#Tech Burner | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 1 year ago

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❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally.

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them.

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents.

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him.

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow.

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you—

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said.

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—”

“That was years ago—”

“She has a key to your apartment—“

“So do you!” he glares.

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,”

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—”

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,”

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,”

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins.

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again.

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout?

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about?

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time.

You: Let’s keep it that way! :)

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table.

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again.

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything.

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway. And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night.

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,”

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched.

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,”

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh.

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,”

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,”

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,”

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned.

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him.

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own.

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,”

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?”

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch.

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance.

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine.

One he couldn’t dare to cross.

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t.

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem.

Or at least, not his main problem.

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out.

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded.

That should have been his first clue.

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold?

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you.

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping.

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on.

Fuck.

No, he couldn’t.

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand.

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit.

“Suguru, please—“

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does.

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass.

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now.

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold.

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it.

What the fuck is going on?

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him.

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties—

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked.

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up.

“It’s not like you to call—“

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,”

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?”

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?”

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought.

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on.

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice.

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?”

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,”

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,”

His phone buzzed with texts from you:

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me!

You: are you home?

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it.

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter.

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,”

Another knock.

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight.

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?”

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,”

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe.

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers.

“Suguru—“

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you.

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck.

He was so fucked.

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop. He couldn’t. Not until you agreed.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?”

And he can’t hold back.

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt.

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips.

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse.

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork.

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body.

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,” And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides.

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time.

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath.

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs.

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?”

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,”

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,”

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes.

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt.

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts.

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again.

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them.

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,”

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care.

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds.

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan.

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches.

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him.

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now.

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it.

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart.

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do.

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers.

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would.

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure.

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—”

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,”

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips,

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you.

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,”

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,”

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—”

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt.

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—”

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—”

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,”

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,”

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you.

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water.

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?”

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment.

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you—

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you.

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little.

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip, “Sugu?”

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water.

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you?

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?”

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,”

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?”

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off.

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys.

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,”

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no,

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies.

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera.

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.”

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

#sab [mlist]#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #jjk x you

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

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serge-emco-tech-heating-cooling · 2 years ago

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#Oil Heating Tune-Up #oil furnace #oil boiler #oil burner #emco tech heating and cooling #oil heater service #oil heat coupon

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awrkive · 27 days ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 5 — JJK (m.)

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 15.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 some realizations and some jk and nb!oc lore. SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent & descriptive c*nniling*s (oral sex, female receiving) 🤩 ] also if u wanna know what her tat looks like this is it in my head

NOTES haii!! were back more than ever!! ive got nothing to say but enjoy!!!!!!! and lemme know ur thoughts in my inbox mwa mwamwa happy reading!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

The first time somebody told you they liked you was in year eight. You were only twelve, and there was this guy in year 10, Gwanshik, who apparently fancied you to be his girlfriend. You’ve had crushes way before entering middle school, but they were mostly just the guys you saw on your TV. When Gwanshik asked if you could both hang out together after school that one afternoon by the lockers, you remember saying no.

No, because… the whole thing felt weird. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that a boy liked you in a romantic sense. You couldn’t wrap your head around going out with somebody and what… spend all your time together with them? It was too much for your twelve-year-old brain, and since then, you started avoiding Gwanshik as much as possible, and thankfully, he didn’t seem like he wanted to be with you that much because the “chasing” only lasted for two days.

The two days felt contradictory, though. You sure didn’t want a relationship at the time, but it did make you feel something new. You felt… wanted. You didn’t even like Gwanshik. His hair was weird and he was two years older than you and your friend at the time told you he was going through a lot of girls – but those two days he tried to make an effort; tried to catch you at the lockers or waited outside of your classroom and even tried to buy you pudding for lunch, you felt… seen. You felt a sort of validation. Gwanshik made you feel special for all those two days until he decided you weren’t really worth his time.

As much as you felt relieved that he wasn’t going after you anymore, there was some kind of bitterness that settled in your heart when he did stop pursuing you.

That same bitterness crawls in your heart whenever you occasionally stalk an ex on Instagram from a burner account and see that they were seeing someone new again, and strangely enough, the same feeling finds its way in your chest when you watch Jungkook leading Heesu up to the podium with a hand hovering over her waist, a gentle smile painted on his lips as they go up to face the audience together.

“They look good, don’t you think?”

You almost jump at Taemu’s voice beside you, having completely forgotten he was there.

Tonight’s the company gala, a celebration for the Kang Tech and Blue Nexus collab that Jungkook and Heesu are leading. It’s only been about an hour, and you’ve pretty much been with Taemu the whole time.

“Y-yeah, they do,” you smile at him, nodding. You clear your throat before looking ahead again, sipping on the champagne you don’t like the taste of.

“I heard they’re dating.” Taemu suddenly says, dropping into a whisper.

You don’t know how the words exactly register, but you feel slightly dissociative as you respond with, “Oh, are they?”

Taemu nods, glancing back to the stage where Heesu starts to deliver a well-crafted speech. She looks absolutely magnificent, with a silver gown that fits her like a glove. Her long, silky hair stops at her waist, and the way she speaks grabs everybody’s attention in the room.

“Nah, it’s just a rumor. But the Jeons and Kangs are close, though, and you know how that is.”

You wish Taemu would stop talking.

“Yep.” you give him a nod again, pursing your lips into a tight smile.

You try to drown out the conversation, listening in to the bits of Kang Heesu’s speech – something about innovation and future – and try to convince yourself that it ruffles your interest. But truthfully, you’d rather hear it than listen to some gossip Jungkook already disputed awhile ago.

It’s weird to have people carry these stories about him and his personal life – and you get how he can be a spectacle. He’s a Jeon, after all. His family is a conglomerate. But you know him… you know Jungkook. You value your friendship enough to know that he shouldn’t be a subject of people’s entertainment just because he comes from a certain lineage.

As it’s his turn to speak, you can’t help but focus on him, and you mean in a way that everybody just suddenly blurs out, and it’s all Jungkook that only matters.

He’s wearing his usual black suit, and his long hair is slick this time unlike all the times in your apartment complex where it’s messy and he’s wearing some Nike slides and shorts.

And whoever said that the eyes can focus so much better than a camera consciously is going to hell because just as you thought about how Jungkook looks like a dream tonight – your gaze slides to the woman beside him once again, Kang Heesu.

Then, you can’t help but think that they really do look good together, as per Taemu’s words.

As per everybody’s words, and probably, thoughts.

Rumors aside, or if Jungkook hadn’t told you that they weren’t dating at all, you’d think they would make a visually striking couple. It’s there for everybody to see, and everyone in this room must think so definitely. They’re both young and work in the same industry and their families are close – it wouldn’t be a shock if they actually are a thing.

You remember what you told Sol the past week. How Jungkook is majorly out of your league. You look at him now and sure, it’s the same person you hang out with back at home – the same man who laughs with his eyes crinkling, the same man who intently listens to you talking about whatever, and smiling shyly when you ask him about his day. The same man with admirable humility despite being him.

But ultimately, his world is here. This grandiose, larger-than-life, world.

And he looks so good in it.

“...Blue Nexus and Kang Tech as a team will continue to serve you going forward. Thank you.”

Jungkook and Heesu smile in front of the crowd while they stand close together, and for a second, it almost feels like you’re watching from behind glass. The picture of the man in your apartment no longer feels like he was real, or that he could be.

You don’t say it out loud, but some part of you knows. Jungkook belongs here in a way you never will.

As Jungkook and Heesu wrap up their speech, the room fills with applause, and soon, the crowd starts to settle back into conversation and cocktails, and you’re just about to look around for Sol and Junhwi when Taemu calls your name.

You turn around to look at him. “Yes?”

“I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?” He asks with a small smile on his lips.

You grimace inside at the question.

“I’ll try to see if I am,” you tell him. Taemu’s face visibly drops, and you instantly feel bad. You don’t know why you do, but you scramble for something just as quickly. “My schedule’s a bit hard to work around this week, but I’ll text you. What’s it about, anyway?”

You don’t miss the way Taemu’s smile picks up again at your promising words.

“I have two tickets for a tech expo. We can go if you like?” He arches a brow at you, trying to gauge your face.

You nod slowly. “That sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, it is. Would be nice if you can go.” He sends you a somewhat sheepish smile.

You chuckle.

“You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“I don’t know. Which one do you like? Subtle or straightforward guys?”

It prompts you to laugh some more, making Taemu join in. Somehow, the conversation puts you in place. Suddenly, you’re not thinking about Jungkook or Heesu or some Little Mermaid shit about how you’re not a part of his world.

You’re about to say something in response when your phone beeps in your purse.

“One sec,” You hold up your hand while Taemu hums. Unexpectedly, a message from Jungkook welcomes you when you took your phone out and turned it on.

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:35pm]: Hey

Well maybe the Little Mermaid drama is not over just yet.

You look up at Taemu. “I’ll just…”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Taemu smiles and nods. “I’ll just go see Min for a bit. See you around, yeah?”

You give him a small smile, glancing at Min – someone from the same department as his – across the room, stepping back a little farther. When Taemu leaves, you turn your phone on again to type a reply.

You [11:35pm]: hi

Not even a few seconds later, and Jungkook comes in with a response.

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:35pm]: I saw you just now. Was just about to say hi but you were talking to someone?

You [11:35pm]: yeah. its taemu You [11:35pm]: remember my coworker

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:37pm]: Interesting

Your brows furrow, intrigued.

You [11:37pm]: whats interesting abt it

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:38pm]: Nothing in particular

You [11:39pm]: now thats interesting

You feel a certain curl to your stomach. It’s not unpleasant at all, just something you’d rather brush off. Jungkook can’t be jealous of Taemu of all people – and you can’t deduce that based off one text that says “interesting” in response to you saying you were just talking with Taemu.

Yeah.

So you physically shrug it off.

You [11:39pm]: but your speech is way more interesting. you look and sound great!! congrats on the launch btw!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:40pm]: Thank you. And your emoji looks very interesting

That earns a chuckle from you.

See, it was nothing. You think to yourself. Jungkook was not jealous and he’s just being his usual self.

You [11:40pm]: its not an emoji its an emoticon

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:40pm]: That makes me very curious. Wanna hear more about it Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:41pm]: Come hang out with me

You almost thought you read that wrong.

You [11:41pm]: here?

Unit 446 (Jeon Jungkook) [11:42pm]: I’m at the rooftop actually. But I’ll come down there in a while. Where are you?

You have no idea where he’s going with this, but you find yourself typing a reply, anyway.

You [11:43pm]: ohh dont bother. I’ll come up there myself You [11:43pm]: would be nice to get some fresh air 🥴

When you head toward the elevator, you catch your reflection in the mirrored doors – hair a little messy from the night, heels already starting to hurt. You press the button anyway.

The wind blows your dress away and the cold of the night hits your bare skin as you navigate the empty space of the rooftop – which is not so empty anymore as you spot a tall figure by the glass railings, adorning a black suit. You could’ve mistaken it for anybody else as they all men at the party wear the same thing, but you couldn’t have taken Jeon Jungkook for anybody else.

Not when even the lines of his back feel way too familiar by now.

You’re caught off guard, though, when he shifts slightly – just enough to raise a hand. At first, you don’t realize what he’s doing, until he takes a slow drag, and smoke slips around his head, curling into the air like it’s got nowhere else to be.

“Smoke break?” you say, breaking the silence as you walk toward him. You catch a whiff of it in the air.

“Oh, hey.” Jungkook turns to look at you, the cigarette tucked between his middle and pointer finger. From the looks of it, he must’ve lit it a while ago. When you glance back up at him, he offers a warm smile. “Do you want one?” he asks casually, reaching for the lapel of his jacket.

You shake your head before he can take out – presumably – a pack of cigarettes. You wouldn’t have guessed he had one tucked away earlier, not when he was standing on that podium, all polished and composed.

“I don’t smoke.”

Jungkook looks slightly taken aback. You’re about to ask why, but he just nods to himself and puts his hand back at his side. Then he flicks the cigarette away, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. The lingering smell clings to the air between you, but the breeze helps carry it off, little by little.

“You could be fined for littering, you know?” You joke.

Jungkook’s mouth slacks as he looks at you again, and you’re sure he was about to retaliate, probably pick up your joke and keep the banter, but he disarms you when he speaks his next words.

“You look beautiful.” He says it low, his voice dipping a little deeper as his eyes trail down your body. If you’re not mistaken, his gaze lingers a second longer on your chest – and you remember, quite clearly, how grateful you were that you believed that one push-up bra ad on Instagram. It really did wonders with the square neckline of the dress.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You say, arching a brow. It makes Jungkook laugh. He walks towards a bench, and naturally, you follow.

Jungkook’s the first to settle into his seat, and you try to ignore the way your heart does a weird little flip when he looks up at you, his hand instinctively lifting to hover over your back as you move to sit beside him.

And instantly, the cold of the night is whisk away by his warm presence. It’s not even that much, probably just an illusion, but Jungkook feels like a furnace on a winter night sometimes and you wonder how it’d feel like to bask in it.

Maybe if you weren’t too drunk that night when you cuddled up together on his couch, you would’ve understood. You do remember, though, the very brief moment of his strong arms around you, tight but comfortable, big and strong…

You shake your head internally.

Hah.

As much as you like to believe you can walk away from that memory like it was just another Tuesday, you can’t. Unfortunately.

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

You’re not sure why you bring it up. Maybe it’s a way to keep things from feeling too… intimate, sitting this close to him. But the moment it slips out, it feels borderline personal – maybe even invasive – and you regret it almost instantly.

You’re just about to steer the conversation elsewhere when Jungkook leans back against the seat. The moonlight hits his face just right, the shadows of his lashes brushing against the tops of his cheeks.

He really doesn’t look so bad himself, you think. But who are you kidding—he deserves a better compliment than that.

“I don’t smoke that much anymore. But these things…” Jungkook trails off, gaze flicking away for a second. You bite your lip, worried you might’ve touched something too personal.

But he keeps going. “These things take a lot out of me. Nerves. I don’t know. Big crowds stress me out. And they’re gonna publish articles about tonight, and maybe I’ve said this already, but I’ve never really liked public attention all that much.”

You blink up at him.

It’s strange, because all this time, you’ve always claimed to know Jungkook – because, technically, you do. You’re friends. He knows about the cat you secretly kept from your landlord two years ago, knows that you hate your job, knows about the disposable chopsticks you hoard from different restaurants for absolutely no reason, knows that your Sunday uniform is that worn-out white Elmo shirt from high school, and knows your favorite color is baby blue.

He knows so many little things about you. So naturally, you should know him too… right?

But the thing is, as much as you think you do, you realize now – you’ve never actually known him past a certain point. He’s shared bits and pieces: how his favorite part of town is Hongdae, how he could eat bungeoppang for weeks. But aside from the surface-level stuff – the things you’ve asked about – he’s never really offered up anything deeper. Never really talked about himself in the ways that matter.

Like his job. How he got into it. The pressure that must come with it. Hell, you didn’t even know he smoked. That one really caught you off guard, because if there’s one thing you’ve always associated Jungkook with, it’s how damn good he smells.

But what really gets you isn’t the smoking. It’s the nerves. The fact that he gets nervous. Not that you thought he was above feeling something as basic as that – but he’s always carried himself with this kind of ease, this quiet confidence, like he knew exactly who he was and where he stood. It never occurred to you that someone like him could feel… less than sure. That he might need something, anything, to steady himself.

“I— yeah. That makes sense,” you nod, eyes fixed ahead, voice softer than before.

You’re still sitting beside the same Jungkook. Still in the same night air. But there’s something different now, something settling inside you that you can’t quite name. You’re learning these new pieces of him slowly, like catching glimpses of something just under the surface. And for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel so far away.

Maybe he never really was. Maybe it’s just that you were looking at him from a place too high up.

“Does it… does it get bad?” You ask gently. Jungkook looks at you curiously. “I mean, the press. I imagine you must’ve been bearing it since you were a kid.”

Jungkook nods, and the smile he gives you next doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“My brother took most of the heat when we were young. When I was away in the US, they stopped bringing me up in the articles. And, uh…” he chuckles, settling a bit deeper into the seat. “I haven’t really told you about this yet, but I was never meant to work in the company. Until my brother decided to take up law—and there’s only two of us.”

You try not to look too surprised. “Oh…”

Jungkook crosses his arms, brow furrowing. “It was never going to be me, and I didn't take that well. Anyway, I sold my first software to Vision when I was a sophomore – the top rival of Blue Nexus until now. Pissed my dad off a lot because it became a huge success.” He snorts, but there’s no humor behind it.

You want to ask a million things. But something in his tone, the careful way he’s choosing his words, tells you not to push. So you stay quiet. You let him speak on his own terms.

You’re not oblivious to the gossip surrounding Jungkook and Mr. Jeon. You’ve overheard your fair share of whispers tonight – speculations about why “Mr. Jeon’s son is only interim CTO,” or when he’s going to finally hand over the reins to his son. Everyone talks about it like it’s inevitable. Like it’s some corporate fairytale they’re waiting to unfold.

But instead of digging into that, you glance at Jungkook, voice gentle.

“What’s he like? Your dad, I mean…”

It takes him a moment.

“He’s a tough man,” Jungkook says, breathing in sharply. You see his shoulders stiffen. “But I still really want him to be proud of me. It’s a complicated feeling. This is why I get too nervous about this stuff. I take pride in my work, I like what I do, you know— but sometimes…”

“Sometimes…” you echo softly.

“Sometimes I think I could do better.”

Your heart presses against your ribs, caught in a mix of protectiveness and ache.

You don’t think. Your words just come out.

“I think you’re doing great, Jungkook,” you say, voice quiet but sure. Your hand lifts instinctively to rest on his shoulder, but you hesitate halfway and pull it back to your lap instead. “I mean… I haven’t studied the technicalities of your work yet – pun intended – but I think you’re really good at what you do. People can see the effort you put into the things you care about. I don’t know about your dad, but I think that’s… really admirable.”

There’s a pause. And then another.

You start to spiral. Maybe you said too much. Maybe he didn’t want reassurance, just someone to listen. You should’ve asked first. Should’ve waited to see if he even wanted your opinion. God. He probably didn’t need a pep talk tonight of all nights—

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks, __. You’re the first one to tell me I’m doing a good job so far.”

Your jaw drops slightly. What?

It must’ve slipped out loud, because Jungkook laughs – really laughs, his chest shaking with it. It’s the first time all night that he’s sounded truly unguarded.

“Yeah. I appreciate it,” he says again, softer this time.

“Really?” you blink. “That’s… tough, bro.”

“Bro?” he says, incredulous. You nod solemnly. “You’re cute,” he murmurs.

You feel the warmth flood your cheeks instantly.

“Hey,” you say, needing to shift the moment. Jungkook hums in response. “You know that feeling when you’re in high places – like rooftops – and you get the weird urge to jump?”

Jungkook raises a brow. “That’s… concerning.”

You wave him off. “No, not like that. It’s not suicidal or anything. Just… this curious impulse.”

“There are literally a thousand movies that show what happens when you jump off tall buildings,” he says dryly.

“Well, duh.” You roll your eyes. He laughs again, and you notice something unspoken in the way his posture eases. The tension he carried earlier seems to slowly dissolve into the night air. It makes you smile, quietly pleased that maybe, somehow, you helped.

“You know what I’m thinking right now?” you ask.

He eyes you warily. “I hope you’re not gonna say you want us to jump.”

“Close,” you scoot closer, and he doesn’t move away. If anything, he seems to lean into it. “I was thinking more land activities. Maybe we should go around town.”

“Right now?”

You make a face. “I mean, you might be busy.”

“I already socialized enough to last me through next month. I’m fried.” Jungkook sighs, and it’s so genuinely weary that you almost laugh. But you bite back a grin instead. “You wanna go for a drive?” he asks.

You flash him a bright smile, and with no hesitation, tell him, “I’d love that.”

They say when you’re having too good of a day, time flies fast.

You didn’t know Jungkook liked bands. And you definitely didn’t know he could sing. You’re not keeping track, but it’s been about two hours since the two of you slipped away from the party – armed with a stolen bottle of champagne and a badly packed plate of hors d'oeuvres, thanks to Jungkook, who remembered you saying you liked their mini quiches.

You didn’t really have a destination in mind when you left. Every time Jungkook asked where you wanted to go, you just shrugged and said, wherever – until the car eventually rolled to a stop on an unfamiliar street that smelled like salt and sea.

You both realized you were by the beach the moment you cracked open the doors and stepped out of the car.

“This is perfect,” you say, unable to contain the smile spreading across your face. “It’s been so long since I’ve gone to the beach.”

“You know where we are?” Jungkook asks, falling into step beside you.

The beach isn’t anything extravagant – just sand and sea – but the breeze is crisp, the air smells clean, and something about the quiet feels right.

“I have no clue,” you admit, glancing at him with a grin. “But it’s nice here, right? Who cares?”

Jungkook eyes you like he’s about to object, but then he just chuckles under his breath.

There’s a narrow bridge up ahead that leads to a small staircase descending onto the sand. You head toward it with a bounce in your step, eager to feel ground crunch beneath your heels. As soon as your foot touches the first step, you feel a hand gently settle against your back.

“Careful,” Jungkook murmurs behind you.

It’s just a reminder. A quiet one. But the brush of his palm against your dress, the low dip in his voice – it sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the weather.

You shake it off quickly and make it down to the sand. The sea is calm, the tide gently kissing the line of black sand just a few meters from where you stand.

“It’s freezing,” you mutter, hugging your arms to your chest. “This doesn’t make any sense. It’s supposed to be summer.”

You gather up the skirt of your dress and plop down on a patch of dry sand. Jungkook follows, but before he settles beside you, he slips off his suit jacket and holds it out.

“Oh, no. I’m okay,” you say quickly, shaking your head and gesturing for him to keep it.

He pauses. “Do you know how many people die from hypothermia?”

“Like… twenty-five?”

“No. Twenty-four thousand a year.”

Your eyes shoot wide. “Wait. No fucking way. In South Korea? Or globally?”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a beat – then cracks up, grinning as he doubles over slightly from laughing. “Yeah, okay. No. I just made that up.”

You squint at him in disbelief. “Wow… you got jokes now.”

He just shakes his head, still grinning, clearly pleased with himself. You throw him a mock glare, but it doesn’t last long – not when he nudges a mini quiche toward you like a peace offering.

You reach for the bottle of champagne, only to realize you have nothing to pour it into, until Jungkook, already reading you like a book, says, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Jungkook watches as you chug on the bottle, and thank god he got the white wine because red wine makes you drunk and you aren’t planning on getting drunk tonight – especially not with your track record.

You pass the bottle to Jungkook, looking ahead to watch the dark of the night. It’s probably around 2 am at this point, but you don’t bother confirming because why would you? It doesn’t matter what time it is, anyway. It feels like you’ve been in a tight spot all week, and today is the reward of all that.

You realized you haven’t taken time to relax at all. The past few months had just been work, work, and work – as if you’re completely succumbing to your fate of being a corporate slave.

“It’s nice, right? You’re having fun?” you ask Jungkook, turning your body to him.

You guess it’s easy to assume Jungkookls got everything under control. It’s in the way he carries himself – so quietly confident, so composed, like the weight of the world never quite touches him. He didn’t lay it all out for you back at the party, but you understood very well. You heard what he meant when he spoke about his father, about his work, about everything that makes him feel like he’s constantly trying to measure up.

He gets overwhelmed, too.

Contrary to what you believed – what you’ve told yourself all this time – Jungkook is just like anyone else. He’s human. He doubts. He tries.

It’s a shame the thought has only clicked into your head now. Because you were so sure that pedestal you put him on was where he rightfully belonged. You were so certain that the distance between you and him wasn’t something that could be crossed. That he was out of reach.

But here you are. Sitting next to him on a beach you can’t name, under a sky full of stars that don’t care who’s who. And you’re realizing – again – maybe you were wrong.

You feel bad, honestly. Because Jungkook’s been nothing but good to you. Better than good, if you’re being honest. He’s been kind, thoughtful. Present in ways that surprised you.

And he likes you.

At least… he said he does.

You haven’t processed it that much, ever since that night of his… confession passed.

It’s not the first time somebody said it to you. And it’s certainly not the first time you feel conflicted about it, because you’ve always been weird about relationships – or men, in general. You haven’t been in any therapy except for Jimin’s bimonthly honest feedback about your “avoidant coping mechanism” because ”you somewhat are afraid to love someone and have someone love you back so you cope by joking about how men are not all that and when you break up with someone you tell me it was not that serious”. You never retaliated with any of those because you know they were all true. You’ve had two serious boyfriends in your life, and none of them lasted for longer than a year.

They may have had problems of their own, but you always knew what it was with yours.

You get easily scared. You get scared about the possibility of you growing more feelings for a person – get scared at the prospect that you might want them to be in your life forever.

And god, forever is such a long time. And the future scares you a ton more than you’d like to admit.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in months. I’m glad you made us skip the party.” Jungkook responds to your question.

“I did not make us skip the party,” you laugh, prompting Jungkook to do so as well. You look at the calm waves, and suddenly you get the urge to stand up. It just looks so inviting, and so you can’t help but stand on your feet, making Jungkook look up at you. He watches you curiously as you take off your heels. You gesture to him to follow you. “Come on up here.”

He eyes you warily. “Are you…”

You shake your head immediately. “What, no. I’m not swimming. Just gonna dip my toes in the water,” you look far ahead. And true to your words, the sea really does look inviting. “It looks really good.” But when you drop your gaze back to Jungkook, he still looks unsure. You roll your eyes. “Afraid to get a little dirty, Mr. Jeon?”

He narrows his eyes at that. You challenge him with a raised brow. Then, with a scoff, Jungkook stands up from the makeshift blanket that’s really just his suit jacket and begins to tug off his leather shoes—

Hold up.

“You wear toe socks,” you deadpan, blinking at the sight like it’s physically hard to process.

“Huh? Oh— yeah.” Jungkook looks up from his feet to your face, confused for half a second before realization hits. “Okay, I know what you’re gonna say. My friends already clown me about this a lot.”

You can’t help it – you burst out laughing. It’s loud, full-bodied, and totally ungraceful. Jungkook just stands there with his lips pressed into a thin line, expression resigned, like this isn’t his first toe sock trial and probably won’t be his last.

You snicker behind your hand and turn toward the shoreline, still giggling as you walk. Jungkook follows a beat later, not looking the least bit offended by your reaction.

“I just don’t get it,” you manage through your laughter. “Why do you have gloves for your toes? Does that not give you the ick?”

“A glove for my toes?” Jungkook repeats, incredulous. A laugh escapes him. “What the hell?”

“Yeah! It’s literally the same concept. Gloves are uncomfortable as hell. Are you sure you willingly wear toe socks?”

“If I didn’t, would I be wearing them now?”

“Exactly! So you do it on purpose. That’s wild.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Hater much?”

“Through and through,” you grin, shaking your head. “How did I not know this sooner? You did—”

You nearly trip as your foot slips on the soft, uneven slope of sand. But Jungkook’s hands are already at your waist, steadying you before you can fall.

“Told you to be careful,” he murmurs, voice light with amusement.

You snort and push lightly against his abdomen. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Mr. Toe Sock.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and the two of you continue down the shore, moving closer to the sea. The air grows cooler as you approach the water, waves whispering along the sand like a quiet soundtrack to the moment.

“You actually remind me of my mom. She wore toe socks too.” you say suddenly, rendering Jungkook surprised beside you. But when you look at him, there’s a hint of a small smile on his face.

“Even your mom knows the drill,” Jungkook brags, prompting you to roll your eyes but you laugh anyway.

You bunch up your dress to your legs as you start dipping your feet into the water, a little surprised at the cold temperature even though you expected it already. It is still August, after all.

Jungkook follows, and you walk straight along the shoreline.

“You mind talking about her?” Jungkook asks suddenly, making you look at him.

You shake your head. “Not really. I love talking about my mom. She was a wonderful person.” you say truthfully, the words bringing a melancholic smile to your face.

“I’m sure she must have been.” Jungkook tells you with conviction.

“How are you so sure?” you can’t help but laugh.

Jungkook shrugs. “She has you as her daughter.”

“Hah!” Your laughter only becomes louder. “That’s really… that’s a good line.”

Jungkook only shakes his head, but there’s a hint of a shy smile on his face when he looks away. He can be really cute sometimes; such a walking contradiction, really.

“What about your mom?” You ask.

“She’s just as wonderful. My brother and I are close with her.”

You nod. You assumed that a while ago, but it oddly makes you feel good that Jungkook does indeed have a good relationship with his mother. It was cute, because the way he smiles when he talks about his mom tells you she’s really important to him.

“And… your dad?” You tread lightly, not sure about bringing him up again.

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind when he says, “He loves and adores mom, and I admire him a lot for that. He’s just… he just has a lot of expectations when it comes to his children, and it gets a little too overwhelming.”

You quietly hum at that.

Strange, really. How some people love differently.

“I once saw him before, you know?” You tell Jungkook, and he looks at you, intrigued. You nod, adding, “He looked really intimidating.” you give Jungkook a hesitant smile; he nods his head in understanding. “Anyway, I didn’t see him tonight. Did he come?”

Jungkook just gives you a smile. “I don’t think so. Not sure.”

You don’t question it further. You’ve made a lot of assumptions about Jungkook, but hearing the truth from him – it’s different. Like opening Pandora’s box, only to find something softer inside. There’s something oddly comforting about it. You’re talking about things that don’t usually come up, and it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Just easy. And for once, it feels good to open up to someone who actually seems to care – not out of obligation, but out of genuine interest.

“What about you? What was your mom like?” Jungkook asks, walking beside you with his hands crossed behind his back.

“She was an angel. But I…” you hesitate, “I grew up hating her for half my life.”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze shift to you, but you keep your eyes ahead. You like talking about your mom – just not this part.

“You don’t know a lot when you’re a kid. I hated her because we were poor, and I thought it was because I didn’t have a dad. Every family day at school, kids would show up with both their parents. I was always just with her. And being an only child made everything feel even lonelier. I guess I blamed her for that.”

There’s a bitter smile tugging at your lips. Jungkook stays quiet, and you’re thankful for that – for not rushing to speak. For simply listening.

“She never talked about my dad. I never asked either. She just never brought him up. Then when I turned eighteen, I finally asked if she knew where he was. She just said he wasn’t a good man. She didn’t elaborate, but I didn’t need her to. I understood. And I think that was the moment I started realizing how good I actually had it with her.” You smile faintly at the memory. “She sewed me clothes. Made my lunch every day. And she’d bring home these snacks from her job at the factory – these crunchy peanuts. I don’t know if you’ve ever had them…”

“You mean Ojingeo?”

You shake your head, amused. “No, not those. Those are the squid peanuts, right? Mine was sweet. Not spicy.”

Jungkook squints thoughtfully. “Damn, I think I know what you’re talking about… Oh! Matdongsan?”

Your eyes light up. “Yeah! Matdongsan! Do they still make that today?”

“I’m not really sure,” Jungkook says, shaking his head with a little frown.

“Oh well…” You shrug and keep walking. “Anyway, my mom. She gave me everything she could, even when I didn’t know how to appreciate it.”

You wince, looking away, that guilt still tucked away in the corners of your chest. You remember the tantrums, the slamming of doors, the silent treatment; all the ways you lashed out, thinking it was just part of growing up.

“She started getting sick during my third year of college. We found out too late that it was breast cancer. The doctors did everything they could, but…” You bite your lip to keep it from trembling. “She didn’t make it. She passed away four years ago. Right after I graduated.”

You take a sharp breath, blinking rapidly to push back the stinging in your eyes. It’s been a while since you cried over your mom. You’ve made peace with the grief, mostly. But sometimes – like now – it creeps back in, catching you off guard.

“I think what hurt the most was realizing how much time I thought we’d still have. When you’re a kid, you just assume your parents will be there forever. You think you’ll grow up, get your first job, bring someone home for dinner – and they’ll be there for all of it. But life doesn’t really work like that.”

You swallow, glancing up at the stars that have begun to peek out from the clouds above the sea.

“I was still so young. I didn’t get to spend enough time with her. Not the kind I wanted, anyway.”

You don’t say the rest. That losing her changed something in you. That maybe it’s why you hesitate with relationships. Why you carry every goodbye with a little more weight than necessary – why you try to avoid them as early as possible; and it means avoiding getting too close to somebody.

“That’s tough, __. I’m really sorry you went through that,” Jungkook says softly. He stops walking, and you feel his hand hover behind your back – so close it makes your skin tingle with the anticipation of comfort. But he doesn’t touch you.

Still, it’s enough.

You try to lighten the mood, groaning, “God, I’m totally killing the vibe, huh?”

Jungkook immediately shakes his head, firm. “No. Never.”

You turn to look at him, and he’s looking at you like he means it. Like you didn’t just ruin anything. Like your story mattered.

You smile. And somehow, you really believe him.

You take a deep breath,

“Mom was really funny, though. So, she wore toe socks, right? And I was kind of repulsed by them so she made sure to add it to my laundry when it was my turn doing it, especially when I gave her a tantrum during that day.”

Jungkook chuckles at the story, visibly amused. “She did?”

“Yeah, she was secretly vindictive as hell,” you shake your head as Jungkook’s laughter becomes louder. It was the kind of laugh where it’s bordering on wheezing, and you can’t help but join in too.

“How are you repulsed by toe socks?” Jungkook looks at you incredulously. “Wait– are you still repulsed by them? Are you repulsed by me now?”

You waved your hand at him dismissively. “No, you’re fine. I’m a grown up now. I’ve overcome my toe socks trauma.”

“That’s goddamn good to know.” He says with a tone of relief, comical in the way he puts a hand to his chest for added effect. “I don’t know what I’d do if you’re still that against toe socks. I’m not sure if I can give them up just yet.”

“Why would you give it up for me?” you snort.

“Dunno. I’m kind of a __-pleaser.”

You blink. “Jungkook.”

His grin widens, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out. “God, you’re such a flirt.”

“Am I really?” he says, tilting his head, voice all playful innocence.

You squint your eyes at him. He squints back, mirroring you with a teasing glint. Then, slowly, you bend down, fingers dipping into the sea – just enough to send a quick splash of water his way.

You expect a tiny splash. A harmless flick. But what hits Jungkook’s white shirt is a little more than you intended. Your eyes widen as the damp spot spreads across the crisp fabric.

Oh no. That’s probably designer. Tailored. Definitely expensive.

Before you can blurt out an apology, Jungkook moves faster than you can register, and suddenly, cold water smacks against your dress and hair. You gasp.

“Oh my god.” You stare at him, scandalized. “You did not.”

He raises his hands up, and he chuckles at the look on your face. When he sees you bending down again, he doesn’t make the mistake of waiting on you and immediately walks faster, effectively keeping himself a few feet away from you so he can avoid your expected attack.

Too bad he doesn’t run.

You scoop up a handful of seawater and hurl it at his back. Bullseye. Jungkook throws his head back in feigned betrayal, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Oh, that wasn’t very nice,” he warns.

You don’t wait for retaliation. You take off running, the cool night air rushing past you as laughter bubbles from your chest. You can hear his footsteps behind you, and you scream-laugh when his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you right off the ground.

“Jungkook!” you shriek between fits of laughter, squirming in his grip. But he’s strong – gentle, but determined – and you’re too breathless to fight him off.

“You’re gonna regret that, little miss devil,” he tsks, carrying you like a sack of mischief as he heads toward the water.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” you plead, kicking lightly.

“Too late,” he says, walking deeper. You can feel the cold moisture from his clothes seeping into you as he holds you close.

“Jungkook, we’re gonna soak your car when we get back.”

“My shirt’s already ruined.”

“You have your coat!”

“You started it.”

“I’ll bite you if you don’t put me down. I have my canine teeth.”

“Go ahead.”

“Jungkook!” You bury your face into the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, your giggles muffled against his skin. “Okay, okay! If you want to paddle in the water, let’s do it – but let’s take off our clothes first.”

That stops him. Completely.

His steps halt mid-surge, his arms frozen around you as your words settle between the two of you like a stone dropped into calm water.

“What?”

“What?” you parrot back.

Jungkook cranes his neck to look up at you. “Are you telling us to take a skinny dip?”

You bite your lip to not laugh at the incredulity written all over his face. You squint your eyes at him, noting the look on his face. It’s looking quite nervous. “You’re afraid to get naked?”

Jungkook scoffs, then… he chuckles.

“I’m most certainly not. Are you?” He says, sounding like he’s challenging you for something.

You arch your brow. “I’m most certainly not.” you mirror his words back to him, effectively making him laugh. “We don’t really have to be naked, though. I’ll just take off my dress. We’re already wet anyway, so…?”

It takes awhile for Jungkook to say something. Then, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe you.”

“What?” you bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling a little too much.

“What if somebody sees us?”

You jut your bottom lip out. “Jungkook, it’s probably 2 am at this point. Nobody’s awake except for weird sea creatures. I didn’t take you for a wuss.”

Jungkook cackles.

“Fuck me.” you clearly hear him whisper to himself. Slowly, you feel his hands letting you down until your feet once again get into contact with the sand.

You look at Jungkook expectantly once you face him. “Well?” you say, gesturing with a flick of your hand. “Turn around. I’m gonna take my dress off.”

Jungkook lets out a short laugh but doesn’t move immediately. His gaze lingers on your face for a second longer than necessary, eyes shining with something unreadable. “It’s only fair if you turn around too,” he says, crossing his arms but giving in to a small smile.

You roll your eyes, but you turn your back anyway, fingers quickly locating the side zipper of your dress. The fabric loosens and slips from your shoulders with ease, falling into a soft heap around your ankles. Cool air kisses your bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth still lingering from Jungkook’s touch.

You breathe in through your nose, silently thanking your past self for wearing a decent pair of underwear – a beige strapless push-up bra and matching panties. Not your sexiest, but it’s not humiliating either. You remind yourself this isn’t about seduction – it’s about spontaneity. The water felt amazing even though it was freezing but who cares! This was something out of someone’s bucket list, right? Skinny dipping at fuckass o’clock in the morning. Given, it’s not actually skinny-dipping… you’ve only ever done the real thing with Jimin from a trip years ago but it was in a pool so it didn’t count.

You feel pretty good about yourself until you turn around just as the same time Jungkook does.

And holy fuck.

You freeze.

You’ve seen Jungkook’s body before. Of course you have. But never like this. Never up close, never with this much bare skin and moonlight involved. His white shirt is gone, revealing an inked arm and lean muscle that tightens across his torso with every breath. But it’s his legs – his thighs – that make your breath hitch. The way they’re shaped, carved like he’s spent a lifetime training without ever trying too hard. Your eyes trail lower before your brain can stop them, and they land on the bulge beneath his black Calvin Kleins.

You snap your gaze up too fast.

“Your tattoo looks good,” Jungkook says.

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. Not because of what he says, but because it’s so obvious he caught you staring. And worse: he doesn’t seem fazed by it.

You glance down, catching the curve of ink that hugs your ribs. Your underboob piece.

“Oh. That one,” you say, clearing your throat as you angle your body slightly, fingertips brushing along your side. “Yeah. That’s what I told you about before.”

The piece goes from right under your boob to the side of your rib. It was quite a big one actually, but the tattoo is as wispy as it can get; a delicate image that curves along the ribcage – fine lines forming soft leaves and petals. It’s subtle and graceful, just like you wanted it to be.

Jungkook is still staring when you look back up. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s just now realizing he should say something.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet yours. And it’s not just the tattoo he’s looking at.

You shift, suddenly hyperaware of the way your body is lit by the moonlight. “Thanks. I planned it for weeks. The artist and I talked a lot about what I wanted. He was really talented.” You adjust your chest a little so you can take a better look of your tattoo. You swear it takes a bit of your time when you’re in the shower or you’re changing in front of the mirror because you almost always have to admire your piece whenever you see it.

“He?” Jungkook repeats.

You’re caught off guard, but you nod anyway. “Hm.”

A pause. Then: “When did you get it?”

“Two years ago. Same time Jimin got his moon phase tattoo. You’ve seen that one?”

“No. Just the others.”

“Oh, you will,” you chuckle. “He’ll show it to you whether you ask or not.”

Jungkook grins, but it’s quieter now. His hands brush off the backs of his thighs before he turns and lays his clothes down on the sand. You do the same, carefully folding your dress over the top of his shirt like it might protect it somehow. The silence between you is suddenly soft now, turning intimate.

When you meet his eyes again, you smile. And somehow, when he meets your gaze, you feel as if there’s a wire pulled taut between you – stretched thin and aching to snap.

You turn first, bare feet pressing into the cold sand as you walk toward the dark, inviting water. The night air nips at your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the rush of heat pooling low in your stomach.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook follow.

You reach the shoreline, waves licking your ankles. The water is freezing. Your breath hitches at the sensation, but you walk further in, just until it reaches your knees, then stop to turn to look back at him.

“Well?” you ask, voice soft and challenging. “Coming in, or are you just gonna stand there?”

Jungkook steps forward and walks straight into the water like it’s nothing, like he hadn’t hesitated at all, like this was his idea in the first place.

The waves lap against your skin as he closes the distance between you.

You wade further in, letting the water climb your body inch by inch until it hugs your ribs. “Ohh,” you gasp with genuine surprise. “The water’s actually warm over here.”

Jungkook raises a brow as he hears that. Trudging deeper, he takes a few steps behind you. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you nod, flashing him a grin. “It’s nice.” The word rolls out of your mouth like you’re savoring it. You lift your hands, gathering a small pool of water, and send a playful splash in his direction.

The water hits his face. His bangs drip instantly.

You laugh at the sight. There’s a frown that twitches on his lips as he tries to blink the saltwater out of his eyes.

And then he retaliates.

He flings water back at you with enough force to wet your hair this time, and your laughter erupts again, echoing over the waves. “Didn’t expect you to be so vindictive,” you call out between splashes, paddling away from him in slow strokes. “I thought you were sweet.”

“Didn’t expect you to be so mean,” Jungkook shoots back, and the grin you see on his teasing face tugs something sweet inside your chest.

It turns into this ridiculous game – splashing, dodging, laughing. The moonlight glints on the ripples between you, and every now and then, when you’re not dunking water in each other’s faces, you catch the way his eyes linger just a bit too long. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. It’s not uncomfortable. It just simmers there, under the surface like heat waiting to rise.

As you paddle further, you feel the ground slope under your feet and lift slightly, weightless now, the water just above your chest. You let out a breath and spin in place lazily, floating.

“Jungkook!” you call out, voice light, “Come here!”

He does, wading close until you're barely a few feet apart. He stops right where the water reaches his collarbones, droplets rolling down his throat.

You swim toward him instinctively, arms slicing through the water, and when you get close enough, you reach up and loop your arms around his shoulders.

You feel Jungkook stiffen for a brief second, seemingly surprised by the sudden closeness. But you don’t miss the way his hands instinctively come to your waist, steadying you.

“I’m hitching a ride,” you say breezily.

“What?”

“I wanna piggyback,” you grin, already hopping onto him, locking your legs around his waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jungkook lets out a huff of a laugh, almost startled. But he catches you easily, arms adjusting around your thighs to hold you steady. His hands are warm even underwater, and your chest is pressed so close to his back. So close you can hear every shallow breath.

“God, you’re shameless,” he mutters, but his voice is low and there’s a smile there – something fond, and maybe something even… dangerous.

“And you’re acting like you mind,” you murmur near his ear, smiling into his shoulder.

The water sways around you, wrapping both your bodies. It’s playful. It’s soft. But it’s also charged – like every second poses a dare for either one of you to cross a line.

You tighten your grip around his neck, your cheek brushing against his. “It’s getting cold again,” you whisper, shivering against him. “Jungkook, it’s getting cold.”

“I thought you wanted to be in the water.”

“Don’t turn this around on me.” You whine, lips brushing against his neck in your exaggerated pout. He cranes his head slightly, and you’re close enough now to count the droplets sliding down his temple. “Let’s go back,” you say, voice softer now.

He nods. “Alright.”

But just as you think he’s about to carry you back, you feel him start to lower your legs.

“Jungkook, what the hell!” you yelp, gripping his shoulders tighter.

“You said let’s go back,” he says innocently, though the glint in his eye says otherwise.

“Swear to god, if you drop me, I’ll bite you. And it won’t be pretty. I have my canine teeth.”

He laughs, the sound echoing across the water. “Okay, okay— relax. I’m not dropping you, princess.”

He readjusts his hold, and you sigh in exaggerated relief, letting your arms wrap loosely around his neck again. The journey back is slow, quiet, and for a second, you almost forget you’re wearing nothing but wet underwear. That is, until your feet touch the shore again and the sea releases you both back to reality.

You let Jungkook lower you down, suddenly aware of how much skin is on display. You turn slightly, trying to avoid looking directly at him – though that doesn’t stop you from noticing how good he looks, wet boxers clinging to his thighs, moonlight catching on his skin.

God, get a grip.

“Here,” he says, offering your dress with a slight smile.

“Oh. Thanks.” You take it, fingers brushing his for a beat longer than necessary.

“I’ll give you some space,” he says, turning around just in time for you to see him start stripping his boxers off.

“Jesus christ, Jungkook. Warn a girl next time,” you squeak, spinning around like your life depends on it.

You hear him laugh, which makes you laugh as well. And it’s stupid, but it feels natural.

“I’m taking off my underwear. Don’t look,” you call over your shoulder.

“Hmm. No promises,” he replies with a chuckle.

You roll your eyes and get to work, yanking off your bra and panties with more urgency than grace, tugging your dress back on as fast as you can. You’re nearly done when you hear his voice again.

“Done?”

“Almost,” you reply, quickly shoving your wet underwear into a ball.

You finally turn around just as Jungkook, now fully clothed again, offers his suit jacket.

“Here. In case you get cold.”

You hesitate for a split second before taking it. “Thanks.”

The jacket smells like him, and you pull it tighter around you before saying anything else. There's still water clinging to your skin, and when you glance at Jungkook, his shirt is sticking to him in places, outlining muscle like it’s got something to prove.

You try not to notice. You fail.

“I’m still wet,” you mutter under your breath before realizing what you just said.

He raises a brow, and you both burst out laughing.

“For the record, I’m also still wet,” Jungkook adds with a smirk.

You don’t even have it in you to respond. Just a groan and a shake of your head as you both start walking.

The walk back to his car isn’t long, but it feels like a slow return to reality. You glance over at Jungkook once you’re near enough, wordlessly telling him to unlock the car. He gets the message, patting his jacket pocket like it’s muscle memory. Then the other one. Then his pants.

“Shit.”

You startle at the curse that slips out of Jungkook’s mouth. He does not usually do that, like at all.

“What?” you ask back, looking at him curiously.

“I think I left my keyfob in the driver’s seat.”

Your jaw slacks. “Are you serious?”

”Hold on just a sec,” Jungkook tells you, taking a few strides over to his car. He pats his trousers again, but just like a few moments ago, he doesn’t seem to find anything.

You walk towards his direction as Jungkook lowers his head to look through the window of the driver’s seat, and when you stop by his side, he lets out a low cuss again.

You’ve never heard him say so many expletives in the entire time you’ve known him.

”It’s inside the car?”

Jungkook nods, and you can feel yourself starting to worry when he glances back at you, saying, “Did you have your phone with you or something?”

“N-no.” you’re flustered as you stare at him.

Jungkook looks like he expected that already. But he nods again, anyway, stepping back a little from the car.

”Any chance you know where we are?” He looks around, and at the very least you’re thankful that he seems cool and collected.

Because if you were not panicking already, you definitely are now.

“Not right now, no,” you shake your head. “You don’t have your phone with you either or something?”

“I didn’t take it with me when we went down to the shore.”

“So all our things are in there.” You realize as you stare inside his car.

Fuck. You remember exactly how the two of you agreed to leave all your stuff inside to avoid losing any of them at the beach, just in case.

“We’ll figure it out.” Says Jungkook as he rounds the car about. He checks his trunk and you see him poking his tongue through his cheek, visibly wincing afterwards. “We can’t access the seats through the trunk.”

Which means you can’t access the car in any way.

You’re cold and you’re frazzled as you try to process the trajectory of the events tonight.

“__,” Jungkook calls gently. You look at him wide-eyed. “Is it fine if we walk around for a bit until we find a telephone or something? I could do it but I don’t want to leave you alone here.”

“That’s fine.”

Jungkook might’ve seen how worried you are that he quickly goes to reassure you, “We got it. I’m really sorry for forgetting about my keys.”

At that, you quickly shake your head, feeling bad that he even had to tell you that.

“No, it’s fine. Not your fault. I should have reminded you about the door too…” you trail off because at the end of the day, you’re both stuck here because you forgot to pay attention to the important details.

Well, there goes your fun night. All going down the drain because you’re gonna be stuck.

You hope you do pass by a telephone booth or something, though.

Do they still even make those nowadays?

“It’s kind of a quiet part around this town, no?” Jungkook observes as he looks around while you both start walking.

You hum, but you remember something, “Wait, Kook, your car. What about it?” you look back in worry at the vehicle parked across the road.

“I’ll call a car locksmith once we get a phone. That okay?”

Jungkook’s voice is so gentle and sweet you’re honestly confused how he’s so calm about the situation while you’re thinking about so many different things in your head it’s like your body is separated from your mind as you try to match his walking pace.

It’s eerily quiet, and there are barely lamp posts around the area to illuminate your path.

You stay close to Jungkook, and somehow, he radiates a sort of warm heat that makes it bearable for you to walk for another few minutes.

“What’s on your mind?” Jungkook asks after awhile.

Since when did this country start running out of provision shops that are open for 24 hours? Why is it that suddenly, you can’t even see a sign of civilization?

Where the hell are you guys?

“Right now I’m thinking of ten ways we can both get killed but that’s not a big deal,” you say as you nibble on your bottom lip. Then you sigh. “I’m really, really, geographically challenged. Even Sol can’t figure out why I still hesitate sometimes if the pantry area is on the left or right side of the office and I’ve been in the company for over three years.” You take a deep breath again, looking at Jungkook with worried eyes. “Anyway, the point is… can you still remember where we came from? Because I unfortunately can’t help you with that.”

You send him an apologetic look, and you feel bad, you really do. But it’s not your fault that geography is not your forte! And it’s not your fault either they had no budget for lamp posts or random telephone booths.

Dwelling in that thought, you don’t notice Jungkook’s stricken expression for a moment at your sudden outburst of a confession, but soon he shakes his head, giving you a reassuring rub on your shoulder as he responds with, “I can still remember it, don’t worry.”

You almost let a sigh out of relief.

“Hey, it’s alright, hm? We’ll go home.” Jungkook says again when you don’t say anything.

You nod.

Well, that indeed feels reassuring.

You’re freaking out.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks.

“No— I’m fine. I just… my feet kind of hurt in these heels,” you finally reply.

You’d imagined a brief five‐minute walk before encountering a telephone, but every shop is closed and there’s nowhere to borrow a phone. After twenty minutes in your party heels – hardly designed for even a level walk – you’re paying the price.

Still, you try to keep your frustration at bay. You remind yourself there’s no point complaining now; it would only slow both of you down.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” Jungkook suddenly suggests. He stops by a curb, drops onto the concrete, and gestures for you to join him. You hesitate for a moment before walking over and sitting beside him. “I feel really bad,” he confesses, his eyes apologetically large.

“It’s not your fault, Kook, I promise,” you assure him, knowing deep down it isn’t his fault either. A sigh escapes him, a rare note of distress beyond the initial panic when you two discovered you’d been locked out of his car.

Before you can add more, Jungkook kneels in front of you, gently taking your legs and slipping off your heels. The sudden, yet thoughtful gesture brings immediate relief to your aching feet.

“T-thanks,” you say, slightly flustered.

In the midst of what could have been a disaster, having Jungkook here makes everything feel a bit more bearable.

A comfortable silence settles between you both until a sudden yawn reminds you just how exhausted you are.

“Tired?” Jungkook teases with a smile. You merely scrunch your nose, prompting a soft chuckle from him. “Let’s get going then. We’ll find something soon, hm?”

As you prepare to put your shoes back on, Jungkook retrieves them and positions himself so you can step onto his back.

“Hop on,” he instructs.

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Jungkook, it’s fine. I’m not gonna die from another two or three-minute-walk.”

But he simply tilts his head back with an arched brow. “You didn’t have a problem hopping on my back at the beach.”

“That was different,” you protest, though his expectant gaze leaves you little choice. “Well… if you insist,” you relent. “Thanks, Kook. My feet were killing me.”

Jungkook hoists you onto his back with ease, your arms looping around his shoulders.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you murmur, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Stronger than you look.”

He snorts. “I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.”

You smile, letting your eyes close for a second. The night air is cool, the road still and quiet beneath his steady footsteps.

After a beat, you say, “If we die out here, I hope someone puts cute flowers on our grave, at least.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice… put that on my tombstone: Died in heels. Looked hot doing it.”

Your laugh is cut off when you see a flickering neon glow amongst the trees, cutting through the dark.

“Wait— look.”

Jungkook stops. “Is that…?”He starts walking faster, adjusting your weight. “That’s a motel sign.”

Sure enough, the closer you get, the clearer it is: a MOTEL sign blinking in faded colors, the word Vacancy lit underneath.

Jungkook lowers you gently to the ground, and you thought that’d be the end of it but he helps you with your heels again even though you didn’t say anything.

When you’re steady on your feet, you both stare at the building.

It’s shabby, a little creepy, but real.

“You think they’ll have a phone?” you ask.

“Let’s go inside?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

The dingy bell above the motel door jingles weakly as Jungkook pushes it open. You step in behind him, the heavy scent of air freshener mixed with something… older… instantly hitting your nose.

The lobby is small and tired-looking, lit by a flickering overhead light and a dusty lamp on the counter. Behind it sits a woman slouched over the desk, scrolling on her phone with a bored expression. She glances up once, before returning to whatever she’s doing.

“Hi,” Jungkook starts politely. “Uh… would it be okay if we borrowed your phone for a quick call? We’re kind of stuck out here.”

The woman barely moves her jaw as she responds. “Phones are for customers only.”

You and Jungkook exchange a look. Of course.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, managing a polite smile. “Then we’ll take a room.”

She finally straightens a little and reaches under the desk. “Only one room left,” she says as she pulls out a large, clunky registration book. “Two-oh-nine. Queen bed.”

You blink. “Just one?”

She shrugs, clearly not interested in your dilemma. “You want it or not?”

“We’ll take it,” he says quickly. “I’ll just make a quick call to wire you the money?”

The woman glares at him suspiciously. Then she glances at you again, brows furrowing. You try to look inconspicuous, sticking behind Jungkook slightly. He wraps an arm around your waist.

Then, the attendant boredly shakes her head.

“Whatever. Make your calls.”

You try not to look as awkward as you feel when she slides the key across the counter with chipped blue nail polish.

“Second floor. Stairs are on the left.”

With that, she’s back on her phone like you never existed.

You and Jungkook stand there for a second, key in hand, the silence between you suddenly a little too loud. You look at each other for awhile, and then wordlessly, you both head towards where the staircase is.

It creaks, the wooden material of the treads. But you both ignore that as you make your way up.

It’s not too hard to spot Room 209, as it’s just quite literally on the next two doors to your right as soon as you step on the landing.

The door creaks loudly when Jungkook unlocks the door and pushes it open.

When you both step inside, you pause immediately.

“Oh,” you both say at the same time.

The room is… something.

Faded floral wallpaper peels in the corners, and a single overhead light casts a yellowish glow over the queen-sized bed with mismatched sheets. There’s a clunky TV mounted to the wall, an old nightstand, and a mysterious stain on the carpet near the window that neither of you want to acknowledge.

You slowly turn your head toward Jungkook just as he turns to look at you.

”You can take the bed. I’ll take—” A quick scan in the room as you both step inside further tells a quick discovery that a couch is very much absent. “I’ll take the floor.” Jungkook finishes.

You’re too occupied with the state of the room that you don’t really say anything to that.

“You can take a shower first. I’ll just use the phone,” At that, you look to the other side of the room and find another door that presumably leads to the bathroom, and you almost let out a sigh of relief. At least they have a bathroom. “Lock the door for awhile. I’ll come back in three.”

He gives you the key which you take in your hand. When Jungkook disappears, the soles of his shoes making a sound down the stairs, you make another discovery again that the walls are very thin.

Yep. You have definitely been teleported to a movie in which you have no clue what the genre is yet. It might be a rom-com, but you’re more sure that it’s horror.

”Oh god,” you groan as you navigate the room.

Jungkook can’t possibly sleep on the floor! You bet he’s never done that before but even if that was the case, that would just be a cruel thing to do especially when the bed looks like it could fit the two of you just fine.

But the thought of sleeping with him again makes the heat crawl up your cheeks. You remember the last time you did it – not exactly how and why it even happened – but you remember that brief feeling of being pressed against his warm chest and feeling him all over you. Almost all of him, in fact.

“Shut up.” you verbally tell yourself and roll your eyes, heading to the bathroom.

You go straight to the shower, strip your clothes off and grimace as soon as the cold water hits your skin. You didn’t really expect the motel to have hot water, anyway, but you do still agonize it as you clean up your body anyway, forgoing the suspicious bar of soap on the side.

You finish quickly, not really wanting to stay that long in the bathroom.

There’s a clean looking robe that you wrap your body with before you pull open the door. And there Jungkook is, standing right in front of you, seemingly waiting. He’s also shirtless, because he’s handing you his shirt for some reason.

“I called a locksmith already and they said they’re towing my car here in an hour and a half. That’d be 4 am by then, so we’ll probably be asleep. And I’m thinking you wouldn’t be comfortable in your dress, so feel free to wear this for the meantime.”

“Oh,” you give him a grateful smile, taking his shirt. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you to think.”

“No problem.”

Jungkook walks inside the bathroom and you unintentionally admire his muscular back before he completely disappears on you.

You make quick work of patting yourself dry and putting on your panties and Jungkook’s shirt, feeling your cheeks heat up a little at the familiar scent.

As you make the bed half-heartedly, you try not to think too much about how you’re gonna invite him beside you – but it keeps messing with your head because now you’re thinking about cuddling him and it’s totally unnecessary and inappropriate.

At one point, you let yourself fall on the mattress dramatically, burying your face in the pillows and lying still.

“__?”

You lay flat on the bed completely motionless, brainstorming how to approach the situation.

You really can’t let Jungkook sleep on the floor. There’s not even that much of a bedding on the bed, let alone some sheets! And there are only three pillows for Christ’s sake!

You’ve drowned out your environment at that point that you guess you didn’t hear the shower shut close and the feet padding the floor, because when you crane your neck around, there Jungkook is.

And again, he is without a shirt.

And without pants.

And you’re mostly certain it’s his penis right there in between his thighs.

”Oh my god!”

”__, what the hell!”

“Jungkook, that’s your penis!”

“What? Turn around and don’t look!” Jungkook says wide-eyed, attempting to cover his dick with his two hands. But it’s too late now because you’ve just seen it and there’s no way to blur it out in your head.

“But I already saw it!” you cry, seeing different momentary emotions flash on Jungkook’s face.

“I was calling for you because the towel is in the cabinet but I thought you got knocked out from exhaustion and so I decided I was just gonna sneak in!” Jungkook explains frantically, and you can see his ears turning red from where you are as he tries to seemingly cover all of him, quite poorly might you add.

You stutter, “W-what do you mean knocked out, of course I’m awake!”

“I called you thrice, and you didn’t— okay. Okay. Just turn around, please, so I can get the towel.”

“Okay!” You bite your lip and almost snap your neck as you turn around swiftly, landing your eyes on the torn portion of the wallpaper in the room. “Oh my god…” You whisper to yourself as you hear shuffling from behind you, and if it was not any more obvious, you're about to burst in embarrassment. “What the fuck,” you hiss, trying not to physically shake your head to erase the image of Jungkook’s very naked body that keeps flashing in your head.

It seems like he picks up on it.

“Can you not sound so mortified?”

And for the first time in your life, there’s a tone to Jungkook’s voice that sounds genuinely annoyed.

You slap both your palms to your face. “Well, I’m sorry! I just saw your— your thing! how am I supposed to react to that? It’s embarrassing!”

“My penis is embarrassing?” Jungkook incredulously says.

You wish your mind worked faster than your mouth, but unfortunately, it doesn't. And you should’ve known that already, because it has gotten you in a lot of trouble all this time.

“No! Your penis is fine! It’s wonderful! I’m embarrassed, that’s what I meant.”

There was no way to take that back, because the silence that follows is too loud that at this point, you hope the building burns to fuck so Jungkook can forget about what you said and maybe all about you too while you’re at it.

“… okay.” you hear Jungkook’s unsure voice.

You groan. “Can I turn around now?”

“You can.”

Thankfully, Jungkook has his pants on now. You try to see past his bottom half but the upper part is no help at all because you're wearing his shirt and there’s no way you’re giving it back to him so he’s naked, again.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side. He looks at you curiously, then he shakes his head.

“If anything, I should be the one embarrassed here, not you,” he says as he walks by the edge of the bed.

“Well…” you watch him, following his figure. “I was speaking for both of us. You’re embarrassed about having your thing get seen by me and I’m embarrassed for seeing it.”

Jungkook pauses.

“That is definitely not offensive.”

You’re about to release a sigh of relief when you realize that was him being sarcastic.

You eye him apologetically. “Oh, Jungkook, how was I supposed to react? Your one-eyed monster just stared right at me. I had to scream.”

“My… what?” he incredulously says, seemingly just getting more and more confused the more the conversation gets going.

You remember your promise to yourself to stop calling penis weird names so you shake your head.

“I didn’t say that, actually,” you try to give him your sweetest smile but you’re sure you just look constipated. You sigh, shoulders deflating. “Jungkook, I think it would really benefit the two of us if you stop me from speaking sometimes.”

“Okay I get it,” Jungkook raises his hands, shrugging. “You’re mortified about seeing my dick.” He says and you swear he sounds a little defensive.

“What? No!” you quickly deny. “I’m not mortified about seeing your dick, I’m mortified about having to see it in the situation…!” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything, you let out a loud sigh again, eyeing him helplessly as you quietly accept that nothing is coming out right.

In defeat, you let your bum fall on the mattress and cross your arms as Jungkook finishes his make-shift bed on the floor.

“… well you would actually also scream if the situation was reversed, so.” You tell him as a matter of fact.

Jungkook stops on his tracks and turns to you. “You mean if I saw you naked?”

“Well, yes.”

You hear him scoff a little, prompting your brows to raise.

“Trust me, I’ll have an entirely different reaction if I saw you naked.”

He takes the spare sheet on the edge of the bed, laying it on the floor as your arms unconsciously drop to your sides once you register Jungkook’s words, jaw slacking at the realization. Before you can say anything to that, Jungkook’s already laying down on the floor and getting comfortable.

“You know what, you’re so full of lines it’s ridiculous.” you say and indignantly lay on the bed, staring angrily at the ceiling.

But you remember he doesn’t even have pillows. So you make quick work of taking the two under your head. “Here.” You pass him the pillows without looking at him.

You’re not even mad mad, you’re just… ugh! Jungkook frustrates you with his stupid lines and you don’t even know if he’s serious or not or you’re just way too self-centered that everything he says feels like flattery to you.

“What do you mean I’m full of lines?” Jungkook asks from below you.

“Come on, you always flirt with me.”

Suddenly, you hear a chuckle, making you instantly crane your neck to the side.

“Do you have a problem with it?” Jungkook says, and he has the audacity to sound playful.

You nibble your bottom lip. You could make up a lie, but you find yourself not wanting to. Besides… it doesn’t realy matter if you tell him the truth.

“No. You just make me so…” you trail off, not knowing what to say next. Maybe you didn’t really have anything in mind.

You hear Jungkook chuckling again at your prolonged silence.

“So…?” You can just see him cocking his head to the side with that charming smile of his.

“Nevermind.”

“That’s not fair,” he calls out, but there’s still a hint of smile that you can hear in his voice. “I still feel embarrassed that you felt mortified about seeing my—“

”Oh my god, don’t say it.” you quickly cut him off.

He laughs. A hearty, full laugh. “Sorry.”

“I’m not scared of your dick, okay? Stop saying that,” you say, cheeks heating. You bury your face further in the pillow as if it would teleport you to a place away from Jungkook. “I actually think—“ you cut yourself immediately when you catch what you’re actually thinking.

“What?” he sounds intrigued, and you’re really grateful that he can’t see you right now because you’re definitely banging your face in the pillow again.

While it is true that you got scared for a split second, it was only because of the shock of it all. But once you were past that, fear is definitely the last thing you feel about seeing his… thing, if you’re being honest to yourself.

“I think that it’s time to sleep now.” You settle for that, nodding your head to yourself and mentally patting your back for the successful change of subject.

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You bite back a smile. “Night.”

“You too.”

You hear a little bit of shuffling from below you, and you try to get comfortable as well on the mattress.

When a few minutes passed, you find yourself unable to close your eyes, staring at the dark scenery behind the curtain of the one and only window in the room. You peek at the alarm clock perched on the bedside table, noting it’s already four am.

You’re used to a fucked sleeping schedule so it’s not a surprise to you that you don’t feel an ounce of sleep at this point. Thank god it’s Sunday tomorrow and you have no work.

Is Jungkook asleep already, though?

You move around the bed and gingerly roll yourself over to look at Jungkook. When you finally see him, he has one arm under his head while the other is draped across his bare stomach, eyes closed. There’s no extra sheet so you both have to deal with the cold from the breeze outside. Maybe it’s a good thing the AC’s not working, because you both will surely freeze to death.

“Can’t sleep?”

You nearly topple over when you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“You scared me,” you hiss. Jungkook laughs, but still, his eyes don’t open.

“Gotcha.” his words may be playful but you realize he actually does sound a little tired.

You’re quiet for a moment as you look at him. The floorboards must probably be hurting him, and if not right now, it surely will in the next hours.

“Kook?” He only hums. “Do you wanna share the bed?” you say, looking at him in concern.

“It’s alright.” Jungkook says gently.

“No, it’s fine really. And we can also share that sheet anyway if we both sleep here instead.”

Finally, Jungkook opens his eyes, meeting yours. “You sure?” You nod your head certainly. He gives you a smile. ”Okay.”

He gets off the floor, bringing the sheet and pillows with him as he stands up. You try to ignore the way your stomach curls at the sight of him: shirtless and only in his trousers, but it becomes more difficult when he gets closer, knees dipping into the mattress and scent overwhelming you.

He smells like the perfume you assume he wears for work, and goddamn does it stay and good god does it make you think of a lot of things.

Scooting to the side, you hug one pillow closer to you as you give him space. It’s not a tight fit, but it’s not spacious, either.

“You’re gonna fall off the bed at this point,” Jungkook says suddenly, and you realize you’re near the edge by your constant ruffling.

Giving him a sheepish smile, you adjust your position just as he lays on his back.

Your shoulders touch, and he feels closer than ever.

You swallow the lump in your throat before you turn around with your back facing him, curling to yourself as you barely whisper, “Good night, Jungkook.”

A beat. Then, “Sweet dreams, __.”

Minutes pass, and you’ve been trying to shut your eyes close so sleep can come visit you, but it doesn’t. You’re trying so hard not to press any closer in the fear of suddenly wanting to cuddle up to him and having your resolve get broken down.

“Hey,” Your heart jumps at Jungkook’s husky tone. But you hum in response, still your back on him. There’s a pregnant pause before he speaks. “What I said last time at your place, we never really talked about it again.”

Your heart picks up, knowing exactly where he’s getting at.

It’s been about four days, and none of you haven’t brought it up ever since.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Your heart gets caught up in your throat. “Kook…”

“I’m completely fine just being friends with you, if that’s what you want.” Jungkook says, and every word that he says is starting to feel like a punch to the gut. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t want you to think that my friendship has an ulterior motive—”

“Jungkook?”

You feel Jungkook physically freeze when you turn around to look at him. He’s there lying on his back with an arm under his neck, and for now, you ignore the very obvious lines of ripped muscles on his stomach and arms. For now, you try not to think too much about how his chest looks so inviting like it’s begging to be cuddled into.

“Yes?” He levels you with curious doe eyes, a little tense.

“Shut up.” You tell him gently. His mouth parts, completely unexpecting that.

You adjust your position on the bed until your elbow is pressing hard onto the mattress, supporting your weight. Tucking a strand of hair that falls over your face, you look into his eyes as you add, “I don’t wanna be just friends with you.”

Surprise makes its way onto his expression, and you try to drown out the way your heart beats erratically against your ribcage.

When he doesn’t say anything, you let yourself fall on the bed ungracefully, turning your back on him, suddenly feeling embarrassed for your mini outburst.

But then a few seconds later, and you hear a bit of shuffling behind you. Then, there’s a breath that fans across your neck, and you feel a warm presence all over your back.

“This is okay, then?” Jungkook whispers against your hair, so close to the junction between your neck and shoulder. You could see from your periphery the way his inked arm hovers over your waist, and you find yourself yearning for him to just drop it and press you closer against him.

And so you decide to throw your inhibitions away and think fuck it. What’s there to think about?

You scoot closer to him until you feel all of him against your back.

Without knowing why, you feel a smile on Jungkook’s lips as he softly says, “You’re killing me here.”

When you look over your shoulder, there Jungkook is, meeting your stare instantly as if his eyes had been on you the whole time. And maybe it’s the magnetic pull you’ve felt ever since you stepped on that beach and felt and seen each other’s bare skin pressed so close against one another – teasing your feet over the lines you two have been blurring out ever since that night at his place when you got drunk and you shared a rather intimate moment that left you both hanging to a questionable push and pull situation.

But you choose to push this time; against the whirling thoughts in your head about what this would mean in the future.

You adjust yourself once again; lean a little close, and then kiss Jeon Jungkook.

And it doesn’t really surprise you that much when he kisses back.

You’ve thought about how he would taste like ever since that night it almost happened and kept yourself in denial for days. You’ve played the oblivious game as a defense mechanism for some fear you know you just conjured up in your brain – but tonight feels electric. Like the night built up just for this exact moment to come; with your lips pressed against Jungkook’s.

You hear a sigh escaping him, a deep timbre that sends shivers down your spine.

And when Jungkook nudges his tongue against your lips, you open your mouth to let him in.

You let out a soft whimper when Jungkook’s tongue starts exploring your mouth, beginning to feel lightheaded as he leans more of him towards you. His hands start wandering, and what was once hovering over you is now on your waist, fingers pulling up the hem of his polo shirt until you’re exposed down to your legs with only a pair of underwear to keep you decent. It travels down to your outer thigh, with Jungkook brushing a calloused hand against the soft flesh – and you can’t help but moan when he squeezes, especially paired with a skillful tongue that works its ways in your mouth like he’s trying to tell you something he’s desperate for you to know.

It’s how you find yourself pushing on his chest, effectively halting Jungkook’s ministrations.

“Wh—” you cut him off with another searing kiss, and you don’t let him say any more as you boldly straddle his waist, unintentionally settling down on his crotch where you feel a bulge against your thin underwear.

And oh god. Earlier when you saw it with your bare eyes, you had to convince yourself that it was just the shock that made it seem so… big. But feeling it right now tells the same story.

You both moan in unison, with Jungkook’s hands instinctively going to grab your waist, pressing you against him harder.

As you do an experimental roll of your hips, Jungkook lets out a guttural groan that makes your body tingle with want. His hands tighten their hold on your waist, and the next thing you know, he’s flipping you on your back in one swift motion. He presses his knee to your covered core, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the delicious friction of something hard against your clit.

“Ah…” you tilt your head to the side when Jungkook begins peppering kisses on the side of your mouth, down to your jaw; nipping and nibbling. “Oh, Jungkook,”

“Fuck, baby,” The nickname slips past his lips like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and you watch as Jungkook kisses his way down your cleavage, made easily accessible by the undone top buttons of your shirt. He noses along the line of your bra, leaves butterfly kisses on his path. “Baby…”

“Jungkook– please…”

Suddenly, he looks up at you, eyes hooded with what you can only identify as lust. “Do you want this?” he husks out.

You don’t even have to think about it, a “Yes” escaping your lips just right after his question drops. “I want this. So bad.”

“Goddamn it,” He hisses, diving into your chest and taking in a huge inhale in the swell of your breasts. You feel lightheaded, brain hazy and not thinking about anything else but his hands all over you and the hard evidence of his mutual want pressing against your abdomen.

Until he breaks away.

Perplexed, you look at him with questioning eyes.

“Listen, angel,” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, gaze dropping onto your lips. “I want nothing but to strip you off these clothes and show you how much I want you right now—” your mouth parts when he presses his hips against yours, his hand squeezing your rib, sitting dangerously close to your breast. “but I don’t want us to have sex for the first time in this… motel room. And I don’t have a condom with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Jungkook looks defeated, like it physically pained him to even admit that to you; face settling in a deep scowl.

You look around… and honestly, you get it.

You turn to look at him and then let your hands slowly wander across his chest as you sigh deeply.

“You’re right.” You nibble on your bottom lip as you brush past his nipples, noting the way his biceps flex at the touch. “It’s a shame.”

“__…” It sounded like a gentle warning, the way Jungkook spoke your name.

But you don’t let it deter your hands from traveling down south, ignoring his sudden heavy breaths on top of you when your finger stops at his zipper.

You look at him again, meeting his stare.

“Can we just do something else, then?” You blink meekly. And you watch as his mouth parts when your hand slowly rubs the hard-on he’s sporting in his pants. He’s so big, and so heavy. You wonder how it’d look like in your hand. “You’re so hard.”

But Jungkook takes your wrist, effectively stopping you from palming him.

You immediately frown, about to say something when Jungkook drowns it out with a hot kiss.

His tongue dances against yours in a fervid motion, knocking you out of breath, completely unexpecting the passion he puts into the kiss.

But you don’t mind one bit, not when he begins kissing his way down your jaw, the column of your neck, until his hands skirt along your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” Jungkook asks, already fiddling with the buttons. You nod unabashedly, body anticipating with want.

He makes quick work of the button down until all it reveals is you in your bra and panties. Jungkook takes a sharp breath and hones in on your tattoo once again.

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, and he sounds so mesmerized you don’t even know what to say. He traces the ink along your rib with light kisses that make you squirm. “This okay?”

He looks up at you, and you swore you never saw a man this beautiful on top of you in your whole life.

“Hmm.”

Suddenly, you hear a click, and you watch as your bra loosens with Jungkook taking it off you completely. Breasts spilling out from the confines, you both moan when Jungkook squeezes them in his palms.

“Absolutely beautiful– fuck.” He flicks your nipples, pinches them in his fingers until they’re tight and peaked. He lowers his head to kiss around the swell of your breast, nipping around the skin until he furthers down, breath ghosting along your hips.

You moan and grab at his shoulders at the tentative touch of his finger over your core, pushing your head back when he presses his thumb right where your nub is.

“Can’t tell you how much I’ve been wanting to do this,” Jungkook rasps, continuing to rub his thumb over your clothed core. You can feel your wetness starting to seep through, hands clutching his shoulders tighter by the second.

“Y-yeah?”

“Hm. You’ve been teasing me all night long.”

Jungkook hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties, and in an absurdly, ridiculously slow motion, peels the flimsy fabric right off your legs.

You bite your lip. “How’d you say so?”

There’s a small tilt to Jungkook’s lips that you see before he lowers his head to press a kiss on your inner thigh. When you squirm, he tightens his grip, looks up at you and holds an intense gaze as he slowly licks a bold stripe across your slit.

You feel a gush of wetness coming out just as you feel a tingle in your groin, words getting caught in your tongue when you watch Jungkook zero in on your pussy.

“You in that goddamn dress made me almost malfunction at the rooftop,” he chuckles, kissing your clit. “Showing me your tattoo, suggesting to swim in our underwear. You know, I think you know exactly what you do to me.”

You inhale a sharp breath when you see him wetting one of his fingers in his mouth. It’s sinful the way he looks at you as he slowly dips it in your aching entrance, watching the way your mouth parts in an obscene o-shape.

“I-I don’t.” you deny, hands finding the rumpled sheets and gripping them tight at the anticipation of what he’s going to do next.

But Jungkook just chuckles; a dark, rich sound. And it’s the first time you hear something like that from him. Almost ominous, sinister. It excites you.

“Hm, I don’t think so. But it’s okay. I’ll let it slide for now,” He kisses your thigh again, teasing. “What do you want, baby? Let me take care of you and this wet pussy. So gorgeous, just like the rest of you.”

“Your mouth,” you say with no hesitation, “and your fingers.” You bite your lip, thinking about it before you throw out a small, “Please.”

Jungkook chuckles, leaning in so he could press a kiss on your mound. That evokes a shiver from you, legs jumping with equal need and want.

“Greedy and polite,” He grips your thighs, “I like that.”

“Jung—”

“Stay still now, baby.” He says before separating your glistening folds with his fingers and diving right in.

It tears out a cry from your vocal chords, the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and kisses around the crevice of your heat like he’s making out with it. His grunts and moans, along with the sloppy sounds of your slick is so lewd to the ears you’re almost certain the people on the other side of the room could hear it if they weren’t asleep – but you find you don’t really care if they could, because Jungkook is licking you clean like his life depended on it.

“Ah– fuck, feels so good– p-please…”

“Hm?” His hum vibrates in your pussy that rips a moan from you, hands grabbing at his head in panic at the pleasure.

Warm hands smooth up your thighs to pin them down again, preventing you from squirming too much. Now you’re immobile in his hold, panting at the sensation of him enveloping your clit and giving it a harsh suck that causes your hips to buck against his face. At that jerky movement from you, Jungkook splays his hand on your stomach, and you fall back down with a thump and a pleasurable cry.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He whispers in a raspy tone. He does give you an apologetic kiss on the mound, even giving a slow lick from your hole and dipping inside for a brief, solid second before he returns to your clit, putting it in a hot suction in his mouth again, causing a sharp moan to escape past your lips. “I love the pretty sounds you make for me, pretty girl. Keep that up for me, yeah?”

You whimper, nodding feverishly and grabbing at his hair tightly when he starts rubbing his thumb on your clit again, watching him lightheaded as he focuses on spreading the slick all over your pussy. Slowly, he dips in his ring finger in your aching hole, satisfying the emptiness you’ve long felt with his thick digit.

When you look down, you catch Jungkook staring at you while he digs deeper, and you hold his gaze until he’s knuckles deep; mouth parting at how unbelievably full you already feel with just a finger.

He begins sliding it out, but it’s not long until he’s putting it again and repeating the manner in a stroke that progresses its pace by the second.

“Jungkook– shit,” you moan, thrashing underneath him. “F-fuck. I can’t– baby– fuck—”

“Hm?” he quickens his pace, enjoying the way more slick oozes out from your pussy at his lewd ministrations.

“M-more. I want more– oh my god,”

And he doesn’t need to get told twice because as soon as you mention it, he adds in his middle finger, stroking your inner walls like it’s a job he doesn’t play about.

“So pretty. Wanna make you cum,” he breaks eye contact in favor of enveloping your clit in his mouth again.

This time, Jungkook emphasizes his sentiment by putting more enthusiasm in the way he licks you; messy and sloppy than before. He retracts his fingers from your pussy, and you’re about to reprimand him but your words die on your tongue when he only uses his fingers to keep your folds open to dip his tongue in your sopping hole, drawing eights in your inner walls that have you almost seeing stars.

His other hand that was once pinning you down against the rumpled sheets is now on your clit, rubbing it while he eats you feverishly like it’s his last meal.

Your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensation of his tongue and mouth and fingers – hands pushing his head down unintentionally and moaning uncontrollably. Jungkook’s nose brushes against your clit as he devours your pussy, keeping his pace steady until pleasure coils in the pit of your belly.

Jungkook seems to notice that, as he once again slips his fingers in you, curling it so deep and expertly finding that sweet spot inside you it makes your toes curl at your impending orgasm.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, swirling his tongue around your clit in frantic circles. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, baby? Hm?”

“Yes– yes, yes!” You cry. “Don’t stop please, don’t stop,”

“I know… you can cum for me, angel. So gorgeous. Such a good girl…” Jungkook keeps his pace steady, doubling his efforts until he feels you thrashing wildly he couldn’t really keep you down.

“Jungkook—!”

The coil snaps in the pit of your stomach, vision going white at the orgasm that hits you like a ten-wheeler truck.

“Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, riding out the waves of your pleasure by slowing down his strokes this time, your walls clenching around his fingers, still spasming.

When you whine, he unsheathes his fingers from your tight walls. You watch as he lowers his head down to dive in you once again, feeling even more boneless when you hear a shameless slurp that comes from him licking you clean.

You feel tired, sleepy, but happy all at once; your throat feeling absolutely dry from all the moaning you did earlier. Nonetheless, you smile as Jungkook looks up at you again – feeling suddenly shy when you see the slick that covers up his chin.

“Feelin’ good?” He says, grinning.

You roll your eyes that earns you a chuckle from him.

Jungkook slowly returns to you with kisses to your hips, up to your stomach; to your tattoo, the swell of your breasts, and then your sternum before you wrap your arms around his shoulders, craning your neck when his lips slowly ascend there.

“I feel tired,” you say, revelling in the kisses Jungkook plants on the base of your neck. “You might have broken me, mister.”

He chuckles against your jaw, playfully nipping then kissing the spot.

“Hm. I hope not. I’d feel really bad.”

A giggle slips past you, and you welcome Jungkook’s lips when he kisses your mouth, tongue dipping in immediately.

Suddenly, you feel his very obvious erection against your stomach, making you break away from the kiss.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows.

You cup his face, biting your lip as you glance down. “What about you?”

It takes Jungkook a while to get what you meant as he directs his gaze down to where your eyes are. Then he looks at you again, chuckling, “Don’t worry, I’ll manage.” You frown. Jungkook erases your pout with a kiss. “Come on, I’ll clean you up and we’ll sleep right after. Sounds good?”

“Okay.” you give him a smile. Jungkook pecks you on the cheek before he stands up from the bed with grace that you know you cannot pull off after doing the deed.

“I’ll take this.” he picks up your shirt and gestures to the other side of the room.

You feel like every bone in your body had been liquefied, feeling absolutely nothing but pleasurable ache in between your thighs as you lay on your side, admiring Jungkook’s back as he disappears into the bathroom.

It’s not long before he returns with a dampened portion of the polo shirt, and you swear you had to tell every part of you to say nothing as he tells you to open up and use the shirt to clean you up.

You’re a heated mess when Jungkook comes back to bed, but you both don’t really say anything and let the comfortable silence hang in the air as you curl to your side with Jungkook sidling up against your back.

In a bout of sudden braveness, you take his arm and wrap it around you. He wastes no time and pushes you closer to him, burying his head in your hair.

“It’s almost morning…” you whisper as you take a peak of the window, finding a much lighter shade on the background compared to the pitch black night sky you walked in earlier.

Jungkook hums. “It’s almost 5. I’ll set an alarm at 8 and we’ll check out.”

You’re too sleepy to function at that point, couldn’t fight the drowsiness of sleep that pushes against your eyelids.

All you remember is a light kiss against your hair and Jungkook tightening his arm around you before you completely drift off to sleep.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #p; writing #fic: nb #awrkive

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memoiresofaneternaldreamer · 21 days ago

Text

Till Death Do Us Part | Pt. 2

Pairing: Assassin! Choi Seungcheol x Assassin! F. Reader

Wordcount: 13.8K

Playlist: 'Control' - CHVRN | 'Keep on Breathing' - The Glitch Mob, Tula | 'Fantasies' - Llynks | 'Madness' - Ruelle | 'Gomd' - Sickick

Smut Warnings: Explicit sexual acts - Oral (M. Receiving) - Slight Edging (M. Receiving) - Dominant! Reader - Dominant! Seungcheol - Rough play: titty slapping, spanking, hair pulling, biting, etc. - PIV - Unprotected intercourse

This story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors do not interact.

Previous Chapter: Till Death Do Us Part

Mingyu’s safe house—once just a sprawl of mismatched furniture and half-used equipment—is now a makeshift war room. Tables have been dragged together, boxes repurposed into makeshift desks, wires and monitors hooked into power grids and backup batteries. Satellite phones and burner lines hum quietly from one corner. The walls are lined with maps, a printed blueprint of Argos HQ taped alongside Lim’s Seoul office, red strings and pins ready to mark last known locations.

And at the heart of it all: an arsenal.

You and Seungcheol move slowly around the centrepiece—an open metal table now covered in weapons. Rifles. Semi-autos. Silencers. Flashbangs. Knives of every shape and finish. Armoured vests, gloves, scopes, smoke bombs. Clips and magazines neatly sorted by size. The smell of metal and oil clings to everything.

He holds up a new M1911 with a low whistle.

“Wonwoo really stocked you up,” you murmur, brushing your fingers across the matte finish of a karambit.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, inspecting the sightline. “He’s had a shopping problem ever since Rio. Said it’s cheaper than therapy.”

You smirk faintly and continue checking the gear. Methodical. Quiet. Efficient. Neither of you speaks much, but you don’t need to. There’s a rhythm to it—familiar. Rehearsed. Like slipping back into who you were long before this whole mess started.

Meanwhile, across the room, Reina is hunched over her own setup. She arrived just before sunrise, lugging in two black military-grade cases full of tech. Laptops, signal jammers, USB injectors, three satellite uplinks, and something you’re pretty sure was once a military drone antenna.

She hadn’t knocked—just used the side code to get in. You didn't bother asking her how she knew it.

Mingyu’s been following her around ever since.

“You know,” he says, peering over her shoulder as she boots up her third laptop. “I already had a full system here. Secure grid, scrambled line, full backup redundancy. You didn’t need to drag your entire tech department here.”

Reina doesn’t even look at him. “Yours were outdated.”

His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “Outdated?!” he scoffs. “Excuse you, this setup got us through the Jakarta op.”

“Exactly.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, but a grin pulls at the edge of his mouth. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” she replies sweetly, “you still dream of me.”

He clears his throat at Reina’s comment and turns back to his cables, ears slightly turning pink.

You and Seungcheol exchange a glance. You don’t comment.

Instead, you turn toward the weaponry again.

“This is yours,” Seungcheol mutters, holding out a matte black Glock with a suppressor. “The grip should fit your hand.”

You take it and weigh it in your palm. “Perfect.”

He checks the mag, then hands you two more. “Loaded with subsonics. Just in case.”

You nod and pocket them. “You keeping the SIG?”

“Wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Everything else—body armour, tactical pouches, spare knives—you both split evenly. There’s no talk of splitting up now. Only of surviving. Only of fighting.

A beep cuts through the room. Then another.

Reina taps a few keys on her main laptop. “We’re live.”

The screens fill—one by one—with pixelated faces.

The girls appear on the left monitor: Samira, Bora, Jiwoo. All in different rooms, different countries, some underground. Some clearly on the move. But they’re alive.

The boys fill the right screen: Woozi, Joshua, and Wonwoo.

Hyerim is the last to appear. She’s pale and looks like she hasn’t slept in two days. Woozi, on the screen beside her, still seems reluctant—but he’s here.

Everyone watches you.

You and Seungcheol stand in front of the cameras, side by side. Calm. Focused. The tension in the room is nearly unbearable.

Then Samira lets out a breath. “Holy shit. You’re alive.”

“I didn’t think I’d actually see your face again,” Jiwoo says, trying to smile, though her voice shakes.

“Same here,” Joshua says from the other side. “We’ve been locked down. No signals. No reassurances. Just... radio silence.”

You nod once. “We didn’t know who made it either. Not until now.”

Seungcheol steps forward. “We’re glad you’re here. All of you.”

He pauses, then continues. “Here’s what we know. Argos and Lim & Associates—”

“—have been playing us all along,” you finish. “Feeding each other contracts, setting us up to compete for bigger bounties. Splitting profits while turning us into pawns.”

A wave of muttering breaks out across the feeds.

“They tried to kill us to tie up loose ends,” Seungcheol says. “They failed.”

“But not for lack of trying,” you add grimly. “They’ll keep coming. And you know what that means.”

“It means we’re next,” Bora says softly.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Then Samira speaks. “So what do we do? We scatter? Lay low? Build new identities?”

“Start hitting back?” Woozi suggests. “They want a war; we give them one.”

“We go public,” Jiwoo says. “Leak what we know to the international market. Force their hand. They won’t survive the exposure.”

Everyone talks over each other—ideas flying in every direction, voices rising with panic or adrenaline. Reina tries to corral them. Mingyu scowls and leans toward his mic.

You hold up your hand. “Enough.” Everyone quiets.

You take a step closer to the screen, eyes scanning each and every face—some scared, some angry, some simply tired.

“I know everyone has ideas,” you say. “But we need a plan. We can’t move blindly. Because each and every one of you is now at risk. And I’m telling you right now—I’m not sacrificing a single one of you to end this. Not now. Not ever.”

Silence.

Then Bora speaks, hesitant. “Then... maybe we break up. Cut contact completely. And you two? Go separate. Give yourselves better odds.”

Seungcheol answers before you can. “Mingyu already said the same thing.” He glances at you, then looks directly at the screen. “But it’s not happening.”

You step in, firm. “We’re not running.”

A long silence.

Then Hyerim’s voice cuts through it like a match-striking flame.

“Then let’s figure out a way to end this.”

The war room comes alive.

Monitors hum. Fingers fly across keyboards. Maps are spread across the walls with satellite feeds casting flickering lights over weapons and half-drunk coffee mugs. Mingyu and Reina hover on opposite ends of the room, syncing laptops, pinning strings between photos, placing red dots on global maps, and drawing lines connecting targets, histories, and lies.

It’s like HQ—only grittier.

Samira calls out coordinates from her safehouse in Morocco, eyes glued to her private satellite feed. “Director Oh just pinged in Bucharest. He’s changed IDs three times since the system crash but the credit trail doesn’t lie.”

Joshua’s already working on the second. “Mr. Kwon used one of his shell companies to rent a private jet from Rome three hours ago. Flight plan had a false lead to London but I think he diverted.” His screen blinks. “He’s in Dubai.”

“That’s two,” Seungcheol mutters beside you. He’s standing with his arms folded over his chest, tension in every line of his body. “What about Lim? Or my boss?”

You shake your head, eyes moving across the chaotic network of images and data Reina has laid out. “Too clean. Nothing in her old aliases. Nothing recent.”

“Same for Director Kang,” Woozi chimes in reluctantly. “If he’s off-grid, he’s really off-grid. No comms. No cards. He vanished.”

“They’re ghosts,” Hyerim says, frowning into her screen. “Exactly like they trained us to be.”

Seungcheol exhales through his nose. “Then we think like ghosts.”

You push away from the table and begin pacing.

“Madame Lim always had a thing for private residencies in Luxembourg. Kwon once mentioned her ties to an old estate there. Untraceable ownership but still under her maiden alias. She called it her ‘shadow base’.”

“Wait—” Jiwoo perks up from behind her camera. “You mean the one with the mirrored façade?”

You nod slowly. “That’s the one.”

“Kang has that obsession with old nuclear command bunkers,” Seungcheol murmurs beside you. “Always said he’d retire into one. He’s got property in the rural mountains between China and Laos.”

Wonwoo immediately types. “I’ve got a heat signal matching that description. Subterranean. Shielded comms. I’d bet on it.”

“Add it to the board,” you say.

One by one, the map fills in.

Red string now links Director Oh to Bucharest. Kwon to a luxury Dubai apartment. Madame Lim to Luxembourg. Director Kang to a mountain facility on the China-Laos border. Four red Xs appear in real time.

It’s already dark outside. You can see your reflection in the glass. Exhaustion pulls at your features, but no one slows down.

Then Woozi finally says what everyone’s thinking.

“So now what? We found them. What do we do next?”

Seungcheol’s voice is calm. Final.

“We kill them. All of them.”

You look at him, but don’t stop him. You feel the same.

But Hyerim shakes her head. “Killing them is one thing,” she says. “But it doesn’t erase the bounties. What are you gonna do, kill every mercenary that comes after you, too?”

A tense silence. You feel the weight of it settle in your chest.

Then Joshua jumps in. “Can’t we just remove the bounties once they’re dead? Wipe the system?”

Reina cuts him off. “Not that simple. They were posted through a specialised encrypted program. Those bounties require live biometric confirmation from the original posters to cancel.”

“So you’re saying we need to access that program,” Wonwoo says, leaning forward.

Reina nods once. “Not just access. We need them alive, long enough to scan in and delete the data.”

Mingyu groans, tossing a stress ball up and catching it again. “Damn. Who the hell built something like that?”

Silence.

Then Reina mutters quietly, “I did.” All heads turn.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “Of course you did.”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath. Just once.

You straighten, moving closer to the table. “Reina—can you track the origin posts? Figure out who initiated the bounties?”

She nods, fingers flying across her keyboard. “Give me a second...”

Everyone waits, watching the screen update line by line.

“Got it.” Her voice sharpens. “Your bounty, Gwisin—was posted by Madame Lim. S.Coups’? Director Kang.”

Seungcheol lets out a breath through his teeth. “Then we kill Oh and Kwon first. Quietly. Cut their links. Secure the network. Then we go for the real kill.”

“We have to be fast,” you add. “Coordinated. No screw-ups. The moment one of them gets wind, they’ll vanish for good or trigger dead-man protocols.”

The team nods.

Then Jiwoo’s voice cuts through the line—softer, but clear.

“Yeah... but even if you manage to find them, somehow disable the bounties and kill them...You two can’t take on every gun in the field already on the way to you. Not alone.”

You glance at Seungcheol, jaw tight. He’s thinking it too.

The silence stretches.

Then Samira speaks.

“What if we give the mercs something else to chase?”

Everyone turns to her.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Samira leans in closer to her camera. “I’ve been tracking Jackal on the side. He’s still alive. Ricardo has him in one of his desert compounds. Hidden, but not unreachable.”

You freeze. Your mind starts spinning.

“Wait,” you say. “Reina, Mingyu—can you check if the original Jackal bounty is still live? The twelve million one?”

They’re already typing.

Mingyu shakes his head. “It’s dormant. Was put on hold after you both missed the retrieval.”

Seungcheol speaks then. “Can you reactivate it?”

Reina nods. “That bounty wasn’t encrypted. Global market. I can make it live again.”

Your voice is calm. Calculated. “Then do it. That should drag most mercenaries away from us. Especially if we leak intel about his location.”

Everyone falls silent again.

Then Seungcheol looks up. His voice is low.

“Let’s go to work.”

Bucharest is colder than expected.

You ride in on a black motorcycle, wind snapping at your borrowed jacket, face tucked beneath the visor of a matte helmet. The sun is just beginning to dip past the skyline, turning the haze of the city into a sheet of golden shadow. You keep to the alleys. Avoid open roads. Your fake ID has already been scanned twice, and thanks to Mingyu’s surprisingly competent alias work, no alarms were triggered.

You’ll file that under surprising things you’re not commenting on.

Much like the fact that Reina never left his safe house.

She’s now patching in from his personal terminal.

Jiwoo, however, is in Athens, and operating her own satellite rig.

“Gwisin, target is stationary,” Reina’s voice says in your comms, sharp as ever. “Upper floor of the building at coordinates 46.7691, 23.5899. Minimal guards. Two confirmed exits.”

“Copy that,” you whisper, crouched behind the gun.

You’ve scoped this place earlier—ten hours ago, to be exact. Found your perch on the fifth floor, shattered window perfectly angled toward the balcony where Oh takes his evening smoke. You’ve lined your sniper rifle up and calibrated for wind, trajectory, and velocity.

Now all you need is the target.

“Any movement yet?” you murmur.

Jiwoo responds. “Nothing yet. He’s still inside.”

You wait.

Time passes slowly in moments like these. The only rhythm is your breath, the slow clench and flex of your fingers around the rifle, and the occasional murmured updates from the girls. You watch out for Oh through your scope—his reflection in the window. Reading. Moving papers.

Then—footsteps.

You freeze.

Your breath stills, and your hands lift off the rifle slowly.

The building is supposed to be empty. You were thorough.

You immediately abandon your post, sliding silently back into the darkness behind you. You blend into it, breath stilling, spine flush to the wall.

Jiwoo’s voice crackles in your ear.

“He’s heading to the door. Looks like he’s prepping to move. You’ll have a clear—”

“I’ve got company,” you whisper, tight and low. “Hold your positions. Do not lose track of Oh.”

There’s a pause.

Then Reina says, “Copy. We’re holding.”

You draw your karambit.

Light floods faintly from beneath the hallway door.

Three shadows. Boots. You clock their cadence, their height, their coordination.

The Vasile triplets.

Mercenaries-for-hire. Romanian. Silent hitters. Raised together. Kill together. And now, they think they’re here to kill you.

The first one enters, rifle low. His head turns. That’s all the opening you need. You move like the wind, slicing your karambit clean across his throat. He drops without a sound.

The second shouts, raising his gun, but you’re already behind the nearest wall. You draw the silenced pistol at your hip and shoot once—chest shot. He stumbles, gasps, drops.

The third one charges you—clever, hand-to-hand. You duck his swing and slam your elbow into his ribcage. He knees you in the thigh. Pain pulses through your leg, but you keep your balance. You twist around him and slam your boot into his kneecap. He falls. You follow him to the floor and drive your blade through his neck, slicing upwards.

Silence falls again.

Blood pools quietly between broken cracks of flooring.

Then—

“Gwisin,” Jiwoo’s voice crackles, “Oh’s outside. He’s walking.”

You groan under your breath. “Of course he is.”

You sprint for the window. Your rifle is abandoned. So are the bodies.

You swing your leg out onto the fire escape and slide down the cold metal, the sound of your boots thudding against the wall as you descend. At the base, you toss the ladder down and emerge into an alley, breathing hard.

Your hand slips into your side pocket. A small black GPS device flashes with Oh’s blinking signal.

You speak into the comms. “Jiwoo, Reina—I need a city redirect. Get him into the northeast corner. I’ll meet him there.”

Reina clicks into action. “Hacking local lights now. You’ve got two minutes before I trigger.”

“Give me three,” you respond.

You’re walking fast now, weaving through market streets and narrow alleys, always a shadow. You guide Reina through every junction.

Traffic halts suddenly at your command. Oh is forced off his original path.

He walks. Alone. No security. You smile.

“He’s close,” you murmur. “Jiwoo, clear?”

“Clear,” she answers. “No cameras. No civilians. You’re good.”

You double back through a quieter route, entering the side street from the far end. Oh is still walking, checking his phone; his pace is fast, but he looks distracted.

You drop your eyes, tuck your blade into your sleeve, and walk straight toward him. Thirty steps. Twenty. Ten.

He passes you.

You spin, arm over his shoulder, blade slicing deep and fast across his throat in one clean arc.

His blood sprays silently across the brick walls. He collapses without a sound.

You wipe the blade on your pants, spin it once on your finger, and slip it into your jacket.

“It’s done,” you whisper into your comm.

“Confirmed,” Jiwoo replies after a beat, voice hushed.

Reina exhales. “One down, three to go.”

You walk away without looking back.

The first head has rolled.

Dubai is a city that refuses to sleep.

Glass towers claw at the sky, each one gleaming with its own brand of opulence. Gold trims, velvet ropes, and secrets buried under mirrored floors. For a man who wants to disappear, it’s a living nightmare.

Which is, of course, why Mr. Kwon chose it.

Seungcheol adjusts the cuff of his suit as he walks through the private entrance of Elara, one of Dubai’s most exclusive high-end clubs, his steps confident and deliberate. A different kind of camouflage. He’s not invisible here—not in this white-pressed designer shirt and sleek black jacket. He doesn’t blend in. He owns the room.

“Mingyu?” he murmurs, the comm in his ear catching his voice beneath the music.

“You’re clear. VIP is in the left wing. Same booth as his last visit. And yeah, Kwon’s already six drinks in,” Mingyu answers from the other end, back at their makeshift satellite station in his safe house.

“Woozi?”

“Confirming no other threats have pinged in your area. You’re solo,” comes the clipped reply. Good.

Seungcheol adjusts his stance slightly as he moves toward the main floor. The lights pulse golden. Music throbs under his shoes like a second heartbeat. The crowd is decadent—diamonds and champagne, cleavage and cologne. And in the centre of it all sits Mr. Kwon.

VIP booth. Surrounded by women.

Seungcheol signals a passing waiter and flashes a smile. “Your finest bottle of Boërl & Kroff. Send it to the gentleman in the booth. No note.”

The waiter nods, takes the cash, and slips away. Seconds later, Kwon is laughing and downing champagne straight from the bottle, frothy and bubbling down his chin. The women cheer; one of them straddles his thigh. Seungcheol watches it all unfold from across the room, a quiet predator sipping a scotch he’ll never finish.

You cross his mind unbidden. The rifle in your hands. The quiet precision of your kills. He wonders—Have you done it yet? Are you safe?

He shakes the thought away.

Focus.

Time ticks forward slowly. Kwon grows drunker, heavier-lidded. Then, finally, he rises—stumbling slightly, laughing, waving the women off.

Bathroom break.

Seungcheol downs his drink and follows.

The hallway is dimly lit. Long. Opulent in design but silent. The door to the bathroom swings open, and Seungcheol slips in a few moments later.

Inside, Kwon is already at the sink. Washing his hands like he’s preparing for a goddamn sermon. He’s humming.

When he looks up, he catches Seungcheol’s reflection in the mirror.

The moment of recognition is quick. Seungcheol is quicker.

His arm wraps around Kwon’s neck, cutting off the air, holding tight. Kwon thrashes once, twice, tries to claw at him, tries to scream—but it’s too late. His body slumps, and Seungcheol lowers him to the tile.

“Goodnight,” he mutters coldly.

The second the body hits the floor, Seungcheol straightens his suit, slicks his hair back with one sweep, and checks his reflection in the mirror. His muscles strain again. It’s almost poetic now.

He turns toward the exit. Left leads back to the party. Right leads out.

He turns right.

He only makes it ten feet before a gold chain lashes around his ankle like a striking snake. He hits the floor hard, forearms slamming into tile, the wind knocked from his chest.

The chain yanks.

He rolls—just in time.

A figure charges at him with the elegance of a dancer and the savagery of a cobra. Full force, she lands on top of him.

They wrestle—hands, knees, elbows. She’s fast. Precise. Smiling.

“Hello, darling,” she purrs, her accent unmistakable. “Still breaking hearts?”

“Varsha,” he growls. “Didn’t expect you to come crawling back.”

She slams her fist into his ribs.

He kicks upward, rolling her off. They separate, both springing to their feet at once—Seungcheol doing a clean kick-up, landing squarely in a fighter’s stance.

She twirls the chain in one hand. Her snake bracelet, coiled and ready.

“Heard you were married now,” she says, circling. “Shame.”

“Shame you don’t know when to quit,” he mutters.

They lunge at the same time.

She swings the chain—he ducks, grabs the end mid-air, and yanks.

She flies forward, caught off guard, and he spins her into the wall. Her head cracks against a mirror.

She recovers. Slashes at his face. He blocks with his forearm, the chain cutting into his skin. He counters.

A blade slides from the inside of his sleeve—his last resort.

He plunges it deep into her gut before she can wrench away. Her breath hitches. Blood trickles out of her mouth.

He leans in, twisting the knife once before pulling it out and stabbing it in again.

“Should’ve stayed a one-night stand.” She collapses.

The comms buzz in his ear, and Seungcheol finally registers the noise.

“Hyung—what the hell was that noise?” Woozi demands.

Seungcheol breathes hard, blood dripping from his hand. He wipes the blade on his pants.

“Target’s down,” he says. “And so is the unexpected company.”

“Tell me that wasn’t Varsha?” Mingyu asks, incredulous.

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit.”

Seungcheol crouches beside the body for one second, then stands.

His suit is wrinkled, blood-streaked. His forearm stings. But the mission’s done.

The second head has rolled.

“Director Kwon is confirmed dead,” Reina says, her voice in your earpiece over the static of the line.

You’re crouched on the edge of a building rooftop in Bucharest, the skyline painted grey behind you, your breath cooling in the early evening air.

“Seungcheol did it in a club bathroom—clean choke. No witnesses, no trail,” she continues.

You exhale, tension loosening from your shoulders, the adrenaline of your own mission slowly bleeding out of your system.

“Good,” you reply, voice soft.

“I’ve just updated your travel packet. New alias, new flight plan. Small private jet’s waiting for you twenty clicks out of town. That should land you in Luang Namtha before midnight. From there, quad into the jungle—Seungcheol’s safehouse is mapped.”

“That where we regroup?”

“Yeah. Wonwoo’s sending another weapons crate to the site tomorrow. You’ll need it before you move on Kang.”

“Copy that,” you murmur. “I’ll move soon.”

You’re about to kill the comm when you hear it.

A low voice in the background—Mingyu’s, unmistakably.

“I can’t believe Varsha, of all people, showed up.”

You freeze, head tilting slightly.

“Kind of crazy that she’s still breathing after all these years. Woozi, remember her? That whole mess in Tangier? And now she tried to choke Seungcheol in a Dubai nightclub? Crazy bitch.”

A pause.

Then Mingyu again, voice casual, joking—too joking.

“Guess some flings really don’t take rejection well. But at least Cheol’s still got it, huh?”

Your blood runs cold. Then hot.

Varsha.

You’ve heard the name before. Not often, not clearly—It’s been passed around the underground like an urban legend: exotic, lethal, likes to strangle her targets with some kind of metal chain disguised as jewellery. A merc. A black widow.

And apparently, your husband’s slept with her.

Your jaw clenches.

You hang up the call with Reina before she can hear your tone shift.

It takes hours to get through immigration, over the Laos border, and deeper into the jungle. Your boots are caked in water and mud by the time you reach the last marker—an overgrown path with an old iron sign buried beneath moss and vines. The GPS flashes green in your hand.

Safehouse reached.

Your heartbeat picks up as you walk forward past the thick of the trees. You push through the foliage, parting vines and leaves until you finally see it—an old concrete structure, half-buried in the landscape but clearly maintained.

And standing in front of it, looking far too calm and far too attractive in a grey tactical shirt and jungle-worn cargo pants—Seungcheol.

His eyes light up the second he sees you.

He takes a step forward, and you feel your chest tighten, all that tension from the last few days crumbling in an instant.

God, he’s alive.

He walks right up to you, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you—hard.

It’s frantic, hungry, grateful. All heat and breath and want. You melt into it for a second, eyes fluttering shut, fingers curling into his shirt.

And then—

The name echoes again.

Varsha.

You snap out of it, pushing him back with one hand to his chest.

And then you slap him. Hard.

“Ow—!” he groans, jerking his head. “What the hell was that for?”

You don’t even let him recover.

You shove him again, your words tumbling out like bullets. “Who is Varsha, huh? And how long have you been sleeping with her?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Choi—” You hit his chest. “Who is she? When did you sleep with her? Was it before the wedding or after? The last time you were in Dubai? How long has this been going on?!”

“Okay, wow—” he starts, reaching for you.

You slap his hands away.

“You smug, lying, arrogant—God, you’re unbelievable. You brag to your friends like some frat boy, and then just... what? Hide it from me? Your wife?”

“Babe—”

“No!” You push him again. “Don’t you ‘babe’ me. And don’t touch me. Not after this. I’ll find that bitch and kill her myself. Right after I kill you.”

He tries again, grabbing for your arms.

You swat at him like a feral cat.

“Jesus, okay, stop—” he groans, catching your wrists and holding them in place. “Stop—just—stop hitting me for one second—”

“Why? You can’t take it? Was she better? Did she use the—”

He lets out a laugh then, loud and full-bodied.

And then he pulls you flush against him, hands still locked around your waist, gripping you tight enough you can’t wriggle free.

“You don't have to kill her,” he says, voice rough with amusement. “I already did.”

You freeze.

“...what?”

His mouth quirks. “She came at me in the club. Chained my ankle. Thought she could collect my bounty. I stabbed her. Right through the gut. She’s dead.”

You stare at him, blinking.

He raises an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t think I was out there making out with her, did you?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Look away, completely mortified.

He smirks.

“Oh my God,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze. “I’m such an idiot.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just tilts your chin up with one hand, waiting until your eyes meet his again.

And instead of teasing you further, he leans down—close enough that his breath ghosts against your lips.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” he murmurs.

You scoff. “I’m not jealous.”

“You literally said you’d kill her.”

“That’s not the same thing—”

He laughs again.

You roll your eyes but don’t move away. Not even when he leans in, brushing his lips over yours with a feather-light touch. Not even when he whispers against your mouth.

“Trust me, baby, you’re the only one I want.”

You sigh, letting your forehead press to his.

“Good,” you whisper back.

And then he kisses you again.

The second Seungcheol’s mouth slants over yours again, something raw and almost reckless rises between you. Whatever apology you didn’t say for your blow-up burns off your tongue as your teeth sink into his lower lip instead. His hissed inhale at the sting makes something low in your stomach coil and thrum.

He pulls you closer like he’s starved. But you’re the one who can’t get enough.

The world narrows to your tongues fighting for dominance, teeth clashing and mouths bruising. You don’t even register the door closing behind you, or your boots tracking mud into the safe house. Seungcheol blindly stumbles back into the small main room, dragging you with him, hands gripping your hips like he needs the grounding.

You hit a wall. A stack of crates topples. Neither of you flinch.

He chuckles against your mouth when it crashes to the floor.

“Careful,” he murmurs, breathless. “You’re gonna wreck the place.”

You bite his bottom lip again. “I don’t care.”

Another kiss. Another half-step, and suddenly, he falls into a chair, dragging you with him.

You straddle his lap without hesitation, your thighs bracketing his hips, and your clothed core presses against the thick, growing bulge in his pants. His hands slide up your sides beneath your shirt, rough and warm, and you grind down on him with purpose. He groans into your mouth at the friction—one hand tightening on your waist while the other fists the hem of your shirt and yanks it up and over your head.

You break the kiss just long enough to let it go, arms flying overhead, before your lips crash back to his. Your hands are already at his belt, clumsily undoing the clasp, fingers fumbling with impatience as his hands work to undo your bra.

His mouth trails from your lips down your neck. “Jesus. You’re—”

“Shut up.”

He laughs. “Yes, ma’am.”

You finally get his belt open, unzipping his pants while he kisses along the curve of your jaw and down your collarbone as he pushes your bra straps down. His hips buck slightly when your hand slides inside the waistband of his boxers, brushing against his hard length. You lean back, just enough to push his chest down into the chair.

“Don’t move,” you mutter, fingers splayed on his sternum. “And don’t touch.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at your warning but obliges. You slide off his lap, dropping to your knees between his legs. His eyes darken instantly.

“Baby, what—”

“Shut. Up.”

You slap his hands away when he tries to touch you, and he groans, watching as you reach for his waistband and tug everything down and off—pants, underwear, all at once. His cock springs free, flushed and thick and already hard, bobbing slightly against his abdomen.

You don’t tease. Not yet.

You lean in and envelop him in your mouth.

His strangled groan echoes around the room as your mouth closes over the head of his cock, wet and hot and needy. You drag your tongue slowly along the underside of his shaft, taking your time, then hollow your cheeks and suck him deeper, feeling the stretch in your jaw and the way his body tenses instantly.

“Fuck—” he chokes out, hands fisting the edge of the chair. “Holy shit.”

You bob your head, tongue swirling, alternating suction with slow drags, and soon he’s groaning again, hips jerking subtly up into your mouth before he forces himself to still.

You take your time—too much time.

Your hand joins your ministrations, wrapping around the base of his cock, pumping slowly while your mouth works the head. You stroke in rhythm with your lips, twisting, flicking your tongue, pulling back to suck hard at the tip before going deep again.

“God, you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters, one hand falling into your hair despite your warning.

You let him tug, guide, just enough to make your scalp sting.

He starts panting, the tension in his thighs ratcheting up.

“Baby—shit—I’m close—”

You immediately pull off. He gasps at the sudden loss of contact, body twitching at the near-orgasm, hands still in your hair.

You look at him as you start stroking him again—slow, deliberate, not letting him tip over.

His head thunks back against the chair. “You’re fucking evil.”

You smirk. “And yet, you married me.”

He groans, head turning to the side like he’s trying to focus on anything else. But it doesn’t help. Your hand never stops. But it’s not enough. Not fast enough, not tight enough. Minutes tick by. You go down again.

He jerks up so fast you nearly choke. Your lips wrap around his tip again, and you find a new rhythm—suck, stroke, lick, repeat.

He’s shaking when he groans, “Gonna come—fuck—”

You stop. Again.

“Fucking hell!” he barks, hands flying to the armrests.

You glance up with innocent eyes. “Something wrong, baby?”

“Don’t make me—” He grits his teeth, cheeks flushed and body glistening with sweat. “Do not make me beg.”

You smirk, pumping him once—twice—slowly. He groans, head falling forward. “You’re gonna pay for this—”

“Shut up and take it.”

The third time you take him in your mouth, you don’t wait for the warning.

You edge him again, stopping just as his thighs start to tremble and the base of his spine tenses in that telltale way. You pull off. Again.

A string of saliva connects your mouth to the tip of his cock.

He’s not groaning anymore. He’s whining. Your big, bad assassin husband is actually whining.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, eyes blown wide with desperation. “Please.”

You tilt your head. “Please what?” He glares. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You stroke him just once, and he groans. “Be in control?”

His jaw flexes. He looks at you like he wants to throttle you—or fuck you so hard the walls come down.

You lean in close again, lips brushing the tip.

“You’re punishing me, aren’t you?” he rasps. “For Dubai. For Varsha.”

You lick your lips. “Maybe.”

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“But you love it.”

He laughs through a moan. You smile, letting your tongue flick out—just enough to taste him again. And then, you sit back on your heels. Completely still. You don’t touch him. Don’t kiss him. Don’t move.

He stares at you, furious and hard and on the brink of madness.

You rise slowly to your feet, running your thumb across your bottom lip and gathering the saliva and precum gathered at the corner of your mouth.

You lick it clean, smiling.

You don’t expect him to move that fast.

One second you’re still standing in front of him, pleased with yourself, watching Seungcheol’s cock throb with need between his thighs… and the next, he’s out of the chair.

Before you can so much as flinch or retaliate, you’re airborne.

“Hey—” you yelp as he picks you up, manhandling you like you weigh nothing at all, and throws you across the room. Your back hits the mattress with a heavy oomph, limbs bouncing slightly on the bed as the air is knocked from your lungs.

You manage to suck in a breath before his body crashes down on top of yours, caging you in.

“You think you’re funny?” he growls lowly, his nose brushing yours as he pins your wrists above your head. You grin. “Maybe.”

He kisses you like he wants to eat you alive.

The heat from earlier flares again, but it’s darker now, fiercer. His mouth travels fast—biting down on your jaw, your throat, the sensitive spot beneath your ear. You moan, arching beneath him, and he laughs against your skin.

You feel his hand on your chest before you register the slap—his palm hitting your breast hard enough to sting, then immediately squeezing it after.

“Fuck—” you whimper, legs twitching around his hips.

His mouth closes around your nipple in response—hot, wet, rough—and he sucks hard, alternating with his teeth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Still feeling bratty?” he mutters against your breast.

He doesn’t give you the time to retort—instead, he grabs your hair, yanking your head back to bare your throat, and bites down on your neck instead. The sharp jolt sends sparks straight between your legs.

Your pants are ripped off you in the next heartbeat—tugged down so roughly they take your panties with them, leaving you sprawled naked and gasping on the bed.

He kisses his way down, leaving a trail of saliva and fire along your ribs, your stomach, and your hipbone.

When his mouth hovers over your soaked heat, your legs tremble. His breath ghosts over your core, and you meet his eyes, dark and ravenous, from between your thighs.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he says lowly, voice laced with mocking amusement. “Fingers? Mouth? Or cock?”

You blink, brain fogged with heat.

“What…?”

Seungcheol grins. “Tch. Thought so. Haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already fucked out. You get to choose, baby. But choose wisely.” He leans closer, nose brushing your clit. “You’ll only get one.”

That finally snaps you out of it.

“Cock,” you whisper, voice hoarse and expectant.

He smirks. “Good choice.”

And then your world flips on its axis. Literally.

He grabs your thighs and flips you with a single motion. You shriek in surprise as you land on your stomach. He yanks you onto all fours.

“Cheol—!” you start, but he’s pushing your face into the mattress, his palm heavy against the back of your head.

“Shut up,” he mutters commandingly. “You asked for this.”

You feel his cock behind you—hard, hot, lined up with your weeping entrance—and then he’s inside you in one brutal, punishing thrust.

You cry out into the bedding, your fingers clawing at the sheets as he splits you open.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans behind you, his hands bruising your hips.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust.

He starts pounding into you from behind, hips slamming against your ass with heavy, rhythmic force. The sound is obscene—skin on skin, your wetness, your gasps and his growls filling the tiny space.

You’re moaning, whining, helpless against the onslaught of his body.

Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs. He spanks your ass hard once—then again—and again, until you let out a sob, only to moan even when his palm lands on you again.

Your core clenches wildly around him.

“Fuck— you’re gripping me like a vice,” he mutters, voice low and ragged. “You like this? Huh, baby? Like being used?”

You can only cry out ‘Yes’ in response.

When your legs begin to shake, he grabs your hair and yanks you upright—your back slamming against his chest, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, keeping his grip tight in your hair as his free hand slides in front of your face.

You do without hesitation. Two fingers slide past your lips—rubbing over your tongue, pressing down against it.

“Suck.”

You moan as you obey, your tongue swirling over his fingers, your mouth hot and desperate, sucking on his digits like you did his cock. When he’s satisfied, he pulls them free and slides them down—between your thighs, right to your clit.

You cry out when his slick fingers start rubbing fast, ruthless circles over your pulsing nub.

“Cheol— oh god—fuck—”

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear. “Come for me. Let me feel it.”

Your fingers dig into his arm as your orgasm suddenly crashes through you. It’s violent. Wild. And takes you by force. Your body locks, clenches, and trembles as the pressure explodes and pleasure rips through your nerves.

Seungcheol doesn’t stop.

He keeps thrusting, keeps circling your clit, keeps fucking you through it—overstimulation already setting in as you scream into the mattress.

He lets you fall forward again, and you collapse bonelessly, face down into the bed. He doesn’t stop. His hands grab your hips, holding you steady as he chases his own release.

He spanks your ass again, the sounds loud and lewd.

“Shit—fuck—fuck,” he growls, hips stuttering.

And then he spills inside you with a loud, broken groan.

Three more thrusts. Shallow. Slow. Making sure every drop stays buried deep. He finally pulls out, breath catching in his throat.

You’re wrecked. Soaked. Glistening. Barely able to move.

He flops down beside you, dragging your twitching body into his arms. You’re gasping, limbs limp, brain swimming—but a giggle bubbles out anyway.

“That was…” you pant, dazed. “Yeah. I should definitely rile you up more often.”

He groans playfully, burying his face into your neck. “Let’s not.”

The jungle is still sleeping when reality decides to wake you up.

The sharp buzz of his satellite phone on the nightstand and the soft, steady beeping from your GPS tracker lighting up beside the bed wake you both from your slumber. The haze of last night’s sweat-slicked limbs and tangled sheets is still warm on your skin, but the moment is gone as fast as it came. Instinct takes over.

Seungcheol grabs the sat phone and answers without hesitation. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” Wonwoo says, gruff and casual as ever. “Shipment’s dropped. It’s in the clearing three clicks northeast of you. Sent the coordinates to your wife’s tracker.”

“She got it,” Seungcheol replies, throwing a quick glance at you as you nod.

“Good. Stay sharp out there,” Wonwoo mutters. “And… don’t die.”

Seungcheol breathes out. “Right back at you, Woo.”

Wonwoo disconnects, and just like that, the warmth of the bed, the afterglow—it all fades. You look at each other for a heartbeat, and then the switch flips.

Game time.

You both get dressed in practised silence. Vests. Gloves. Boots. Every movement is efficient. Clean. Sharp. Two ghosts suiting up for a kill.

Outside, the air is thick with jungle humidity. You follow Seungcheol as he rounds the side of the safe house, stepping over vines and damp earth until he crouches down and yanks off a heavy tarp.

Underneath it—well hidden—is a weathered military-grade jeep.

“Of course, you had this here,” you mutter, lips twitching slightly.

He grins as he gets in. “Had to leave myself a ride.”

You climb into the passenger seat, pulling your GPS forward. “Take the path north, then veer right at the ridge. The drop is just past the waterline clearing.”

The jeep lurches forward, engine snarling low and quiet, and you both fall into the tense stillness of the mission. Every branch that scrapes the side of the jeep, every call of birds overhead, every bump in the road—it all heightens your senses.

It doesn’t take long before you reach the clearing.

Seungcheol kills the engine, and the world goes eerily quiet except for the rustle of wind through leaves. You step out, weapons drawn, scanning your surroundings. Then you see it.

A dark metal crate sits just ahead, nestled in the grass like a gift from the gods.

Seungcheol breaks it open with a crowbar, and your eyes widen.

Wonwoo went off.

Inside the crate lies a small armoury. Sleek, matte-black rifles. Knives with ceramic edges. Ammo in every calibre. Smoke bombs. Blackout tech. Scoped pistols. Infrared sensors. Heat detectors. New comms gear. Suppressors.

“Damn,” you mutter, running your hand across a silencer. “This is better than Christmas.”

You both start suiting up—checking each item before adding it to your loadout. Sights calibrated. Knives balanced. Comms synced.

You’re just about to zip up your tactical vest when something catches your eye at the bottom of the crate.

A flash drive.

You pick it up. Silver casing with black marker on the side: XOXO, Reina.

Your eyebrows lift. “The hell is this?”

Seungcheol is already watching you, so he throws you his sat phone, and you dial Reina. She answers after three rings, sounding distinctly out of breath.

“Yeah—hello?”

You narrow your eyes. “...You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replies too fast. “Totally fine. Just finished working out. What’s up?”

You stare into the jungle. “Got your gift.”

Silence.

Then Reina exhales. “Oh. Right. The drive.” Her voice shifts, businesslike. “That’s a virus I wrote to scramble Kang and Lim’s encrypted program. Once you’re in, it’ll override the signal.”

You glance at Seungcheol. “Define ‘in’.”

“As I mentioned, it uses biometric access,” Reina explains. “Voice, retinal, and fingerprint. The print scan is advanced—it monitors heart rate and body temp. If either spike, a fail-safe activates. It’s basically a dead man’s switch.”

Seungcheol groans behind you. “So… a walk in the park.”

Reina snorts. “You’ll have to get Kang to unlock the system without triggering any alarms. Once you’re in, insert the flash drive. It’ll spoof the signal to Lim—make it seem like the bounty’s still live on her end, but dead to the global market. She’ll never know.”

You blink. “That’s… impressive.”

“I know,” Reina says smugly.

You start to thank her, then pause—smirking slightly.

“You know,” you say smugly, “Next time, maybe think twice when you decide to “work out” again. And do it preferably after we’ve walked towards possible death.”

More silence.

Then a very quiet, “God, you’re creepy. Can’t hide shit from you.”

You laugh. “You’re not that subtle, Reina.”

“Whatever,” she mutters, but you can hear the faint smile in her voice. “Good luck. Don’t die.”

“Back at you.” You hang up.

When you turn around, Seungcheol’s watching you with a faint smirk.

“What?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Nothing. Just something about a pot and kettle.”

“I didn’t hear you complain last night.”

He chuckles at your statement, but it fades as the moment quiets.

Your eyes meet, and the atmosphere shifts. Reality settles like a weight on your shoulders.

It’s go time.

The sun rides high above the canopy by the time the wheels of the jeep crunch to a stop beneath the thick shadows of the jungle. You and Seungcheol sit in stillness for a moment, the low hum of the engine dying out as he kills the ignition. Birds call in the distance, muffled by the density of the leaves, and the air is heavy with anticipation.

“We’re close,” you murmur, checking your GPS. “About one klick northeast.”

He nods once, scanning the tree line. “We’ll go on foot from here. We park any closer; we risk setting off possible perimeter sensors.”

Without another word, you both exit the vehicle and disappear into the green.

The jungle is unforgiving—thick vines, hanging moss, and humidity clinging to your skin like a second suit. You pull a machete from your belt, and Seungcheol does the same, both of you slashing carefully through the underbrush, keeping your steps measured and soundless. There’s no conversation, just the rhythm of your shared breaths and blades, and the silent language spoken between trained killers.

After a short climb, you reach a ridge. It crests gently above a natural dip in the earth, and below it, spread across a cleared stretch of jungle floor, lies Kang’s compound.

Modern. Sleek. Built like a fortress with luxury trimmings—glass walls, solar panels, and a central structure acting as an office or control centre. It stands out in the wild like a dagger.

You drop to your stomach near the edge of the ridge, dragging your binoculars from your pack. Beside you, Seungcheol pulls out his own gear—infrared heat sensors, a laser rangefinder. You share what you see in low, practised whispers.

“Two snipers. North and southeast towers,” you murmur. “Both posted high, rifles trained toward the outer edge.”

“Got eyes on two more guards. Heavily armed, center-left of the courtyard near the entrance,” he adds. “Looks like they’re protecting the main path in.”

You tap the side of your lens, switching to thermal.

“Seven more, patrolling inside the compound. Standard rotation—seems like they’re on a ten-minute loop. Armed, but not alert.”

“Visual on Kang?”

You scan the second floor of the compound and freeze when you find the shadowed silhouette of a tall man, pacing across what appears to be an office.

“There,” you whisper, nudging Seungcheol. “Tall, wide shoulders. Movement pattern matches. Looks like he’s talking to someone—”

Seungcheol adjusts his lens. “Confirmed. That’s him.”

You nod and reach into your pack again, pulling out the scrambler. You power it on and set the frequency, watching as the blinking green light turns steady blue.

“Alarms scrambled. Cameras looped. We’ll have a twenty-minute window before their system reboots, and he realizes something’s off.”

“Plenty of time,” Seungcheol replies, cocking your rifle and attaching the silencer and balancing it on a tripod.

You both lie flat on the ridge, shoulder to shoulder. You take the snipers. He watches for movement.

“North tower first,” you whisper.

You adjust the sight, take a breath, and squeeze the trigger. The silencer reduces the crack to a faint hiss, and the sniper in the north tower drops like a ragdoll. One down.

You shift slightly. “Southeast tower.”

Another shot. Another body slumps, this time into the rail, his body tumbling quietly over the edge into the brush.

“Clear,” you mutter. “I’ll move. You take east. I’ll go west.”

Seungcheol nods, already sliding down the hill.

You stay behind a moment longer, disassembling your rifle and pocketing the scrambler. Then you’re on your feet, slipping through the trees silently.

You move fast and low.

By the time you reach the outer edge of the compound, Seungcheol has already taken out the two guards near the courtyard. You spot their bodies tucked neatly behind a stone wall, blood blooming silently across their shirts. You nod to yourself and slip around the west side, coming up behind the greenhouse wing. A guard steps out to smoke. You waste no time.

Karambit to his throat. A gurgled gasp. You pull him into the shadows, wipe the blade, and move on.

Another guard rounds the corner, humming to himself. You take him down in two swift moves—elbow to the windpipe, blade to the kidney. He falls in a twitch.

Inside, the compound is eerily silent. The scrambler continues to work wonders—no alarms, no flickers of suspicion from the guards, still unaware they’re being hunted.

You and Seungcheol clear the floors like ghosts. He moves swiftly on the east side, the occasional thud of a body hitting the tile filtering through your comms. You press into the south corridor, slicing through two more men and dragging them into an empty bathroom.

With every guard down, every hallway cleared, the silence grows heavier. Anticipation coils tighter in your gut.

Finally, you reach the top floor.

And just like that—you’re standing at Kang’s office door.

Seungcheol rounds the corner from the other direction, his face slick with sweat, blood spatters on his cheek, but his eyes sharp. He meets your gaze, and you both press flat against either side of the door. You nod once to each other.

Seungcheol opens the door with a silent push, and you toss a smoke bomb inside.

The hiss of the release is immediate, followed by a fast bloom of dense, grey smoke that overtakes the pristine mahogany of his luxury office. The desk disappears, the floor vanishes beneath haze, and you hear the sound of a chair scraping back sharply.

“What the—?!” Kang’s voice barks in confusion.

You slip inside, silent and focused. You can hear Kang’s movements: stumbling, coughing, his shoes thudding heavily against the floor as he tries to orient himself. There’s a crash—he’s knocked something off his desk—and then a shuffle of panic.

Then silence.

Until the feeling of a cold, steely barrel of a gun chamber touches his forehead.

“Don’t move,” Seungcheol says, voice calm, firm, and ice-sharp.

He freezes.

“Seungcheol?” Kang rasps through the smoke.

Your figure melts from the shadows behind him like a ghost. Your karambit is back in your hand, its curved blade cold and gleaming. You press it to the side of Kang’s throat.

He stiffens instantly.

Your voice is quiet and cold, the edge of your breath brushing his ear. “Hello, Kang. Miss us?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes out a rough laugh, half-amused, half-appalled. “You two have really lost your minds.”

He tries to move, but you press the blade a hair deeper. A single drop of blood runs down his neck.

He barks another laugh. “The two biggest targets on the global kill list walk right into my compound. I should be flattered. Or furious.”

Seungcheol says nothing, only pressing the gun harder to his forehead.

“I underestimated you, Seungcheol. I knew you were soft, but this? Playing Bonnie and Clyde with your little wife? How’s it feel, huh? Always in her shadow?”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow. He’s still as stone, but the way his jaw clenches tells you exactly how hard he’s biting back the need to pull the trigger.

Seungcheol finally speaks, voice low, cold. “It feels like I married the only person worth trusting in this goddamn world. And the fact you’re scared of her proves it.”

You smirk.

Leaning closer, you whisper, “Let’s see if we can keep you calm enough to survive the next few minutes, shall we?”

Kang glares. “What do you want?”

“Access,” you say simply. “To your program.”

He scoffs. “You think I’m going to just hand it over?”

You press the karambit harder into the tender skin beneath his jaw, a steady stream of blood oozing from the tip piercing his skin. “No. You’re going to walk us through it. And if you fuck around—if you even flinch the wrong way—you’ll die before the failsafe ever gets a chance to go off.”

Kang huffs through his nose, but walks to the desk with your blade still at his throat. Seungcheol stays close by, his gun never wavering. Kang’s fingers tremble slightly as he wakes up the terminal. The light from the monitor casts strange shadows across his face as he clears his throat and accesses the program.

“Director Kang Hojin,” he states, firm and loud. “Override sequence Omega Black, authorisation Sigma-One-Seven-Delta.”

The system chimes.

Voice scan accepted.

He places his hand on the scanner. Another chime.

Fingerprint accepted.

Then comes the retinal scan. He leans forward towards the webcam. The screen buzzes.

Access denied. Retinal match not found.

Your heart stutters. Seungcheol’s grip on his gun tightens.

Kang lifts his head with a smug look. “Oops.”

You grab his shoulder and force him back down. “Do it again. Don’t blink.”

Kang exhales sharply through his nose and leans forward again. This time, he holds perfectly still.

Retinal scan accepted.

Access granted.

Relief floods you, but you shove it down. No room for error now.

“Bounty logs,” Seungcheol says.

Kang navigates the system with practised fingers, moving through encrypted folders. “Here. This is what you want.”

You reach into your belt and pull out the flash drive. Kang’s eyes flicker to it.

“Plug it in,” Seungcheol says. You do.

The second the drive locks in, the screen flashes. Code scrolls, long strings of green bleeding across black. The virus is doing its job.

“You idiots have no idea what you’ve just done,” Kang growls. “You think Lim won’t find this? You think she didn’t plan for this?”

You say nothing. Seungcheol watches the screen. Progress: 82%.

“Even if you kill me, she’ll never stop. You’re nothing to her. Ants. She’ll make sure the entire world hunts you for sport.”

The progress bar reaches 100%.

Final confirmation: Bounty Deactivated — Market Update Complete.

“You talk too much,” Seungcheol mutters. Then he pulls the trigger.

The bullet hits Kang clean between the eyes. His head snaps back before slumping forward onto the keyboard, blood blooming fast beneath him. The room goes quiet.

You exhale. Slide the flash drive from the port and tuck it back into your belt.

“Let’s go,” Seungcheol says.

You’re two steps toward the door when the monitor flickers red.

On the screen, a new prompt flashes: ALARM ACTIVATED — FAILSAFE INITIATED — DETONATION SEQUENCE: 2:00

“Oh shit,” you whisper.

“Run,” Seungcheol breathes, already grabbing your wrist. “GO!”

Your boots slam against the floor as you both bolt from Kang’s office, weaving past his slumped, lifeless body behind his desk. The halls flash red—emergency lights triggered by the failsafe.

“Where did that come from?!” Seungcheol shouts.

“My scrambler!” you gasp, realisation slamming into you like a truck. “It triggered the reboot. The system finally recognised us.”

01:45.

You skid through the corridor, heart in your throat, legs pumping hard. Down the stairs—two at a time—your boots barely hitting the steps before you’re flying again. You hear Seungcheol right behind you, breath ragged, muttering a string of curses between each inhale.

You nearly slip on the last stair, but Seungcheol grabs your arm and steadies you without stopping. The two of you slam through a side exit and into the open air of the jungle’s edge.

01:02

“Too far,” you choke out. “We parked too far—”

“We’re not making the jeep,” he says, teeth clenched. “Find cover.”

You don’t argue. You veer left, leaping over a fallen tree trunk, ducking under a vine. Your legs burn. The world is loud with your breaths, your pulse in your ears, the scream of your muscles.

00:54

Behind you, the compound hums unnaturally, the kind of silence that feels like something holding its breath. You glance back—just a flash—and see smoke already leaking from the vents on the roof. The timer is real. The end is coming.

“There!” Seungcheol shouts behind you, pointing.

A rock formation, jagged and moss-covered, partially buried under tangled roots. A crevice big enough—maybe.

He speeds up. You do, too.

00:32

You’re panting. Staggering. Tripping over your own feet—but you don’t stop. You can’t.

Then—just as your feet hit the edge of the formation—arms wrap around your waist.

Seungcheol lifts you, spins, and throws the both of you behind the largest boulder.

You crash into the dirt hard, grass in your mouth, Seungcheol’s weight covering you entirely. His arms pin you down, his body a shield.

He curls around you, breath hot against your ear.

“Hold on,” he whispers.

You shut your eyes. You feel his heartbeat.

00:01.

The sky lights orange. Fire screams through the trees. The compound behind you explodes in a catastrophic blast that tears the jungle apart. Glass, steel, smoke and flame shoot into the air like a volcanic eruption.

Debris pelts the ridge. Metal thuds against the boulder you hide behind. The earth shakes.

You cry out once, but it’s swallowed by the roar.

Seungcheol doesn’t move. His arms cage you tighter, shielding every inch of you. His weight grounds you, anchors you to the earth as the fury rages overhead.

Then—

Silence.

Smoke. Crackling. The compound groans as its structure collapses.

Your ears ring. Your skin is coated in ash and dust. You blink slowly, chest heaving.

Seungcheol lifts his head first.

His hair is singed at the edges. There’s a bleeding cut on his arm from fallen debris. But he’s alive.

You roll beneath him slightly, dazed, pupils blown wide as your gaze meets his.

Neither of you speak.

You just reach up with shaking fingers and brush a smear of soot from his cheek.

Then you mouth it:

Thank you.

He lets out a dry chuckle, then shifts beside you, flopping onto his back in the grass with a groan.

The two of you stare up at the sky above. Bits of scorched leaves flutter down like feathers.

The train hums steadily beneath your feet, metal wheels grinding softly against iron tracks as the landscape rolls by in a blur of dusk and shadow. It’s your second train in two days, and the rhythm has become something almost meditative—lulling, even soothing—if not for the weight pressing down on your chest.

Munich was a blur. Quick layover. New platform. A different conductor, different glances, different whispers of German you barely registered through the haze of concentration and caffeine. Now it’s Luxembourg ahead, the final stretch before you disappear into the woods, heading toward a place the rest of the world doesn’t even know exists.

You sit cross-legged on the small fold-out sleeper bunk in your private cabin, flicking through weapons one by one. Cleaning cloths. Fresh rounds. Blade oil. The hum of the train is your only soundtrack.

Across from you, Seungcheol mirrors your movements, his back against the wall, knees up, long fingers reassembling the slide of his pistol with practised ease. It’s not about necessity at this point. Everything’s already ready. It’s about habit. Control. The illusion of it, anyway.

You glance up at him, catching the crease between his brows and the faint tremor in his thumb as he locks the magazine into place. He’s steady. Always has been. But this isn’t like any mission you’ve done before.

He senses your eyes on him and glances up, offering a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You ever gonna stop checking that knife?” he asks.

You twirl the karambit around your fingers. “Not tonight.”

He nods like he understands—and he does. Of course, he does.

There’s a long stretch of silence before he speaks again, this time more carefully. “Can you tell me about her?”

You pause, eyes narrowing slightly. “Lim?”

He nods. “I’ve never met her. Never even seen a photo. Only heard what Reina and Jiwoo said. But if I’m going to walk into her house with a bullet chambered, I want to understand who we’re really facing.”

You sit back, the weight of the knife still warm in your palm. You stare out the window for a beat—at the darkening sky, at the streaks of stars beginning to appear above dense silhouettes of trees and valleys—before you speak.

“She’s brilliant,” you say softly, letting the words form with intention. “And terrifying in the most elegant way imaginable. She doesn’t raise her voice. She doesn’t make threats. She makes promises. And she keeps them. Always.”

Seungcheol listens, his jaw tight.

“She recruits people like an art collector would. She studies them. Waits. Makes them feel seen. Then she bends them to her will so subtly they don’t even realize they’ve changed sides. And when she’s done with them… she never gets her hands dirty. You’ll never see it coming.”

You feel his gaze on you, but you keep your eyes on the knife in your hand.

“I watched her take down five agencies from the inside just by turning people against each other. I watched her call a kill order on a pregnant agent because she had doubts about continuing. I saw the body. The husband. The baby didn’t make it.”

You swallow hard.

“She told me once that loyalty was just a leash wrapped in velvet. She said affection was a liability… and love?” You look up now, straight into Seungcheol’s eyes. “Love was a knife people begged to be stabbed with.”

The quiet after your words stretches thin between you, taut and cold. His face is unreadable for a long beat, but his hands are clenched, and you know that fury lives just beneath his skin.

“She gave the order for me to kill you,” you murmur. “When I married you, she knew who you were. She could have given me the order right then and there. But she waited until she was sure of my feelings for you. Until she was sure it would hurt me. She was always ten steps ahead.”

Seungcheol doesn’t flinch, but you see the flicker of pain in his eyes. “And you almost did.”

You nod. “I would’ve. I nearly did. But when I saw your face…” Your voice breaks, just slightly. “I couldn’t do it.”

“So this is it,” he murmurs. “The end of the road.”

You nod slowly. “If we fail, she disappears. The whole web collapses. And people like Reina, Mingyu, Jiwoo, Joshua—they’ll be hunted. You and I?” You give a faint, dry laugh. “We won’t even be worth the cleanup effort. She’ll make an example of us.”

“And if we win?”

You don’t answer him.

Seungcheol leans back against the wall again, exhaling heavily through his nose. “This is the part where I say we can still back out, isn’t it?”

You smile wryly. “That boat in Trinidad still floating?”

He chuckles—a low, humourless sound—but you’re glad to hear it.

“That cabin in the Alps is looking mighty tempting now,” he murmurs, gaze distant. “Just the two of us. Snowed in. No names. No guns.”

You lean your head back against the window, closing your eyes for a second.

He turns toward you again, one corner of his mouth twitching. “We’re idiots.”

“Mm.” You smile. “But we’re in love. That’s worse.”

The silence that follows isn’t tense. It’s… full. Weighty with all the things you aren’t saying, all the possibilities you won’t let yourself dream about right now. Your eyes meet his in the quiet—two people teetering at the edge of something neither of you can control.

No more chances after this.

No more exits.

You sit up slowly, slide the karambit back into your thigh holster, and reach for his hand.

“Till death do us part, right?” you ask, voice steady.

His eyes soften, his fingers tightening around yours like a promise.

“...and probably still after that, too,” he whispers.

The forest is silent. Still. Too still.

You and Seungcheol move like a whisper between the trees, every step calculated, every crunch of damp underbrush softened by instinct and years of experience. The canopy above shivers faintly in the wind, moonlight occasionally slashing through the leaves in silver streaks. Your gear is strapped tight to your body, weapons close. You feel your heartbeat in your throat, steady but forceful. The weight of what’s ahead presses against your ribcage like a warning.

After nearly an hour on foot, there it is.

Lim’s estate.

It rises from the forest, glass and metal shimmering faintly in the dark. But not glass—mirrors. Massive mirrored panels encase the exterior walls, reflecting the surrounding trees and sky so perfectly it makes the entire compound look like a trick of the eye. Almost invisible. Almost unreal.

You crouch down with Seungcheol behind the trunk of a fallen tree, binoculars raised. But they don’t help. The reflections are endless. No windows to see through. No weak spots. You try the thermal sensors, the electromagnetic sweeper, even the pulse radar.

Nothing. Complete blackout.

Seungcheol’s expression hardens beside you. “We’re going in blind.”

You nod once, tension coiling low in your stomach.

At least the scrambler still works. You check the signal and feel a flicker of control return. “No alarms. No cameras,” you murmur.

“But everything else?” he asks.

You meet his gaze. “We’re caught in her web now.”

Just then, movement—a silhouette rounding the west side of the compound. A guard. Walking alone, slow, almost bored. Rifle at his side. Head turning in lazy arcs.

You both recognize it instantly: your window.

You slip over the tree, bodies melting into the foliage. The air feels colder the closer you get to the structure, like something sinister is waiting. You signal. Seungcheol nods, flanking left. You go right.

The guard never sees it coming.

One swift, clean movement—your blade slicing silently, Seungcheol catching the body before it hits the ground. You both drag him into the brush and dart to the wall. A hidden side door. Seungcheol picks the lock, fast and silent, while you cover him.

The door creaks open with a soft hiss.

And then you’re in.

The compound swallows you in darkness. No overhead lights. Just muted emergency bulbs glowing red along the baseboards. The air smells faintly of bleach and expensive perfume.

Together, you move room by room—clinical hallways, offices filled with screens, empty staircases. You kill quickly, efficiently. One by one, the guards fall. They don’t scream. They don’t even know what’s happening until it’s over. You and Seungcheol sweep the entire ground floor, then the first, avoiding the glass-walled atrium and sticking to shadowed corners.

No alarms. No reinforcements. No Lim.

You’re starting to feel a strange sense of unease. Like it’s all too easy.

Then—just as your boot hits the top of the second-floor landing—it happens.

A voice rings out, smooth and cold, echoing through the speakers tucked into every corner.

“Gwisin.” You feel Seungcheol stiffen behind you. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Your body freezes. You’d thought—hoped—you were ahead. But of course not. You warned Seungcheol yourself: she’s always ten steps in front.

The silence that follows is deafening. You look down the hallway. Then, with a mechanical hiss, a door at the end slides open.

A deep, impossible darkness yawns within.

You don’t move. Neither does Seungcheol.

“Come in,” Lim’s voice purrs. “I insist.”

You glance at Seungcheol. His jaw clenches, but he nods once. No turning back now.

You move in sync, every step echoing on the polished black floors. The office is silent, save for your breathing. Then, the door shuts behind you with a hiss of finality, locking you in the dark.

And then—

Bang.

“Agh—!”

The sound of the gunshot is deafening, sharp and shocking in the enclosed space. You scream his name, reaching out, panic clawing at your throat.

“Cheol—!”

He drops beside you, groaning in pain, clutching his leg. You see the blood, dark and hot, pouring from his thigh.

“Stop.” Lim’s voice snaps, sharp now, slicing through the dark like a knife.

“He’s not dead. Yet. But if you take one more step, Gwisin, the next bullet goes through his skull.”

Your hands lift immediately. You straighten slowly, your heart thundering, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Seungcheol grabs your hand as you try to move, fingers slick with blood.

He’s trying to stay conscious. His teeth are clenched, his breathing shallow. But his eyes never leave yours.

“Don’t,” he rasps. “Don’t do this.”

You turn to Lim, face blank. “I’m here,” you say aloud, stepping forward into the dark. “I’ll play your stupid games. Just don’t touch him again.”

The lights flicker to life.

And there she is.

Madame Lim sits in the centre of the room, calm and unbothered, her white suit pristine, her legs crossed as if she were merely waiting for tea. Her hair is swept back, face emotionless, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. A table separates the chair facing hers.

Atop it: a single, silver revolver.

Your stomach drops. Lim smiles slowly.

“You remember how this works.”

You stare at the gun. At the chairs.

And for the first time in a very long time, you feel real, consuming dread curl its claws into your chest.

Russian Roulette.

And you already know—only one of you will be walking away.

Your legs carry you forward, one heavy step after the next, the sound of your boots echoing in the stillness like distant thunder. The pain in your chest doesn’t come from a wound, but it hurts just the same—coiled fury, barely contained. You can feel the heat of Seungcheol’s blood still on your hand, your breath caught somewhere between rage and terror.

The chair is waiting. Empty.

You sit slowly, your knees trembling under the weight of what you’re walking into.

Across from you, Madame Lim lounges in her seat like the queen she’s always pretended to be—composed, elegant, a portrait of detached cruelty. She eyes you with a quiet satisfaction, her red lips curling into something that’s almost… amused.

“Welcome home, darling,” she says smoothly.

You clench your jaw. The mask doesn’t slip.

“I’m here,” you say evenly. “What’s the play?”

Lim’s smirk widens. Slowly, she reaches for the revolver resting on the table between you, her delicate fingers wrapping around the cold metal like it’s a treasured artefact.

She flips it open with a practised snap, turns it so you can see—

One bullet.

She closes the chamber and spins it. The click-click-click of the revolver spinning fills the silence between you, steady and cruel.

Then she sets it down, the handle pointing to the space between you.

“Simple,” she says, voice like silk over broken glass. “We spin the revolver. Whoever the handle lands on takes the first shot. If you win, you get the pleasure of accessing my system, removing your bounty, and tearing my empire apart from the ground up… before you put a bullet through my skull.”

She pauses, lips curling.

“But if I win… I get to watch the life drain from your eyes. I get to see the anguish on Seungcheol’s face when I shoot the love of his life in front of him. Right before I kill him, too. Tragically romantic.”

Your nails dig into your thighs beneath the table, the only outward sign of how close you are to snapping. But your voice remains even.

“You forget I need you alive to access your system. So this is a waste of time. I lose no matter what.”

Lim tuts, rising gracefully from her chair. “Oh no, darling. Quite the contrary.”

She walks toward the far side of the room, the hem of her white suit jacket swaying with each precise step. You glance behind you just once—Seungcheol still lies on the ground, bleeding, pale, but breathing. His eyes find yours, and the look there nearly unravels you.

You turn back to Lim just in time to see her approach her desk and pull out a sleek black laptop.

She returns, sets it down beside the revolver with exaggerated care, and slowly opens it. The screen glows to life. One by one, she performs the biometric logins—retinal, fingerprint, and voice. Just like Kang had.

Then she leans back, smug. “Now, you don’t need me alive anymore.”

You stare at her. And she stares right back, the game finally unfolding, the trap finally sprung.

“Let’s begin,” she says softly.

She takes the revolver, gives it a spin again, and when it stops—

The handle points directly at you.

You inhale deeply, picking it up. The weight of it is intimate and horrifying all at once. One in six. You press it to your temple, finger tightening on the trigger.

Click.

Nothing. Lim smiles, pleased. You slide the revolver across the table.

She picks it up gracefully and points it to her own head, never blinking, never breaking eye contact.

Click.

Still nothing. Your turn again.

You pick it up, ignoring the burn in your lungs, the sweat forming at the back of your neck. Lim is watching you with that same gleaming hunger.

“You always were weak,” she says. “Falling in love. Letting yourself care. You would’ve ruled this world, Gwisin, if you hadn’t gone soft.”

You ignore her. Gun to your temple.

Click.

You breathe out slowly, chest tight. She snatches it next, almost eagerly, her voice rising.

“You should’ve killed him. He was never worth it. Do you know how pathetic you look, crawling around for a man who’d bleed out for you? Do you think he’ll survive this anyway? Or do you just want someone to cry over your corpse?”

Gun raised.

Click.

Still nothing. Now you know. This is it.

If you get the bullet, it’s over. If not—you win.

She leans forward, taunting, her voice a venomous hiss now.

“He’s not going to make it. You’ve already lost, darling. Look at him—pale, dying, weak. Just like your resolve. Like your entire rebellion. You could’ve chosen me. But instead, you’re nothing more than a wife in mourning.”

You cut her off, hand closing around the gun mid-sentence. Her mouth stills, eyes flicking downward as you lift it once more. You don’t speak. You don’t blink. You just pull the trigger.

Click.

Silence. Everything stops. You don’t move. She doesn’t move.

Because that was the fifth shot.

And everyone in the room knows what that means.

The sixth belongs to her.

She smiles—slow, awful, the knowing kind of smile that monsters wear in their final moments.

You gently place the revolver back down, never looking away as you pick up the laptop. You pull the flash drive from your pocket with a trembling hand and plug it in.

Lines of code scroll by. You follow Reina’s instructions to the letter.

The virus deploys.

One by one, every trace of the bounty system begins to dismantle itself. Files corrupt. Names disappear. Targets are wiped clean. You check twice, then a third time. It’s done.

You press one final command, and the entire system shuts down.

No more empires. No more Lim.

Your victory tastes like ash.

You stand slowly, refusing to look at her, and turn toward the man on the floor.

“Cheol…” you whisper, approaching him softly.

That’s when it happens.

“Sorry, darling,” Lim purrs. “Can’t let you win.”

Bang.

You freeze. But the pain never comes.

The thud of a body hitting the floor echoes behind you. And when you turn— She’s there.

Madame Lim.

Shot through the chest.

Seungcheol’s pistol clatters to the ground beside him, his arm falling limp.

He’s panting, eyes fluttering, drained from the blood loss and effort it took to raise the weapon. But he did it. He saved you. Again.

“No— no, no, no, baby, stay with me—”

You scramble to him, sliding to the floor, pressing your hands hard against his thigh. Blood oozes between your fingers. You tear at your shirt, using the fabric to make a quick tourniquet above the wound.

His skin is clammy. Pale.

“Don’t do this to me,” you plead, voice cracking. “Don’t you dare go quiet now, Choi Seungcheol.”

He tries to speak, but no words come out. His eyes close.

“NO!” you scream, pressing harder, doing everything you can to keep him tethered to you. “Stay awake. Please. I can’t— I can’t lose you now.”

You grab your comms, tears streaking down your face.

“Reina! Mingyu! Jiwoo! Anyone!” you cry into the mic. “He’s down—he’s hit! We need extraction now—NOW!”

Static. Then Reina’s voice breaks through, panicked but focused.

“We’re on our way. Hold on. Just hold on.”

You sob, forehead pressed to his as you hold the wound with both hands.

“You promised me,” you whisper. “You said even after death, remember? So don’t you dare let go. Stay. You stay with me.”

The Caribbean sun beats down from a cloudless sky, the wind gentle as it dances through the sails of the boat that floats lazily just off the coast of Trinidad. Seagulls cry in the distance, their wings cutting through the heat as waves lap softly against the hull. The air tastes like salt, and stillness, and peace. For once, the world is quiet.

You lay stretched across a sun-bleached lounge chair on the deck, skin warm, drink sweating in your hand. A lazy breeze rolls over your bare stomach, ruffling your hair. Sunglasses shield your eyes, but you’re not really looking at anything. Just the endless blue horizon.

It’s been six months.

Six months since the compound. Six months since Madame Lim fell. Since you screamed into the comms for someone—anyone—to come and save the man bleeding out in your arms.

And now—this. The boat. His boat.

The one he joked about right before you came up with that ridiculous plan to take on your bosses. The mythical exit plan. A sailboat docked and waiting off the coast of Trinidad for a day that might never come. But it did come.

You take another sip of your drink and close your eyes.

The sun presses hot against your skin. Your breathing slows.

Then— A creak of wood.

Bare feet padding across the deck.

You don’t bother opening your eyes. You know who it is.

Reina’s voice floats out from the cabin, bright and amused. “I swear, this place is turning me into a whole new woman.”

You lift your sunglasses to peer at her. She emerges wearing a bikini that somehow manages to be both functional and designer, two fresh cocktails in her hands.

She walks over and hands you one before plopping down in the chair beside yours with a content sigh.

For a long time, neither of you speaks.

The boat rocks gently, and the sea stretches out in all directions.

Reina swirls her drink, then glances at you. “You know,” she says softly, “Seungcheol was onto something, keeping this boat stashed away.”

You smile, a slow curve of your lips. There’s something bittersweet in it.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “He definitely was.”

The silence between you shifts. Not heavy, not sad. Just full. You both sit with it. With the past. With what you lost. With what you kept.

Then—

“Is that how you talk about me when I’m not around?”

The voice cuts through the stillness like lightning. Familiar. Deep. Teasing.

A shadow moves at the stern of the boat.

Then, emerging from the water with a grin and a sun-drenched gleam in his eyes—

Seungcheol.

Shirtless, drenched, water trailing down his broad chest. His swimming trunks cling to his hips. His hair is dark and wet, pushed back by the sea. His towel is slung casually over one shoulder, and his smile—lazy, wicked, alive—makes your heart skip.

The scar on his leg is visible, faint against his tan skin. He walks with a slight limp still, but he’s upright. Strong. Getting better every day.

You stare, lips parted in a grin that spreads like a sunrise across your face. “You’re supposed to warn a girl before you sneak back on deck.”

He approaches, towel-drying his face, and when he leans over, he kisses you. Softly. Warmly. His lips linger, just long enough to remind you that this—he—is real.

“I heard you talking shit,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You laugh, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “You heard wrong.”

He slides into the space beside you, pulling your legs gently over his lap, his hand resting casually on your thigh like it belongs there. Because it does.

“When are you coming in for a swim?” he asks, nudging you with a grin. “Water’s perfect.”

“When I feel like it,” you reply, tipping your glass toward him with a lazy clink.

Reina groans. “Ugh. You two are disgusting.”

You and Seungcheol both smirk, not even bothering to deny it.

The three of you laugh, and for a moment, everything is light.

Beep.

A sound breaks from the cabin. Muffled. Sharp. Urgent.

Your heart stutters.

You’re on your feet in an instant. So is Seungcheol. Both of you race below deck, Reina on your heels. You slide into the cabin, heart already pounding in your chest.

There it is.

You recognize it immediately. One of your old encrypted devices, the ones you used when Lim & Associates was still in operation, the one on which your bounties arrived.

You reach for it, hands steady despite the fear unfurling in your gut.

The screen flickers to life. Code scrolls. Then—

A name.

Target: Kim Mingyu.

Alias: Fireball.

Bounty: 3 Million.

Your blood turns to ice.

Seungcheol reads it beside you, lips parting in disbelief. “What…”

Reina appears in the doorway, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

You turn the screen toward her.

She sees the name. And freezes.

“What the hell did that idiot do now?”

A/N: Andddd, it's here! After how much you guys seemed to love part one, I couldn't not write this second part. Hope you all enjoyed the rollercoaster that was Gwisin and S.Coups. Are you ready for the second storyline? 👀💟

Send me your thoughts - feedback/fangirling is always welcome.

(Collage created by me. Credits to owners of the pictures taken from Pinterest)

429 notes · View notes

kookieskookiejar · 2 months ago

Text

A Nightwing x Starfire (reader) AU

Synopsis:

Jungkook said goodbye to you years ago when the two of you were just on the cusp of adulthood, he swore he'd never love again if it wasn't you, but fate gives him another chance when you return to earth, he just didn't imagine that it'd feel like there's galaxies between the both of you despite being right next to you.

Warnings under the cut!

Warnings: extreme levels of down badism, brief pining, fluff, smut, unprotected sxx, manhandling. Jungkook calls reader the nickname, Star multiple times.

Jungkook feels alive as he speeds down the streets of Gotham at nearly midnight on his bike, the wind blowing past his face is an exhilaration to him, still within the speed limit, for now, while there's yet to have any crime that he needs to tackle.

Gotham is quiet at this time, crime rate has been driving people away from staying out in the streets after 10pm, sometimes people would choose to linger at busier streets where police are deployed to keep crime at bay, unfortunately for Jungkook, that means he needs to pick up the slack, there never seem to be enough troops, the number of officers decreasing by the year as crimes rates increase, no one wants to risk their life, Jungkook understands, that's what the bat family and the titans are for, as long as his families stand, then Gotham would never end up in the clutches of injustice.

Suddenly, Jungkook picks up a scream at his 9 o'clock, immediately revving his bike to go faster, his head scanning left right and up down to look for the source of the distress.

When he finally locates suspicious sounds coming from an alleyway after several turns, he sees a faint neon green glow ascending into the sky.

Jungkook gets off his bike to inspect the opening of the alleyway, a woman leaves the dark alley with a huff, swinging her handbag back onto her shoulder. Jungkook waits till she leaves before he goes into the alleyway.

A man in a full black attire comes into view, tied up with his own jacket, cursing something about some glow stick bitch.

“Who tied you up?” Jungkook asks while texting Commissioner Gordon with his burner phone to send someone over.

“Some bitch with green powers,” the man says with a huff, having given up escaping at this point, putting up a fight with Nightwing would be suicidal.

“You're sure? Red hair?”

“Didn't see, too dark,” he mutters, squirming in his spot.

“Sit tight, someone's coming to get you,” Jungkook says before pocketing his phone.

Jungkook takes his leave, climbing back onto his bike to wait for the police car.

While he waits, his personal phone rings, he has received a notification, he notes, retrieving his phone, he swipes it open to reveal a text from Barbara.

‘Wanna come over after your patrol?’

‘Can't, got a project I need to finish up tonight after the patrol, next time.’

Jungkook then pockets his phone and focuses back on what the guy said, green powers, and from what he had seen, a figure that flies with a green glow that's all too familiar, if his assumptions are correct, that means you're back on earth.

Does Jungkook actually have a project to finish up? No he doesn't, but did he lie to Barbara in order to get to the bottom of your likely appearance? Yes.

But to Jungkook’s defense, he and Barbara are a strictly no strings attached kind of situation, even though Barbara has always dropped hints about being keen on the idea of taking what they currently have going on to the next level, Jungkook just can't.

It's an open secret at this point, why he's not open to a relationship, and it's also the same reason why he's now taking off to the titans’ tower after the arrival of a police car.

Jungkook immediately dashed into the tech room where he keeps track of all the latest news and happenings within Gotham and other neighbouring cities, including the atmosphere, but before he could check if there was any unusual activity other than Superman's daily fly out for the sun's direct rays, the monitors that show the tower’s live security footage picks up something out of the ordinary, Jungkook clicks onto the panel to enlarge the footage, and immediately he recognises the lock of unnaturally bright red hair flowing in tune with the breeze, the helipad area has always been the windiest.

Jungkook runs out of the tech room and takes the fire escape to the helipad, foregoing the lift. When he finally reached the top, he takes a deep breath to calm himself before he pushes the heavy metal door open.

Jungkook’s eyes lock onto your figure, calmly sitting by the edge of the building with your legs dangling over the air before you caught the sound of the door opening, your head whipping back, your eyes wide as you recognise the person standing behind you, so different yet you still recognise the energy that radiates off of Jungkook.

“Didn't know you still lived here,” you say before patting the spot next to you, “join me.”

Jungkook silently walks to you, taking a seat next to you, as close to you as possible before he scans your face, you've grown into your features so beautifully from when he had last seen you when you were both teenagers, a little bit more mature, more woman, for a lack of better wording, not that Jungkook could think up of anything right now other than that he's glad that you're back.

“You came back,” Jungkook says, still in disbelief, he thinks he's dreaming and fears that he might wake up at any moment.

“Yeah, the whole ruling over the planet thing isn't really my thing,” you say with a shrug.

“How did you convince your aunt and uncle to let you go?” Jungkook asks before he realised that he still has his mask on, yanking it off his head and pocketing it quickly, he even catches a ghost of a smile on your lips before you school your face back to a neutral expression.

‘Why are you being so distant towards him?’ Jungkook wonders to himself.

“My other cousin offered to take over the throne through a battle that I lost intentionally,” you explain, the throne would've been yours ages ago if your sister hadn't framed you for killing your own parents, but he knows you never wanted to rule the planet.

“How long have you been back?” Jungkook asks, you don't look like you just got back, you have regular clothes on, why didn't you look for him first thing you got back?

“Almost a week, crashed at Raven’s place,” you say offhandedly, as if you didn't send Jungkook’s mind spiralling, the most forefront question in his mind on repeat right now questioning if what the two of you had was merely a fever dream.

“I'm glad you're back, I really am, the team isn't the same without you,” Jungkook says, but he feels like he's got a mouthful of sand weighing his words down.

“I thought you're more of a solo act now, Raven’s told me all about your promotion, Nightwing,” you tease, your first smile of the night, Jungkook notes, at least you're genuinely happy for him.

“Yeah, Bruce had me promoted because he wants to spend more time with Selina,” Jungkook jokes, laughing at his own joke, but when he realises what position he's in right now, he sombers up, suddenly things aren't so funny anymore, if Bruce could get his happy ending, then could he get his?

“They seem like a happy couple, can't wait for the wedding,” you say while nodding your head, as if you're very certain that the two would end up being wedded.

“I sure hope they do end up together forever, the last thing I'd want is for Bruce to be in a pissy mood all the time,” Jungkook says with a sigh, knowing Bruce's temper, “speaking of forever, will you ever return back to Tamaran, or are you staying on earth permanently?” Jungkook asks, he couldn't help it, he has to know if he has a chance with you.

“It depends, I'll stay on earth if I'm given a reason to,” you say with a quick glance to Jungkook before you quickly change the topic, “how about we get back to your patrol? I'm sure you stopped halfway because you saw a glimpse of me during it, I'll join you, it's been so long since we last did this,” you say before getting up and walking back to the fire escape.

Jungkook follows you wordlessly like a lovesick puppy, he can't help it, he finally feels like he has something to look forward to other than catching crooks and passing tests.

When he follows you down the stairs, he sees your fit more closely under the help of the fluorescent lights, and Jungkook curses internally when he catches sight of your bubble butt in no other than the iconic juicy couture tight sweats that have a bejewelled juicy stamped across your cheeks, the pink velvet material sticking close to your skin.

A little too soon for his liking, the both of you have reached the living area, and to Jungkook’s shock, you strip right in front of him, revealing a new suit underneath the matching set, a bodysuit with tiny gems of many shades of purple and green, the familiar red gem from your old suit remains its position beneath your clavicle.

“Wow,” Jungkook says, starstruck, your suit, your body, he'd get down on his knees right now to beg if you asked, and your new boots, they go as far as your uppertighs, how did he not catch the tip of your boots just now?

“Yeah, the old suit doesn't fit all that well anymore and it was customary for me to get a new one once I became ruler, is it too much?” you question with a twirl and Jungkook feels the breath being knocked out of himself at the sight of your body being wrapped up so prettily in your new suit.

“No, not at all, you look beautiful,” Jungkook sputters before pressing the button that calls the lift up to this floor, and fortunately for him, it arrives sooner than expected so he doesn't have to look like a loser in front of you anymore.

“Thank you, your new suit looks great on you as well,” you say, complimenting him, and Jungkook has never been more glad about his mop of hair covering the tips of his ears, you've never said the same for his Robin costume, in fact, sometimes you'd say it was cute because of all the bright colours, just to annoy him, “a bit different from the Robin suit, but not in a bad way, just makes me realise how much we've grown,” you say say with a bittersweet sigh, in a blink of an eye the two of you are now in your 20s, and Jungkook has grown into a man so suddenly.

“I'm still the same Jungkook you've always known, nothing’s changed, Star,” Jungkook insists, stepping closer to you, but to his misfortune, the lift doors slid open and you moved away from him, excited to see the changes of the garage after so many years.

“We've all changed, Jungkook, change is inevitable, see, you even have a new bike, I love the blue highlights,” you gushed, taking a closer look when Jungkook turned it on through the comms on his suit.

“I could take you for a spin instead of flying,” Jungkook offers as he leans on his bike, gazing at you intently to scan for your reaction, but he's quickly sidetracked, god, you're so pretty.

“It's better to scan from below and above, Kook,” you explain, brushing off his offer without a second of hesitation, but Jungkook isn't the type to give up, he's Nightwing, for fuck’s sake.

“I'll drop you off after the bridge, how's that sound? You've never ridden this bike before, I swear it's even better than the old one,” Jungkook says, even throwing in his puppy eyes that he knows you can't resist to convince you.

“Fine,” you lament with a roll of your eyes, “and you said you never changed, you used to hate it when I asked to go for a spin behind you when we were kids,” you say with a huff as you watch him swing a leg over the huge thing, why is his suit so damn skintight, it's too distracting.

“That's because we were kids and I was being a dick, I let you ride behind me when we started-,” Jungkook cuts himself off, he doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that the two of you are no longer together, that he might never be yours ever again.

“This does feel sturdier than the last one,” you say offhandedly as you climb up behind Jungkook, trying your best to leave a gap between your bodies.

“It goes faster too, Bruce had the old one made to be ‘teen safe’, so you gotta hold on tight,” Jungkook says, albeit still distracted by the messy thoughts in his head.

‘Get your head out of the gutter, damn it,’ Jungkook cursed at himself as he puts on his helmet, then with a kick of his leg, he started the engine and took off.

Immediately he hears you curse by his ear and feels your body fall against his due to the force of the sudden speed, the feeling so familiar but so different, and intrusively, Jungkook thinks it'd feel even better if both of you didn't have any clothes on right now, but he quickly buries that thought into the back of his head before he sports a half mass in front of you, and he before he knows it, the connection bridge between the tower and town comes to an end, so he hits the brakes and lets you fly off on your own, tailing your route via his bike, your beautiful silhouette painting the night sky a pretty shade of neon green wherever you go.

To Jungkook’s surprise, Gotham is quiet tonight, as if all the criminals, other than the one from earlier, decided to take this random Tuesday night off, and so the patrol was coming to an end, that is, until he sees you flying down to check something out a few meters away, and so Jungkook speeds down to meet you, expecting to beat up someone, he quickly unseaths his pair of escrima sticks, quickly advancing to where he'd last caught your green glow, but instead of seeing you in action, he sees you crouched next to a thin and frail old woman next to a dumpster.

“Hey, how about I give you some money for the night to find somewhere to stay for a few days and have some actual meals-

“I can't accept that, child, I'm a nuisance enough as it is, homeless at such an old age,” she says with a shake of her head at her own misfortune.

“What's up?” Jungkook asks you, trying to assess the situation at hand now that he's not in offense mode, putting his escrima sticks away.

“This grandma here, her husband recently passed away and the old man didn't leave her anything in the will and instead signed everything away to the mistress’s family, including their own home, she's been trying to look for a job, but no one's willing to hire an old woman for all the jobs she went interviews for,” you explain.

“Hey, it's not the end of the world, ma'am, do you know the stew kitchen in Chinatown? They have rooms above the store for people who need a place to stay, as long as you're willing to help with the volunteer work in any way in your capacity, maybe you can help with the kitchen work?” Jungkook suggests, and the old lady thanks him profusely for the suggestion, “here, take the money and look for a nearby hotel to stay for the night, order some food for tonight and tomorrow's breakfast, then take a cab to Chinatown tomorrow, alright?” Jungkook says as he fishes out his wallet from the side, pulling out enough money to last her a few days, just in case she needs to rest up longer at wherever she's staying at.

“Thank you so much, you two youngsters are too kind, thank you,” she says with a bow before the two of you guide her to the nearest hotel, which is only a few blocks away.

“So much for ‘I’ when you clearly don't have any money on you,” Jungkook teases, and for a moment, you don't know what he meant, until you recall the moment when he joined the conversation and what you had said.

“Oh come on, I'm not the heir to Wayne Enterprise here,” you say as a defense, shoving Jungkook playfully before you take flight again, but before you could get too far, Jungkook calls out to you.

“How about a race on the rooftops? First one to reach the bridge wins,” Jungkook suggests, and he knows it's an offer you won't turn down, the two of you used to love being a menace on all the rooftops, sometimes you'd run to the Wayne Tower just to piss him off.

“Oh you're going down, Jeon,” you say before you fly down to grasp his arms with your hands, Jungkook’s gotten much heavier than when you last did this, but you still manage to toss him up the nearest roof and begin the race.

Running side by side until a building is too tall to be reached by foot, you would fly and Jungkook would employ his trusty grappling hook gun, and you haven't felt this free in ages.

Jungkook could tell that whatever worries you had are now momentarily faded to the back of your head as you laugh at a particularly odd office garden rooftop landscape.

Soon the race comes to an end, and it seems like you were about to win, but Jungkook had purposefully fell back to do this, instead of reaching for his grappling hook gun for the final leap, he reaches for his lasso gun, aiming it at you, letting the ropes encase you.

“Jungkook! What the fuck are you up to, oh my god,” you demand in disbelief, you can't for the life of you put up with this man and the antics he springs on you, and to think he did some growing up while you were gone.

“If I didn't lasso you up, you'd fly all the way back to the tower,” Jungkook says with a tut as he reigns you in, until he successfully pulls you into his embrace, a gasp leaving your lips at the lack of distance between the two of you.

“Okay, cowboy, I think it's time to let me go, you caught me, breaking the rules to do it by the way, I don't think I agreed to a chase but a race,” you say as you wiggle in his hold, seeing if you can break free without breaking his new toy.

“It was too tempting, thought I'd try out this new tool, you know,” Jungkook says with a shrug and that smug expression on his face that unfortunately for you, still gives you butterflies.

“Aw, did daddy get you new toys?” you tease, but you regret it in an instant when you see the way his eyes darken.

“Don't you call him that,” Jungkook warns as his grip on you tightens, almost bruising, and you really shouldn't say what's on your mind right now, but you can't help but give into the temptation, blaming the fact that being so close to Jungkook derails all common sense from your head.

“Why not? Who should I be calling that then?” you retort, chest heaving in anticipation of Jungkook’s next move.

But when his eyes snap to your lips, you feel like a bucket of cold water washed over you, waking you up from whatever charm Jungkook had you on, pushing him away with both palms on his sturdy chest.

“We shouldn't,” you say as you try your best to loosen yourself from his hold with no avail, you forgot how annoying you used to find his little toys to be.

“Why not? Why are you acting so distant? Why can't we go back to how things were between us? You said you're not leaving, are you planning to leave earth again?” Jungkook asks as he feels his heart sink, like his whole world is crumbling around him, which is ironic because his whole world now resides in his arms.

“Kook, I don't want to get between you and Barbara, I don't want to wreck whatever you have going on with her, it's wrong and unfair to her,” you explain, after giving up on escaping his hold.

“Sweetheart, whatever I have going on with Barbara, it's casual, just an easy stress relief for me, she's nothing to me, whatever I have going on with her, it comes to an end, I feel nothing for her, it's always been you, all this time, since we were kids, I love you, Star,” Jungkook confesses, he sounds like such a jerk to Barbara, but he doesn't give a fuck as long as you get the message that he's all in for you, that he'd give up the world for you.

“Really? You don't have any feelings for Barbara?” you ask again, just to be certain, you could always tell when he lied as a kid, you just have to look into his eyes closer, just to see if he has even a sliver of doubt.

“No, but I do know that I love you, with all my heart,” Jungkook says once more before he steals a quick peck of your lips, god, he can taste the grape flavoured lip balm on you, and he thinks he's found a new addiction.

“I love you too, Jungkook, now if you could be a gentleman and let me go, that would be great,” you say before you feel the ropes around you loosen, but just as quickly, Jungkook’s arms are around you again, that bright smile that you missed all these years is back on his beautiful face.

“How did you find out about Barbara anyways?” Jungkook asks, head tilted to a side like that would instantly help him think clearer about the situation, cute that he still has this habit, you thought to yourself.

“Raven,” that one word and Jungkook makes a fuss about how she's always so privy to her own privacy and never about his.

“Oh come on, I would've found out one way or another, could've just tailed you myself,” you say with a shrug, and both of you know you're right, it's how you found out all the surprises Jungkook was planning for you back then when you were dating after all.

“Ride back with me,” Jungkook suggests, and you give in, letting him hold your hand, leading you to where his bike is parked, camouflaged with its invisibility feature.

“Did this thing drive itself like the last one?” you ask as you spot the bike right in front of you knowing that it sure wasn't half an hour ago, to which Jungkook tells you that it does in fact have a self driving mode, and so you formulate something in your mind that probably breaks like ten traffic laws at once.

When you told Jungkook to lie down facing you instead of the road on his bike, he thought you were joking, until you straddled him and told him to put the bike on self driving mode, that's when he pieced two and two together, and Jungkook’s never been more grateful for technology, oh and also his strong thigh muscles, because he's damn sure if he's any weaker, he would've been faced down on the road right now instead of groaning into your lips as he indulges in the feeling of having you grind down on his boner as the two of you zoom past empty traffic, he needs to tell Alfred to wipe the traffic cameras later, he thinks to himself before he feels your hand gripping his cock through his suit, breaking his chain of thoughts.

“Baby, when did you get this adventurous?” Jungkook asks with a shake of his head in disbelief as he feels your hand wander from his length to his chest, groping around, trying your best to find his nipples as you take his earlobe between your lips, biting playfully.

“Just making up for lost time,” you reply quickly before you finally found one of his nipples, lightly pinching the sensitive bud, which garners quite the enthusiasm from his junior down there, twitching beneath your clothed core.

“We have all the time in the world, and also, we're back to headquarters,” Jungkook notifies you before he tells you to shift so he can park his bike.

In the meantime, you let your eyes wander around the garage, taking in the changes, there's way more vehicles here now, in the past there was only Jungkook’s bike and the Cyborg truck that Mingyu used to ferry all of you around town, now there's a fleet of supercars lined up next to each other.

“They're all yours?”, you ask as you let Jungkook carry you down his bike, even though both of you know damn well you're more than capable of getting off yourself.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a shrug like they're mere toy cars, well to him they might be, especially in terms of financial value.

“Nice, it's been so long since I drove, can't wait to take them for a spin,” you say offhandedly, but you see Jungkook tense up immediately.

“Babe, come on, the last time you drove-

“Oh come on, I just suck at parking, that's what boyfriends are for anyways, and yeah it's been years but I'm sure it'll be fine, I have a license, remember?” you deadpan, ignoring the million dollar jackpot look Jungkook is currently sporting.

“What did you just say?” Jungkook asks, that stupid goofy smile still on his face as he reaches for you, resting his hands on your hips.

“That I'm driving one of these bad boys, so you can either panic in the passenger seat or not be in the car at all,” you say with finality, you'll steal his car keys if you have to, you're sure you can find his car keys somewhere in this damn building.

“Nuh uh, you're not getting out of this, missy, repeat the first part,” Jungkook says, but before he could corner you to the nearest wall, you escape from his embrace.

“Only if you catch me!” you holler as you run to the lift at top speed, shutting the doors in Jungkook’s face.

“God damn it, I forgot how she drives me mad,” Jungkook mutters to himself as he watches the lift stop at the 4th floor before he dashes to the fire escape to track you down, but knowing you, you would take the stairs to other floors to throw him off your trail.

‘I got my work cut out for me, don't I?’ Jungkook thought to himself with a sigh.

There isn't much at 4th floor, just a storage room for weapons, numerous floors before the top floors are for storage, not enough space for anything else, even though he catches a whiff of the scent of your perfume, he knows you're long gone, as confirmed by the lift’s panel now showing that you're at the 35th floor, where the main floor resides, Jungkook decides to take the lift this time round, just in case you decide to play a prank on him and head back down the lower floors.

When he reached his destination, he catches a glimpse of green glow in the dark at the corridor which leads to the rooms, he knows you're leaving him crumbs to follow, so he plays along, chasing the green glow until it disappears down a hallway, when he sees the observation deck at the end, he wonders if you're waiting for him there, that's where the two of you had your first time after all, but when he gets there, it's empty, so Jungkook goes to his next best guess, your room, scanning his face at the security pad before the automated doors slide open to reveal you, standing in the dark other than the light emitting from your hand as a makeshift torch light, looking at all your old photos that you had hung on the wall.

“Caught you,” Jungkook says as he wraps an arm around you, noticing that you've changed into an old sweater of yours, and suddenly he feels like nothing really ever changed, you're still you and he's still the Jungkook that has always felt love and affection towards you.

“Took you long enough,” you say with an exasperated sigh.

“Well, someone decided to change routes last minute, speaking of change, I didn't move any of your stuff, just came in here to clean from time to time,” Jungkook didn't let the cleaners go in your room, he didn't want anything out of order if you ever came back.

“Thank you, thought Mingyu would've converted my room into a gaming room by the time I got back,” you joke, but deep down you always had a gut feeling that Jungkook would leave your room as it is.

“He's moved in with Sarah and they only come back to visit from time to time during semester break or long weekends, so a gaming room would be Sarah’s issue now,” Jungkook explains with a chuckle knowing damn well Sarah isn't going to let him have a gaming room.

“I'm glad they finally got together,” you still remember the days of Mingyu downloading random foreign languages to impress Sarah when they volunteered at the pet shelter together.

“Mhm, I think you owe me a label too,” Jungkook says, laying kisses on your neck where the sweater is swooped down, trying to get as much exposed skin as possible.

“How about you show me you're worthy of the label first?” you retort, turning to face him because you know he'd be caught off guard, and true to your assumptions, he looks damn cute with his mouth popped open in shock and eyebrows shot up his forehead before he quickly composes himself, now his gaze is dangerous, like a predator that stumbled upon his prey.

“Oh baby, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into,” Jungkook says before he pushes you onto your bed, caging you with his arms, but before he could take things up a notch, you push his lips away with a palm.

“Not in front of my kids, babe,” you say before Jungkook looks at you all confused, that is until you reach a hand out to ‘pet’ your snoopy plushie, one of the many plushies on your bed.

“Seriously?” Jungkook questions ludicrously, eyeing all of your plushies with a frown, he's getting cockblocked by plushies, of all things.

“Seriously, it's either we're doing this in your room or you're not getting no pussy,” you say, definitely not up for debate with that stern tone of yours.

“Fuck it, fine,” Jungkook says before he scoops you up in his arms without any strain, as if you weigh as much as a feather.

“Fuck, you could've just let me walk, it's just two steps,” you say as you hold onto Jungkook’s shoulders for dear life, shaken up by how quickly he had you up in his arms.

“Can't risk you running away again,” Jungkook says as he scans his palm to unlock his room, crossing the last few steps to toss you on his comfy bed unceremoniously before getting back into the previous position he was in back in your room.

“Have you ever brought her here?” there you go running your mouth with something stupid, but you couldn't help it, scanning his face.

“I'd never bring her up here, the Titans Tower is our place, even if by some miracle, I managed to move on enough to marry someone, it'd still feel wrong to bring them up here, that's such a jerk thing to say, but I'll never have to worry about that anymore,” Jungkook says before he resumes kissing you, all the anger and longing pouring into the kiss, he isn't mad at you, he'll never be, but the thought of him needing to settle for someone who isn't you struck a nerve, his hands are grabbing every every slither of skin he could get even though his fingertips are sealed in his suit as he dominates the kiss, rolling his hips into yours, cursing at the way his cock is straining in the confines of his suit.

“Does it hurt?” you ask after your hand stills the movement of his hips, clenching your thighs as close as you can at the sight of the bulge he's sporting.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head, huffing at the fact that he probably looks like a hot mess right now.

“Let me make it feel better, where's the zipper of this suit?” you ask as you use your question as an excuse to feel him up, Jungkook could tell what you're up to with the way your eyes seem to get lost tracing his body, but he lets you indulge in this moment, all those gruelling hours training are suddenly so fucking worth it.

“It's at the back,” Jungkook tells you before he reaches a hand back to locate the zipper, but you stopped him in his tracks.

“I'll do it, but first, could you do a bit of quick spin, couldn't admire this suit on you before you had me distracted,” you say with a twirl of your index finger as emphasis.

“Someone's being greedy tonight,” Jungkook comments, but obliges to your demands, doing a slow turn with his arms up like he's surrendering himself to you, and in a sense he is.

“Famished,” was the first word to come to mind when your eyes landed on the absolute globes that is his butt, unable to hold back, you land a smack on one of his cheeks, in complete awe when you hear the resounding smack along with the recoil of the meat.

“You did not just,” Jungkook says as he looks back to see you still staring at his butt like he's got a million dollars stacked on his butt, and he's still in complete shock at what you just did.

“It was too hard to resist,” you say before standing up from the bed to wrestle Jungkook onto the bed, his stomach connecting with the bed with a huff, internally groaning at what he's gotten himself into by falling head first with an alien being with inhuman strength.

“This is the comfiest cushion ever,” you say after you straddle Jungkook’s hips, taking a seat right on his butt.

“How much time are you gonna spend admiring my ass, Star?” Jungkook questions with a sigh, he's going to have a long night ahead of him, he's sure.

“Who said anything about your ass? It's just easier to take off your suit this way,” you lie through your teeth as you wiggle your hips, but nonetheless, you began unzipping his suit, revealing golden tan skin, and to Jungkook’s misfortune, he feels your hand tracing each ridge and curve of his back muscles, he wants to flip you over and get it on with, but he knows he has no match for you in terms of physical strength, at least not when you're in such a position.

Jungkook is anticipating your next move, but at the same time, he can't help but bask in the attention and care you're showing him, the way you'd caress every bit of skin you can get your hands on then he feels a flutter of a quick peck of your lips, as if you can just tell he's been pushing himself to the max just to do his best in protecting the city, but as you trail lower, Jungkook’s arousal once again stirs as he feels the zipper reach the end of the line, to which he just realised, he recently had Alfred tailor it to end below the curve of his butt because he was tired of yanking the suit up his butt when he's in a rush, he groans internally at the thought of you poking fun at him for having the zipper this low.

“I've never even seen dresses having zippers this low, holy shit,” you comment before landing another swat at his butt, giggling to yourself at Jungkook’s groan of annoyance, but he's willing to put up with this if it means he hears you being all joyful, even if it means he has to endure your new obsession with his butt.

What he didn't expect, however, was the feeling of canines sinking into his cheek.

“Babe, what the fuck?” Jungkook questions as he whips his head back to look at you, your head now resting on where you had just taken a bite, it wasn't by any means painful, just a mild chomp, but it took him by surprise regardless.

“Sorry, the intrusive thoughts, you know, couldn't help it, I love the texture,” you say offhandedly before taking another bite on his other cheek, lighter this time, all while Jungkook looks at you with disbelief and slight arousal swimming in his eyes, the mild ache of your teeth sending a jolt to his cock, biting back the moan that threatens to leave his lips.

“I'd like to see how you'd react if I had you spread out like this while I take a bite of your butt,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes.

“Jokes on you cuz I'd love it, now roll over, you promised me a ride,” you remind him with a gentle pat on his butt to get him moving.

“We're not even naked yet,” Jungkook says with a chuckle before he quickly shucks off his suit, sitting back down on the bed with a gesture for you to turn, but you shake your head, not needing his help, quickly unzipping your suit from the side.

“I should've had the zip on the side too,” Jungkook mutters, but all thoughts immediately cease from his head when your bare body is revealed, he had no idea you were nude under your suit.

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask as you cup his cheeks in your hands, amused at the way his eyes seem to be in a daze.

“I'm the luckiest man in the world,” Jungkook says before he stands up to maneuver his mirror to the front of his bed, a giant smile on his face like a child in a candy shop.

“Why are you suddenly redecorating your room in your boxers while I'm standing here naked?” you ask, confused at his sudden enthusiasm that is no longer directed at you.

“Wanna see the pretty faces you'll make and every little movement from this gorgeous body while I make you feel good,” Jungkook explains before he manhandles you to take a seat between his thighs on the bed, facing the mirror, and you understand Jungkook’s enthusiasm now, you've always been confident about your own body, but seeing Jungkook’s broad built behind your smaller body sends a shock southwards, the last time you've seen the two of you in front of a reflection was ages ago, and needless to say, Jungkook bulked up a lot while you were gone, you used to enjoy how the two of you were around the same height and built, but Jungkook’s new image sends a new thrill down your spine.

While you're distracted by the view in the mirror, you fail to see Jungkook’s fingers trailing to your lower lips, surprised when you felt cold air tickling your clit before Jungkook gives it a few twirls with his fingers, testing the waters, your legs shaking with the sudden pleasure running through your body.

“Still so fucking sensitive,” Jungkook mutters with a groan by your ear, his cock chubbing up beneath you, just seeing you react to his touch like this has him growing.

He rubs circles on your bundle of nerves while his other hand is occupied with fondling one of your breasts, thumbing your nipple with his fiery touch, but it's his gaze that has you dripping into his palm, the way his eyes zero in on your body, locking into every little movement, and soon he dips two fingers inside you.

“Ride my fingers, beautiful,” Jungkook commands, to which you oblige, a hand laying on Jungkook’s muscular thigh to support yourself before you begin riding his fingers at a mild pace, lifting up until just before his fingertips show before you sink down to his knuckles, moaning his name wantonly, back arching, you haven't had fingers fill you up so full in so long, your fingers petite in comparison to Jungkook’s.

You don't know what's hotter, the fact that you have Jungkook’s fingers inside you when you didn't think you even had the chance anymore, or the way he looks like he wants to devour you in the best way possible.

“Should I feed your greedy pussy one more finger? Can't ever get enough until you have my cock, am I right?” Jungkook taunts his hands still occupied with your sensitive parts, but his left hand is now on your other boob, showing the girls equal amount of love and attention, but when you're too enraptured by the pleasure clouding your mind to answer Jungkook, his hand on your breast goes to your throat, choking you lightly, getting your attention, your walls clenching on his fingers tighter, his brow quirked up in surprise, he's definitely saving this information for later.

“Answer me, baby,” Jungkook demands.

“Yes, want everything you have to give me, your fingers, your cock, anything,” you say in a rush, eager to please, especially with the promise of more pleasure.

Jungkook smiles proudly before he slips one more finger next to his other two, cursing at the way you just swallow him up, mind drifting to imagining how good he'd feel later if you feel this wet and warm around his fingers.

When you increase the pace of your hips to chase the impending high you can feel on the horizon, Jungkook pulls his fingers out with an obscene wet pop sounding between your legs, whining at the sudden loss of your pleasure.

“Patient, wanna fuck you now,” Jungkook says with a light spank, to which he's awarded with a strangled moan and a delightful jiggle of your cheek, manhandling you off his thighs to shuck off his boxers, sighing in relief, his hard cock finally free from its tight confines.

“Come sit on my cock, baby,” Jungkook demands after taking a seat back on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching you as you take your position above him, hovering over his length, but since you're feeling bratty, instead of immediately sinking down, you summon your powers to keep yourself aloft, his cock nudging at your core, just a little bit more and he'd be greeted by your tight walls.

“Are you being fucking for real, now, babe?” Jungkook questions, feigning annoyance, but you can right through his act.

“If I'm being real, I can do this all night,” you joke, drumming your nails on Jungkook’s muscular chest just to rile him up further, what you didn't expect, however, was that Jungkook would hook his right leg over your back to flip you over, your back hitting the bed with a soft thud, and before you can even protest about the sudden switch of positions, Jungkook restrains your wrists above your head.

“It's been years, sweetheart, I've been building muscle, we're not that far apart in terms of physical strength,” Jungkook says with a smug smirk on his face.

“You have to own up to what you just said, love,” you say, poking at the bear that is his ego.

“Oh baby, you're gonna regret teasing me,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head before he's sinking into your core with a groan, a hand bracing against the headboard as his inches bottom out, you try your hardest not to whine at the way he's filling you up so nicely, he's definitely grown from the last tryst the two of you shared before you left if that's possible.

Jungkook gives you some time to get adjusted to his size before he begins thrusting at a brutal pace, he has a point to prove and an impression to make tonight, he's going to use every ounce of strength to satisfy you if that's what it takes.

He thinks he's doing a good job at it at this moment, with the way his name is leaving your lips in broken crescendos of your beautiful moans as your walls pulse and clench around his length, and not to mention, the sweet pain of your nails digging into the back of his hand as he continues his hold onto your wrists.

“Don't want you to hold back, baby,” Jungkook says before he frees your wrists to hitch your legs higher over his back, this angle allowing him to go even deeper, and instead of the mild taps of the tip of his cock on your sweet spot, he is now hitting the spongy sensitive spot inside you with hard consistent thrusts.

You let out an almost scream of a whine as you claw the side of Jungkook’s back with your nails, to try your best to grasp onto reality as you're getting your shit absolutely wrecked.

“Am I living up to my words, darling? Or should I add more action into the mix?” Jungkook taunts before he trails a hand down between your lower lips to locate your clit once again, drawing quick and rough circles around the sensitive nub.

“Fuck,” you curse with a moan as you clench your walls around Jungkook, your release drenching his length as Jungkook increases the pace of his hips to chase his own high, his jaw clenching as he takes in the beauty of your nudity and the way you're basking in the pleasure he's giving you, your eyes fluttering as you let yourself enjoy the slight pain and immense pleasure that comes from being overstimulated, the way you just lay there and take anything Jungkook gives you, Jungkook cums inside you with a groan, giving himself a few more shallow thrusts before he sinks his cock deep inside you once more, giving into his carnal desire of wanting to have you warm his cock post fucking, the warmth of your combined releases sending a shudder down his spine, he could never deny the possessive streak he has over you, especially now that he has you again.

He thinks you're just as bad when it comes to this possessiveness when you claim his lips with your own, chewing his bottom lip before dipping your tongue into his mouth, a fight of dominance ensues before the two of you give up to pull away for oxygen with the sillies erupting from your bellies, it's so awfully familiar and refreshing at the same time, feeling this in love again after so long, all those lonely moments and yearning to be with Jungkook all don't matter now that you're back in Jungkook’s arms.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the twitching of Jungkook’s length inside you.

“Seriously?” you ask in disbelief, looking at the man beside you ludicrously.

“You told me to prove my physical strength to you and I did it, how about I show you how much training I had on physical endurance?” Jeongguk asks with a quirk of his brows and a stupid smug smile on his face that you find all too annoying and endearing at the same time.

“Oh you're on, Jeon,” you retort before proceeding to switch positions to flip him on his back, this is going to be a long night, you think to yourself giddily.

*Meanwhile at the Wayne Manor*

“Master Bruce, my apologies for interrupting your slumber, but I had just received a message from Young Master Jungkook to erase some traffic footage from tonight, you told me to keep tabs on young master, so I just thought I'd let you know about this update,” Alfred informs a sleep riddled Bruce Wayne.

“What the fuck was this kid up to?” Bruce asks before Alfred hands over a tablet, knowing that his master was going to ask.

Bruce squints at the bright screen, zooming in on the two familiar figures and their wild antics.

“Fuck’s sake, wipe this shit clean, Alfred, thank you,” Bruce says before sighing disapprovingly, Alfred holds in his laugh as he leaves his master be, bidding him goodnight.

“Don't be so uptight, Bruce, we did the same thing in your mobile just a few months ago,” Selina brushes off with a chuckle, putting the tablet aside to pull her lover back to bed.

“We did that in a car with a covered roof, love, it's not the same,” he says with a sigh, but he relents, going back to bed with a groan.

Jungkook wakes up to the warmth of your body pressed against his, breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn't a dream last night, that you are indeed back on earth and back to being together, things are finally back to normal now.

Jungkook recalls that very painful night where he had to say goodbye to you, how he felt like his world was falling apart as he was waving at your ship, it was just last week when he felt like his life had no meaning and that death would make no difference. There's days where Jungkook would just stare at the night sky at the helipad, hoping that your ship would suddenly appear to come back and pick him up, he would've chosen to live in a foreign planet if it means he could've gotten back the cosmic love he had shared with you.

Sometimes he'd stare at the Gotham skyline with a sense of hollowness, haunted by the memories of the two of you and your rendezvous around the city.

Jungkook shakes himself out of those painful memories before he allows himself a moment to bask in the joy of having you in his arms a little longer before he gets up to wash up and get an early morning workout in before you wake up.

When you finally come around, you're all freshen up, looking beautiful with a glow like no other when you come bounding in the gym with some short shorts and his tee that you slept in, wordlessly, you get on with your own routine at the side before you decide that you had enough for the day and shower off.

“Should I make brunch or you wanna head out?” you ask when you spot Jungkook coming into the kitchen with nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, choosing to direct your attention to the boring pantry instead, but what greets you is empty cupboards with nothing but cereal and instant noodles and some eggs in the fridge.

“Brunch it is,” you mutter to yourself.

“We can stock up on groceries after brunch,” Jungkook promises with a peck on your lips as he leads you back to your rooms to get dressed, trying your very best to not jump Jungkook’s bones again.

“I could've driven us, you know,” you say with a huff before you eye Jungkook’s English breakfast with slight interest, for some reason your pancakes need more time than his huge plate of breakfast food.

“Let's practice with my cheapest car on an emptier street before you start driving us around, love,” Jungkook says before he picks up some of the champion mushrooms you've been eyeing on his plate with his fork, feeding you.

“Fine,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I would've never thought you'd actually go through with piercing your ears and getting that whole sleeve, you were still very much on the fence when I left,” you say as you reach out to gently run a finger through his piercings.

“Kinda used them as a coping mechanism if I'm being honest, but I don't regret any of it,” Jungkook says with a shrug, he doesn't need to tell you his gruelling hours at the gym to stay sane, you've known about that bad habit of his for years.

You were about to ask Jungkook to explain each and every one of his tattoos’ meanings, but you were interrupted by the arrival of your pancakes accompanied by your friends.

“I can't believe the team is back, baby!” Mingyu bellows as he slides in next to you, followed by the others, and suddenly, you feel right at home now more than ever, surrounded by the titans that you spent your youth with, looking forward to the future that's brighter than any star you've ever laid eyes upon.

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