more. His early assumptions about you being the sun and he, a helpless planet, seem to be extremely true. He is entirely at your command and is not at all upset at the realization. It is only at the urging of yourâŠfriend (and oh, how he loathes to call this mortal boy that) that you begin to walk away, freeing him to do the same with a wave goodbye.
When he returns to the table, he finds Hob with his chin propped up in his hand and a smile on his face, having watched the entire interaction.
âTalk about right place at the right time,â Hob notes.
Immediately, Morpheus knows that he cannot lie to Hob any longer. But he also wishes to share this newfound happiness with, as he just said to you, his oldest, dearest friend. Tentatively, he takes his seat once more.
âHob, I must confess that I have been dishonest with you. Iââ
âI know,â Hob says gently, kindly.
âYouâŠdo?â
âI have known you for over six hundred years now. And never have I seen you become so suddenly and obviously starstruck as you were that night.â Hob laughs lightly. âI may have started my immortal life as dumb and illiterate, but I am most certainly neither now. Further, you are not nearly as sly as you think you are, though I have thoroughly enjoyed the excuses you have come up with to make your presence seem like a mere coincidence.â
âOh.â Were he to have the capacity to blush, he would surely be doing so now. As it is, he settles for focusing on turning his glass around and around by its stem to avoid the embarrassment of looking his friend in the eyes.
âIâm not mad, Morpheus,â he says, words that immediately soothe. âIn fact, Iâm thrilled. There could not be a better match for you, and vice versa.â
Morpheus is pleasantly surprised to hear this. âYou believe so?â
Hob nods. âYourâŠsoulmate,â he cannot help but smile widely, âis kind, witty, funnyâand thatâs just the beginning. Youâll balance each other out wonderfully.â
The approval from his oldest friend is far more needed than he realized it would be, but there is something that needs to be said. âStill, I must sincerely apologize for using our friendship as a means to an end. I have relished every opportunity to see you, of course. It has simply beenâŠfortuitous, to see two people who matter greatly to me on the same occasion.â
âTwo birds with one stone, I get it. Trust me, I have been a wingman hundreds of times.â
âYou are taking this remarkably well,â Morpheus notes.
âI have dealt with far weirder in my years than my best friend being soulmates with one of my favorite graduate students. So long as you donât forget that spending time with your old pal Hob is the reason you met your soulmate in the first place, this will remain at the bottom of my weird scale.âÂ
Hob has always been an open book of a man, and Morpheus can see the complete sincerity and joy on his face as he takes in the confirmation of what he has surely known for weeks now. It is an immense relief to have finally been able to tell someone dear to him about this secret, and to receive nothing but approval in return.
Morpheus huffs out a near-silent laugh. âHow could I ever forget such a thing?â
âąâąâą
It was only a matter of time before the word got out to his other siblings that their brother had found his soulmate. So while it is not surprising to hear the clicking of heels behind Morpheus as he leaves the pub, he is disappointed that it had to happen so soon.
âYou know, you never struck me as the type to be a cradle robber, but here we are, I suppose,â a saccharine voice calls out teasingly.
It would be extremely immature to roll his eyes, which is why he closes them instead so that nobody may see whether he does or does not do such an action. When he opens them once more and turns around, he sighs deeply. âEvery creature is younger than we are, Desire.â
âYes, but a mortal? Whoâs only a few decades old?â His younger sibling holds a hand to their chest as if scandalized, but the curve of their red lips says otherwise. âAre you having a mid-existence crisis?â
âI would ask that you cease making jokes at my expense,â he says, already tired of their games.
Their lips turn to a pout. âOh, donât be so dour, big brother. I just came to congratulate you.â
âDespair told you?â Morpheus assumes, cursing his sister and her inability to keep anything from her twin.
âNo.â While he would normally assume that Desire is, as per usual, lying, he can see their genuine surprise and confusion, expressions so unlike them. âDespair knew before I did?â
âShe inadvertently saw us tonight. How did you find out, then?â
Desire laughs. âYouâre joking with me, surely.âÂ
âI do not joke,â he snaps.
âYour desires have been seeping through every crevice of the Threshold since you met your little soulmate. And not even desires of the carnal nature! No. You simplyâŠwant. Love, companionship, devotion.â They fake a shudder. âItâs extremely cloying, yâknow. So sickly sweet, I fear I may drown in it.â
He knows that he should not rise to Desireâs taunts, but the thought of Desire already trying to taint this relationship, after they have ruined so many of his, is more than even he can bear. âTread lightly, my sibling. If you have come to threaten me or mineââ Desireâs loud scoff cuts off his warning.
âThreaten you? I canât tell if youâre being deliberately ignorant and cruel so that you make me say it, or if you really are this dense.â When he remains silent, they sigh. âDream, Iâm jealous of you.â
That stops him in his tracks, the third time tonight somebody elseâs words have done so. âJealous?â
Desire, held to none of the decorum their brother has, rolls their eyes. âYou think I donât want those same thingsâlove, companionship, devotion? That the knowledge that weâre able to have soulmates, just as any other being can, hasnât made me re-evaluate my life? Iâm Desire! We are all, each of us, beholden to the otherâs gifts. Of course, I desire the same as you.â
The rare vulnerability being displayed by his sibling takes Morpheus aback. Itâs not as though he was unaware of the fact that he, like his siblings, can experience death and delirium, despair and desire, can harbor hopes and dreams, has his fate written in the Book just like every other being. He has simply never considered that Desire, so known for their trickery and blatant disregard for the emotions of almost everybody around them, cared to desire the same as he.
âSo no, I didnât come to threaten you.â Desire slinks forward until mere inches separate the two siblings. âI came to warn you. It wonât be long until every creature on this plane and the next knows that youâve found your soulmate.â
Morpheusâs brow furrows. âI have told no one, save for those closest to me.â
âNo offense taken,â Desire snarks as Morpheus realizes a moment too late that he has said something that would likely upset them. âNeither you nor Lucifer told a soul about the key to Hell exchanging hands, did you? Yet every pantheon on damn near every plane of existence found out within a matter of hours and came knocking on your door. Secrets are extremely difficult to keep in our world. If your desires were that loud, imagine what else is being put out into the universe?â
It is a grievous error on his part that he has not already considered this. No, he has been so wrapped up in how best to approach you, to make you fall in love with him naturally, that he has completely neglected the truth of the matterâthat he has many, many enemies who would love nothing more than to wound him so deeply that he would never recover from such hurt.
âBe careful,â Desire warns once more, unexpectedly softer than before. âI understand that the situation isâŠdelicate, what with the pesky mortality thing and all. But you need to figure out a way to break the news gently, and soon. It will protect both of you in the long run.â
âThank you, Desire,â Morpheus says, his siblingâs eyes widening at the unexpected phrase coming from his mouth.
âYouâre welcome, I suppose,â they respond, a little unsure of what to say.Â
Neither of them is particularly good at being siblings who do not outright hate each other, so they stand facing each other awkwardly for a moment as they both try to figure out how to proceed. Finally, Desire rigidly pats Morpheus on the shoulder, nodding once before starting to walk away.
Morpheus watches as they leave, their heels once more echoing down the street far louder than a mortalâs pair would. âAnd maybe keep your desires a little quieter!â They shout without looking back, discontent with leaving the situation on a heartfelt note. âJust something to think about.â
Youâre Beacon Hills Highâs golden girl. Popular, polished, besties with Lydia, and secretly obsessed with the one boy no one else sees the appeal of - Stiles Stilinski. When a biology partnership forces you together, your carefully hidden crush spirals. One night, one assignment, and one very overwhelmed Stiles later, you finally get exactly what youâve been fantasising about.
Warnings: sexual references, smut, kind of fade to black
You were halfway through telling Lydia about the absolute dumpster fire that was yesterdayâs physics quiz when the sharp crash of textbooks slamming onto linoleum echoed down the hallway. Lydia didnât even flinch, but you did. Your head snapped toward the lockers, and there he was.
Stiles Stilinski. In all his lanky, chaotic, flannel-wearing, graphic-tee-underneath, frazzled glory.
He was kneeling on the floor, scrambling after a rainstorm of books and loose papers that had spilled from his locker like it personally hated him. His backpack was half unzipped, one shoelace untied, and even his buzzed hair somehow looked messy. In other words, he looked perfect.
You felt that familiar, shameful little kick of attraction deep in your stomach. The one you never admitted out loud, not even to Lydia. Especially not to Lydia.
Lydia arched an eyebrow when she caught the direction you were staring. âGod,â she muttered under her breath, âhow is he still alive with motor skills like that?â
You tried to play it cool, texting something on your phone that you would absolutely not remember typing later. âHeâsâŠuh. Heâs fine.â
âFine as in ânot dying,â sure,â she said. âFine as in âhotâ? Absolutely not.â
Your face heated. You prayed Lydia didnât notice. Across the hall, Stiles shoved the pile of disaster into his locker, missed completely, and dropped everything all over again. He let out a frustrated noise, cheeks pink, mumbling to himself.
You quickly looked away. You werenât supposed to think he was cute. Not when everyone else saw him as the weird, awkward loser who talked too fast and tripped over air.
But you did. God, you did. And you hated how much you wanted him.
You cleared your throat, forcing your voice steady. âLetâs just go. Weâre gonna be late.â
Lydia linked her arm with yours. âLord help the soul that ever hooks up with Stilinski,â she said casually, âHeâd probably shove it in the wrong place.â
You laughed like that idea was hilarious.
Like hooking up with stiles wasnât something you fantasised about at night.
You were barely listening when your teacher announced partners for the semester project. A couple names, some groans, flipping pages. You were scrolling through your phone under the desk while you waited for your name to be called.
âStilinskiâŠand Y/L/N.â
Your head shot up. Stiles froze in his seat two rows over, eyes wide like someone had pointed a gun at him. He looked at you, startled, almost apologetic, and completely unaware of the way your pulse jumped.
You sat up straighter, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like you didnât care at all. Like your heart wasnât slamming against your ribs. Lydia glanced at you from the next table. She was suspicious, and too perceptive for her own good.
You forced a shrug. âUgh. Of course I get stuck with him.â
But inside? You were screaming. Absolutely thrilled.
Stiles awkwardly approached your table, nearly bumping into the chair behind him. âH-hey,â he said, voice cracking halfway through. âSoâŠum. Weâre partners.â
âLooks like it.â You crossed your legs slowly, pretending to be bored while you fought down a grin. âWeâll figure something out.â
His eyes flicked down to your legs, then up so fast you almost laughed. âRight. Yeah. Totally. Iâm, uh, Iâm good at biology. Well, not good. Medium. Like, average. But! I try hard.â
Lord help you, he was adorable. Too adorable.
You smirked in amusement. âIâm sure weâll make a great team.â
He visibly swallowed, and boy did you love the effect you had on him.
At lunch, you spotted Stiles before he saw you. He was at his locker, muttering to himself as he rummaged through an avalanche of papers. His flannel was rumpled, his backpack was sliding off one shoulder, and he kept ruffling his buzzed hair in these nervous, distracted little motions that made you want to grab him by the collar and ruin him against the locker door.
This was perfect. You needed to get him alone, needed to get him into your room and on your bed andâŠFocus.
You walked straight up and touched his arm. He jumped like youâd tasered him.
âShit! Oh, hi,â he sputtered, hand flying to his chest. âSorry, I didnât, uh, seeâŠHi.â
You slid your hand down his forearm slowly, casually, like you werenât imagining how youâd be dragging it down his ribs later. âRelax,â you said gently, giving him your best smile. âYou free to come over today? We should start the assignment.â
He blinked. Twice. Then a third time for good measure. âToday?â His voice cracked on the word. âAt your house?â
You almost laughed. Almost. The way his brain short-circuited at the idea of being someplace as private as your bedroom? God, it made you want to drag him into the nearest storage cupboard and kiss him breathless.
He looked like someone had hit him with a frying pan. Like a very confused, startled, incredibly cute frying pan victim.
You stepped closer. Close enough that he had to tilt his chin down just slightly to look at you. Close enough to let him know you were invading his personal space on purpose.
âUnless youâre busy,â you teased, voice dropping into something lower and sweeter. âBut I figured getting a head start might be good.â
His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He was goldfish-ing. âNo, no! Oh my God, no, Iâm not busy,â he blurted. âIâm, uh, Iâm free. Iâm completely free. Totally free. LikeâŠaggressively free.â
You had to bite your lip hard to hold yourself back. This boy was going to kill you. âGood,â you murmured, leaning in just a little bit more. âI like a guy whoâsâŠavailable.â
His eyes widened. You could practically see the thoughts hitting him one after another, like dominos falling. Does she mean that? Is she joking? She smells really good. Why is she so close? Do NOT look at her lips. Oh god, I looked at her lips.
He did. He absolutely did. And you let him. You loved it.
âSo,â you said softly, letting your fingers trail up the sleeve of his flannel before pulling back, âcome over at five?â
He swallowed so hard you saw his throat bob. âY-yeah. Yes. Five. I can do five. Iâm, uh, very punctual. I can be earlier if you want earlier I canââ
âFive,â you repeated with a slow smile. âI want five.â
His ears turned pink. Deep pink. The kind of pink that told you he was fully imagining it - imagining being in your house, in your room, alone with you.
Good. That was the goal.
You stepped backward, walking away with deliberate sway in your hips, and he watched. He tried not to, but he absolutely failed. Just before you disappeared around the corner, you glanced back over your shoulder.
âDonât be late, Stiles.â You called back to him, and he looked like he was about to faint at just the sound of you getting his name right. He stood frozen, locker still hanging open, looking like he had just been both blessed and attacked.
You had spent the entire hour before five obsessively checking your hair, your outfit, your bed, your perfume, everything. It wasnât nerves, it was strategy. You wanted Stiles walking into your room and short-circuiting so hard he forgot how to blink.
When the doorbell rang at exactly 4:59, you smiled. Of course he was early. Adorable. Your parents were out until late. Everything was perfect.
You opened the door, leaning one shoulder against the frame, a picture of effortless confidence. Stiles stood there gripping his backpack like it was a parachute and heâd just been thrown out of a helicopter.
His eyes dragged over you and stopped. Hard. âOh,â he breathed. âWow. I mean, hi. Hi. Sorry. Hi.â
You smirked. âCome in, Stiles.â
He obeyed instantly, like youâd flipped some internal switch. You led him up the stairs at a slow pace. Slow enough that he had no choice but to look at your legs, your hips, the casual sway you added just for him. And boy, did he look. He tried not to. But he did.
You closed your bedroom door behind you and paused, waiting for him to walk further inside before you.
He set his backpack down, clearing his throat. âS-so! Uh. Chapter five. Cell division. Pretty riveting stuff.â
You sat on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs, letting your already-short skirt ride just a little higher. âWe can start thereâŠif you want.â
Stiles sat in your desk chair like he was afraid it would bite him. He tugged at the strings of his hoodie, eyes darting everywhere but at you. You tilted your head. God, he was nervous. It was intoxicating.
He fumbled with the textbook. âRight, so, umâŠmitosisââ
You stretched out luxuriously on your side, fluffing your hair as your camisole lifted just enough to show a hint of stomach. âStiles.â
âMm?â His voice squeaked.
âYou donât have to pretend youâre not looking.â
He swallowed. Hard. âI wasnât! I mean, I was, but I wasnâtâŠLooking isâŠsometimes itâs involuntary, like blinking, andââ
You laughed softly and patted the bed beside you. âCome sit over here. Weâll work better side by side.â
He hesitated, then stood and crossed the room like a man approaching a dangerous animal aware he might be devoured, but unsure if he minded. He sat beside you, leaving a polite gap. You closed that gap immediately, sitting up and sliding your thigh against his. His breath stuttered.
âComfortable?â you asked, pretending innocence.
âNot even a little,â he whispered before he could stop himself.
Your smile grew. Good. You leaned over him to grab a pen from your nightstand, intentionally brushing your chest against his arm. Stiles went absolutely still, like youâd pressed a freeze button on him. When you sat back, your faces were incredibly close.
âStiles,â you murmured, âwhy are you so nervous?â
He blinked rapidly. âBecause youâreâŠYouâre you. And weâreâŠweâre on your bed, in your room, and youâre wearing that and looking like that, and IâmâŠIâm a normal human man with, uhâŠorgans.â
You snorted. âOrgans?â
He covered his face with both hands. âOh my God.â
You gently pulled his hands away. âI like when you ramble.â
âYou do?â he said, completely thrown.
You nodded, voice dropping lower. âI like a lot of things about you.â
His cheeks flamed. âName one.â
You leaned close enough that your lips almost brushed his ear. âYour smile. Or maybe itâs just your mouth in general.â
He made a helpless sound - half choke, half whimper. That sound ignited something deep and hungry in you. You pulled back, watching his pupils blow wide.
He was so into you. So flustered. So unbelievably, deliciously out of his depth. It drove you insane.
âStiles,â you said softly, âdo you know Iâm flirting with you?â
He stared. âIâŠhad suspicions?â
You bit back a smile. âNo. I mean I am aggressively flirting with you.â
âYouâŠare?â
You sighed dramatically, swinging a leg over his lap in one smooth movement, settling onto him with slow, deliberate pressure. His breath punched out of him. His hands shot to your hips like instinct.
You looked down at him, pinning him with your gaze. âLet me make it very, very clear.â You braced your hands against his shoulders, leaning in. âI want you, Stiles.â
A beat passed and his mouth fell open. âYouâŠyou do?â
You rolled your hips once, watching his eyes roll back just a little. âYes,â you breathed. âIâve wanted you, for a while.â
Stiles made another strangled noise. âYouâŠ? You want toâŠ? Toââ
âHook up with you?â you finished for him. âYeah. I do.â
His hands tightened on your waist. âOh my God.â
You kissed him before he could spiral further. It was firm, slow, wanting. He gasped into your mouth, surprised but instantly responding, grabbing at you like he was afraid youâd vanish. He tasted like spearmint gum and nerves. He kissed like heâd fantasised about this just as much as you had.
You shifted closer and he pulled you tighter. You nipped at his bottom lip and he let out a soft, desperate sound you felt in your core.
You broke the kiss only long enough to breathe against his mouth. âLie down.â
He did. Instantly. You loved how obedient and responsive he was. You crawled over him, hair falling around your face, watching him pant beneath you, eyes wide, chest rising quickly. He looked wrecked already. Overwhelmed. Turned on out of his mind. You kissed down his neck, slow and lingering.
He arched under you. âOh God! Okay! Oh, wow, yes!â
You smiled against his skin. âSensitive, huh?â
âN-not usually,â he managed, âbut youâŠholy shit!â
You rolled your hips down onto his again, and his head thumped back against your pillow, a helpless moan slipping out before he could catch it.
âYou like that?â you whispered.
âYes,â he breathed, hands gripping your thigh, your waist, your back, anywhere he could touch. âYes, fuck, yes.â
You kissed him again - messier, deeper, hungrier. He kissed back with enthusiasm that made your stomach flip, his hands skimming under your shirt, trembling but eager. You tugged off his hoodie. Then his shirt. He made a nervous little sound, like he wasnât sure what to do with his hands now that his brain was soup. You guided them to your hips.
âItâs okay,â you whispered. âTouch me.â
He did. Carefully at first. Then less carefully when you gasped.
âStiles,â you whispered, âI want you.â
He swallowed, eyes blown black. âIâI want you too. So much. You have no idea.â
âOh,â you murmured, grinding down deliberately, âtrust me. I do.â
What happened next was a blur of heat and breathless laughter, of him whispering your name like it meant something, of you scraping your nails over his buzzed hair and watching him fall apart under you. He was needy and sweet and overwhelmed in a way that made your whole body thrum.
And when you finally pulled him fully beneath you, skin to skin, his voice broke on a sound that made your stomach drop into your knees. âGod, youâre perfect.â
The room smelled like you, and Stiles, heat and sweat and something that made your whole body hum like a live wire.
You lay on your back, sheets beneath you rumpled, hair a complete disaster across the pillow. Your breathing was slow and heavy, every nerve ending relaxed in a way you hadnât felt inâŠa while. And fuck, you were satisfied. More than satisfied.
Stiles was lying beside you, flat on his back, hands still half-curled in the air like he hadnât figured out what to do with them after using them so very well on you. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his face bright red, wide eyes even wider than usual. He looked wrecked. Adorably, completely, wrecked.
You rolled your head to look at him. He immediately jolted like heâd been caught committing tax fraud.
âI swear I donât usually do that, like that. I mean I donât usually do anything, actually, Iâve literally neverâŠWell, I mean, I have hands, obviously, so technically Iâve done things but not with a real person whoâs, uh, alive. Oh my God, please tell me to shut up. Why arenât I shutting up?â
You laughed softly, still breathless. âStiles.â He shut his mouth instantly. You propped yourself on one elbow and let your eyes glide over him, slow and deliberate. His cheeks turned even redder. âI liked it.â
He blinked. âYouâŠwhat?â
âI liked it,â you repeated, leaning closer. âA lot.â
Stiles sat up too fast - way too fast - and immediately fell off the side of your bed with a loud thump.
You dissolved into laughter. âAre you okay?â
âIâm fine,â he wheezed from the floor. âTotally fine. Nothing damaged except my dignity. Actually no, thatâs been gone for years.â
He scrambled upright as he tugged his pants back on, tripping over your backpack, then your laundry basket, then nearly launching your lamp off the nightstand trying to steady himself.
You watched him, chest warm, a stupid smile tugging your lips upward. He was so nervous. So messy. So wildly flustered. And you were obsessed with him. More than before. Way more than before. And honestly? You were impressed. Stiles Stilinski - anxious, fidgety, always-apologizing Stiles - had been extremely good with his hands. Not confident, exactlyâŠbut diligent. Intentional. Focused like he was trying to ace a final exam heâd studied for all year. You wanted more. Immediately, if possible.
Stiles was finally pulling on his shirt when you decided to test something. You slid a hand along his bare back, nails lightly dragging.
He choked on air. âYouâreâŠuhâŠyouâre gonna kill me,â he whispered, voice cracking. âLiterally. Iâm gonna die.â
You smirked. âIâll be gentle.â
âNo, see, that doesnât helpââ
Before you could tease him further, you heard a door open downstairs. There was the echo of voices and keys hitting the kitchen counter. Your parents were home.
Stiles went white. âOh! Oh God! Oh no! Nope! Nope, absolutely not. I cannot be here, I should not be here, your parents will shoot me, your mom will throw holy water at me. Where are my shoes?!â
âTheyâre right there,â you laughed, pointing.
He grabbed them, tripped over your rug, caught himself on your dresser, sent two perfume bottles toppling, caught those mid-air, looked proud, then hit his head on your open dresser drawer. âOH THE PAIN!â he whisper-screamed.
You buried your face in your pillow, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. He pulled his hoodie over his head and the zipper got stuck on his shirt, trapping him. You had to sit up to help him. He thanked you like youâd rescued him from a burning building.
Downstairs, your dadâs voice called, âHoney? Weâre home!â
Stiles froze again. âI have to go. I have to go right now.â
You stepped close, fingers hooking the front of his hoodie, pulling him down into a slow, warm kiss. He melted instantly, grip tightening on your waist. When you pulled back, his lips were parted, eyes wide, breath shaky.
âI want to do this again,â you whispered.
Stiles stared like heâd just witnessed a miracle. âY-you do?â
âDefinitely.â
He made a soft, overwhelmed sound. âIâŠIâll text you. Or you text me. Or we could, uh, coordinate schedules. God, Iâm so sweaty! Is it hot in here? Itâs hot in hereââ
âStiles,â you whispered, amused, âgo.â
He nodded vigorously, kissed you one more time - quick but desperate - and bolted for the stairs, trying to tiptoe but failing miserably.
Halfway down he whispered-shouted, âI LIKE YOU SO MUCH, THIS IS TERRIFYING.â
You smiled into your pillow again. Yeah. You needed more of him. Soon.
You walked into school the next morning feelingâŠdifferent. Not outwardly different. You still looked like yourself, still had your perfect outfit and mascara and the confidence everyone expected from you. But inside?
Inside you were warm. Glowing. Buzzing with the memory of the night before. Your body still hummed. Your brain still replayed his hands, his mouth, the way heâd looked at you like he couldnât believe you were real.
And now, here he was. Stiles Stilinski, leaning against his locker, attempting (and failing) to open a granola bar without tearing it into shreds. His jacket was messier than usual, his hoodie slightly crooked, his shoelaces completely untied.
You couldnât look away. Your eyes went straight to the faint red mark on his neck - the one you had put there. Heat curled through your stomach.
He spotted you before you could pretend you werenât staring. His whole body froze like someone had hit the pause button. His eyes went wide, his face instantly flushed, and he accidentally crushed the granola bar in his hand. It exploded everywhere.
âOh God, no! WHY? Why does food hate me,â he muttered, dropping to the floor trying to gather the crumbs.
Your lips curved into a smile you couldnât hide. You walked toward him slowly, and he visibly panicked, eyes darting left-right-like he was calculating an escape route.
âMorning,â you said, low and warm.
Stiles nearly fell backward. âM-morning. Hi. Hello. HOW are you?â He articulated each sound like heâd forgotten how English worked.
You bit back a laugh. âIâm fantastic.â
He swallowed, staring everywhere except at you. When he finally met your eyes, it lasted half a second before he looked away like you were the sun.
âSee you around, Stiles.â You winked at him and started to walk away, making sure to add a sway into your hips that made your skirt rise.
He was freaking out. And you found it adorable. Dangerously adorable.
You were still admiring him from your locker when Lydia suddenly appeared at your elbow like a stylish jump scare. âWhy are you staring at Stilinski?â
You didnât jump. You did not jump. Okay maybe you flinched a little.
Lydia narrowed her eyes. âYou flinched.â
âI didnât.â
âYou did,â she said. âAnd youâre staring at him.â
âIâm not,â you said too fast. Way too fast. âHeâs justâŠbeing weird. As usual.â
She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Stiles glanced over and saw Lydia looking at him. He immediately dropped all his textbooks. All of them. It was like his body couldnât handle being perceived by Lydia Martin.
Lydia frowned, confused. âWhat is with him today?â
You shrugged, trying to look disinterested when all you wanted to do was pull Stiles into an empty classroom and kiss him until he forgot his own name.
âI have no idea,â you lied smoothly.
But Lydia wasnât stupid. She followed your gaze back to Stiles, who was currently spinning in a circle because his backpack strap had gotten caught on his locker door and he didnât realise it.
ââŠsomething is off,â she muttered.
You forced a dramatic sigh. âLydia, nothingâs off. Heâs always like that.â
âHm,â she hummed, unconvinced, and marched off.
Stiles looked relieved like heâd escaped a predator.
You approached him again once Lydia was gone. He backed into his locker like you were cornering him. Like last night had short-circuited his entire nervous system.
âOh shit,â he whispered, eyes flicking to your lips then away. âWhat are you doing? Youâre stillâŠyou. And Iâm stillâŠme.â
You stepped closer, voice soft. âIs that a problem?â
Stiles made a noise that sounded like a dying kettle. âNot a problem. Just aâŠsituation. A, uh, unique challenge.â
Your smile widened. âStiles. Look at me.â
He did, for exactly one moment. And in that moment, his expression softened. It was almost reverent. Like he was remembering every second of last night. Like he wanted more but had no idea how to function now that heâd actually gotten you once.
Your chest tightened in a way you didnât expect. But then you heard footsteps, and Stiles practically launched himself away from you like the hallway floor was lava.
âI CANâT TALK TO PEOPLE RIGHT NOW,â he blurted, speed-walking down the hall.
You pressed your lips together to hide your grin. God, the way he panicked after hooking up with you was almost just as fun.
He didnât look at you for the next two classes. Correction, he didnât look at you directly. But he stared. Constantly. Through the gaps between books. Around corners. Over his shoulder. In the reflection of classroom windows.
Every time your eyes met his - accidentally - he spun away like a malfunctioning Roomba.
During lunch, Lydia kept watching the both of you suspiciously.
After fourth period, you found Stiles at his locker again, pretending to look inside it even though it was almost empty. You walked past casually, brushing your fingers against his hand - just a graze, lightning quick.
Stiles shivered. Full body. You slipped a folded piece of paper into his palm. He looked down at it like youâd handed him a live grenade. He unfolded it, then stared at it, swallowed hard, then looked up at you. He didnât speak, he just nodded. And it wasnât nervous. Not this time. This time it was hungry.
You and Lydia sat on the bleachers like you always did, your skirts smoothed neatly beneath you, your bags dropped at your feet. Jackson and the rest of the team were running drills on the field, shouting, cursing, sweating. It all shouldâve had your attention. Jackson was objectively good to watch. Everyone knew that. But your eyes werenât on Jackson. They were glued to Stiles.
There he was in full lacrosse gear that looked like it weighed more than his entire body. His helmet was slightly crooked, he kept adjusting his gloves like they were personally torturing him, and his stick handling wasâŠwell, abysmal.
âGod,â Lydia scoffed, flipping her hair. âStilinski and McCall are actual public embarrassments. I swear to God, watching them play is like watching baby giraffes try to walk for the first time.â
You snorted on instinct, but your eyes were glued to Stilesâ thighs as he sprinted. Jesus. Why were his legs that good? You followed the way the muscles in them tightened, how his jersey clung to his back, damp from sweat. At one point he pushed his helmet up to wipe his forehead, and you got a full view of his messy, sweat-mussed hair, cheeks flushed pink.
And all you could think of was how heâd looked the night before. Flushed. Breathless. Gorgeous. You crossed your legs tightly and tried to play it cool.
âTotally,â you said, even though your voice came out breathier than intended.
Lydia didnât notice. She was too busy dissecting Jacksonâs technique and muttering coaching tips heâd never hear. But you kept watching Stiles. Watching the way he stumbled and caught himself. Watching the way he laughed at something Scott said, chest heaving with exertion. Watching the way the uniform clung to places youâd had your hands on last night.
And all you could think was, God, I want him again. I want him pressed against me in that stupid uniform. I want him sweaty and breathless for an entirely different reason.
He bent down to tie his shoe and you swallowed hard. You were done for.
Lydia elbowed you lightly. âYouâre zoning out. What are you even looking at?â
âUh, Danny,â you lied quickly. âHisâŠform.â
Lydia hummed. âHm. Must be a new angle, because you are staring awfully far down the field.â
You forced a laugh, but your stomach twisted. You had to get out of here before she put anything together. When the coach finally blew the last whistle, the team started heading toward the locker rooms.
Lydia stood, brushing off her skirt. âPractice is over. Want a ride home?â
Your heart thumped. You heard yourself say, light and airy, âOh, no, Iâm gonna stay back and study.â
Lydia paused, her eyes narrowing into that terrifyingly observant Lydia Martin look. âWith who?â she asked, voice sharp in that sweet way of hers.
You shrugged with practiced casualness. âJust by myself.â
Suspicion colored her whole face. âYouâre acting weird.â
âIâm acting completely normal,â you insisted. âYouâre the one whoâs been strange today.â
Thankfully she didnât push further. She just gave you that look - like sheâd circle back later - and grabbed her bag. âYou better text me later,â she warned, heels clicking away down the bleachers.
You exhaled shakily as she disappeared. Then you grabbed your own bag and slid quietly beneath the bleachers, stepping into the shadowed space underneath. The air smelled like grass and dirt and old metal. The sound of the team laughing somewhere near the locker rooms drifted through the field.
You waited exactly where youâd told him to meet you in the note youâd slipped into his hand earlier. Your heart fluttered with anticipation, nerves, excitement. Heâd come. You knew he would.
You leaned against one of the beams, pulse picking up at the thought of seeing him again. Of what you might end up doing to him if he let you. You bit your lip. God, you hoped heâd let you.
You heard the footsteps before you saw him. They were fast, uneven, like heâd jogged the whole way from the locker room. Then Stiles appeared through the shadows.
His hair was damp and sticking up in ridiculous directions, clearly from a rushed shower. A few droplets still clung to his temples. He wore low basketball shorts slung loose on his hips and his lacrosse jersey, the fabric stretching deliciously across his shoulders. His cheeks were pink from the heat of the shower, or nerves.
You swallowed. Hard.
âHey,â he said, stopping short like heâd run face-first into an invisible wall. âI got your note. Obviously. Because Iâm here. Uh, hi.â
You didnât bother answering. You stepped forward and grabbed the front of his jersey, yanking him under the bleachers fully, into the shadows.
His breath caught. âW-wait, are weâŠ? Are we doing this again?â he stammered.
âYou took too long,â you whispered, and before he could reply, you kissed him. Hard.
Stiles made a startled noise against your mouth, like his brain short-circuited in real time. But then his hands were on your waist, hesitant at first, then gripping tighter when you deepened the kiss. His lips were warm, soft, a little desperate - he was always desperate - and you loved it.
You pressed him back against one of the metal beams, kissing him again and again, biting his bottom lip just to hear the sound he made when you did.
âYou smell good,â you murmured against his throat. âFresh out of the shower?â
He nodded, dazed. âI ran. I didnât want you waiting and thinking I ditched you. I would never ditch you. I mean, unless you wanted me to ditch you. In which case Iââ
âStiles,â you breathed, âshut up.â
You kissed him again, deeper this time, and he made a soft, helpless sound that lit you on fire. Your hands slid under his jersey, over warm skin and tense muscle. Stiles jolted, inhaling sharply.
âOh my God,â he whispered. âI think Iâm gonna have a heart attack.â
âNot today.â You tugged him closer by his waistband, feeling his breath hitch, watching the way his eyes went wide and dizzy. You loved how every thought he had showed right on his face - panic, want, awe, panic again.
âIâve been thinking about this all practice,â you said, voice low. âAbout you. In this stupid uniform.â
Stiles swallowed like he physically had to work moisture into his mouth. âYeah? Because I-Iâve been thinking about last night.â
That heat shot straight through you. He was so painfully honest. So bad at hiding what he felt. So good at making you feel wanted without even trying. You kissed him again, dragging him by the wrist as you started walking. âCome on.â
âWhere are weââ
You anticipated his question before he could finish and cut him off in a hurry. âTo your car.â
Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet. âMy car? Like, now?â
âUnless you want to stay out here,â you teased, pulling him past the last metal pillar and into the open. The parking lot was empty, with just his powder blue Jeep sitting alone, a far distance from the nearest light pole.
Stiles stopped dead. âWeâreâŠweâre not seriouslyâŠ?â
You didnât let him finish. You pushed him back against the passenger door and kissed him again, hard enough that he gasped slightly. He was warm and flustered and breathing too fast, hands hovering uselessly like he didnât know where to put them.
Then he finally settled them - one on your hip, one at the back of your neck - and kissed you back with a sudden confidence that made your knees weaken.
âBack seat,â you breathed.
Stiles fumbled with the door handle. Dropped his keys. Picked them up. Dropped them again.
âJesus, Stiles,â you laughed softly, âyouâre adorable.â
âThatâs notâŠIâm not trying to be. Iâm justâŠyouâreââ He made a vaguely strangled sound and finally yanked the door open.
You climbed in first, pulling him by the jersey until he practically fell into the Jeep on top of you, laughing breathlessly as the door slammed shut behind him. His hands were steadier this time. His kisses deeper, more sure. Still clumsy in the way that made your heart ache, but better. So much better.
âLast night probably wasnât the best,â he murmured, almost embarrassed. âBut I paid attention. I can do that. I like doing that. Paying attention to you.â
That spark shot straight through your spine. You kissed him again, and the rest unfolded in a tangled rush of heat, hands, breathless laughter, soft curses, and the kind of desperate closeness youâd been thinking about all day. The windows fogged. The Jeep rocked just a little.
And Stiles - sweet, frantic, unbelievably good Stiles - was even better than heâd been the night before.
The world settled slowly around you. Your breathing. Your heartbeat. The soft hum of the Jeepâs engine cooling. The windows were fogged so heavily you could barely see the field outside, and the air inside was warm and sweet and full of the lingering adrenaline between you.
Stiles lay half on top of you, half beside you, one arm braced awkwardly near your head, the other somewhere on the seat because he genuinely didnât seem to know where to put it.
His hair was a mess again. His cheeks were flushed. His breathing was uneven in that adorable âtrying to pull myself togetherâ way.
âWow,â he said softly, blinking at the ceiling of the Jeep like it had personally changed his life.
You laughed, brushing his hair off his forehead. âYeah. Wow.â
He swallowed, his eyes darting anywhere but yours - your face, the window, the car ceiling, your lips, and then immediately away from your lips like they were radioactive.
âYouâŠyou keep doing that,â he mumbled.
âDoing what?â you teased, tracing your fingertips down the side of his neck.
âThat.â His voice cracked. âBeingâŠlike this.â
âLike what?â
âLike, into me.â He said it like it was a foreign language.
You felt your chest warm. âStiles. I literally climbed into your car to have my way with you until your windows steamed up.â
âYeah, but, like, on purpose.â He sat up slightly. âThatâs wild.â
You gently pulled him down for a soft, slow kiss. It was sweet and unhurried.
The kind that made your stomach flip in a different way. Stiles melted into it, then immediately shot up again like he remembered something embarrassing.
âOh my God. My car, my jersey, I probably smell likeâŠlike locker room death!â
âRelax,â you laughed, pushing lightly at his chest. âYou smell good. And you look cute.â
He blushed all the way to his ears. âCute?â He repeated it like it was a holy word.
âVery.â
He tried to get off the back seat gracefully. He failed spectacularly. His foot got caught in the strap of his duffel bag and he pitched sideways into the front seat console with a loud clunk.
âOw, okay. No, Iâm good, Iâm good,â He scrambled up, knocking something else over. A water bottle rolled, hit the door, and fell onto the floor of the car.
You pressed a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. âYou okay?â
âIâm fine,â he said quickly, rubbing his elbow. âTotally fine. Not in pain. Definitely not in pain. IâmâŠIâm gonna drive you home now.â
âOkay,â you giggled, sliding out of the back seat.
You climbed into the passenger seat, still a little breathless, still a little flushed. Stiles started the Jeep, cleared the fogged windshield with his sleeve (somehow making it worse), and finally got the wipers to do the job.
He was still nervous. But something in him had shifted. There was a warmth now. A glow of confidence under all the fluster. He tapped the radio on. Fleetwood Mac filled the Jeep - âDreamsâ drifting softly through the speakers.
You blinked. âYou like Fleetwood Mac?â
Stiles glanced at you, surprised. âUh, obviously. Iâm not a monster.â
You grinned. âI love them.â
His shoulders relaxed. âYeah?â
âEspecially their Rumours album.â
Stilesâ mouth slowly curved into a smile you hadnât seen before - shy, but proud. âOkay hold on, wait, what else do you listen to?â
âDad rock,â you admitted. âMy parents raised me on classic rock and 80s hits.â
Stiles slapped the steering wheel lightly. âNo. No way. I thought you were like, top forty, hyperpop, whatever Lydia listens to.â
âI mean I like that too,â you said. âBut I love the old stuff.â
He turned down the music just a little. âName your top three.â
âBon Jovi, Fleetwood Mac, some Lana.â
Stilesâ jaw dropped. âBon Jovi? You like Bon Jovi?â
You raised a brow. âYou donât?â
âOh my god, this is insane!â he muttered, shaking his head dramatically. âYouâre like a sleeper nerd.â
You burst out laughing. âA sleeper nerd?â
âYes. A nerd hiding in a popular girlâs body. A stealth nerd.â
âIâm not a nerd,â you insisted, still laughing.
âReally?â Stiles shot you a sideways look. âBecause thatâs what they all say before I find out they know every line to Star Wars.â
You froze. Then raised a slow eyebrow. âDoes it have to every line?â
Stiles gasped. Loudly. âNO.â
You bit your lip. âYes.â
He threw his head back against the headrest. âOh my GOD. You like Star Wars! This isâŠthis is huge! This is like discovering a new species.â
You shoved his shoulder playfully. âShut up.â
âNo, I mean it,â he grinned. âI had no idea you were secretly cool.â
âSecretly?â
âI mean, youâre hot,â he said immediately, then panicked. âI mean like, obviously, you know that - everyone knows that - BUT youâre also secretly cool and kind of a huge dork and itâs honestly messing with my brain.â
Your heart fluttered and you looked at him and for the first time, the crush in your chest didnât feel like just lust. It felt like interest. Connection. Something warmer, deeper, sweeter.
You smiled. âMaybe you just never bothered to get to know me.â
Stilesâ voice softened. âIâm getting to know you now.â
Stiles practically burst through his front door when he got home.
âHey son, how was pracââ
âCANâT TALK, DAD!â he yelped, sprinting past Sheriff Stilinski like he was escaping a crime scene.
He bolted upstairs, slammed his bedroom door, and immediately collapsed face-first onto his bed with a loud, muffled groan. It was the groan of a man who had just gotten everything he ever wanted and had no clue how to emotionally process it.
He lay there for a good ten seconds, kicking his legs like an overwhelmed Victorian maiden, before ripping his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Scott - of course - and his best friend picked up on the third ring, sounding tired.
âDude, itâs almost nine. Whatâs up?â
Stiles inhaled like he needed fresh oxygen to speak. âSCOTT.â
ââŠStiles?â
âSCOTT.â
âWhy are you yelling?â
âShe kissed me.â
There was a pause. âWho kissed you?â
âShe kissed me.â Another pause.
ââŠStiles, you need to use a name. Preferably a real one.â
Stiles sat up, eyes wide and wild as he told Scott your name. âYou know, Lydiaâs best friend. The girl who wears lip gloss that costs more than my monthly car insurance. The girl who sits two rows ahead of you in Econ. The girl who is - objectively - way too hot to be seen with someone who collects limited edition Star Wars socks.â
Scott blinked audibly through the phone. âShe kissed you?â
âYES.â
Scottâs voice softened, warm and supportive. âThatâs great, man!â
Stiles choked. âItâŠit gets better.â
âOh.â Scott hesitated. âUh, define âbetter.ââ
âShe kissed me under the bleachers.â
âOkayâŠâ
âShe dragged me to my car.â
âUh-huhâŠâ
âAnd then weâŠWeâŠâ He violently flailed one hand in the air, even though Scott couldnât see him. âWE DIDâŠTHINGS, SCOTT.â
âOh my God, Stiles.â
âWE DID THINGS TWICE. This was the second time it happened.â
Scott made a strangled noise. âSTILES.â
Stiles threw himself backward onto his pillows, kicking his feet in the air like a flustered hamster. âAnd she likes Fleetwood Mac, Scott. Fleetwood. Freaking. Mac.â
âOkay, coolââ
âAnd STAR WARS.â
âEveryone likes Star Wars.â
âNo, Scott. She knows the lines.â He sat up, deadly serious. âSheâs a total sleeper nerd.â
Scott paused. ââŠWhoa.â
âRIGHT?â Stiles stood up, started pacing. âSheâs, like, the hottest girl in school, and sheâs secretly a nerd and she likes me and she keeps kissing me and I donâtâŠScott, I donât know what to do with ANY of this information.â
âStiles, it sounds like she justâŠlikes you.â
Stiles froze mid-pace. His brain short-circuited. âNo,â he said immediately, too quickly, voice cracking. âI physically canât deal with that. Iâm notâŠnope. Thatâs notâŠI donâtââ
Scott sighed. âDude. Youâre gone.â
âGone where?â Stiles asked, panicked.
âGone. LikeâŠcrushing. Hard.â
Stilesâ mouth opened, closed, opened again. âI, no, I donâtâŠOkay, I like her but not likeâŠI mean, okay, I do like her but thatâs only because she smells really good and laughs at my jokes and is secretly a nerd and has really niceâŠwell, everything.â
âStiles,â Scott interrupted gently. âI can hear you blushing through the phone.â
âWhat if she wants to do this again? What if she wants it to be like a regular things?â Stiles collapsed back onto the bed again with a loud dramatic groan. âOh my god, Scott. Iâm going to die.â
âYouâre not.â
âI am. I am catastrophically unprepared for this.â
âJustâŠtalk to her,â Scott said. âHang out. Be honest. You donât have to freak out.â
âI DO have to freak out,â Stiles shot back, gripping his pillow like it was a flotation device. âBecause sheâŠScott, she kissed me like she meant it.â
There was a smile in Scottâs voice when he answered. âWellâŠmaybe she did.â
Stiles went silent, his heart thundering as eyes wide. ââŠHoly crap.â
It happened slowly, then all at once. A pattern formed between you and Stiles. A rhythm. A secret life you lived only with him. What started as desperate kisses and rushed hookups - stolen moments after school, under bleachers, in dark corners - turned into something else entirely. It became routine. Comfortable. Addicting.
You started meeting up without even needing to plan it. Youâd text âheyâ, and heâd reply âon my wayâ, and within ten minutes heâd be at your doorstep, half-panicked, half-excited, always breathless.
Sometimes it was at your place, sneaking him up to your room while your parents were at work. Sometimes at his house, while his dad worked late and Stiles pretended to do homework. Other times it was the back seat of the Jeep on a back road off the highway, windows down, wind blowing through your hair while Stiles kissed you like he couldnât believe you were real. Once, it was on a blanket in the preserve under a sky full of stars - a moment that surprised both of you with how soft it felt, how slow, how unhurried.
And slowly, something shifted. Because it wasnât always physical. There were days you two didnât hook up at all. Days where you justâŠhung out. You watched movies together - old ones he loved, new ones you made him watch.
You talked for hours, lying upside down on his bed or sprawled on your carpet, laughing about the stupidest things.
You listened to music together, trading songs and arguing about which Fleetwood Mac album was best. Little by little, you began to crave his presence, not just his touch.
And he started relaxing around you. Getting funnier. Goofier. More Stiles. Before you even realised it, you and Stiles werenât just sneaking around anymore. You were seeing each other. You were becoming something. Even if neither of you said it out loud.
The night it shifted fully, you were in the preserve again. Youâd driven with him into the trees until the path grew narrow and the canopy blocked out most of the sky. The Jeep sat in the clearing, engine off, crickets humming around you. The two of you climbed into the back seat automatically, the same way you always did, but something felt different immediately.
Stiles looked at you like he was trying to memorise you. Not like he was nervous youâd disappear. Not like he was overwhelmed. JustâŠstruck.
âYou okay?â you whispered, brushing his hair back without thinking.
âYeah,â he breathed. âI justâŠI like being here. With you.â
Your chest tightened in a way that scared you and thrilled you at the same time. You leaned in to kiss him, expecting the usual rush of heat, urgency, the frantic rhythm the two of you always fell into.
But Stiles kissed you slower. Softer. Like he had all the time in the world. His hand slid into your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp gently, sending a warm shiver down your spine. His other hand rested on your waist, steady and sure, guiding you closer instead of pulling frantically.
His lips moved with yours in perfect, tender sync. You melted. It wasnât the familiar wildfire of wanting him. It was something deeper. You pulled back slightly, breath shaky, eyes meeting his in the dim light.
âStilesâŠâ you whispered, not even knowing what you were about to say.
He touched your cheek, thumb tracing along your jawline like he couldnât help it. âI know,â he said softly. âMe too.â
You kissed him again, your fingers sliding into the hair at the base of his neck as he moved with you, warm and gentle and so heartbreakingly present. It felt less like hooking up. More like falling.
Your bodies found each other naturally, slowly, hands exploring with intention instead of urgency. His kisses trailed along your jaw, down your neck, and for once you didnât feel rushed, or hidden, or like you had to stifle your breathing. You felt seen.
Stiles paused only to look at you again with the kind of look you usually avoided out of fear it would reveal too much. This time, you held it. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. He covered your hand with his own, fingers lacing with yours without hesitation. Youâd never held hands duringâŠthis. But now, it felt like the most intimate thing youâd ever done together.
Everything between you moved gently - warm breath, warm skin, warm hands - like you were synced without needing to talk. And when you came together, it wasnât rushed or chaotic. It wasnât about desperation or thrill anymore. It was emotional. Connected. Equal. It was the kind of closeness that made your eyes sting in a way you didnât dare acknowledge.
Stiles held you afterward, his arms wrapping around you, your cheek resting on his chest. His heart was still beating a little too fast, but steadier than usual. He stroked your back absentmindedly, like he was touching you just to reassure himself you were still there. You swallowed hard, overwhelmed by how safe it felt.
He whispered, almost too softly to hear. âThisâŠfeels different, right?â
You nodded against him. âYeah,â you whispered. âIt does.â
Stiles exhaled, shaky but hopeful, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Neither of you said the word for it. Neither of you dared to. But you both knew, it wasnât just hooking up anymore. Not even close.
You didnât even notice Lydia watching you at first. You were at your locker between classes, still a little dazed from the night before. The memory of Stilesâ hands on your waist in the back of the Jeep occupied the forefront of your mind - the slow, aching kisses that had made your chest tighten in a way you werenât prepared for. You were smiling at your books like a complete idiot when a manicured hand slammed the locker door shut right in front of your face.
You jumped. Lydia stood there with her arms crossed, hip cocked, eyebrows raised like she had just solved a murder case.
âSo,â she said. âYou want to tell me why you smell like menâs deodorant? Specifically cheap menâs deodorant?â
Your heart stopped. âIâŠwhat? Lydia, I do not. Thatâs insane.â
She scoffed. âYouâre a good liar, but youâre not that good. Youâve been hooking up with someone, and I wanna know who. Spill the beans.â
âThereâs no one, Lydia.â You insisted, shaking your head.
âI know there is, so why donât you just tell me?â Lydia scoffed.
Your stomach flipped. You forced a laugh, tried to look casual. âWhy would you even assume there is anyone.â
âCome on.â Lydia leaned closer, lowering her voice. âYou disappeared for all of lunch last week and when you finally got to English, you had closet hair. Iâve never seen you going to the library to âstudyâ this much in your life. You never answer your phone late at night anymore, and youâre always busy but youâre never doing anything.â
You touched your hair automatically. Damn her. She missed nothing.
âSo?â she continued to prod sharply, âCome on, itâs not like itâs Stilinski, right, so how bad can it be?â
You froze. Lydia watched your face, saw the reaction, and her eyes widened. âOh. My god. No! Stilinski? You are!â
âLydiaââ you began.
âYouâre hooking up with Stiles Stilinski?â
You looked away, cheeks burning, and that was answer enough.
Lydia blinked at you like youâd just told her you were dating a garden shovel. âWhy? HeâsâŠheâs Stiles.â
Something ugly twisted inside you. Embarrassment, yes, but anger too. Shame. And suddenly you were ashamed of being ashamed. You straightened slowly. âAnd what exactly is wrong with Stiles?â
Lydia opened her mouth. You didnât let her. âNo, seriously. Tell me. Whatâs wrong with liking someone whoâs smart and funny and actually treats me like I matter?â
Lydia looked startled. âI didnât meanââ
âYes, you did.â Your voice trembled, but you didnât care. âAnd Iâm really tired of pretending I donât care about him just because you and Jackson think heâs some kind of loser.â
Her face tightened. âI justâŠdonât want you to tank your social life for someone whoââ
âSomeone who what? Isnât Jackson?â you shot back. âNewsflash, Lydia, I donât want someone like Jackson.â She flinched. You felt the hit land but couldnât stop now. âI like him,â you said, soft but firm. âI like Stiles and Iâm not embarrassed about it. Not anymore.â
Lydia stared at you, but for once, she had no quick reply. You turned on your heel before she could form one.
Stiles was at the end of the hallway, rummaging in his backpack like he was fighting with it. Scott was beside him chatting. A few other students walked past. Normal scene. Totally ordinary. Except everything inside you was rushing and roaring. Stiles looked up and froze when he saw you marching straight toward him.
âUh, hi?â he said, voice squeaking in that adorable Stiles way.
You didnât even slow down. You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him full on the mouth right there in the crowded hallway. A wave of gasps rippled across the student body. Someone even dropped a binder with a loud BANG!
Stiles made a shocked little noise against your lips, then melted. Hands grasping your waist, pulling you closer, kissing you back like heâd been starved for days. When you finally pulled away, Stiles blinked rapidly, dazed and breathless.
âWhâwhat? What is happening?â he whispered.
âIâm not hiding us anymore,â you murmured, brushing your thumb over his cheek. âIf you still want this.â
His swallow was audible. His eyes were so wide and warm and stunned. âIf I still want this?â He gave a helplessly smitten laugh. âIâve been in, like, a constant state of cardiac arrest over you for weeks.â
You grinned, grabbed his hand. âGood,â you said softly. âCome on.â
Still in shock, Stiles let you drag him away down the hall, past the staring students, past Lydia frozen with her mouth slightly open, past everything. You didnât look back. And Stiles didnât stop smiling.
By the time the afternoon bell rang, the entire school knew. You and Stiles had kissed. Not just kissed, but kissed kissed, in full view of a hallway full of gossips and amateur Instagram detectives. Everywhere you walked, people whispered.
âWait, her? And Stiles?â
âHow did that even happen?â
âWell, good for him.â
âDid she lose a bet?â
âNo way, I think she actually likes him.â
You squeezed Stilesâ hand tighter every time someone stared too long. He squeezed back, though his ears had been pink since third period.
âAre you okay?â you murmured as you walked toward the exit.
He inhaled sharply. âIâm either fine or Iâm dying. Hard to tell. But Iâm definitely holding your hand so thatâsâŠwinning.â
You bumped his shoulder with a smile. âYouâre adorable.â
He made a little strangled sound but didnât let go. You were two steps from the doors when someone grabbed your elbow and tugged you aside.
Lydia.
Stiles blinked, startled and wary. âUh, I can wait over there? Or, likeâŠpretend to be invisible? Which is my specialty.â
âItâs fine,â you said quickly, but Lydiaâs expression was unreadable.
Stiles hesitated, then moved a few feet away. He was close enough to keep an eye on you, far enough to give you space. You turned to Lydia, already bracing.
âIf youâre going to tell me how big of a mistake this isââ
âIâm not,â she cut in.
You froze. Lydia folded her arms, not defensive, justâŠsmall. âIâm here to apologize.â
That shut you up completely. Lydia looked down at her shoes before meeting your eyes again. âI was awful earlier. Judgmental and and honestly? Really rude.â
You blinked, thrown off balance. This was not the ambush you were prepared for.
She exhaled shakily. âI think I reacted that way becauseâŠI didnât understand. And maybe because Iâve never seen you choose someone based on how he makes you feel, instead of how he makes you look.â
Your irritation softened a fraction.
âAnd StilesâŠâ Lydia shrugged helplessly. âHeâs not what I imagined for you. But that doesnât mean heâs wrong for you.âHer voice gentled. âI see the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon. And I saw the way you looked at him today.â Lydiaâs lips curved in a small, sad smile. âNo oneâs ever had you look that soft.â
Heat pricked the backs of your eyes unexpectedly.
âIâm sorry,â she said again, sincere and quiet.
You exhaled slowly, the tension leaving your shoulders. âI love you, Lydia. But you were being a bitch.â
Lydia nodded. âI know.â
âBut,â you added, âI forgive you.â
That earned the faintest relieved smile. Lydia squeezed your hand. âJustâŠdonât get hurt, okay?â
âI wonât,â you said, and you meant it. You stepped away from her and walked back toward Stiles.
He perked up immediately, like a golden retriever waiting for permission to wag his tail. âEverything okay?â he asked softly.
âYeah,â you said, threading your fingers through his again. âEverythingâs perfect.â
His grin lit up his whole face as you pulled him with you out into the parking lot. The two of you no longer a secret, no longer hiding, and no longer pretending this was anything less than real.
greeting a new species just to get fucked full of eggs wasn't a part of your schedule today! but who can say no to him?
synopsis: your hike doesn't turn out quite like you planned when you meet a man who isn't really one. well, he has a cock, there's just one minor inconvenience. he's made of slime.
pairing: slime!gojo x f!reader
content: mdni. smut. lots of it actually. porn with plot, OVIPOSITION! eggs! more eggs! aphrodisiac slime lol, TECHNICALLY DUBCON, fucking in the middle of the forest, oral (f! receiving) but gojo doesn't exactly know what oral is lmfao, piv sex, unprotected, creampie but it's slime, they're both freaks let's be serious, some dumbification, mating, could be considered kidnapping lol, gojo is down atrociously
wc: 6.1k
a/n: this was a commission by @specialgradefckr and honestly so incredibly fun to write omfg <3
DO NOT GREET THE WILDLIFE.
You stared at the sign. The bold bright red letters sticking out between the thin, scraggly trees. The breeze made the few leaves that were clinging to them sway, but out here, even in the deepest parts of the wildlife preserve, there werenât any animals out here to feed. Not for the past two miles, at least.Â
Not even the chirp of a bird or a croaking frog to keep you company as you readjusted the heavy strap of your backpack over your shoulder.Â
No one came to this part of the nature park â and you were quickly discovering why.Â
It was practically barren. Used to be a swamp surrounded by a few cave systems. Once upon a time, it supposedly was a tourist spot â the kind where people would plan days around spelunking inside and taking photos in front of the pond by mouth of them. They shut it down eventually, maybe because itâd be too expensive to set up a gift shop all the way out in the wilderness. Or too many people were passing out trying to make the long hike here and the rangers on duty couldnât be bothered handling the constant rescues.
A waste of resources, you supposed.Â
They had put a sign out saying the path you'd taken all the way out here was closed, but it was small, just posted to a single tree and still marked on your map. Some of the packed dirt had been overtaken by weeds and covered in leaves, but it hadn't been a difficult trek. Not even a dangerous one when this whole region had been devoid of big predators for years.
You were wrong though.Â
You just didnât realize it until you saw what kind of wildlife the sign was referring to.Â
Although, you almost mistaken him as another hiker at first.Â
Standing at the edge of the murky water maybe a hundred feet away, watching you from a distance. Two realizations almost immediately struck you, one after the other.
He was fucking naked. And incredibly hung.Â
The third was somehow more startling than either â he wasnât a man.
Well, he was male, just not of the human variety. His skin was the wrong kind of pale, his hair a splash of white between all the brown and green. It was the blue that stood out though - bright ones that were boring through you.Â
He caught you staring, and even from this far, you saw him grin, canines peeking out as he brought up his hand to wave. A warm voice came next as he took a few steps, but you couldnât quite make out what he said. It died in the wind before it reached you.Â
Reflexively, your fingers uncurled, your hand limp in the air as you waved back at him.
It was only then that you remembered that stupid sign.Â
You looked back at it, freezing as you reread the letters. Was waving a greeting? Or-?Â
âHi there.âÂ
Shit.Â
You nearly jumped out of your fucking skin, head snapping back to see him suddenly standing right in front of you. He was prettier up close. Long white lashes framing those startling eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he waited for you to say hi back.Â
But everything below his face looked a lot less human from here.Â
Shaped like one. Sounded like one.Â
But he wasâŠslimy? In the actual physical sense? Like he had all the pieces, all the parts needed â but most of them had been replaced with that strange jelly-like substance. Â
You shouldnât speak. You should turn around and-
âHi,â you heard yourself say, breathing shaky as a slow smile crept across his lips.Â
Too late.Â
In hindsight, you were screwed from the second you read the sign. Condemned the moment you decided to come down this way.Â
There was nothing to do but catch up with whatever the world had planned for you.
âAre you-â You couldn't even finish asking it, blinking at him too fast, like if you did it enough times, you'd open your eyes and realize you were dreaming or hallucinating.Â
He chuckled, and the consistency of his chest tremored with the force of it. He wasn't translucent, not quite, but there was a faint shimmer to the slime when the sun cut through the trees. âAm I what?âÂ
You had no idea what he was.Â
And that made it so much worse.Â
You knew what to do if you saw a bobcat or a bear. For some reason, you sincerely doubted your pepper spray would work on him. Even if you could grab it from your bag, with the way he was watching you, the blue in his eyes sparkling, thick white lashes fluttering, you had a feeling heâd stop you before you could snag it.Â
âI donât know,â you admitted, something foggy starting to settle over your brain. You felt the muscles in your face move, your brows pinch together, your lips twitching from a frown to a smile. If you tried, you could control it, but your grip was weak, and the willpower you did have was already wavering.Â
âIâm Gojo.â He said it like youâd understand. Observing you expectantly, waiting as if he thought you'd introduce yourself too.Â
âI should go,â you awkwardly replied, stepping back just to trip on a tree root and fall flat on your ass.Â
Before you could even stand back up, barely managing to prop your elbows up, he was already kneeling, hovering over you with a concerned expression. One of his hands settled on your thigh, right below the shorts you were wearing, the slime colder to the touch than you anticipated.
âWhy?â He asked, almost whining. âYou just got here. We haven't even said hello yet.âÂ
You were pretty sure hi should count, but you didn't think trying to correct him wouldn't work in your favor.Â
There was the feeling of something damp spreading higher up your thigh, but it was really his proximity, the intelligence in his stare when it was centered on you that made your pulse pick up, heat pooling in your stomach the longer it lingered.Â
You had never seen anything or anyone like him on any endangered species list, but you didn't think he was the type to need protection.Â
All it took was a single look and you were reconsidering where your own spot was on the food chain.Â
âAre you going to eat me?â Use his goo or slime or whatever it was to dissolve you?
He laughed again, and it was so friendly, you felt temporarily disarmed. âIs that what you humans do?âÂ
You were so stuck on the fact he said you humans that you failed to notice or do anything to stop him from suddenly hoisting your legs up in the air â and hooking them both over his shoulders.Â
âWell, if that's what you want,â he continued with a soft hum.Â
One foot started to rise, but it was hard to move against it, the substance covering him sticking to you too, attaching itself to your skin so it was difficult to strain against.Â
Some slime just slipped off of him, two blobs of it somehow rolling up to your shorts â and dissolving those instead.Â
You squeaked, like the moment wasn't mortifying enough, but he was just casually smiling down at you, shrugging his shoulders like this was normal. Natural.
He leaned down, close enough you could feel his breath, and you were convinced he was going to take a bite. Sink his teeth in your throat or tear a chunk out of your tits. He just sniffed. Long and hard, his nose brushing against your collarbone as he groaned into you.Â
And then he kissed you. A clumsy peck to your throat, soft lips making you shiver. But he didn't stop with one. You didn't stop him either.Â
A little voice in the back of your brain screamed you should.Â
But his mouth felt nice. He felt nice.Â
The haze clouding your judgment only seemed to get thicker, clouds blocking the sun and any sense you had left with each consecutive kiss he left. Each extra second his slime seeped over your skin.Â
You werenât scared or struggling. Werenât squirming.Â
All it took was a lazy smile between long licks down your chest, and you were slipping further under his spell. Sinking into the grass, while his slime sunk into you. You blinked, and your shirt was gone too, scraps of fabric floating in the midst of the slime starting to coat you, the color fading and the material so thin that you wouldnât have recognized it if you hadnât just been wearing it. It wasnât that it snuck up on you â it was more like you softened into something malleable enough for him to maneuver. Turning into putty for him to play with while his tongue dragged over your stomach as he slowly moved lower.Â
His palms were surprisingly soft. Firm, too. You guessed he could change his form at will, be solid when he wanted and slough bits of him off if he wished for that instead. If you closed your eyes, chose to ignore the cool slime on your upper half and what was clinging to your legs, you could pretend it was a normal guyâs head between your thighs.Â
That this was just some risky outside sex in the woods, letting a stranger suck on your clit like candy rather than, well, whatever he or this was.Â
âGod,â he groaned, and your eyes were open again, staring down at the messy strands of white hair hanging down in his face as he lapped at your swollen bud, dragging his tongue back over it in a devastating circle. âYou taste delicious.âÂ
âN-no biting,â you stammered, barely breathing as he latched on. Sucking harder, faster, fumbling to find a steady rhythm when his fingers discovered that there were more fun bits of you for him.Â
Fingers shoving inside of you, two of them, you thought, but it was hard to tell when almost all your nerve endings felt like they were on fire, a warm weight in your bones and a not-so-subtle heat spreading from your stomach to your brain until even your thoughts were tinged with the flames.Â
Would it really be so bad to have sex with him?Â
Was it really wrong when it felt right?Â
Besides, he had to be lonely out here all by himself, right? Who knew how long itâd be until someone else came along? Maybe there wasnât even anyone left of his kind for him to mate with.Â
You were doing him a favor. As long as fucking the wildlife wasnât considered a felony.Â
âOne bite?â Gojoâs voice was a muffled whine, refusing to even breathe, still messily planting open-mouthed kisses to your cunt.Â
âBe careful,â you heard yourself say, but inhaling hurt when you couldnât get the air to go down to your lungs. His teeth nipped at your clit, just enough to make you jolt.Â
âLike that?â He asked, cocking his head to the side and glancing up to measure your reaction.Â
âMm, mhm,â you weakly nodded, your limbs starting to feel almost limp when he went back to making out with your swollen clit.Â
âSee?â He mumbled with a mouthful of you. âIâm friendly.âÂ
Maybe if your mind was still functioning with more than just a couple brain cells left, you might have lingered on that more.
Your eyes scrunched shut, your fingernails curling into your palms as your hips arched up off the ground. Everything was sensitive, but the slime kept spreading, slowly covering your skin until it was practically up to your neck. It almost felt like a bath, submerged with just your head floating above the surface. You werenât sure how sentient it was when it wasnât a part of his body anymore, how much he was able to slip off and still maintain that mostly-solid form he was in now considering how much of him was on you.Â
But every time you tried to think about that, his fingers felt like they stretched out, somehow reached deeper, exploring every part of you until they abruptly pulled out. You moved on instinct, feeling like an animal who was only made for being fucked. You went to grab him, but your arms had been sucked in the slime, and your energy was too sapped for you to do anything except whine about it.Â
A hot hunger had started to boil inside you, only getting more intense, his sweet scent enveloping you until the rest of the world had fallen away from your focus. And he was the only thing left.Â
âGojo,â you breathed the name heâd given you, blinking as a tiny voice in the back of your head attempted to bring up the point that it might not even be his own. Maybe he was an alien or some weird species and that was just what they were called.
But judging by the pretty smirk curling up on his lips when he looked up at you, readjusting to hover over you, readjusting your legs effortlessly to hook them over his waist. You felt more like jelly than he did, responding to everything he did without being able to move yourself.Â
âYou remembered,â he happily hummed, as if he hadnât just said itâŠfive minutes ago? Ten? You couldnât tell. The seconds were dragged out, impossible to separate or count when even simple sentences refused to stay in your head.Â
His unnaturally blue eyes were holding you hostage, keeping your eyes on his while his hands moved. You wanted to look, to watch whatever he was doing, but you felt it anyway. The swollen head nudging its way between your thighs.Â
He didnât shove it in though. No, he experimentally slid it between your folds, like he wasnât sure exactly what he was doing, waiting for some reaction before you bucked your hips up to try to catch it and guide it inside.Â
âP-put it in,â you were begging, eyes glazed over and glossy as you wiggled as much as you could in the slime. âPlease.â
His cock throbbed, the tip leaking a mysterious substance that seemed like more slime onto your saliva-soaked clit just to make it more sensitive.Â
âI like that face,â he bluntly said, a light laugh leaving his throat before he let out a low breath. You watched his chest move, your own straining, heart stalling every few beats. His head tilted to the side, blue eyes squinting, âPush your bottom lip out more.âÂ
It was embarrassing how fast you followed his instructions.
But your reward was him burying his cock inside you. You werenât sure what you expected. For it to feel like a normal one? Or the same, just slimy? The latter couldnât really cover it. It was cooler than you expected, sure, more like jelly than something totally solid. But it was still hard. Still thick. Still bullied its way in to the hilt when he bottomed out, but he didnât stop there.Â
You hadnât considered the fact he could change his cock to make it a perfect fit. To fill you up completely.Â
Shape himself to you, to hit all those sweet, sensitive spots he mapped out before that left you squirming and squealing now. Â
You heard the noises you were making, the guttural gasps and the choked-out moans that sounded like they belonged to an animal being ravaged than you. Gojo was louder, rutting into you without any actual pace, just the pulse of him pumping his cock in your cunt and the pressure building at a steady beat in your stomach.Â
âYouâre cute,â he complimented, a coo that excited you more than it should, made you squeeze him harder. âDo you have a mate?âÂ
You gawked up at him, eyes narrowing as you tried to work out what the fuck he meant when his next sloppy thrust nearly made you forget.Â
âW-what?â You shook your head. âI-I donât-â
âGood,â he grinned, shoulders slumping like he was relieved.Â
What he knew about humans was a mystery when he was fucking you like an expert.Â
But your body didnât really care for all the curiosity brimming in your brain. No, all that really mattered to it was finishing what he started.Â
Your oversensitive clit wasnât just aching anymore. It was practically throbbing, a constant thrum of electricity racing through you with every one of his thrusts, needy and hungry for attention.Â
âTouch me,â you whimpered, hips writhing as his brows scrunched together.Â
âWhere?â He asked, and a humiliatingly high-pitched whine escaped your throat from being too weak to even show him where you wanted to be touched.
His hand traveled down your chest, over your peaked nipples and down past your belly button, pausing to wait for you to nod or shake your head.Â
âLower,â you instructed, and he listened too.Â
His thumb dragged over it, but the slime worked almost like a suction cup, like another mouth had latched himself onto you, cool and wet and sloppy.Â
You couldn't tell if he was melding to you or molding you to him.Â
But the heat had clawed its way inside your heart, your pulse pounding harder while he pounded into you. Reduced to a twitching mess, lips permanently stuck parted as you panted for any air you could suck in.Â
You knew you should warn him not to cum inside of you. Say something about it, at least, even if you had no idea if he could even get you pregnant. Except, every time you opened your mouth, nothing would come out.Â
Cumming wasnât a conscious decision.Â
Just one he made for you. Shoved over the edge by the overwhelming sensations trying to rewire â or maybe fry â your neurons. Your thighs were trembling, your body shaking as you tried to cling to your sanity through the intense waves of pleasure.Â
Your high didnât distract you from the sudden stretch. Everything was slick, soaked. But the burn of being spread open even wider, your cervix prodded open, it was only soothed by the cool feeling of something slimy working his way up through it. What felt like a hundred little orbs pushing up to plant themselves inside your womb.Â
Eggs.
Soft, gel-like ones, squishy enough to slosh around and leave you squirming as he unloaded one after another. Groaning loudly, enough to echo among the trees when he released them, his body vibrating as he came inside you too.Â
You were staring past his shoulder at the sky, loose wisps of white hair in the fringes of your vision as you reeled from the eggs moving around in your stomach, adhering to your room with more of his slime, you supposed. You were still shaking when he pulled out. Still leaking cum and slick, probably leaving a mess there on the leaves and the dirt.Â
âCan you stand up?â He asked, all innocent like he hadn't just filled you with fucking eggs in the middle of the forest.Â
You blinked up at him, but you didn't have the strength left to shake your head. You wanted to look down at your body, but something stopped you. Maybe your brain refusing to let you see what the aftermath of having sex with a guy made of slime looked like.Â
He wasnât fazed. Just running his hands back over you, through the slime covering your skin, his fingers moving through it easily as he traced something through the mess. He pushed your thighs further apart, examining you more clinically.Â
âGonna take a couple of days to absorb those,â he chirped, tilting his head towards the bulge of your stomach, the eggs he deposited deep inside you. Your relief that theyâd be absorbed instead of fertilized was washed out by the second realization that he was saying itâd take days to go away.Â
You tried to speak, but just another soft squeak came out, the slime you were surrounded by practically thrumming, as if it was happy to have you in it. And the whole situation, as strange and fucked as it was, was still unfairly hot.Â
Gojo chuckled again at you clenching around nothing, one of his hands brushing your hair back out of your face before glancing over his shoulder at the empty trees and the sun slowly setting overhead.Â
âWell, I canât just leave you here, huh?âÂ
You were fucked.Â
Literally and figuratively.Â
You woke up to a sticky feeling between your thighs and the sort of dark that swallowed up any light. You tried to sit up, your brain felt too foggy, your body too heavy.Â
It took a few seconds for your sight to adjust, squinting down to discover you were still nude. But the concerning bit was the bump of your stomach, still swollen from before. Your limbs weren't listening to you, moving too slow as you attempted to prop yourself up on something gooey.Â
A bed. Sort of.Â
It was just more slime. More eggs, if your eyes werenât betraying you. All globbed together in a big enough pile to rest on. It wasnât swallowing you up this time, only leaving a faint hint of the stuff on your skin when you managed to pull yourself halfway up.Â
Still no clothes.Â
Naked and alone in the cave of a creature that was ofâŠquestionable intelligence?Â
You guessed you were too since you had sex with him.Â
But in your defense, he was attractive, slime and all. And he had a bigger dick than any human youâd ever met before.Â
You hadnât made it to your feet when he strolled in, his features flickering from contentment to a hardened frown when he noticed you were attempting to get up. To go.Â
âYou should rest,â he spoke firmly, hurrying over to kneel next to you.Â
His cock was still out, and you hated your still fucked-out and fuzzy body for immediately directing your attention there. Honestly, this probably would be more fun if you didnât have to worry about doing a walk of shame back to civilization nude and now carrying the eggs of an anomaly of nature.Â
âI should go home,â you murmured, reaching up to rub your forehead, rubbing out the crease between your brows. It wasnât like you liked your job. Or even your life that much. But it was still yours. And you couldnât just take a break from it to play mate with a weird new species in what could barely be considered a bed.Â
âYou have my eggs,â he said it like it meant something else â something you just werenât understanding.Â
âTheyâre, not, like fertilized?â You squinted, but he just looked down at you, offering one of those smiles that was condescending without trying to be.Â
âOf course not,â he chittered, as if it was an absurd assumption. You were human. He wasnât. How could they be fertilized?Â
But then again, how the fuck could he put them in you in the first place?Â
âThen-â You started, but he just shook his head.
âThatâs just how we greet each other,â he hummed, kissing your forehead casually. His speech was a little stilted, like he learned secondhand. Was he watching hikers? Observing people like you were the ones that belonged on a nature documentary? âHow do you?âÂ
âUm, saying hi?â You blinked, and he tilted his head to the side.
âThatâs not very personal,â he contemplated.Â
Yeah, that was kind of the point.Â
You didnât say anything, your stare flicking from him to the dim surroundings. The walls were damp, also coated in a similar slime to the stuff still on you. There were trinkets, treasures he must have collected over the years â hair clips and handheld mirrors and even a ham radio, all things that were probably left behind by a hiker. A wedding band was stuck to the wall, and you wondered if he even knew what it was.Â
âAre you hungry?â He asked, and you reluctantly nodded.Â
Did he even have any food here? Would he hunt for something?
âA little,â you shrugged, your stomach grumbling at the mention of it. There wasnât much light, most of it from the luminance from his own slime. You had no way to tell how long it had been.
Were you asleep for an hour? Three? Half a day?Â
Would anyone even come looking for you?Â
Wondering wouldnât do you any good. And honestly, it seemed like you had some more pressing problems when Gojo just sloughed off a chunk of himself, holding it out in his palm with a smile.Â
âItâs good for you,â he grinned.Â
Were you five years old?Â
No.Â
So why the fuck was-
He pushed it between your lips before you could protest, and the sentient slime was already sliding down your throat and choking your breathing.Â
You weren't what to think about the fact you could feel him in your stomach two different ways now.Â
âDo you want more?â He cocked his head to the side.
âUm, no,â you politely declined, swallowing the last of it down to join the rest. You could still taste him on your tongue, coating your mouth. Every part of him was sweet. Not like chocolate, or even fruit, but a flavor that was all its own.Â
All him.
âAre there others like you?â You carefully asked, glancing towards what you guessed was the only exit.
âIâm on my own here,â he shrugged, not exactly answering your question either. He looked at his little collection of stuff, trinkets that he must have been gathering for years before you came. âSometimes I see humans out here. But youâre my first.âÂ
The first one he spoke to? Or the first he fucked?
You stared, and he continued anyway, âMy favorite.âÂ
Would he really just let you be a fond memory when he was speaking to you so soft and slow while he did his best to enunciate it correctly?Â
âAre you lonely?â You heard yourself ask next. Prodding wasnât appropriate, wasnât what you-
âNot anymore,â he grinned, poking your cheek and leaving a damp streak of slime there.
âGojo-â You wiped it away, working on your resolve as you tried to figure out how to get out of here.Â
âYouâd make a pretty mate,â he interrupted, missing the obvious cue that you were trying to cut ties and run.Â
âThanks, but um, Iâm human,â you explained, scooting towards the edge of the slime â which was now climbing higher up your thigh,Â
âI can still stuff you full of eggs,â he unhelpfully pointed out. âWe could make it work.âÂ
No, you didnât really think you could. But he didnât budge.Â
âYou wouldnât be able to reproduce,â you attempted to phrase it in a convincing way, like you would consider it if things were different.Â
âSome members of my species can actually reproduce asexually,â he chimed in, a solution for every problem you conceived. Shit.Â
So you did something stupid. Maybe as dumb as you saying hi to him in the first place had been.Â
Instead of telling him you werenât interested, or flat-out saying no, you came up with a new excuse on the spot. You pointed out the wedding ring, a weird fluttering in your stomach as you scrambled for some convenient excuse to distract both of you from what he said.Â
âHumans wear those when theyâre, uh, mated,â you explained, almost saying married. âWe have our own ritual.âÂ
âOh?â His eyes lit up, looking back at the ring. âDo you want that one?âÂ
âNo,â you answered too quickly, cringing as you recovered. âUsually, the females get one with a diamond on it.âÂ
He squinted at you, like he hadnât heard the word before.
âA big, sparkly rock.âÂ
âI can do that,â he grinned.Â
You could still back out. Say thanks, but no thanks. But you didnât.Â
Just let him lay his hand over your swollen stomach as he rubbed it affectionately. Honestly, when he touched you so softly, you couldnât help but think you were the one taking advantage of him.Â
âYou should rest though,â he reminded you. âIâve got everything you need here.âÂ
He meant it too.
His eggs were apparently nutritious enough to satisfy your hunger and keep your hydrated, and he even had a few books to prevent you from being bored, ones he explained that he found in campsites. Not that he ever stopped talking long enough for you to read more than a few sentences at a time. But most of his treasures were stuff heâd found in the caves, souvenirs that had never ended up being sold.Â
Including the only item of clothing â a v-neck with a misprint on it, which was probably supposed to advertise the park, but was missing half the text, only left with fading words on the back that said âAll I got was this stupid t-shirtâ.
You went hiking and all you got was stupid eggs and a slime guy who thought you were his mate.Â
After what you guessed was a day, maybe even two, Gojo still hadnât left â or given you the opportunity to make a break for it. But your stomach had yet to go down, the eggs still shifting around uncomfortably when you tried to move too fast.Â
But even he had things he had to take care of.Â
He got out of his makeshift bed, the nest he had created, padding across the floor when he thought you were asleep. In your head, you counted to a hundred, waiting for some sound or sign of him returning before you opened your eyes.Â
You felt bad about it.Â
Terrible, actually. To leave him (and his cock) behind?Â
Truthfully, youâd fuck him again if you could do it in the comfort of your own home â where you could wash him off afterwards.Â
You tried to stand up, touching the wall and recoiling at the squish of it, the slime sticking to your hand as you took it away and wiped it on your skin without anything to clean it with. God, you couldnât wait for a shower.Â
To clean yourself completely, to wipe your body clean and feel like yourself again.Â
But of course, nothing could go quite like you planned.Â
And right as you found your footing, there was the feeling of something, well, popping inside of you and the sudden gush of his slime leaking down your thighs. You immediately felt the effects. Your whole body was woozy, knees going weak and sending you to the floor, but that just made more of the eggs pop inside your womb.Â
You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.Â
Processing all the confusing physical stimuli slamming through you at full force. The searing pleasure draining what was left of your brain power, leaving you dumber by the second as you blindly sought out something to fill the sudden empty ache between your damp and leaking thighs.Â
You needed him. To be full again.
The more you writhed, the more you wiggled and whimpered as you blindly struggled for friction, for just a fraction of pleasure to drown out the demand in your veins, the more eggs popped!Â
It was hell. Heaven too, but the lines were so blurred you werenât even sure which way was up anymore. The only thing you were certain of was that you were on the fast track to one of the two if you didnât get fucked soon.Â
That youâd die, drown in the need, if someone didnât do anything about it.Â
You were crying his name, real tears forming in the corners of your eyes as your fingers clumsily fumbled for your clit. But it didnât feel good enough. No, it barely even dented the desire. Did nothing to soothe the ache or ease the burning that was being etched into your bones.Â
It might have been three minutes. Or three hours.Â
Time had faded into the background, some vague concept far beyond anything you were capable of understanding anymore when footsteps slowly approached.
Blue eyes peering over you, gel-like fingers grabbing your chin and forcing your face up.
âPoor human,â Gojo purred, clicking his tongue in disapproval. âNeed help?â
You nodded, feeling pathetic as you accepted your fate.
Welcomed it.Â
Would it really be to stay if it meant heâd make you feel good? Forever?
Having sex with him was better than any former frat boy or finance bro you had the misfortune of being with before. He had his own place. Wanted to take care of you.Â
Lust was blinder than love.Â
And you could barely see at all when he spread your thighs, flipping you onto your stomach just for more of his eggs to get crushed in the process, head barely floating above the next dizzying wave of intensity.Â
He lifted your hips up, leaving your tits bare and brushing against the cold cave floor as he pushed his cock through your soaked entrance.Â
Was it more him or more you at this point?Â
Slime, cum, whatever it was, he didnât need any lubrication, no preparation, just pushing his way in to fill you up and satisfy whatever you asked from him.Â
He fucked you harder than he had the first time, more comfortable, more casual about it. Already readjusting to your tastes, like he had learned what you liked already. Testing new boundaries, stretching you further, using his knees and the string of slime between them to spread your thighs out even more.Â
It was mind-melting. Enough you were starting to worry that every thrust was erasing what few brain cells you had left. But you couldnât stop.Â
Couldnât do anything except babble for more between his hips rocking against your ass, his slime enveloping you the same way it had before. Covering you like a second skin, adhering to your body and holding you in place for him to fuck how he pleased.Â
And pleasing him had started to trigger some biological reaction in you, the pleasure and pressure in your stomach skyrocketing at the sound of his broken moan behind you. The warmth and wetness of his mouth on your throat over one of the few spots his slime hadnât reached yet.Â
âMmph,â you started to moan, but some of the slime had reached your mouth, sliding in and stuffing it full.Â
He wanted to consume you just as much as you wanted to consume him.Â
It felt like the fire was going to burn you up and leave you in a pile of ashes on the floor if you didnât get to cum soon.Â
The slime in your mouth and the one in your cunt was overwhelming, your impulses leaving you grinding your hips desperately back against him, begging to be bred â even if he was effectively shooting blanks.Â
But more of him had found its way back to your clit, attaching expertly this time, making every sensation just as strong as itâd been outside, your body hurtling towards your orgasm right as the now familiar sensation of eggs started filling you up again.Â
It should be more embarrassing. More alien or strange. But it almost felt natural. Like youâd been built for this and you had just realized it a little late.Â
He didnât pull out this time, keeping you plugged shut as he pumped the last handful of eggs in, leaving you more swollen than youâd been this morning as he lewdly moaned.Â
âIs that better?â He muttered, and you couldnât believe you still wanted more.Â
The itch of it had settled under your skin, your body seeking out his heat, squirming to be closer to him instead of pulling away.Â
What had you even been trying to do?Â
Leave him?Â
You couldnât.Â
Would he be willing to move in with you? Trade in his cave and take his favorite trinkets to come back to your place? Be your stay-at-home slime boyfriend?
And if he wasnât, would staying here suck so much?
Being fed and fucked full of eggs? No work? No worries?Â
Just conscious of the next time youâd get laid?Â
âYou think too much,â he muttered disapprovingly, musing your hair as he tried to clear a spot on your shoulder for him to press his face against.Â
His hands were on your arms though, one of them holding up your limp left limb to look at your fingers.Â
âSee,â he beamed, slipping a ring on the wrong one, a hint of wetness on it that you hoped wasn't blood. âWe're mates now.â
synopsis: you and your best friend, park sunghoon, had an annual tradition of going out as a fake couple on valentine's day in an attempt to bask in the wonders of discounted food reserved only for couples. this year's valentine's will be different, however, what with sunghoon finally finding the courage to confess to you in the guise of a risky betâone that could either turn your friendship into something more, or into nothing at all.
pairing: sunghoon x gender neutral!reader
genre: fluff, angst if you squint
warnings: swearing, mentions of food, faking money-related stuff which i think is borderline scamming? idk but i don't recommend y'all doing their lil annual practice tho i have seen ppl post abt it hence where this idea came from
note: helo! this is my first time posting written content on tumblr & i'm rlly excited bc i rlly like this prompt idea^^ i recommend you listen to STANDING EGG - ìčê”Źìì ì°ìž for this prompt, the song is a masterpiece i swear. also, if the quality is really crappy then i apologize, i wrote this at 2 in the morning on an exam day :,)
anyway, hope u give this some love <33 feedback is highly appreciated & if u have requests of ur own, i'm open uwu happy reading~
âhurry up, hoon,â came your frustrated voice as you dusted the coat you had on you. you pulled your bucket hat down to cover your face, gaze settled on the boy who was seated on the floor. this boy, park sunghoon, was taking his sweet time trying to fix his shoelaces, which fueled your impatience with every passing second.
âjust tie it around your leg and stuff the lace,â you deadpanned, annoyed at how he was (purposely) stalling your day out with him.
ânow that is a bad idea,â was his reply. a chuckle escaped his lips as he allowed his actions to be consumed by your urgency. swiftly, he sprung up from the floor and approached you as you swung the front door open. âi can't believe youâd let me trip over my shoes just because you're hungry.â
âfood cannot wait,â you replied simply, as he locked the door behind the two of you. âbesides, it is valentineâs day.â
âand?â he asked, despite knowing the usual tradition the two of you would have on said date.
annually, you and sunghoon would go about the cold streets of seoul, south korea to hunt for good food. the catch here was that, you both had to go with each other because, on valentine's day, couples are often given the benefit of discounts.
discounts, in your opinion, were one of the few things in life worth breathing for. in joyous cases, discounts are the very embodiment of a heavenly gift in this capitalistic world, and in dire situations, discounts can and will save the lives of many, yours most especially.
that was why you would often bug your best friend (and the only male friend you had), park sunghoon, to accompany you on your discounted food trips.
it wasn't that he minded (you think), but he seemed to really dislike anything that had to do with moving about on days when he could just sit and be. but with the opportunities that valentine's day brings, discounts can make one move their hearts. and their joints, too, when motivated byâ
âfree food.â you said, automatically intertwining your fingers with his. it was the only day of the year where you could freely do so without having to think of an excuse. âcome on. you're my boyfriend today.â
he rolled his eyes at your words, ears tinted red at the thought of it. âthatâs horrifying.â
âshut up, weâre supposed to act sweet,â you snapped as you pulled him towards the entrance of a newly opened cafe that had valentineâs day decorations plastered all throughout the store, with the most important one being the valentine's discount for couples! banner held by an x-frame metal display. from your experience, new stores like these are often the best places to use this pretend-couple trick on, since theyâre usually extra welcoming of whatever brings their place finances.
sunghoon allowed you to drag him around with a relaxed, and somehow fond look on his face. quietly, he watched over you with amusement as you force a big smile on your face.
âhoney, oh my god,â you said, your tone sickeningly sweetâtoo sweet for your own likingâas you both stopped in front of the glass display.
the said display held a collection of sweet, colorful cakes with designs ranging from various aesthetics. at the moment, the only aesthetic you had thought of was finishing each cake with great content.
âlook at these cakes!â you drawled on, as the part-timer who at first stared at you both with a hesitant smile now focused on sunghoonâs face, perhaps second-guessing your relationship with him.
having noticed this, you tear your gaze away from the cakes to shoot sunghoon the look of a madman who would risk one measly life for a valentineâs day cake, which then prompted his actions to follow through with your acting.
âoh, they do look great, my love,â he said, his soothing voice slipping through your ears and into the chambers of your heart. you had to remind yourself that, no, this is all just pretend. sunghoon can be a good actor if he wanted to, and you could be better at managing your feelings, if you needed wanted to. âtoo bad we wouldn't be able to try them because there probably isn't a discountâ?â
the part-timer, who seemed to have fallen over sunghoonâs charm, replied on cue. âno, of course, sir! er, ma'am! we have discounted our pastries especially for couples. itâs a valentineâs event, would you like to avail on that?â
âof course,â you said, in slight disbelief over the fact that this part-timer really doubted your love for discounts. âweâd like, um,â you turned to sunghoon, your eyes darting on the display as you forced him to choose.
âthe blue one with the pretty frosting,â he said in connection to your statement, a winning smile on his face as he looked at the part-timer from eye to eye, all the while resting a hand on your waist.
the part-timer taps in the details of the order on the monitor present on the counter, displaying a rather cheap amount as soon as she finished typing in. your eyes widen at the sight of the cheap price. discounts are truly heaven sent, you thought.
âweâd also like an addition of iced coffee and, umââ said sunghoon in a distressed tone, as he glanced at you with a look of overly exaggerated worry. in truth, he was imitating your usual, valentineâs day-induced actions as a tease. âmy love, is there anything youâd like to drink while we eat our pretty cake?â
you stared at him with a grin as irritation, embarrassment, and amusement mixed into an unfathomable surge of emotions in your chest. âiced coffee for me too, please.â you replied, matching his tone.
he grins at that, a light giggle escaping his lips as the part-timer fondly hands over the receipt and the buzzer to him. âplease wait while we prepare your order~â she said cheerily, innocent over the fact that she had just been fooled in broad daylight.
âhmm, love, the cake tastes so good~â sunghoon chirped sarcastically.
âshut up, you're embarrassing me,â you replied as you shove a spoonful into your mouth. sunghoon had chosen a secluded spot in the cafe, knowing all too well the preferences you had when it came to eating your food. you weren't all that choosy with having him watch you eat though because you were used to him, but you were conscious of people and what they would think.
your best friend, observant as he is, took his sweet time in searching for a table as his way of acting accordingly. well partiallyâhe actually also wanted to tease you and your tendency to be impatient, as well as the usual consequences that followed after.
âembarrassing you?â he faked a dramatic gasp, âoh, my love, you're embarrassed of me?â
âif you don't shut up now, i will kiss you and you will regret it,â you said with a glare.
at first, that line had sounded cheesy between you two, but after you used that line on him during one of your one of your valentine adventures, it morphed into a threat that fended him off well.
âoh no, not the kisses,â he said, his tone laced with an irritatingly large amount of sarcasm.
you rolled your eyes as you took another bite of the cake. âi think our acting was great back there.â
sunghoon nodded in agreement, savoring the cake's flavor in his tongue. âmine was top tier, i think.â
âiâm sorry but your opinion is just simply wrong,â you fired back teasingly, âyou acted like you were in love with me only at gunpoint.â
as you said that, you scooped up a part of the cake that had a ridiculously appetizing amount of icing and chocolate chips. unbeknownst to you, sunghoonâs gaze of disbelief settled over you in disappointment. he would've come up with a witty reply at your remark, but he held his tongue. he knew very well that whatever reply he would say would only hold his awkwardly masked confession, the kind he couldn't as easily hide with sarcasm and bad acting.
instead, he takes a sip of his drink and thinks of a different topic.
âdid you know that thereâs a theater open for free for madly in-love couples?â he asked, heavily emphasizing the âmadly in-loveâ adjective. his eyes were fixed on you, anticipating your reaction.
âoh, we wouldn't succeed that.â
ouch.
âdude,â he hissed, âthatâs literally a free showing of some blockbuster movie if you act nicely.â
âoh, so iâm supposed to worry about my acting ?â you said in disbelief, a mocking smile on your face.
sunghoon greeted you the same smile back. âyou wanna set up a bet for it, then?â
âwhy not?â you replied, fixing your posture. your eyes glimmered at the idea of competition. âlet's hear it. what do you have in mind?â
sunghoon takes a sip of his drink. âwe act out the lovey-dovey act and watch the film. then after the show, we ask the in-charge whose acting was worse.â
âand risk getting banned?â you clicked your tongue, with your right brow raised in surprise. âthe great ice prince who worships the use of the playing safe method as a way of life is suggesting something in this scale?â
âyou bet.â
oh, he was serious alright.
âalright, and if i win?â you ask. âmake it good, come on, offer me something.â
âif you win,â he starts, âiâll introduce you to my trainee friend who you said you had a crush on.â
âno way, you're doing that after valentineâs day?â you said with slight disappointment, âquite the dumb move but iâm in. anything for the love of my life, shim jake.â
sunghoon pretended not to hear that.
âgood,â he continued nonchalantly, âand if i win, we stop this pretend date everytime valentineâs day comes in.â
you paused at his words. your eyes slowly look up to meet his and you could tell that he wasn't kidding.
âwhatâs that supposed to mean?â you ask, trying to sound unbothered. your voice, however, carried enough surprise and hurt to oppose your innocent words.
at that point, thousands of questions spring forth your mind at a hurricane-like speed in an attempt to interpret his words.
is he annoyed by you bossing him around to act like your pretend partner every year? or does he not want to spend valentine's day like that anymore? and if so, is it because he is interested with someone else and is planning on going a date with them instead?
so many questions. so little time to think.
âit means that we stop this acting non-sense.â he said simply.
âwhy?â your words slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop yourself. âare you tired of it?â
sunghoon seemed to have caught on to the sudden change of atmosphere. for a moment, panic glimmered in his eyes before he cleared his throat and focused on the last piece of cake. âi never said i was.â
âyou seem like it, though,â you persisted, intentionally this time, to see his reaction.
âwrong,â he said boldly, asserting his newfound confidence in an attempt to come off as nonchalant, âi'm just trying to get you to be competitive with me. come on, fight me. i love chaos.â
you take his words in with forced relief, forcing your mind to not think of anything else.
join me in the sky (where we can sparkle with the stars) | park sunghoon
pairing: Park Sunghoon + gn!reader
genre: fluff, some angst, enemies-to-lovers, royalty!au, arranged marriage!au
warnings: swearing, reader wears a dress in some scenes
word count: 13.6k
summary: as the heir to your kingdomâs crown, you were expected to marry someone who could live up to the job. when your protective parents take matchmaking into their own hands and set you up to marry a boy you havenât seen since childhood, a boy who is notorious for his handsome face and even meaner personality, itâs up to you to break down the walls shielding Prince Sunghoonâs heart.
-
You were starting to fidget; your fingers pulled at the gems sewn into your gown and clutched the armrests of your seat. You wouldâve been picking at your nails if you didnât think your mother would notice on sight.
You woke up this morning to the feeling of sunshine on your skin, a soft breeze coming in through your window, a smile on your face. Believing that today would be a good one, you had practically bounced out of your bed over to your vanity table to start getting ready. Thatâs when you saw the sealed envelope, laid delicately in front of your mirror as if the messenger knew you would never miss it this way, and everything went to shit.
Breaking the red seal that bore the kingâs crest, you handled the envelope with trembling hands as your eyes tore through the neat handwriting.
You dropped the parchment back onto the table in front of you, freeing your hands so you could hold your head in them.
Pairing: Loki x FemaleTVAWorker!Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
T/W: just something cute
A/N:Â finding Loki & helping him with the TVA transition
P.s. this is just for fun, Iâm not trying to be technically accurate in how said abilities come about. This is just something Iâm trying, weâll see how it goes!
Ch.1 | Ch.2Â | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5
The TVA was abuzz with agents running hither, thither, and yon to try and find the most recent Variant they had brought in. Youâd already heard who it was and that he was giving everyone quite a time with his cooperation, or lack thereof. Walking down the dimly bright hallway, you sidestepped to avoid a team of hunters on their way to a new location. You smiled recognizing a familiar face jogging up to you.
âHave you seen him?â Mobius asked, only mildly frustrated; he never raised his voice, especially at you.
You smirked and shrugged, keeping your hands in your pockets, âI havenât, but newsflash, I couldâve told you this was going to happen.â
âYeah, well,â he said through gritted teeth, âit happened,â he added, stepping around you to meet up with a squad.Â
Despite being assigned as only an agent, you had a special gift of being able to sense what was going to happen. Of course, the TVA loved it when they felt they could use it, but they also hated it, especially when you suggested something dangerous or out of the question to the authorities, reminding you that: âyou arenât a Timekeeper and cannot actually see the future.â Which was true, you had to admit it as far as you knew your predictions and information was all off feeling, but there was something to be said for your feelings never being never wrong.
