#calamity auction

[chibivesicle]

The woes of running a secret organization; Steven’s burden and complex partnership with K.K.

It is time for some manga meta for Kekkai Sensen!  Yes, we will be delving into manga only content through Back 2 Back and the Calamity Auction arc.  Anyone who has been reading my meta since Golden Kamuy means I have a love of certain types of characters and Steven and K.K. really fall into that type.

I’m really interested to delve into Steven first and then K. K. (in a later post) but she’ll be in this one for sure because K. K. is intimately tied to Steven all the time in the manga (and I don’t mean in a sexual sort of way).

My previous Steven meta was only based on the anime for the most part and up through episode 7 of season 2.  Which really is more stuff from what should have happened before events of season 1.  Yet, I digress.  I’ve already put out there that Steven has an immense sadness about him in part with how he’s alone and has been making life choices to keep himself alone.

One should always be concerned if this is how you encounter him in the dead of night.

Steven is the ice cold pragmatist to Klaus’ fire filled idealism.  Certainly, one always needs to look for that single flicker of light but Klaus can state this openly since someone else is in the dark corners trying to make sure it happens.  That being Steven.

Kekkai Sensen characterization and moral conflict scenes

Early on when Steven and K. K. take on the first named Blood Breed in the 23rd Street Station, K. K. gives him absolute shit for being with such a black hearted man.  This implies that K. K. is knowledgeable or bold enough to verbally acknowledge that Steven doesn’t always do things above the board.  Which likely means that Klaus has to know this as well on some level.  Klaus isn’t naive, he’s more compassionate than most but will still crush you if you are inhumane. 

Early on, Steven is set up as the deadpan snarker, with a quick quip or sarcastic comment.  He loves his coffee and can get seriously hangry (where is my subway sandwich?) and does a lot of boring paperwork that no one else does. 

We learn that in ‘Day In Day Out’ about his swanky condo, sophisticated, educated circle of human friends.  Who aren’t really good friends.

It says a lot that he’s got Mrs. Veded as his Beyondian housekeeper with whom he is relaxed and chill with.  He even appreciates her roast beef enough to smile softly commenting on it. 

We also get to see how his relaxed clothing is a white dress shirt, dark pants and slippers.  Not only is he in his own home, but Steven is always on guard when out and about.  It took me a few reads of this to notice that the manga showing his slippers indicates that he is safe with her.  He’s not wearing his special Esmeralda Blood Freeze shoes.

I am always a sucker for domestic scenes and love the one with him chopping and cooking with Mrs. Veded for his party.  The first person to arrive is Ellen with her new boyfriend/male fling/something.

Steven is blushing hardcore as he smiles at first.  I think it is pretty clear that they were involved romantically at some point in time previously.  This is backed up by the next page.  They hug while the other guy is just standing there and Ellen even tells Veded that her tentacles look great which is like your hair looks great.  I think.  She then finally introduces her date.

That is totally a sort of, yeah here was my past fling current date vibe there.  The other guests then start to arrive.  Everyone seems to know that Steven is overworked and they joke about helping him to party more.

What is most telling though is when he approaches Veded.  We can see that his shoes are his work shoes.  If he felt okay with the guests, than he’d perhaps wear non-vampire hunting shoes, but he’s got them on.

He thanks Veded for her help and makes it very very clear that she’s done for the night.  Only after she leaves does he get a severe expression and tells himself to get things started.

There are almost two pages of all the guests at the dinner party talking to each other in groups while Steven is - completely absent.  We only see him when he volunteers to get beer for a few people who are out from the kitchen.  When his back is turned to them, they all draw their bioweapons on him and it becomes awkward as they request that he come with them or else.  They lay down their job to capture him as a key member of Libra and he at first tries to jest with them.

His snark is on full force when he thanks them for not killing him violently and destroying his place.  But even more so that if they wasted that precious Veded roast beef.  If Steven cares about you - he really takes anything related to you seriously.  Was that roast beef made with care and attention?  Yes, thus, the roast beef is to be protected!

The entire group is frozen by his Needles of Absolute Zero attack and then he proceeds to tell them how they blew it.  The manga takes it even further with more examples of his observations of various people.  His comment about Ellen’s perfume continues the idea that they had been involved when he tells her, that she was previously worried about it being too strong.  You’d have to be up close and personal for someone to worry enough about if your perfume is too strong for them. 

They of course think that Steven has Libra do his dirty work but that is not the case, he reveals to them that he’s got his own squad to deal with threats like this - ones that can impact key members of Libra, like himself and eliminate them before they get to the rest of the team.  Their job is to maintain balance and Steven will maintain that balance.

Steven is also bold enough to reveal that Klaus wouldn’t condone what is about to happen to them with his personal crew but that being interrogated is not going to be good.

He leaves his subordinate to clean things up while he goes out for fresh air with a look of utter defeat and sadness.  The man can’t even have a dinner party without people wanting to kidnap/torture/kill him.  Fun times.  The fact that he goes out alone and then thinks back to the friends he froze and sent off for intel purposes.  That has got to suck on so many levels, but what would you do? Let them kill you? Use you to hurt your friends and colleagues and disrupt that balance?

His entire lambasting of himself for having too much fun and being normal is sad and pathetic in the worst way possible.  He can’t have any happiness or friends with his job.

Which is why when Veded stops by to check in on him with the party already being over it is so heart warming. He gets to thank her properly.  Technically, his party was a complete failure but she was great.  He also is polite and friendly with her kids.  How many times do humans in Kekkai Sensen act totally normal with Beyondians besides Leo that we see?

This entire interaction between Steven and Veded’s family and the cat shows that he’s someone who cares about all of the residents of HL and wants to protect all of them.  He also gives thanks and means it, not some sort of lip service.  Other than Leo, the only other character who has totally normal actions with Beyondians on a regular basis is Klaus, but Klaus is the ultimate example of this.  This is also before Zed joined their team so the current Libra line up lacked a full non-human.

Another aspect of Steven that is established very early on in volume 1 is how he will act when someone acts against Libra.  In this case, it is when Leo was kidnapped. 

He is organizing the entire team to rescue Leo to make it clear that whatever you do, Libra will comeback with way more force to make you suffer.  And the rest of the team doesn’t have an issue with this policy, they all follow it and operate with full force to stop the other party.  AKA, You hurt someone on my team, I will make you suffer tenfold more. 

We also get another example of Steven using any means necessary to acquire information in volume 6 about criminal activity in the city.  Including seducing a police officer and stealing a USB drive from her.  He clearly left her hot and bothered and is strolling along alone before spotting Klaus.  Whatever they were up to, he took of his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt and things were getting heated.  Until he isn’t and he quickly makes himself presentable for the general public (which in his case is tie and jacket).

He’s cold as he shows him the drive.  Klaus didn’t even ask him to tell him about it, and Steven isn’t cocky either.

However, this is really it for the first ten volumes.  We know he has his personal squad for dirty but necessary deeds, has definitely used his sex appeal to his advantage and is very protective of those he cares about.

The story continues on with Kekkai Sensen Back 2 Back for another ten volumes.

Kekkai Sensen Back 2 Back increases the stakes for Steven’s actions

We get the return of Steven’s personal clean up squad, who also get some more fleshed out information than just being giant thugs.

The background is made clear, for two weeks, Klaus is traveling around the world for Libra business with Gilbert and K. K.  That’s right, Steven’s most frequent partner is out of the country.

We learn that Zapp and Zed are in the hospital after being seriously injured by a foe they barely escaped.  This indirectly tells us that someone is out there targeting Libra while Klaus, K.K. and Gilbert are away.  This means that Steven is in charge.

Patrick really hammers this home for the reading making it obvious that this was not normal and we get this guy named Garrett introduced.  He decides to purchase something crazy dangerous and Patrick is concerned about giving him something so powerful.

But in the end, he heads out (notice the number of deadbolts on that door!).

Of course this random guy named Garrett is immediately drawn in such a way that we are suspicious of him.  He looks like he’s just walking calmly away but then we see his face shaded in darkness.  He’s got an agenda for sure.

Obvious suspicious character warning 101 right here.  He proceeds to go into a diner.  A lithe individual with a baseball cap and glasses sits down next to him and does something super fast to connect to the man’s phone.  The mysterious team gain critical information and decide it is time to contact “Frost”.  I’m sorry Steven, but pick a better code name  9_9 . 

They speak simply in fear of someone else overhearing them and we can only think who will be woken up.  As in these individuals aren’t free to do their own things and have a specific job.

Garrett drives to an abandoned alleyway and arrives at his meeting place.  Only to find Steven alone.  He at first seems concerned and when he realizes it is Steven his eyes fly open in shock.

We see a very closed off and cold Steven.  He’s still slouching but subdued and not looking up either.  He is incredibly calm as he addresses Garrett making it clear that the jig is up and Garrett should give up.

Of course, those who he was working with appear.  It is the woman from before directly addressing him for figuring out that they’d infiltrated Libra.  Thus, Steven is also using himself as bait to draw out the nefarious party.  However, he makes it clear that Steven’s behavior is one where he lacks trust in them.

I would think that it is less about Steven not trusting them, but more that it is his job to protect them from having to deal with this.  Or that he feels that it is his job to protect the rest of the team from this dirty work.  Additionally, Steven wants to punish those who hurt his teammates. Way back in chapter 4, Steven made it clear if someone fucks with Libra they will respond in kind.  Of course he hasn’t changed how he feels about these sorts of things since he first appeared in volume 1.  She seriously injured Zed and Zapp and Steven is not going to let her forget about that.

His squad is able to pin down the tricky tentacle monster and he asks if they are going to kill her or not.  Yet, it seems that she might be in trouble having tussled with them even if they try to get information out of her.  Steven maintains a straight face at Garrett looks concerned.

The expression from Steven where he looks dumbfounded that Garrett is assuming that he’s a cold-blooded man seeing all beings as disposable which is harsh.  However, he does add that what will happen to her isn’t going to be pleasant.  Intelligence seems sexy when you think of James Bond movies and Spy x Family, but so much of it represents an incredibly dark side of human nature.  Think more along the lines of Tinker Tailor Solider Spy.  Focusing on the lack of humanity demonstrated by the agents and the KGB and what snippets we get today from US intelligence etc etc etc.

What is most interesting is that Steven takes the time to explain why he’s doing what he’s doing.  Which honestly, I don’t think Garrett needs or deserves this since the context would imply that Garrett was a voluntary defector trying to take down Libra.  The fact that he was eavesdropping on Leo’s conversation with Patrick and Neyka implies that Garrett was confirming that she hurt them and likely helped her to cross paths with them.

Steven is completely business about this.  He is managing a crisis, where he has a rat who has compromised the nature of Libra.  Yes, he’s going to find out what Garrett knows methodically.

In the face of such a terrifying thought, Garrett of course asks if this is the real Steven and throws out the obvious comparison to Klaus, upright to a fault.  This was the absolutely worst thing that he could say to Steven.  His eyes narrow and his expression becomes so awful that Garrett is shocked.

The bottom panel shows a man who is beyond upset.  He’s sad, disappointed, angry, resigned, foul, and worn out.  Steven doesn’t want to do this.  It isn’t like he gets up in the morning wondering if he’ll get to interrogate a traitor, who already injured several of his colleagues and was going to injure more.

The action then shifts to the morning as they had limited time to act at night to capture Garrett and get to work.  Steven is outside talking with his assistant as they discuss Garrett’s words about what Klaus would think about the situation.  The assistant notes that even though Klaus would ultimately reach the same conclusion, he would have tried to take on the pain of someone like Garrett until his actions resulted in the inevitable self-destruction by his actions, likely at the hands of Libra.

The nameless aid is trying his best to make Steven feel better.  He believes that one who is the direct aide to a leader is to keep that leader on their path by dealing with things that would distract them and prevent them from being overburdened with more responsibilities.  And here, I 100% think that Steven’s aide believes this and is how he does his job as the coordinator for Steven’s squad.

Steven ask him to confirm the statement and he makes it clear that it is the truth.  However,  the blank expression on Steven’s face tells us that he doesn’t have that sort of faith in his actions.  First, hesitant to speak and then only to say “That would be nice, but” and he never completes the statement.

The rest of the team wants him to return since they are having a post-mission office party.  I mean, gotta keep up team morale for preventing more damage to Libra.  In the end, Steven approves a drink for the strange baby genius and we never get to learn what Steven is thinking but it is clear that he does feel guilty and doesn’t want this to be a part of his job. 

This entire chapter shows that Steven is willing to do that it takes to protect the balance, in the city, within Libra and his friends and colleagues. 

But this chapter is a teaser preview for the next time that Steven wonders what is right and necessary in a crisis. Again, when he is in charge since Klaus was arrested and he ordered Steven to take the rest of the team and escape.

The evil human eating pot broke open releasing a monstrous creature that Leo rescued and took to the hospital.  Using the All Seeing Eyes of the Gods, he determines that the horrible creature is what remains of some of the victims of the pot and the auction house wants it returned to them to put back in the pot.

What is also important to note is that most of the team are present, K. K., Zapp, Zed, Leo and Steven.  Leo reveals to the group that the ‘thing’ is human and Steven hunches over it asking if it is alive.

The group needs to determine what to do next.  He then looks to the medical professionals for an opinion, where they aren’t sure what to do other than note, it is seriously messed up.  Steven knows that it will likely draw trouble to them or cause more so he keeps his back to them when he tells them to leave.  The flushed expression on his face and inability to see his eyes tells us that he’s thinking of how to put it out of its misery.

He’s officially the one in charge and he’s thinking about what is the least risky thing to do.  Leo argues back that the children that were fed to it are still alive and this wasn’t their choice.  But the one who agrees with Steven is Zapp who manifests his blade and tells Leo to think rationally.  The easiest way is to prevent it from returning to the jar and completing the curse.

Zapp is thinking that these already non-humans have to be sacrificed to prevent the worse option from happening.

However, Zed then jumps in to fight Zapp, agreeing with Leo that it isn’t their place to kill it.  What is really great about the entire scene is that no morality is black or white and the Libra team are all using slightly different ways to look at the exact same situation.  As Zed and Zapp come to blows, Luciana stops them and makes it clear that no one is fighting or killing anything in the hospital. 

Steven then asks if they can remove it from the hospital to destroy it elsewhere.  The facial expression that he has is just so - ugh - why are you trying to hold this entire burden yourself Steven?

Yes, you are going to use the letter of the law to defeat the spirit of the law.  He looks absolutely terrible trying to think about what to do to protect everyone else.  Unlike the previous chapter with his interrogation squad and their hyper rational mindset that a second in command must do what ever it takes to support their leader, K. K. finally speaks having sat quietly in the background.  She does not mince her words, instead she acts like the brakes on his runaway train of thought.  Asking if he’s sure about it and using his full name for emphasis.  And then asking the question again implying he’d drop to the level he’s thinking about going.

And as she asks him, she furthermore tells him that she thought he was on the same page as Klaus and his beliefs.  This causes him to snap back into the situation.  We can see that his eyes are back to being both focused and more open in shock at her direct words to him.  K. K. isn’t screaming at him or being passionate, she delivered her words calmly and directly.  And it works.  The grim unfocused expression then becomes aware and  we can see his facial expression has shifted to tense and upset.  He was literally trying to disassociate himself from the situation until K. K. drags him back from the abyss.

Now, that pause is good as it stops Steven from snowballing himself to his own personal mental hell and more guilt.  It is also bad as it has given the brutal Tycoon brothers time to arrive to steal it back.  As their vampire gate manifests above him we see the look of absolute fear on Steven’s face as he’s seriously fucked.

With the situation spiraling out of control, it speaks to the level of trust between Steven and K. K.  The two of them immediately spring into action to give the rest of the team time to escape.  Steven’s kick is blocked and he gets tossed over K. K. who dodges him and manages to get close range shots at them.

K. K. may have questioned Steven’s potential action but she’s still going to defend her partner.  With Steven down for a short time, K. K. orders Leo, Zapp and Zed to leave.  Zapp tries to get in on the action -

Only for Steven to tell him to retreat.  K. K. and Steven are better equipped to fight them and they need someone to protect Leo and the escaped merged human monster from the pot.  The way that K. K. and Steven naturally stand up and next to each other shows that they know what the need to do.  Additionally, neither of them actually exchanged words.  Both of them gave orders to the rest of the group and not to each other.  This is different than our earlier K. K. and Steven scenes where Steven tries to keep them focused and K. K. complains about being teamed up with him.  They’ve fully accepted and understand how they work as a team. 

To convince Zapp to retreat, Steven still has to tell Zapp that he needs to do so and that he trusts him enough to figure out how to make things work.  Steven is an excellent manager of people and it shows when Zapp stands down.

Of course the situation becomes dire as Steven and K. K. get seriously wounded trying to take on the brothers.  Only Leo is able to step in to mess with their vision thus allowing for both groups to retreat.

Is the fact that Steven got seriously wounded sort of karmic for thinking about destroying it?  Likely not, as K. K. also suffered the same fate.

When Leo is on the run with the child monster of the pot, it is Steven who sneaks out of the hospital with K. K. of course.  I find it adorable that he apologizes to her as though his actions are inconveniencing her and she only smiles in reply knowing that he would not be able to sit back and recover while Leo was in danger.

K. K. knows him too well and she only can tease him that he’d have to become involved.  The humor then shifts when Steven gets to some sort of stash he has in a parking garage.  K. K. then gets to bitch at him for having a hidden change of clothing (since it is clearly a personal stash for him).  But the second panel is adorable.  We see his hand already wearing his blue shirt hold out a spare pair of pants.  And he apologizes asking if they would be okay.  Both Steven and K. K. are blushing as she accepts it.  You can see the blush under Steven’s right eye and K. K. under her left.  But that’s not all, being the gentleman that he is, he continues to change in the garage with his back to her as she puts on the pants in the car.

He unlocks his phone and gets on the Libra network while tightening his tie.  All Libra members are to find and protect Leo.  Right after sending it, he gets a backlog of Klaus’ texts to him after he broke out of jail.  That look of absolute shock as Steven has returned to his full strict mom mode.

That look of annoyance as he can’t get a hold of Klaus!  As the Calamity Auction arc comes to an end, the group are able to reconnect with Klaus and Leo at the shifting dimensional auction house.  As the hardworking teammates return to his aid, Klaus gives them a simple “Thank you.”

He’s looking a little rough around the edges but had committed to protecting Leo and the inhuman-human pot victim.  The expression on Steven’s face as Klaus continues to say that he’s been waiting for them.  Interestingly, this time, when we only see Steven’s mouth and nose, we don’t need to worry about if his eyes look unfocused and burdened.  The serious expression, softens to a grin and we know that Steven is glad to have Klaus back. 

They are best when they are all functioning as a team.  I look at it this way, Libra is the extra-governmental organization that maintains the balance of the worlds.  And within Libra itself each team member maintains balance within the organization to give the world balance.  The entire team rushed there to help Klaus so he didn’t hold the burden alone with Leo.  They are stronger as a team than as individuals.

Another great scene is in the chaotic final a battle, K. K. and Steven work together to hamper part of Curious’ personal team.  K. K. spots the monitoring spy eye.  She shoots it out preventing a remote response.

And right after K. K. does her job, Steven steps in to finish it off after K. K.’s electrified bullets do their action.  Again, no verbal communication between these two.  They really work well together.

Seriously, the level of understanding between them is great.

What I really liked about the whole season of Back 2 Back was how it took a lot of the moral grey area questions and pulled them front and center.  It continues to force the cast to ask themselves hard questions to which there are no correct answers to.  Instead, those questions are answered on each person’s individual morality and limits.  What actions can these people take and still sleep well at night.  What is something they cannot do.

Steven is a complex character - and therefore, likely why many readers really like him.  He isn’t someone who does questionable things because they are the most logical or rational way to act in the situation.  He’s doing them out of his role in Libra, to protect others and to maintain the balance in the big picture.  He tries to carry the burden of his actions and finds himself not convinced by the words of his own personal problem solving squad.  Which tells us that he likely wants to be able to be more like Klaus or Leo than like them. 

Steven understands worry -  I think back to the first volume where Steven sees how worried Klaus is - trying to look calm when Leo was kidnapped and then reminding himself that Klaus is tying himself in knots.  It is clear that any member of the cast can slide down that slippery slope of ‘but it was required for the cause.’  I feel like there is more to the interaction in the hospital as Zapp does not hesitate to second what Steven is thinking.  Zapp doesn’t want to do something terrible but he also thinks of the bigger picture.  Zed falls on the other side making them a two versus two.  Until K. K. steps in and calls Steven out.  It goes to show how much Steven respects K. K. and likely does not see her as someone to give orders to like Zapp, Leo or Zed and instead sees her as a peer.

Steven was clearly betrayed in the past - What I really want are Steven and K. K.’s backstories.  I think that it would really inform us of how they came to be and why both of them are so strong and stubborn at times.  I can’t help but think that Steven’s scar came from a situation where his trust was betrayed or someone in charge seriously fucked up.  He will not let that shit happen again, not with his team the only people he cares about besides his housekeeper.  And the general public at large.

K. K. is Steven’s other half - The two of them are an amazing pair.  They don’t need to speak and when they do, they are either apologizing or annoying the other one.  Yet, they totally respect each other.  Steve keeps K. K. serious and focused at times while she prevents him from digging himself into a deeper moral black hole. 

Steven is overly involved in making sure that things work and it clearly is something that he feels like he has to do or need to do.  When there might be other options.

Daniel Law leaves us off with his own personal motto, “It is my general rule to not trust anyone.” 

Sooooo really, Steven has more faith in people than our police detective. 

In the future, Steven, please get a therapist.  Take some time off for a spa day, shopping for new [same] yellow ties, trying to get his messy hair styled, reading multiple print newspapers and drink high quality small batch roasted coffee.  Or buy more artwork for your swanky condo and most importantly, please sleep.

[radiashen]

wish my brain isnt fried all the time so i can talk abt how. steven .

[diivinidad]

@wildkaart: Marcus is just going to run over and give their big brother one whole massive hug!!!

unprompted asks

though he's caught off - guard, marcus' appearance is a welcome reprieve. ignore the initially frightened screech he lets out at the sudden hug, though. it never happened.

" hey, you, " he greets with a quiet chuckle and a ruffle to their hair. his free hand removes the cigarette from his mouth, snuffing it out in a nearby ashtray so that the smoke doesn't bother marcus nor leave the smell clinging to their person.

" come to visit your poor big brother under house arrest? " a tease he means nothing by, if the way he hugs them right back is any indicator. sure, he's getting a little stir - crazy while waiting for everything to blow over... but he's trying to have faith that it'll all work out in the end.

but at least he gets to have moments like this, anyway.

" what are you up to out there anyway? you'd better be staying safe out there, or i'm gonna have words with everyone. "

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn’t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[daraku-ou]

ok ok i wanna talk about this at length and not on twitter where i can say like three sentences but i think a lot about how femt will sit around and say how humanity is just awful and disgusting but theres SO many times he seems to be rooting for them. like here how he Let Leo Go. he just let him leave. "he said he didnt wanna play so yknow. He Left." and he yells about how Of Course Hes Not Gonna Kill Leo. leo was so important to stopping the second collapse and femt just let him leave and then when he explained this to despair who is like Dude Why Didnt You Kill Him Or Leave Him There femt seems to be pretty genuinely concerned about despairs wellbeing and. general depression.

then there's in the ova where it's most obvious. hes running around trying to stop this restaurant from being destroyed which Just So Happens to have libra in it. tells leo to forget he was ever there. "i dont need a reason to help them out" femt i am shaking u

and THEN !!! theres curious. curious is fascinating to me for several reasons but i think its really interesting that femt seemingly shows up for no other reason than to Get Curious. wants to take him home for whatever reasons (i have thoughts on this but its too much so maybe another post). but then they immediately start fighting and it really seems like femt is just trying to keep curious preoccupied, buying time for libra to do something. he doesn't really have any reason to get into a petty fight with curious. then when curious is about to attack steven and klaus, femt IMMEDIATELY gets eve and odd to attack him which leaves them in pieces, ultimately ending up letting steven klaus and chain get the upper hand. and then femt just Leaves.

AND THE CALAMITY AUCTION !!! my favorite femt scene. pretends to be the president to break klaus out of jail as hes the only one who can really do anything about whats going on. and later when hes revealed to be the "president" klaus is surprised that someone like femt would even bother to get involved, cuz why WOULD he get involved?? hes constantly saying how worthless humanity is but here he is, actively trying to help. this pisses femt off who attacks briefly but just. Leaves. Again. destroys all the cameras in the room too. god forbid he be seen trying to help out a bad situation

which brings me to the light novel!! as i've said i've been translating it and theres a lot of interesting things. femt talks about how he feels extremely isolated from humanity and when people try to get information from him he just cant understand why they would ever want to be him or have what he has, cuz he clearly has..... Lots Of Issues! it's almost like he's so worried about what will happen to humanity if he isn't there to save them or on the other side of that he has to keep. testing humanity or something. he puts them through his games but even libra admits that theres a line he wont cross. they prefer to deal with him over Other Threats because while hes mass murdering lunatic he still wont. you know. Kill Everyone. unlike curious. i think femt and curious are being set up as foils and i have lots of thoughts on this but theres just too much to say about those two...

tldr i think femt cares a lot more about those around him than he would ever let anyone know. yeah he'll murder hundreds of people but the second hes faced with someone in person that he cant just pretend is part of this vague crude idea of humanity he has in his head its like something clicks in his brain that this is a Real Person and now he suddenly cares. he seems to have this recurring idea of humanity killing themselves or being unable to save themselves which leads him to Extreme Violence and when he helps its like he doesnt want to admit that he cares in some way. hes constantly distancing himself from everyone and i think he should go to therapy <3

[formlines]

ḵ'o'opn (greedy)

Phil Gray

from the website: "There is no calamity greater than lavish desires. There is no greater guilt than discontentment. And there is no greater disaster than greed."

-Lao Tzu

"I imagined a kraken with its arms wrapped around the world, connecting all of us through its unquenchable appetite for resources, to prolong its sickly existence. It turns a blind eye to the suffering that results from its avarice."

-Phil Gray

This piece is part of Lattimer Gallery's 2023 annual Charity Bentwood Boxes auction running from November 25th to December 9th. All proceeds will be donated to the Urban Native Youth Association.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

HOW THE HELL IS CHANNING TATUM WORTH $25M?????

[gollancz]

The synopsis says: “No one remembers the calamity that killed the gods and stole the names of their people. Now Shipwright and Shroudweaver are known only by their professions. She’s a master of magical shipbuilding. He’s a maker of the gilded gods that fuel their sails, stitched from the souls of dead sailors. 

“When a chance to save their world sets the horizon alight, they decide they’ll stop at nothing to vanquish the ultimate evil, embarking on a deadly race against time to beat a grief-wracked sorceress to the notorious mountain kingdom in the legend-infested north before she unleashes the ancient evil entombed at its heart – the one that could destroy them all.” 

[scarrfaze]

empatheorem info !!

abilities

uses his own blood to create ice (esmeralda blood freeze)

able to create five baseball sized projectiles of ice per day

able to create five ice shields per day

able to partially freeze a person five times per day

mannerisms/physical

(typically) cool, collected, and in control

suspicious and/or paranoid enough to be obnoxiously observant

has a bad habit of overthinking things all of the time

piss poor posture, this man is always slouching

most of his strength is in his legs since he uses them to fight

memories

watching new york fall apart and reform as hellsalem's lot

anything from kekkai sensen and kekkai sensen back 2 back, particularly the calamity auction arc because i love reliving pain

anything from here in spirale! these are happier memories (with a few exceptions)

naturally i'm willing to share icons! like this and i'll come running to your DMs to plot things out. <3

[ejbarnes]

Boskone starts tomorrow! The 61st annual Boskone Science Fiction/Fantasy Convention runs Friday through Sunday, 9--11 February, at the Westin Boston Seaport District Hotel.

I am, once again, showing my art in the Boskone Art Show. The Art Show is in the Galleria on the lower level of the east wing of  the hotel; Art Show sales of original art are by silent auction, with a  separate section for prints. (I'll have items in both sections.)  Art Show hours are Friday 6 PM–Midnight (with a reception at 8 PM),  Saturday 10 AM – 9 PM, Sunday 10 AM – Noon. Quick Sale (purchase of  original art for its designated Quick Sale price, usually higher than  the minimum bid in the silent auction) is Saturday Noon–9 PM, Sunday 10  AM – Noon. Art pickup will be Sunday 1–3 PM.

I won't be on the program, but barring calamity, I will be attending all three days of the convention. Maybe we'll run into each other!

The Westin Boston Seaport District Hotel is at 425 Summer Street, Boston, MA, next to the Boston Convention and Exhibition Center. It's a short (but often windy) walk from the World Trade Center stop on the MBTA Silver Line SL1, SL2, SL3, and SLW. MBTA Buses #4 and #7 stop near the BCEC, although the #4 does not run on weekends and the #7  does not run on Sundays. Please be aware of this weekend's MBTA Subway and Bus Service Alerts.

Attachments

[chibivesicle]

Daniel! It has been too long . . .

only if you had more than two pages!

Thus, Daniel continues his habit of pissing off K.K. Dude, you really suck at talking to her. I'm gonna have to guess that 224 is his partner MacKenzie perhaps over the radio? Or someone else at the scene. He seems genuinely shocked at first but then softens up as he asks for more information.

Anyone reading this would know by this point that I definitely love the Steven-Daniel dynamic so it makes the second page even better. K.K. is able to sit up as she explains that Steven willingly surrendered. Gotta love how he immediately remarks it is suspicious, wondering if Steven's luck has run out. But then the panel of the left that is a close of up Daniel's face shaded slightly. He's worried looking at K.K.s facial expression which is likely not good.

I just love how he tries to lighten the mood telling her to not give him that look. And then asks the paramedics to come assist Leo and K.K. who is both likely shocked/annoyed at being called a victim and also the fact he left out Chain. Which she quickly covers on the next page letting the comment go when Daniel is confused at her outburst.

I'm glad to see that Daniel is still doing his job, likely not sleeping enough, smoking too much and being cranky. I'm a little disappointed that we have yet to see if he got any fall out from his brazen disregard of direct orders during the Calamity Auction arc, but I sense if that comes back Marcus will also be involved.

But now we must wait to see what else will happen. My current predictions after my first pass of leisurely reading the newest chapter. It seems like Birgit will be back in future chapters. Perhaps, she may even work with Libra seeing that she's got crushes on both Steven and Chain now. They saved her and I think her words of thanks are legit.

[radiashen]

okay now i have to say zapp for the ask game . woe plague be upon ye

WOE!!! mr dick suck is like. if a character was designed to piss me off and endear me, both in equal measure and all at the same time. the secret 3rd thing is me side-eyeing nightow for writing the dark-skinned character eumm. like that, but. idk i still really like him. hes so silly and always having the worst time of his life. sir please get your emotion allergy medication immediately

[nthflower]

I am having so much fun with the calamity auction story right now.

[clubdionysus]

TEASER [BD #61]

a/n: we've reached the uncharted territory of being caught on here! never thought i'd see the day!! chapter 61 isn't yet finished, but i'd like to give you a little something to tide you over---kofi subscribers will have already seen this (I do teasers and early access type things over there! (and on that note, kofi girlies, I'll have something for you tomorrow!)), but it will be new to most of you! hehe hopefully I shouldn't keep you waiting too long for the rest of the chapter x

wc: 1.4k (takes place midway through the chapter!)

Life dissolves with Jungkook. Days merge into one. Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time just melts.

So does Jungkook, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. Turns into a supernova like stars often do.

He lets himself merge into a shared identity with you. Is certain it isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship. Doesn't care, regardless.

Days have rolled on by since the auction without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jungkook’s had meetings with realtors. Everything has happened with little thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jungkook’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so many years fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jungkook’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost.

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jungkook. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jungkook is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can.”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jungkook nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to help.”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. Also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jungkook is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jungkook. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you to never play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get free access.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him all while under the ruse of thinking he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your king, and had been preventing Jungkook from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but—fuck—he’ll never understand your brain. You're so smart most of the time, but every now and again your brain seems to melt.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate.

Groaning, you realise what’s happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There’s no way Jungkook actually enjoys this. 

“Not again,” you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jungkook’s ceiling. It’s without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

“B,” Jungkook laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You’ll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, “What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king.”

“I tried!” You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

“You left him wide open for me to take!”

“You could have gone easy on me!”

“I was!” He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. “I swear you didn’t listen to a single thing I told you—”

“I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place,” you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn’t deserve niceties in times like this.

He’d argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against your throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Go on.”

“Strip chess.”

“Pervert.”

“For every move you make, I’ll take an item of clothing off,” he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a sock on either foot, and underwear — that’s only five moves, but then again, Jungkook normally has your king trapped by that point.

“I think you’re just trying to get me naked.”

“I’m always trying to get you naked, B,” he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. “So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?”

[dietdrnastyphd]

Little post copied over from my toyhouse about an OC server my friend made!! Hi every single one of my beautiful beautiful followers... I wanted to promote this Discord server my friend Calamity (https://toyhou.se/rottiebones) made, and considering I am one of the beautiful admins on board, this is a cute and fun announcement!

This server is for OC lovers, or people who just like to draw for others. We have plenty of different chats to talk in- music, gaming, or just your ocs and wanting to infodump! We welcome any and all! If chatting isn't entirely your thing we have art game channels! Such as: Draw the person above you, Draw the interaction above you, Design for the person above you and the Auction yard!

This server is still kickstarting and we still need a few more people to get the gears turning, but if you wanna hop in, check it out and say hi feel free to look around! Just make sure to read the rules and have fun! You can ask us any questions about anything when you join, so don't feel shy! <3 See you all soon! All you need to do is read the rules, and then post an intro and wait for verification! Verification may take a little bit depending on when you join, If you just want to pop in and check it out that’s fine too <3

Link: https://discord.gg/VcUapw6nDa

[kleenex-tissues]

Yours Truly (15)

AO3 here

Ch. 15: Are We Really Safe Here?

Now, more so than the day he arrived on his father’s doorstep, Damian could not trust a single person in this family. Duke had violated his trust three times, alone. First, when he came into Damian’s room unannounced and looked at his emails. Second, when he began messaging Marinette. And third, when he told Dick about it all.

Dick wasn’t speaking to Damian, and now Duke avoided him like the plague. They both cited “solo missions” as an excuse for leaving abruptly in the middle of the night. Damian knew they were lying.

Tim was also rightfully staying away. After secretly taking his vacation to Paris instead of Ma and Pa Kent’s farm, Tim had violated a number of boundaries. Not only had he crashed through Damian’s, he had thoroughly infringed upon Marinette’s by taking photos of her without permission or revealing why he had truly commissioned the girl.

Try as he might to act normal, Damian couldn’t shake the feeling that he shouldn’t be talking to Marinette, at all. None of this would have happened if his brothers had kept their conniving in their vigilante counterparts, but it wouldn’t have happened if he had not deigned to respond to her either. He felt as much at fault as his brothers should.

The manor was empty for a change. Truly and utterly empty. The boys had all disappeared. Bruce had left for a meeting with the Justice League. Cass was off training. And Alfred had likely foresaw this calamity and fled to an overseas auction for a rare tea set right before chaos flooded their home. It was painfully quiet.

Damian liked the quiet, even reveling in it when given the chance, but the silence that engulfed him made his hair stand on end. He felt wrong.

He was deeply uncomfortable and a stone sat in the bottom of his stomach, sinking further and further down. It was a feeling he had never known before. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of recognizing it. Textbook definitions swirled through his mind as he desperately tried to pinpoint it, but he couldn’t. There were no words that could begin to describe this feeling. It was just wrong.

Damian’s feet were on auto pilot, and after mindlessly wandering the halls, they brought him to the balcony overlooking the gardens. His easel sat stoically, almost taunting. It was empty of any canvas and the varnish was starting to chip from the elements. The first gift Dick ever gave him. The stone resting in Damian’s stomach suddenly felt heavier and white, hot anger overtook him.

Turning on his heel, he made straight for his room. He yanked out drawers from his art supply cart, pulling out bottles of acrylic paint and a set of paintbrushes. An old set of charcoal clattered to the ground, scattering black debris to sit amongst the chips of paint falling from their bottles. Damian hated making messes, but he couldn’t find it in him to care about it. For the first time all day, something in him felt right.

He slammed his drawers shut and shoved his supplies into a small tub. Before picking it up to leave, he walked into his bathroom and filled a gray cup with sink water. He ignored his own reflection in the mirror before him, refusing to even turn the lights on during his visit. He grabbed his half-full cup, stalked over to grab his tub, and made haste to the balcony.

His brushstrokes were hurried and angry. Shades of green were hidden underneath a black ring. Bubbles emerged from the green, splattering wildly into the darkness surrounding it. He painted faces, ones that haunted his childhood and still appeared when he closed his eyes at night. They’re shadowed but their eyes are all watching him, glowing the same green of the pit they border. Worst of all, his own face peers back at him. His eyes have lost their color, and a deep cut rolls down the center of his face.

The Lazarus Pit. That’s what Damian had painted.

He breathes like he’s hyperventilating. His skin burns. He’s dizzy, he’s angry, and he knows now that he is scared.

It was a familiar feeling, after all. One that raked his body each time his mother pulled his body from the pit. He had known death, had looked him in the eye, and the feeling pulsing from him was fear. Not even Scarecrow’s fear toxins had ever been able to replicate it.

A cool breeze flowed through his hair, reminding him that he was home.

The League was no longer his home.

Ra’s could no longer reach him.

The Pit could no longer touch him.

Death’s fear would no longer paint his breathless lungs.

Damian was home.

–

The painting sat there on his easel as Damian walked away. Tears streamed down the plane of his face. He did not know when he had last cried, but he was now and it felt like a sense of relief.

He was stumbling towards his room, not letting himself think about what direction he was walking in or how many walls he bumped into. His vision was too blurry, his breathing too labored, his body too weak. He just went.

Damian stopped short as he staggered into another blockade. He wasn’t sure how he managed to get himself so turned around, but he rested his forehead onto it. It was soft, warm, and very unlike any wall he knew to be in the mansion.

“Damian? What’s wrong,” a voice pleaded.

His father. Bruce had returned.

And suddenly, he’s 10 years old again and frightfully smart. There are strange men in his father’s house taking the place meant for him, and their voices grate his ears. Never in his beginning years had he been held by anything other than a knife at his throat, but in that moment, he sinks into his father’s arms like he used to as a kid.

He won’t tell anyone, especially not Dick, but he won’t let that deter him from feeling his father’s warm hands pressed against his back, reminding him how safe he will always be with Bruce by his side.

“Baba,” Damian whimpers, and he grips the fabric of Bruce’s shirt. “Don’t leave me.”

Bruce holds him tighter. “Never. I’ll never let you go, son. I’ll keep you as long as you’ll have me.”