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agustdtown1 · 3 months

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SHUT UP ‘N LISTEN | JJK

PAIRING: street racer!brother’s bestfriend!jeon jungkook x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Trust was broken, and wrong decisions were made. You were now left alone facing the consequences of your own actions, realizing it was never a good idea to fuck around with your brother’s friend. But maybe that was another lesson you were meant to learn.

WC: 17.3k

WARNINGS: brother’s best friend trope, angst, like a loooooot, unnecessarily dramatic dialogues that I think were a bit too much but that worked out for the plot at the end. Fluff because I didn’t want to end it on a sad note again. Way too much feelings and emotions. Smut +18, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), a lot of begging, slight dom!jk, choking, making out, smacking, praising, pet names (doll, good girl, princess, baby, sweetheart, etc.), jk calls reader his good little slut, big dick!jk, mentions of belly bulge (very brief), doggy, missionary, jk begging a little bit towards the end. Let me know if I’m missing anything.

A/N: it’s finally here, the part 2 of shut up and drive, it took me some time to finally get it done, but I’m happy with the results. Also it was initially intended to be max 5k but I got a bit carried away and ended up being this super lengthy one shot so I apologize in advance. Anyway, enjoy your reading!

part 1 | masterlist

Most people experience a variety of emotions throughout their lives; happiness, sadness, anger. You can find happiness in the simple things in life, like buying your favorite food, your favorite drink, or when you go out with your friends. Sadness usually comes along when something bad happens, like losing a loved one or missing an important moment. Anger is presented in the form of violence most of the time, but it can also be delivered through words; hurting just as much as any punch would. Nonetheless, there’s also another emotion that has a huge impact on people, one that can conquer your body in the most unexpected moments.

Fear.

Usually defined as an unpleasant feeling that installs itself in the deepest part of our hearts and souls; fear is that one emotion capable of paralyzing people when faced with dangerous situations. Regardless of it being an abstract concept, like any other feeling, anyone at any point in their life has experienced that same emotion.

It is fear that you feel when you notice a stranger following you at night; it is fear that you feel when encountered with a wild animal. It is fear that goes through your body when someone tells you they have bad news.

And it was that same emotion that you felt when your brother verbalized the one thing you were trying to avoid.

“How long have you been fucking my best friend behind my back?”

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach the moment that question flew out of Taehyung’s mouth. Nothing would have ever prepared you for it; for the inevitable confrontation you oh so much wanted to avoid.

But life can be funny sometimes, and it would put you through situations that would cause you an unbearable amount of anxiety and fear.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” His voice was the perfect example of exhaustion and disappointment; two emotions you didn’t want your brother to experience.

It took you exactly ninety-eight seconds to regain your ability to speak, only to scramble to find a poor excuse that would get you out of the mess you got yourself into.

“I don’t… um, I don’t really know what—”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Taehyung cut you off. “Is that what you were going to say?”

The words were caught in your throat, making it impossible to give him the answer he was expecting. But then again, would you be able to respond wisely if given the chance to speak properly?

“I’m sorry.”

The answer to that question would be no; you were not capable of forming a valid argument that would make your brother dislike you any less in that precise moment.

“You know, I thought you would finally be honest.” Your brother sighed, shaking his head in disappointment, “I guess I was wrong.”

No man will ever be worthy of messing things up with Taehyung; a mental statement that you prayed would be proven right, but ultimately it seemed like you were the rightful culprit of a crime you didn’t realize you committed.

“Tae, listen…” You began saying, but your brother was not ready to hear whatever you had to say.

“You wanna know what’s funny?” He asked rhetorically. “I’m not even mad that you guys are together or whatever.” Taehyung chuckled, humorlessly. “But you lied to me, and that’s not something I can take lightly.”

You knew that, and yet you decided to go behind his back to mess around with one of his closest friends. In hindsight, the outcome of your web of lies was fully deserved, however, it was hard to accept the possibility of the rupture of you and your brother’s bond.

Hoseok and Jimin, on the other hand, could only stand there and watch everything fall little by little. It saddened them, knowing that the messy situation the three of you were involved in would not be easy to deal with, and most likely would end up badly. Trust was broken, and wrong decisions were made. None of them pondered over enough to realize the weight of the actual problem. But alas, that’s the lesson you were meant to learn.

“Guess loverboy can drive you home tonight, right?” Taehyung’s bitter tone was like a knife digging in your soul. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” He turned towards the two other boys, before retrieving his car keys from his jeans’ pocket.

With nothing left to say, Taehyung started his way back to his car.

“Tae, wait! Don’t be like that.” None the wiser, you tried to reach out and stop him, but someone else got a hold on you before you could.

“Let him be, I think it’s better for everyone if he cools down before you talk to him.” Always the voice of reason, Hoseok intervened at the right time.

It was hard to watch Taehyung walk away, knowing that he would probably let his anger and frustration out the wrong way. It was true that your brother would usually need some time to calm down and come around, just like Hoseok said, however, you also knew that Taehyung could be a bit impulsive and reckless sometimes. His well-being has been put to the test an uncountable amount of times, and more often than not anger would cloud his vision and the only thing he would see is red, which would cause a much bigger problem than him just being upset.

Truth be told, there was not much to do. It was either making the situation a whole lot worse by pushing your brother to his breaking point, or waiting until his anger and frustration had subsided. The latter seemed to be a better option, and so it was decided that you would let it go for the time being.

It couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Y/n…” a familiar voice rang through your ears, making you snap out of your thoughts. “Can we—?”

“Take me home.” You interrupted Jungkook harshly.

Maybe it was the way he was acting so cautiously; or perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t even attempt to explain what was really happening to Taehyung, but the idea of being near Jeon Jungkook for a second longer irritated you beyond belief.

“What?” He seemed to be taken aback, “I mean, yes, I’ll take you home, but first I wanted—”

“I don’t wanna hear it, just take me home.”

The hurt look in his eyes almost made you apologize, but the moment of weakness was short-lived; the frustration and worry you were feeling at that moment were enough to blind you, preventing you from seeing how your cold attitude was affecting him.

“Hoseok…” You started saying, “You coming with us?”

The brown haired man shook his head, sporting a soft grin on his face to break a little bit of the tension surrounding you.

“Don’t worry about me, Jimin’s gonna give me a ride home.”

Looking to his right you found the blond guy nodding his head, confirming that he would take care of Hoseok.

“Alright then.”

You started your way towards Jeon’s car, not really waiting for him; the sooner you got out of there the better. That place was starting to become a horrific nightmare the more you stayed there anyway, and it wasn’t really worth it to wait a second longer.

Jungkook was right behind you, like a silent follower, not uttering a single word due to the fear of being ignored. And somehow he was right about protecting his heart from your cold demeanor, for it was your silence he would get if he had started a conversation in the most inconvenient of times.

But how can you blame him? Had you been in his shoes, conquered by fear of losing the person who makes you feel more alive, along with your best friend, at the same time, you would be scared of saying and doing the wrong thing too. The only difference is that Jungkook wanted to fix things up for the first time. He wanted to redeem himself and be the bigger person for once; changing his usual I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and not ignoring his responsibilities. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was just as guilty as you were, and it was time for him to be held accountable for his own actions and decisions.

Nonetheless, there was still that emotion that would prevent him from initiating a conversation that was already set to happen. Fear was, for lack of better words, fucking him up, just like it did you moments ago.

You could feel his burning stare at every red light you were encountered with, yet you refused to look his way, not giving him the satisfaction of staring at his doe eyes that would lure you into giving him the chance to explain himself. That, however, didn’t prevent him from finally gathering the courage to speak.

“I still wanna talk to you about tonight.” Eight words uttered with fear; a sentence verbalized with the utmost caution, only to fall on deaf ears. “I know you’re not in the mood to have a conversation right now, and you’re most likely mad at me, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry it happened this way.” A sigh escaped his lips, leaving him with a heavy weight on his chest, not fully finding the right words to say. “Things went wrong, that much I know, but neither of us had a way of knowing all of this would go down tonight.”

A humorless chuckle abandoned your mouth, cutting Jungkook’s speech off.

“An apology is not enough to fix all of this, Jungkook.” You started saying. “Taehyung must hate me right now. And for what? Me fooling around with his friend when I should’ve kept my distance.”

Anger, sadness and regret can be demonstrated with a variety of physical acts, but all those emotions can be also delivered through words, hurting as much, hurting even more. Like a knife digging in the soft material of a pillow, your response cut deep in Jungkook’s heart.

An interesting reaction, taking into account that the boy has never, not even once, shown an ounce of weakness around you. It is true that he was softer than most guys when he was with the people he trusted and loved, but there was a slight switch in his attitude when it came down to you. Was it infatuation? Was it stupidity? Jungkook wasn’t sure, but he knew well enough that the things you were saying stung more than they should.

“You say that as if you regretted everything that happened between us.” He dared to speak once again, after pondering what his response should be.

“Maybe I do.”

Why does it hurt so much the words that were flying out of your mouth? Why was the situation affecting him in ways that it shouldn’t?

“Maybe I regret everything, maybe I wish nothing ever happened between us.” You didn’t actually mean it, but people tend to say things that hurt others when they’re angry. “It doesn’t matter if I do, though, you knew this shit wasn’t even worth fighting for.”

Jungkook stopped the car abruptly, ignoring the honking of the van behind you.

“Not worth fighting for?” He repeated, clearly offended. “Are you hearing yourself? You’re acting as if all of this was just my fault”

“I know it wasn’t all on you, I played my part too, but why does it matter so much to you all of a sudden?” You inquired with a venomous tone. “You were the one who said this wasn’t anything serious to begin with. You told me not to get my hopes up because we were just friends who happen to fuck all the time.”

That conversation was engraved on your brain, memorized to the very end. It hurt to repeat the words Jeon said to you, it hurt to remember every single detail of that night, but it was time to accept that neither of you were meant for the other.

He wasn’t yours to take, he wasn’t yours to keep.

And yet you wished that at the end things could be different.

“So it was all meaningless to you?” Jungkook demanded an answer of you.

His heart was beating fast, his hands were starting to sweat and there was a frown falling upon his eyebrows, making him look sort of adorable. For you at least, Jungkook has always been like a big puppy in search of attention, seeking for people’s affection and love when he couldn’t even love himself enough to commit to someone. He was an interesting guy, that much you could admit, but it wasn’t enough to go through the hassle of giving it a try to an already nonexistent relationship.

“You just wanna end things like this?” Jungkook’s mind was going crazy, he couldn’t comprehend how you could act so nonchalant and heartless about it. “I just… I can’t just let you—”

“There’s nothing to end.” You cut him off. “You can’t end something that never started.”

Like cold snow falling upon his face in a swift motion; like a hundred knives digging in his soul and ripping his heart out; like the most saddening ballad cutting deep in someone’s mind to bring back the memories of a past lover.

It all hurt the same, it all happened as fast. It all was just equally awakening.

“Is that what you want?”

Jungkook’s dead voice wounded you just a little, but it wasn’t enough to stop your answer.

“Yes, that’s what I want.” You confirmed.

Without wasting any other second, Jeon started the car again, letting out a heavy sigh while maintaining a hard grip on the wheel.

And for better or for worse, not a single word was uttered the rest of the ride to your house; representing the finish line of a race that never even started.

Seven days, four hours, twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds. That’s how long it has been since the last time you heard the voice of your brother, or even knew anything about him, for that matter. Seven days since you last saw him; seven days since one of your biggest fears came true; seven days since Taehyung looked at you right in the face with an expression full of discomfort and disappointment, one that he has never shown until now. Seven days since Jungkook tried to talk you out of ending things with him.

Seven days have passed and not much has changed, besides the fact that you have felt lonelier than before. The monotonous routine of attending lectures, studying, going to work and then coming back home alone was damaging your mental health and your stability was starting to decay. Sadly, you didn’t have anyone else to blame but yourself. It was a hard pill to swallow, but in the end it was all the consequences of your impulsive actions.

Had you thought about everything more thoroughly, the outcome would have been way different. No one would have felt betrayed, because you wouldn’t have had the need to hide anything from anyone to begin with. No one would have gone home feeling broken or with a heavy weight on their shoulders.

A lot of things would have been different, but rather than dwelling on the matters that have already happened, you decided to keep your mind at bay.

Work and school kept you occupied, but it didn’t relieve the pain that was poisoning your weak heart whenever you received a message or a call from someone who wasn’t Taehyung. His two friends kept you updated about how he was doing, but it wasn’t enough for you; you needed to hear it from the guy himself. Which seemed to be a task rather difficult due to the current situation.

Jungkook tried to reach out to you a few times after that night, but on the fourth day of calling and texting you nonstop, he finally let go of the idea of fixing things up, with one final text where he poured his full heart, just for you. If Jeon had been any more honest at some other point in his life, he didn’t acknowledge it. For him that long text was his truest self, his bare feelings abandoning his body with the hope of reaching you on time. Nonetheless, you two were living in different realities, it seems. You didn’t even dare to read the message, opting to block him and ignore how unhealthy and wrong it was to act that way.

It was unfair of you to treat him so poorly, but your pride stopped you from seeing the bigger picture. You were at fault, in the same way that Jungkook was; both of you took the decision to intertwine your bodies that one night, and both of you decided to maintain the secret encounters. It was a crime committed by two bodies, but that sadly left three broken hearts behind. Two at fault and one caught in the crossfire.

You’ve caught yourself wishing you would’ve done things differently; no secrets, no betrayal. No guilt, no fear. However, it was that same predicament that led you to meeting Jungkook, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were grateful for that. Behind his fuckboy persona there was a kindhearted guy that not everyone knew, but that you wish could be yours; Jeon was, for lack of better words, the type of guy that any girl would love to have as a partner, but alas you wouldn’t be the one to experience it.

And that cold and saddening truth was what prevented you from ignoring your pride and reaching out to him.

“Y/n…” a distant voice called your name. “Y/n!”

Looking up from your long-forgotten class review, you stared at one of your closest friends, Eunbi. She was a 5’6, black-haired girl, with the personality of a fifty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a twenty-three-year-old girl. In better words, she was your best friend. You met her during orientation and you two hit it off right away; have been inseparable ever since.

“I’ve been calling you for a solid minute.” She chuckled lightly. “You okay there?”

You sighed, taking off your glasses to rub your eyes. An annoyed groan wanted to leave your mouth, but you were quick to suppress it before making any unwanted noise while being at the library.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired I guess.”

Eunbi looked like she knew you weren’t completely honest, however, she didn’t push any longer for an answer and you were grateful for that. You weren’t in the mood to explain the whole disaster you were into with your brother and his best friend.

“Wanna stop here and go grab some coffee? I’m kinda tired too.”

You wanted to decline and keep studying, but truth be told, if you kept up the act of trying to busy your mind with anything to keep it away from the topic you didn’t want to speak about, it would damage you more than it already has. So the distraction was greatly appreciated and a decision was rapidly made.

“Yeah, I could use some caffeine.”

Both of you abandoned your comfortable seats at the library, gathering your belongings to start your way out to the nearest coffee shop. The breeze caressed your skin with its refreshing wind; there has been a sudden change in the weather that has put the barely tolerable heat on pause. The gray clouds were adorning the sky, which in result made you curse under your breath for not having an umbrella with you.

“Seems like it’s going to rain.” Eunbi lamented, for she didn’t bring anything to protect herself from the water either. “We better hurry to get there before it starts.”

Your gaze moved slowly down from the gloomy sky, observing your surroundings with a deep sigh trapped in your throat. The saddening weather didn’t help you to cheer up, but maybe the tall guy waiting for you a few feet away would.

It took you a few seconds to realize that it was your brother who was waving at you while leaning on the hood of his car. Taehyung seemed relaxed and nonchalant, clearly not aware of the immense joy that he had brought upon you by just being there, due to finally seeing him after so long.

“Tae?” A small whisper fell from your lips. “Eunbi, can we raincheck? I um… My brother’s here.” You looked over your friend on the side, while smiling apologetically at her.

“Of course, don’t worry about me. We can have that coffee another day.” A soft smile was all you received after that, while your friend made her way home.

Uncertainty was quickly taking its place in your chest, making it a bit difficult for you to be calm and collected. There was a weird feeling making your fingers tingle, while your skin got coated with goosebumps; one that you rapidly disclosed as fear.

You feared the reason your brother was at your university. You feared the inevitable conversation you most likely will have with him, but above all, you feared the outcome of said conversation, scared it might break you more than the whole situation already has.

Your heart was pounding rapidly against your chest while you were, albeit reluctantly, walking towards Taehyung. His soft grin didn’t mirror your awkward grimace, already creating a tense atmosphere between you two.

“What… What are you doing here?” Your question came out rather strongly, in comparison to how nervous you were. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Taehyung nodded, looking down at his feet for a brief second.

“Am I not allowed to come see my little sister?”

No, when you haven’t contacted her in a whole week, you’re not.

“I guess so.” You finally answered, opting to take the easy route and avoid arguing at all costs.

“Get in, I don’t want you getting sick because of the weather.”

A simple sentence that held a lot of meaning behind. Not only was it the fact that Taehyung finally had the courage to present himself in front of you, but he also continued to care for you, even when the prospect of the bond shared between the two being more than broken by now was a possibility he strongly believed in.

Regardless of the initial surprise that painted your face and that invaded your heart, you followed his words and entered the car, tossing your things into the backseat. The ride to your house was filled with an awkward silence, neither of you daring to talk due to not knowing what to say to make things better. Your brother would often sigh and look at you, only to give you a tight-lipped smile and continue driving.

It was safe to say that things were far from being like they used to be, at least for now. It had never been a problem to start and maintain a conversation with the older guy sitting next to you, but it seems like now it was a complete torture for the both of you to be in and share the same space.

A pang of guilt struck your chest for the awkward situation you were found in. A little voice at the back of your head telling you that it was all your fault, and that you should do something quickly to fix it up.

The truth was that you, once again, didn’t know how. It was uncharted territory, not even once in your life had you been in a predicament such as the one you were currently living. It was safe to say that you didn’t know what to do.

Despite being clueless and frustrated, you finally found the courage to form a coherent sentence to break the uncomfortable silence. And it was with a shaky hand fisting your skirt and trembling lips that you finally spoke.

“So… It’s not like I’m complaining or anything, but why exactly did you come to pick me up?” You inquired, staring right at him “You’ve never done that before.”

Truth be told, Taehyung didn’t think this through, he didn’t even imagine he would get this far; the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t like the current situation. It was already hard to digest the news of you and his best friend being somewhat together —at least from his perspective that’s what it was—, to add the burden of not being on good terms with you to the pile of concerns that Taehyung had.

On top of that, he felt guilty. Guilty for being so hard on you, guilty for not letting you explain yourself, guilty for not caring enough about you and Jungkook’s feelings before shutting both of you out. But then again, it was a normal reaction, one that was expected from him.

It was due to that that Taehyung decided it was finally time to talk with you and sort everything out, the only thing he didn’t foresee was how awkward and hard it would be to communicate with you after a week.

“Well…” He drifted off, stopping at a red light. “We need to talk… But I think it’s better if we do that once we’re at your place.”

It was decided, and silence had, once again, conquered the space inside Taehyung’s expensive car. You didn’t bother to try to break it this time, opting to save all your energy for the, most probably, draining conversation that you and your brother would have in a matter of minutes.

The moment you saw your building becoming nearer and nearer you let out a sigh of relief. Being trapped in such a small space with such high and thick tension engulfing both of you was making you feel upset. You were thankful for the fresh air gracing your face once you stepped out of Taehyung’s car, however, your joy was short-lived due to the cold droplets of water falling rapidly from the sky.

“Hurry up inside.”

Both of you made your way quickly towards the entrance, not sparing a second glance to your landlord at the door, but rather walking straight into the elevator.

Once you were in the warm insides of your apartment, you finally let your shoulders slump, while a tired groan abandoned your lips. Taehyung followed suit, taking his shoes off at the door and walking towards your living room.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll go change.” You shared before going into your room.

Comfortable clothes, that’s what you were seeking for. If a disaster was bound to go down, at least you would be wearing your soft pair of pajama shorts and that one shirt you stole from Jimin when you were over at his and your brother’s apartment.

It was a matter of a few minutes before you encountered Taehyung once again. His eyes were locked on his phone screen, looking rather entertained by whatever he was watching.

“I’m back.” You informed him, while taking a seat next to him. “Do you… perhaps wanna talk now?”

Hesitance and curiosity were invading your mind and soul at the moment, making you feel uneasy. You shouldn’t be so aggravated or feel so anxious, it was your brother sitting beside you, not a stranger. But then again, you weren’t prepared for the conversation, and instead of taking things easy, you were overthinking every single thing about it.

“I don’t really know how to start this.” Taehyung avoided looking at you, which in result caused you to feel hurt. “I wanna say a lot of things but I don’t think I have enough words to express them.” He chuckled lightly, fidgeting with his fingers while looking right into his lap. “I’m gonna start with the obvious. I was mad, that night at the race, I got really upset. I don’t know what pushed you to make the decision of hiding such a thing from me, but it really hurt Y/n.”

You knew that already. You knew that you fucked up and that it affected Taehyung more than he would like to admit, but it was the path you chose, the only thing left to do was walk through it and accept all the consequences.

“There was no need, you know?” It was then that he looked at you. “Like I told you that night, I wasn’t upset about you two being together and I never would. What you do with your love life or who you decide to be with is none of my business. I can’t stop you from liking someone, even if that someone is my best friend.” Taehyung let out a sigh, searching for the right words to say. “I got mad because you lied to me. I don’t like when you do that or hide things from me, it makes me feel as if you don’t trust me. And I really don’t want to think that’s the case.”

“It’s not!” You were quick to say, already fearing he would get the wrong idea. “I swear I trust you, you are the only person I actually confide the majority of my life to.” You sighed, feeling a heavy weight on your chest. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I think it’s partially my fault. Maybe I haven’t been doing a good job at being a trustworthy brother.”

You wanted to say no, to make him stop thinking that way about himself, but he didn’t give you the time.

“What I want to say is… I might have been mad at you, at Jungkook and at the whole situation, but I’m also sorry for how I reacted.” Taehyung finally let out the words that were bugging him ever since that night. “I’m sorry I shut you out completely for this long, and I’m sorry for not talking things through sooner. I can’t control the decisions you make, and most importantly I shouldn’t be upset about the guys you get involved with. I just…” Taehyung drifted off. “I was just worried about you getting hurt that I didn’t notice the big mistake I made. I didn’t take into account your feelings and how my words would hurt you and for that I’m so fucking sorry.”

Seven days, five hours and fifteen minutes. That’s how long it took to finally hear your brother’s voice again. That’s how long it took to finally sort things out. That’s how long it took Taehyung to say those awaited words.

Seven days passed, and not even once you stopped thinking about what would happen if you were to have the opportunity to explain everything.

Until now.

“Taehyung,” You whispered, “you don’t need to apologize, I should be the one apologizing. It was so fucked up of me going behind your back and messing around with Jungkook.” You sighed. “I didn’t think things through and it almost cost me your trust and love, and for that you have no idea how sorry I am.”

Taehyung smiled softly at you, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He said.

“I’m not, I’m just being honest.” You lightly argued. “Still, I’m sorry for lying to you, for hiding things from you, for… For messing around with your best friend. You didn’t deserve any of it.” A tight-lipped grin was sent his way. “I promise I won’t do anything like that again, I value our bond more than any quick fuck.”

Taehyung hissed, retrieving his hand from yours.

“When you say it like that it sounds weird.”

You chuckled, poking his side in a playful manner.

“Hey, I’m trying to be serious here, don’t ruin the moment.” You complained.

“I’m sorry, but it’s weird listening to my little sister saying she had a quick… well, that.” He grimaced, shaking his head to prevent himself from getting any unwanted mental image of it.

“It’s not like you don’t do it.” You scoffed, feeling suddenly defensive. “But that’s not the point of this conversation. What I really wanna know is… Are we good? Do you forgive me?”

Taehyung smiled at you sweetly, “Only if you forgive me too.”

It was a no brainer. You would do anything to go back to normality, to have your brother in the same way you have always had him. To not be scared of saying or doing the wrong thing; to finally be free of lies and secrets.

“I do.” You responded cheerfully.

You found yourself wrapping your arms around his torso, while resting your head on his shoulder. One of Taehyung’s hands came up to caress your hair, sweetly, while the other was softly patting your back. You were finally where you needed— wanted to be, and somehow it still felt weird.

There was a feeling of something missing, like a part of you was still holding onto an invisible string, tying you to someone whom you weren’t ready to face just yet. It didn’t take much to figure out why you were feeling that way, but it only served to leave you with more doubts and confusion.

Why was your heart calling his name? Why was your soul hurting for him? Why was your mind thinking of him?

All those questions were left unanswered, although you already knew the reason. The line between accepting the hard truth and ignoring your feelings was so thin that you didn’t even notice when you crossed it, but you definitely felt it. Like salt rubbed on a fresh wound, your heart ached just as much when the thought of Jungkook finally letting go of you was presented in your mind. That’s mostly why your heart, mind and soul were so desperately seeking his presence.

Maybe that’s even why you would tear up at night while staring at your phone. Waiting for a text, for a call, for anything that would let you know that even in some twisted reality, Jeon Jungkook felt the same for you.

“Youf shouf call hif.”

Eunbi was stuffing her face with a fresh baked bagel, not really minding how little you could understand about what she was saying, due to her full mouth.

“Could you please swallow your food before speaking? I can’t understand you.” A grimace took place on your face, while watching your friend enjoy her food.

You weren’t against Eunbi being so openly in love with whatever she was eating, but there was a limit for your patience when it came to eating etiquette.

“I said…” She finally swallowed the bite she took. “You should call him.”

A confused look was sent her way, while you took a sip of your iced coffee.

“Whom?” You asked, looking at her quizzically. “Be more specific, I just told you about what’s been going on in my life and I mentioned a lot of people.”

It took some convincing but Eunbi finally got all the gossip out of you. It was weird at first, to confess to someone else rather than to the people involved in the problem about everything that happened, let alone about your painfully obvious feelings. Because, although you weren’t ready to openly admit it yet, Eunbi didn’t need to know much to understand what was really happening in that complicated heart of yours.

“Your brother’s friend.” She answered after taking a sip of her drink. “That guy, Joncook.”

“Jungkook.” You corrected her with an annoyed sigh. Whether she has been purposely pronouncing his name wrong or she seriously couldn’t remember it, you didn’t know. “I already told you his name is Jungkook.”

“Potato, potahto.” Eunbi shrugged, cleaning her mouth after finishing her food. “Point stands. Call him.”

“Why would I? Didn’t you listen to anything I just said?” You asked thoroughly confused, “Clearly he’s not into me, otherwise he wouldn’t have said that it was a no strings attached type of thing.”

Eunbi wanted to hit you in the head to knock some sense into you. It was obvious, not only to her but to anyone who came across you two during those months of secret encounters. Jungkook, the rebellious and cold hearted man that anyone deemed as the raunchiest fuckboy, but that surprisingly most people would be willing to fuck. That’s who Jungkook was, but for Eunbi, for his friends and even for your own brother, Jeon was just a guy afraid to show his real feelings for you.

Almost too sickeningly cute, with his doe eyes and dumb smile, ready to go to the ends of the Earth to make you laugh or at least get a grin out of you. It was so painfully obvious to anyone but you how badly in love he was. It wasn’t infatuation, although at first it was a huge possibility; it wasn’t a simple crush despiste starting as one. It went beyond that, beyond the weak barriers of taking a liking of his best friend’s sister. It was more than just saying that he thought you were attractive, although he clearly thought that.

Jeon Jungkook had it bad for you. But how could you be able to see that?

The only face he would ever show you was one full of indifference, overconfidence and nonchalance; adorned with a smug smile and a pair of darkened eyes that warned you with a simple look that pure chaos was about to ensue. However, he did treat you differently than most girls. Jungkook would never get out of his bed at one in the morning just because your friends ditched you at a bar at the very last minute and you were too scared to call an Uber or a taxi.

He’s never remembered the coffee order of the girls he’s hooked up with, but oddly enough he remembers the exact amount of sugar you like in yours; Jungkook wouldn’t even remember their names. But yours? Yours was embroidered on the very front of his brain, not willing to erase it, not willing to forget it. Your order would be the first thing that comes to his mind every time he’s at a coffee shop, and more often than not he’s made the mistake of ordering yours instead of his, only to realize what he did a second too late. Your name was always at the tip of his tongue, risking his opportunity to fuck a random girl he met at a party. All because he almost said your name.

All those things were unmistakable, not easy to be looked over or ignored.

But once again, how could you be able to notice that the man was head over heels for you? When you wouldn’t even let your heart accept its own feelings.

“Do I really need to say it?” Eunbi deadpanned, staring at you with an annoyed look. “My god, Y/n, you’re not usually this dumb!”

“Excuse you?” You look offended, and rightfully so, but you were also ignoring the fact that your friend was just trying to make you see the obvious. “You’re being mean right now.”

“And you’re not being reasonable.” She sighed in exhaustion. “At least think about it, alright? If what you told me it’s anything to go by, that boy has it bad for you.”

Thinking is all you did, thinking is all you knew; it seemed to be like an easy task, but in hindsight it was way more difficult. It took you two more days to actually come to the conclusion that Eunbi may be right, and for those two days your mind didn’t have a peaceful moment to even worry about your upcoming exams. Your brain was completely fried at that point, full with possibilities and theories of what the outcome of finally confronting Jungkook might be.

The first possible outcome was the least feared out of the thousands.

If you were to reach Jungkook through a text, he would not reply. Now, that wasn’t really that bad, and in a more down to earth mindset, it would be completely deserved. Your not so reasonable side of your brain reassured you that he would and most likely will reply to any text you send him. Why wouldn’t he, after all?

The second possible outcome was one that you didn’t want to acknowledge.

If you were to call him, Jungkook would hang up after telling you to fuck off for not reaching out sooner. Seemed fitting and a very Jungkook-thing to do, but still you wished for that scenario to be false.

The last one was the worst among the assumptions swimming through your head. If you were to finally confess your feelings… he would reject you.

Rejection as a whole seemed like a terrifying experience. People would often avoid getting to that point, whether it would be them facing rejection or being the culprit of someone else’s broken heart. You had been on both sides, had gone through both experiences; it wasn’t anything you would like to live again. Hence to why you were trying so hard to suppress your feelings.

Poor and weak heart of yours, it didn’t choose who you love, but it certainly chose who you hurt. And as it turns out, it wasn’t only your brother who got caught in the crossfire.

Ever since you were a kid, flowers made you feel at ease. Their smell, their texture, even their bright colors. Anything about flowers was as relaxing as a day at the beach, at least for you.

You grew to be that one girl completely enamored with nature, and your fascination for flowers was only enhanced once you realized that people would use them as a token of love and appreciation for others. It was romantic, it was pure, it was honest. Gifting flowers to those who you loved and appreciated, to those who you held close to your heart, was such a kind and lovely gesture.

It was the purest act of love you could come across.

The meaning behind every kind of flower was such a wonderful thing to discover. Daisies were often a symbol of happiness and purity; whereas hydrangeas symbolize comfort in times of sorrow, especially at funerals. Orchids often represented beauty and strength, as well as the flowers birds of paradise. Roses, often associated with deep passion and love, had variations in meaning due to their colors; they could represent innocence and purity if they were white, or friendship and warmth if they were yellow.

However, among all those types of flowers, the ones you were holding in your hands at the moment were the hardest ones to carry with you. For no other reason than their meaning.

Striped carnations were often known for representing regret and remorse. They were used to apologize for past actions or mistakes.

It seemed fitting, so you bought the bouquet when you passed by a flower shop on your way to Jungkook’s house.

It took you way too long, but it was after one decisive night in that lonesome room of yours, fighting back the tears while finally reading those soft and beautiful words Jungkook used to pour his heart out, to confess his unmistakable love for you, that you finally made the decision. It was now or never, whatever the outcome of this might be, you’d face it and endure it.

So it was with shaky hands and wobbly legs that you carried yourself to Jeon’s apartment, holding the flowers tightly, afraid that they might disappear if you loosen the grip.

Several seconds passed with you standing outside his door, fearing that if you knocked reality might finally hit you in the face with the bitter truth: Jungkook didn’t want you anymore.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, or you’ll finally let me get in my house?”

That husky and seductive voice. It was hard to miss and hard to mistake it for anyone else’s. That particular voice tone has been playing in your head ever since the night everything went down. It was obvious who it belonged to, and the undeniable fact only made your nerves reach a whole new level.

“See, I wouldn’t usually complain about a pretty girl standing outside my door, but I really need to get these bags inside.” Jungkook didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and even if he did you would never notice.

Maybe you made the right choice to come and finally talk, or maybe you didn’t.

Truth was that as it has been stated many times before, you were very oblivious, so it would be no surprise if you read the room wrong. But then again, he called you pretty, right? Wouldn’t that count for something?

“I— Yes! Fuck, sorry, I didn’t know you weren’t home.”

First apology of the night; many more to come.

“Would you mind helping me get my keys?” The dark-haired man in front of you turned around, just the right amount to insinuate that you grab the keys from his back pocket. “The left one.”

Hesitantly, you reached out and dug into his pocket to retrieve the keys and give them to him. There was a light and soft touch when your fingers brushed that sent a slight shiver through your body.

It has been so long since the last time you were this close to Jungkook that you were already forgetting his touch, his smell and the way he could mesmerize you with a single look.

“Come on in.” Jeon led the way inside his house. “Get comfortable while I put this away.”

Jungkook was quick to make his way to the kitchen, getting the groceries out of the bags and setting everything in their respective place. It was hard for you to loosen up and get comfortable in a space that became foreign to you. Had it been any other time, you wouldn’t have thought twice before sitting on the couch, or even following him to the kitchen to tell Jungkook about your day while he loaded his fridge with meat and veggies. But now it was different. Now you felt an increasing tension between you two, which made you stand stiff in the middle of his living room, rethinking your decision of finally confronting him.

It was not that you were a coward —maybe you were— but more so the fact that you didn’t know how to have a proper and serious conversation with the guy in question. The talk you had with your brother was orchestrated by Taehyung himself, you only chimed in to apologize profusely, which shouldn’t have been enough but seemed to be more than sufficient for your brother. However, this time the ball was in your court, you were meant to do the talking while Jungkook was expected to listen attentively or at least pretend he was.

Maybe you should’ve thought this through before putting your plan into action, but it was too late to back down now, and in all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were capable to postpone this conversation any longer.

“I gotta admit, when Taehyung told me you were planning on paying me a visit I didn't believe him.” Jungkook’s voice rang through your ears once again, he walked back from the kitchen, becoming aware of your quizzical look. “Oh, he didn’t tell you we were back on friendly terms, I see.” He chuckled, beckoning you to sit on the couch with him.

Not only did your brother omit the fact that he was back to being friends with Jungkook, but also he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about your plans of finally talking to Jeon, which made you upset by default. You thought that by now secrets and hiding things would have been out of the picture between you and Taehyung, but it looked like it was only you who decided to go down the path of honesty.

“You two… Is everything okay between you and my brother?” It was only fair to ask, although you already knew the answer.

Jungkook nodded, looking away from you.

“He called me a few days ago to talk, and well…” He drifted off. “I would say that everything’s back to normal.”

“That’s good.” You nodded.

It truly was. It might not seemed like it, but you were equally concerned about their bond being broken as you were about yours with your brother. It would deeply pain you to know that they couldn’t continue to be the best of friends after the incident. It sent you a sense of relief that they were on good terms again, at least you didn’t have to worry about ruining their friendship anymore.

“Are those for me?” His sudden question made you blink repeatedly. “The flowers, I mean.”

Looking down at your lap you realized that you were still tightly holding the bouquet of striped carnations.

“Oh… yes, they’re for you.” Your hands moved slowly to softly place the bouquet on Jungkook’s palm.

“Why thank you.” He seemed surprised. “Usually I’m the one gifting flowers, not the other way around, so this is a first. Although, I don’t know if I should feel flattered or concerned that you’re giving me…” Jungkook stopped for a moment to look at the flowers more attentively. “Striped carnations.”

Of course he knew the meaning of the flowers. When has Jungkook not made you feel like a total idiot due to his undeniable intelligence?

“Yeah, well…” You drifted off, not really knowing what to say.

The dark-haired guy let out a soft sigh, while the ghost of a smile took place on his lips.

“Why are you here, Y/n?” Jungkook asked, silently urging you to answer honestly. “We both know you’re not here just to deliver these.”

You took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes for a second. In theory, it shouldn’t be this hard to answer his question or to start the speech that you have been memorizing all these days, but it was easier said than done. It was as if all the words in the English language had vanished from your brain, and you were left with dumb sounds that wouldn’t help your case.

“Maybe I should change my question.” Jungkook placed the flowers on this coffee table, before speaking again. “Are you sure you want to go through this today? It’s obvious you came here to talk about us, but how I see it, you might not be ready for it yet.”

You shook your head, squirming in your place to find a more comfortable position.

“I wanna do this, I really do.” You assured him. “I just don’t know how to start.”

The tattooed man nodded, carefully sliding a bit closer to you.

“Maybe you can start by telling me why you gave me those flowers.”

Jungkook, bless his heart, always knew how to get the best out of you. It was easy for him to get people to talk about things they didn’t even know they needed to let out. It almost made you think he had some sort of magic going on that would compel others to be open about their feelings.

“They… They symbolize regret.” You finally answered. “They’re usually given when you want to apologize to someone.”

It was certainly easier to explain the meaning than to actually do it, but it must count for something, right?

“Mhmm.” He hummed, waiting for you to continue with your explanation. “Why give them to me then?”

“Because I want to apologize to you.” There, you finally said it, there was no going back. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Taking a deep breath you continued. “I’m sorry about what happened that night, I’m sorry for the way I treated you afterwards; I’m sorry for putting all the blame on you when I was just as guilty. I’m so fucking sorry for the things I did and said.”

You felt like you could finally breathe, like a weight was slowly lifting off your shoulders.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” Tears were starting to cloud your vision. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wished I didn’t meet you. It was so stupid of me to say it, getting to know you has been one of the most complicated yet amazing things that have happened to me. And I’m truly sorry that I wasn’t able to show it.”

Jeon reached out to wipe away the tears that were starting to run down your cheeks.

“Please don’t cry.” He begged, almost too quietly.

It pained him how aggravated and distressed you were, right in front of him. Jungkook knew it was only right for you to apologize but it wasn’t fair that you were suffering so much when he was at fault too.

“I’m sorry too.” He finally apologized. “I did things wrong, I shouldn’t have agreed to hide all of this from Taehyung. I knew we weren’t doing the right thing, but I let it slide because it meant I could have you longer.”

Jeon regretted how things went down, but it would be a lie if he said he didn’t enjoy his time with you. Jungkook knew that the moment the truth was out, it would only complicate everything for the both of you; not to mention that he was scared that Taehyung would prohibit him from being near you. Jungkook was so weak for you that he couldn’t stand the possibility of losing you so easily. And so it was decided that it would be kept as a secret for as long as you two deemed necessary. However, he didn’t really think that the outcome would be so painful.

“I just… I couldn’t bear not being with you. I couldn’t let you go.” Jungkook confessed. “I’m sorry. A lot of things would’ve been different if I did.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Even if you tried, I wouldn’t have let it happen.” You brushed the tears away, trying to keep your composure. “Could you please forgive me? I don’t… I don’t want you to hate me”

You were silently praying that the answer to your question would be yes. It scared you that he reserved the right to reject you and move on with his life. After all, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did, it would be rightfully deserved.

However, Jungkook once again proved to you that he was way different from what you picture him to be.

“I already forgave you, sweet cheeks.”

His smile, oh how much you missed his smile. It was the rainbow you needed to see after a storm. Like a warm blanket during a snowy day. Like the comfort you seeked when everything outside was falling apart.

It was so him, and it almost brought you back to tears when you finally saw it. Shining so bright and pretty on his face.

“And I’m afraid that there’s nothing you could do to make me hate you.” His hand reached out to cup your cheek, making you lean into his touch. “Would you be willing to forgive me too? I know I hurt you with the things I’ve done, but–”

“Yes. I forgive you, Kook.” You smiled at him softly.

“That means we’re good, right?”

If only it was that easy.

There was one thing that was still bothering you and it was the unmistakable feelings for the boy in front of you. Confessing has always been hard, but when it comes to confessing your feelings to Jeon Jungkook, it was ten times worse.

“Actually, there’s something I still need to talk about.” You approached the matter carefully.

“What is it?” Jungkook felt uneasy, he didn’t know what else you had to say, but it was making him nervous. As if he knew something bad would happen. “Are you still upset?”

“No! No, no, it’s not that.” You assured him. “I… it might be a dumb question but… That text, the one you sent me the last time you tried to reach out to me.”

Why was it so hard to say it?

“Did you mean it, all of it?”

A sigh abandoned Jungkook’s lips, and the hand that was once holding your face, slowly retrieved to fall on his lap.

That was it, he was gonna reject you. That was the thought running through your head. His lack of response set a crack in your heart, making you feel vulnerable, making you feel dumb. It was obvious what his answer was going to be, why did you even have to ask?

“You read it?” Jungkook finally spoke. “I thought you simply decided to ignore it.”

You sighed, feeling ashamed of your actions.

“I did at first. I mean, I only got to read it as of recent because I… might have blocked you.” You cringed after finally confessing what you did. “I know it was childish, trust me, but I was mad at the time and I thought it was for the better.”

Jungkook simply nodded, showing you a reassuring smile.

“So yes, I read it, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t surprise me.” You looked like in his eyes. “That’s why I’m asking… Did you really mean it?”

The words adorning your screen late at night while you were reading the long paragraph he sent you were engraved in your brain. It was all memorized at this point. You spent night after night reading every single word while tears were spurting out of your eyes, lamenting that you didn’t open his message sooner.

I would never forgive me for the pain I’ve caused you.

I’m sorry for being a coward and not saying this to your face.

You already knew how sorry he was, not only because he apologized only a few seconds ago, but Jungkook also poured his heart and soul into that message, letting you know how deeply sorry he felt for what he put you through.

This is me being honest, this is me being true to myself.

The confession was the hardest part to read, but it was equally shocking and relieving to know that…

I wish I could say this to you, face to face.

He indeed…

But I can’t hide it any longer.

Felt the same…

I love you, Y/n.

For you.

“I did. I meant it, with my whole heart.” Jungkook smiled at you, sweetly, delicately, lovingly. He wanted to express his love for you in any way he could, in every gesture, every word, every smile. “I don’t know if I might regret this later or not, but what I know is that I don’t want to act as if I weren’t so madly in love with you.”

His answer drew a gasp out of you. It was one thing reading his confession and getting to know his real feelings for you, but listening to him say it out loud was a new, different experience.

Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in the palm of your hands, as if you were the remedy for his pain; as if you were the only person worth fighting for. And maybe you were. He’s never felt any sort of feeling that could come close to the emotions he has experienced and continues to experience with you. His heart has never beaten so hard to the point of feeling as if it were to escape from his chest. It only felt like that when he was around you.

You were the reason for Jungkook's many sleepless nights, when Jeon could only think of every little detail about you that he loved so much. Your laugh, your smile, the way a frown would be adorning your face when you try to concentrate, or how adorable you look while playing with any pet you come across.

It was so hard for him to get you out of his mind; so difficult to erase the feeling of your skin burning against his, of your lips traveling all around his body to leave marks that he prayed would last a lifetime, because maybe that way, at least a part of you would stay within himself.

“I know you might not feel the same.” His husky voice echoed through the walls of his living room after a moment of silence. “And I didn’t say all those things in hopes you would reciprocate my feelings. I just couldn’t keep hiding it anymore.”

His words were running through your mind, as a distant noise. You wanted to say a lot of things, to scream from the top of your lungs that you loved him just as much, or maybe even more than he did you. But your brain and mouth weren’t connected, as it seems, because instead of putting an end to both of your sufferings, you opted to ask him:

“How long have you felt this way?”

Jungkook sighed, reminiscing about all the moments where he felt like falling in love with you. There weren’t that many, in all honesty, but every single one of them felt like the loveliest of dreams.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He confessed. “Maybe it was when I first met you and you were so nervous around me that you even tripped over your feet and fell onto me.” A smile was slowly appearing on his face, “Or perhaps it was when I picked you up from your friends house that one night. You were absolutely hammered and babbling about one of your friends doing a backflip while drinking a shot.”

“I was a complete mess that time.”

It was embarrassing to remember that night. You drank and ate so much that you ended up emptying your stomach the moment you walked in your house. The majority of it was a blur, but despite your clouded memory you could still remember the silly things you were saying to Jungkook.

It also happened to be the first time you almost confessed your feelings for him.

“You say that, but back then I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, with that green dress and your rosy cheeks.” Jungkook reached out to caress your face with his thumb. “The way you smiled at me that night… it was so hard for me not to kiss you until I lost breath.”

His words felt like a warm hug to your heart. Love is always a nightmare when you fall alone, and for so long you felt like it was only you who felt the chemistry between the two.

“Truth is, that I don’t know when or how I fell for you, it just naturally happened.” He smiled at you, cupping your cheek once again. “And I think it’s your fault I fell this hard.” Before you could protest, he continued. “How could I not develop feelings when you’re such a lovable person, Y/n. So caring, kind and beautiful through and through. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life and call you theirs.”

“Do it then.” A clear and determined glint was adorning your eyes. “Have me and call me yours.”

Your bold request surprised both of you. Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to say such a thing, let alone that you would indirectly confess that you wanted him in the same way he did you.

“What’d you say?”

“If you’re willing to have me, I want to be yours.” The anticipation was killing you, making all your senses be on the lookout for any sign of discomfort on Jungkook’s face. “I like you, Kook, and I mean it with my whole heart.”

Jeon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had already accepted the fact that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. A one sided, unrequited love was all he got, but perhaps life finally decided to give me a breather and let him have the ounce of happiness that the boy desperately craved all along.

“You mean… you feel the same?” He asked carefully, waiting for your answer impatiently. “You lo—, no, you like me too?”

With a soft nod and a bright smile, you answered: “I do. I do like you, and I do love you, Jungkook.”

The words felt foreign coming from your mouth, as if you never imagined yourself proclaiming your love for the boy on countless nights. Reality, however, was way better than any hypothetical scenario where Jungkook would run to you to say it was mutual.

You could see the exact moment when your words finally made sense in his head, when he finally realized that this was not a dream and that you, in fact, felt the same for him.

“You better not be joking.” Jeon teased, still being a bit apprehensive that you might laugh at his face as part of some twisted prank to break his heart. “This is… not how I imagined this would go.”

“Me neither, but I can promise you that I’m being as serious and honest as I can be.”

“I believe you.”

And he really did; deep down Jungkook knew that even if life would want to turn on him and watch him suffer, you would never play a part in that. Your words felt sincere, despite the hesitation in your voice and your fidgeting fingers.

Jungkook was sure that he could lay his heart in your hands, and let you take it away to make it yours, and he would never have to worry of you hurting it.

“Now, does that mean we’re good, right?” He asked once again, with a bright grin on his face.

“Yes, we’re good now.” You giggled, sliding closer to him.

“So, can I kiss you now?”

You stopped in your tracks, with your wide-eyed gaze and tingling fingers, ready to feel his skin on yours.

It has been a long time since the last kiss you two shared, you would be lying if you said you weren’t needy for his kisses or his touch, and so, without a second thought you leaned in, stopping just a few inches from his face.

“Do it.”

Jungkook didn’t need more than that. Your words were enough to make him lose his composure and crash his lips against yours.

A warm sensation spread all around your body, filling you with ecstasy and the serotonin you much needed, also luring you to take more and more of him. Your hands started a slow trip up his torso to finally wrap around his neck and pull him closer than before.

Jungkook was holding you with such delicacy, as if he were scared that you would break. It felt like a lifetime since the last time he had you like this and the boy was afraid he would do something that could ruin the moment. Days and days Jeon spent replaying in his head those moments full of passion and need that you two loved to share; the times where he would have you in his arms, silently claiming you as his, while his lips traveled across your skin to paint your flesh with hues of red and purple. Back then, Jungkook could only hope that said marks would fade slowly, letting him enjoy the way your body had proof that the only man able to take all your inhibitions and make you reach the sky was no other than himself.

Now, feeling you like this, touching you like this, without the fear of someone seeing you and starting rumors, without the worry of hiding from your brother, and with the clear understanding that both of you feel the same for the other, Jungkook could finally enjoy the moment to the fullest. His warm hands engulfing you in his tender touch distracted you from his desperate lips running up and down your neck, and from his teeth sinking into your flesh.

A moan escaped from your mouth, parting your lips while a rush of heat conquered every inch of your skin. It was becoming difficult to keep the moment nice and romantic, without turning it into a hot mess of kisses and inappropriate touching.

“I love you, Y/n.” Jungkook whispered into your ear, before pulling slightly away to look right into your eyes. “I really do.”

His soft gaze ignited a bubbling feeling at the pit of your stomach, making you want to stay like this forever, just staring at each other with tender smiles. But a part of you knew it wouldn’t be enough, you wanted more, craved more, so it was no surprise when you pushed Jungkook to rest on the back of the couch while you moved to straddle him.

“Show me.” You asked. “Show me how much you love me.”

A sly smirk took place on Jungkook’s face, while his hands acted automatically to be placed on your hips and hold you down on his lap.

“I’m not sure you can handle it.” He teased. “That you can handle me.”

The tattooed man was looking for a challenge, to start a play of who can handle more before they get so desperate that clothes start to fly out all around the house.

“Try me, then.” You argued back. “I promise you, you’ll be surprised to find out how much of you I can handle.”

A scoff passed his lips while his hands tightened the grip on your hips.

“You sure you want this night to go like this? Don’t you prefer we take this slower?” Even if there was a light mocking tone attached to his voice, concern and worry were also adorning it.

Jungkook was still scared that tonight might be just a dream and that once he closes his eyes you would slip through his fingers to never be found again. He didn’t want to make or say the wrong thing, and it worried him that falling into old habits would do the damage he was trying to avoid.

“Do you want to take things slower?”

It was a possibility you never considered, but coming to think of it, maybe it was better to take it easy before rushing to do things you might not be ready to do just yet.

It was a fresh start after all, but maybe that didn’t implied fucking on the same night you two finally confessed your feelings for the other.

“I want you, but I don’t want to ruin this chance we have now.” His answer warmed your heart, making you smile at him. “I don’t want to make old mistakes and make you think I’m only using you for your body.”

“I know you’re not, at least now I do.” You assured him. “I want you, Jungkook, and I want this with you, but if you’re not ready that’s completely fine, we don’t have to do anything.”

He shook his head, wrapping both of his arms around your waist to hold you close to him.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay with this.” A kiss was softly placed on your lips, before Jungkook suddenly stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to his bedroom. “But if we’re gonna do this, let’s do it somewhere comfortable.”

“The couch was comfortable enough.” You giggled, holding onto him to make sure you didn't fall.

“Maybe, but my girl deserves better than that.”

The last time you were in his room was when Jungkook decided it was a good idea to stay in, instead of going out with your friends. He managed to convince you to stay with him, as he promised you a night full of food, drinks and his head buried in between your thighs.

Back then you didn’t care to observe the little details that made Jungkook’s room so him.

His walls were painted with a somber hue of blue, adorned with pictures of him and the rest of his friend group or his family. Your brother appeared in most of the photos, as Jungkook cherished every single moment they have spent together. There was even a picture of him and his dog, Bam, which was currently at his parents house, framed on the nightstand. The rest of the room was as any guy’s room would be; clothes scattered across the floor, that you would often steal from him whenever you were at his place; messy desk with cans of beer and energy drinks, as well as his computer and a pair of headphones; two vapes were also left on the desk, next to a pair of rings and a watch.

The bed was adorned with a single pillow and white sheets. He didn’t need much as he lived alone, but anytime you were over Jungkook would try to accommodate his house to make you feel comfortable.

“Sorry for the lack of pillows.” He apologized when he put you down on the soft mattress. “I didn’t know you were coming over, or I would’ve gotten the one you like so much.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna use it right now, so we’re good.” You chuckled tugging his shirt to bring him down to you. “Now, please do something, I’ve been waiting for way too long to have you like this again.”

“So impatient.” He smirked, running his hands up and down your sides. “Let me take my time with you, like you said, it’s been too long.”

Jungkook started a trail of kisses down your neck, while his hands pushed up the fabric of your shirt to knead your hot skin.

“We need to take this off.” He didn’t waste a moment to take your shirt off, admiring your upper body with hungry eyes. “Fuck, I missed seeing you like this, baby.”

Jeon didn’t give you time to reply before his mouth attacked your lips once again. There was desperation and neediness coursing through both of your bodies and it was palpable how bad you wanted one another, which in result made the two of you act clumsy while getting undressed.

Jungkook struggled to take off your bra and pants but he finally did, leaving you only in your underwear. His hands ran up to fondle your tits, feeling them and tugging at your nipples while his lips were rapidly traveling down to the place where you needed him the most.

“So fucking perfect, you have no idea how much I wanted to have you like this.” He confessed, placing wet kisses all around your inner thighs.

“Jungkook…” You called for him in a breathy voice, while squirming in your place.

The sensations he was sending right to your core were making it impossible for you to stay put.

“Please…” You begged.

“Please, what?” He asked. “What do you want, beautiful?”

It was hard for you to talk, especially with his mouth so dangerously close to your soaked cunt, but you managed.

“Please touch me.” You moaned out, hands traveling down to pull his hair and get him closer to your core.

“Is this not enough?” Jungkook inquired, playfully. He didn’t relent, getting out of your grasp to do as he pleased. “Do you need more, baby?”

A nod was all he got, but that wouldn’t cut it, not for Jungkook.

“Use your words.” A harsh smack was delivered to one of your thighs, making it jiggle. “Come on, be good and tell me what you want.”

Groaning you rested your weight on your shoulders to look down at him with desperate eyes.

“Please touch me here.” Your hand moved rapidly to caress your center through your wet underwear. “I need you so bad.”

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” Jungkook didn’t waste a second longer on teasing you, instead he made sure to take off your dripping panties, putting them to the side and forcing your legs to stay wide open. “Look at that, so pretty and wet for me, huh?” He ran his fingers through your folds, smearing your juices all over. “This is just for me, right baby?”

You nodded vehemently, chasing after his touch.

“Yes, only you can get me like this.”

The tattooed guy dipped down, placing a dangerous kiss right under your navel, so close yet so far away from where you needed him the most. A fire was ignited in between your legs, and Jungkook was the perfect remedy for that. His lips traveled down slowly, coming face to face with your dripping cunt. He took his sweet time licking up and down your folds, his wet tongue felt wonderful against your burning flesh, making you elicit the sweetest of sounds just for him.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” Moan after moan, your composure and sanity were slowly disappearing, leaving you with an ardent need to grind against his tongue. “Faster, please…”

Your boy couldn’t deny any of your wishes, and so his pace quickened in a matter of seconds, running his tongue up and down as fast as he could, only momentarily stopping at your clit to suck on it before continuing with his ministrations. Jungkook was avidly eating you out, enjoying the taste of your juices on his hot tongue and the feeling of your entrance clenching on it whenever he let it slip in. It was like heaven on earth, like a much needed meal he waited for so long. And just like a starved man, Jeon did his best to devour you until there was nothing else from you that he could take.

“Don’t stop, I’m so fucking close!” You could feel his fingers opening your folds to make their way inside your cunt, pumping in and out at a slow pace. “Oh my god!”

Your hands were still pulling at his hair, desperately trying to get a good hold on him to bring him closer and closer to you.

“You taste so freaking good, baby.” Jungkook pulled away to inhale some air before diving in again and smothering his face with your soaking folds. “Fuck, best pussy I’ve ever had.”

His nasty words were making your eyes flutter shut, with a stream of curses falling off your lips. It was ridiculous how good he could make you feel with his mouth and his fingers, you always wondered how he knew exactly what to do to make you see the stars. Jungkook was so good at reading your body, even better than you ever could; his touch was delicious, charged with the right amount of passion to throw you over the edge.

“You getting close, doll? Wanna come on my tongue, hm?”

“Yes, please! I’m so close.” You begged, breathlessly. “I just— fuck, need it… need to cum, please.”

A chuckle vibrated against your cunt, making you shiver. His fingers slipped out of your hole, leaving you empty and needy.

“Go on, pretty, cum for me.”

It was almost automatic; the moment those words left Jungkook’s mouth, the waves of your pending orgasm finally crashed over your body, making your legs shake and leaving your skin coated in goosebumps. Eyes fully shut and mouth widely open, not caring about the obscene sounds coming out of it like a chant. Jeon’s name was repeated over and over like a broken record, just like a fervent believer would pray away their sins, so vehemently, so desperately. His name was attached to your brain, making it the only coherent word leaving your lips.

“There you go, that’s my good girl.” He caressed your sides softly. “You look so beautiful when you cum.”

His praise made your head feel fuzzy and the fire between your legs was fueled once again, ready for another round.

Slowly you opened your eyes, blinking away the tiredness and trying to focus on the boy in front of you. His face became clearer and clearer, providing you with one of his breath-taking smiles.

“You good there?” Jungkook asked, sweetly, while a tender kiss was placed on your lips. “D’you wanna take a moment?”

You shook your head, still recovering your ability to speak properly.

“I wanna…” A whisper ran through his ears, prompting him to lean closer. “Want to…”

“What do you want, my love?”

My love.

Jungkook has never called you that before, and if you were to be true, it felt fucking amazing to hear him say it.

“You, I want you.” It was your final answer, looking right up at him with a fierce glare.

Your hands reached out to palm him through his boxers, feeling his hard erection twitch under your touch. The dark-haired boy hissed at the sensation of your fingers wrapping around his cock, while giving it a light squeeze.

“You don’t— shit, you don’t have to.” Jeon reassured you. “Let me… take care of you.”

“But I want to.” You argued back, slipping your hand inside his underwear. He felt heavy and warm, and so painfully hard that it made you feel bad that he had to stay confined in the small space of his boxers while he ate you out. “Let me taste you, baby.”

You were craving his cock ever since you stepped into his room; the mental image of his dick pumping in and out of your mouth left you salivating, almost whimpering at the thought.

“Please, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Jungkook closed his eyes for a brief moment, pondering if he should let you have your way or if it was better to turn you around and fuck you into oblivion. He reasoned, at the end, that he could do both. Jeon would let you have your fun for a moment, and afterwards he would completely destroy you with his cock.

“How can I say no to such a pretty baby?” He grinned at you, getting in a more comfortable position while taking his underwear off. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Scrambling quickly to rest on your hands and knees, you took his cock into one of your palms, slowly stroking him and smearing the drop of saliva you spat onto his dick, to make it easier for you to move your hand.

It was such an amazing sensation, your small hand struggling to wrap around his thick cock, fighting your own urge to pump him dry until he was whimpering and begging. Maybe another time you’ll be able to see that side of him, but tonight you were determined to make him cum in your mouth, and so deciding you wouldn’t waste a second longer, you took his red head in between your lips, rocking your head slowly to take more and more of his length. Little by little you were able to fit almost all of him inside your throat, choking a little bit when his tip reached a bit too far.

“Fuck, that feels amazing, baby. Keep going.” He moaned, looking down at you and the way his dick disappeared inside your mouth with ease. “Just like that, don’t you dare stop.”

Your pace increased, ripping moans and groans out of the boy. Your heart swelled with pride for making him sound and act like that; it took you way too long to be in such a position once again that you were fearing you didn’t have the same effect on him anymore.

“Faster, doll, I know you can go faster.” His hand weaved through your hair to get a hold on your head and guide your movements. “That’s right, fuck, your mouth was made only for my cock.”

It truly was, his dick fit almost perfectly and without further complications. The way you were so eager to take him in, without flinching or gagging was truly amazing for the man in front of you. Jungkook was mesmerized by your ability to suck him off until he didn’t have much to give.

“Shit, stay still for a moment.” He ordered, placing both hands at each side of your head. You did as told, waiting for his next move. “There you go, I want to fuck this pretty mouth of yours.”

His hips swayed beautifully, thrusting in and out of your throat. His cock was reaching places like never before and brought tears to your eyes due to the effort of keeping your jaw relaxed and opened for him.

“That’s it, such a good little slut, letting me use you, huh?” He teased, smirking right at you. “You like it when I use you like this, don’t ya?”

It was as clear as day that you did, no need for an answer, yet you tried to nod, which only caused to boost his ego due to how much you struggled to move.

“Mhm, I know you do, baby.” His pace increased and so did his moans; it was difficult for the tall guy to be quiet, especially with the delicious feeling of your mouth on his cock.

All of a sudden he pulled away, letting you recover your breath and positioning you to lay back down again.

“As much as I’d love to keep fucking your mouth, I’d rather stuff this pretty pussy with my cum.” Jungkook leaned down to suck on your neck, making sure to leave a mark on a very obvious spot, where everyone would be able to see it.

Feeling like you belonged to someone, like you were a nice piece of jewelry owned by a man like Jungkook, it should have caused you a very different feeling from the one you were experiencing. Your eyes shouldn’t be searching for him, impatiently, to see that look of determination in his orbs that would tell you that you belonged to him and him alone. Your hands shouldn’t reach out to touch his back, sinking your nails into his flesh just like his teeth did in your skin; a weak attempt to reciprocate the feeling, to make it clear who was the only girl who would make the great Jeon Jungkook so desperate and needy. But they did, and you enjoyed it; you loved the hiss coming from his mouth and the shiver coursing his body. You adored the way his eyes softened for a brief second, while looking right into yours and straight into your heart.

It was like a stroke to your ego, knowing it was you who he craved, who he needed. It was you, and it would continue to be you for a long time.

Jungkook finally pulled away from your neck, standing tall in front of you and guiding himself to slide up and down your folds, coating his cock with your juices. His tip was nudging at your clit every time he went up, making you gasp and shudder.

It was a torture, feeling him so close yet so far from your entrance, the worst part was that he enjoyed getting you like this; Jungkook loved toying with you. And it was so unfair how much the boy could make you crave his touch, but not give it to you.

“Just put it in, for fucks sake.” A frustrated groan abandoned your lips.

You couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. However, you didn’t think about the consequences of your words and how bad it would end for you for demanding such a thing.

Jungkook stopped all of his movements, slowly drifting his gaze up, to look right into your eyes. His gaze darkened, making you recoil in your place, while your legs started to close in anticipation of his next move.

Jeon moved to get close to your ear and whisper, “I’m gonna let it slide just because I’m as eager as you to fuck you dumb, but be careful with what you say, princess.” Slowly, he pulled away, to then harshly open your legs and slap your clit with his cock. “Turn around.” He ordered.

It took you a few seconds to register his words in your brain, but finally you did as told, albeit reluctantly, because you wanted to see and feel him from up close while he fucked you into oblivion.

“Don’t turn your face.” He caught you trying to look over your shoulder, guiding your head to look right into the pillow.

“But I wanna see you.” You whined, not fighting him anymore.

“Shoulda thought about it, before acting like a brat.” A slap was delivered to your ass cheek, making you flinch and whimper. “And be grateful I’m being nice enough to fuck you, despiste your nasty attitude.”

Jungkook positioned himself with your entrance, anticipating the tight grip of your warm walls.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quietly, in an attempt to make him relent and change positions.

“Too late for that, baby.” He chuckled while thrusting all the way into your tight cunt, not giving you time to argue any longer. “Fuck, this is heaven.” His head lolled back, placing both of his hands at each side of your hips to guide your movements.

“Oh my fucking god!” You exclaimed, feeling his veiny cock reach every crook of your insides.

Moans and whimpers were falling from your lips uncontrollably, due to how good Jungkook’s dick felt. He hasn’t moved yet since he thrusted in, but the sensation alone of being filled to the brim with his length was enough to make you see stars.

“Mo-Move.” You stuttered, trying to bounce back and create the much needed friction. “Please, move!”

Jungkook could only smirk, enjoying how vulnerable you were at the moment, completely at his mercy. He controlled your body and pleasure perfectly, knowing the spots and touches that would get you shuddering in pure bliss.

“Now you remember your manners, doll?” He grunted, slowly retrieving from inside your pussy, all the way out until your walls could only wrap around the tip. “How convenient.”

You wanted to argue and clap back, but it was impossible to form a coherent thought while being tortured like that. Jungkook didn’t care that he was also stopping himself from feeling the ridiculously amazing sensation of fucking into you, as long as he could teach you a lesson and make you regret your words and actions.

“Please, please, please.” You cried out, trying to move, but giving up after the tall man stopped you with a harsh smack. “Jungkook…”

The way you said his name made the guy feel some type of way, but still not enough to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You gotta ask me nicely, princess, and I might give it to you.”

He wanted you to ask nicely and ask nicely is what you did; gathering enough strength to softly utter the words, you tried to clear your throat to finally speak.

“Please, Kook, can you fuck me so good until I forget my name?” Such a sweet tone for such a lewd request. “I need you to fill me up with your cock, please.”

The tattooed guy leaned down, wrapping one of his strong arms around your neck while dipping down to whisper in your ear.

“Mmm, you sound so fucking pretty when you beg for me like that.” His gentle lips kissed up and down your jaw. “You did good, baby. I think you finally deserve it.”

Without previous warning, Jungkook thrusted all the way in again, filling you up to the brim, however, this time he didn’t torture you with a slow pace or any sort of teasing. Jeon didn’t waste a second longer and commenced to rapidly pound into you, until you could only whine and whimper.

His arm wrapped around your neck was slightly obstaculazing your breathing, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It felt immensely good to be fucked nice and hard while every single inch of Jungkook’s body was engulfing you.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, baby.” He moaned. “Clenching on my cock, so good.”

His free hand traveled down in between your legs to rub your clit, making you so sensitive and causing even more moans to fall from your lips.

“Sh-shit, oh god!” You exclaimed with a trembling voice. “So big… so deep.”

A chuckle rumbled from Jungkook’s chest. He has always loved how dirty you would get for him, speaking nonsense about his size and how good he fucks you. It was truly an ego boost.

“Yeah? You like how deep I go, baby?” He panted, due to all the effort he was putting into destroying you with his cock. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You could only nod, it was hard to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

“Look at you,” he laughed. “You can’t even talk.”

You couldn’t protest, couldn’t even move. The only thing you could do was relax and allow your body to enjoy the way Jungkook was so avidly thrusting into you. Your arms and legs were starting to give up, feeling too tired to keep your body up; you just wanted to lay down.

Jungkook could feel your exhaustion, and so he quickly unwrapped his arm from your neck, to then turn you around and get you in a comfortable position, all of this while still fucking you senseless.

“There you go, better?” He asked, genuinely concerned about your wellbeing.

“Mhm.” You hummed, closing your eyes while your hands fisted the sheets. “Don’t stop…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jungkook felt like dying with the way your walks were clenching on him. Your pussy felt heavenly, so warm and so tight only for his cock. He knew he had already ruined you for any other man you could possibly meet in your life —not like he’s gonna let that happen, anyway—, and he loved that fact. The dark-haired boy enjoyed how you would only crave him, need him, beg just for him. This side of you, no one knew, he was sure that not even your past boyfriends got to see you like this. So free, so dirty, so beautiful and tempting. It was only him, and Jungkook could only wish it continued to be like that for a long time.

Amidst Jungkook’s wandering thoughts, he didn’t realize you had opened your eyes once again, looking right into his own, with such a fierce stare. Your hands started a slow trip from his thighs up to his chest, caressing his honeyed skin which was glistening with sweat; shining just right under the moonlight. Your nails softly scratched his flesh, making the boy tremble under your touch and lean into your hands to feel more of you. It was getting to that point where he no longer held power or willingness to be dominant. Jeon was starting to lose himself in you, in the way your cunt was wrapped around his cock, in the way his length would poke your stomach because of how deep he was; in the way your mouth was softly calling for him, accompanied by obscene noises that he only loved hearing if the came from you.

“You look so fucking pretty, Y/n.” The lack of a pet name sent a warm hug to your heart. You knew he was being serious; no teasing, no mocking. Jungkook was speaking from his heart, completely enamored with the view of you; panting underneath him while your body welcomed his embrace so perfectly. “I could never get tired of looking at you, my pretty baby.”

There were not enough words in the English language that could help you express how grateful you were for having a man like Jungkook in your life. But perhaps there was no need, since you knew that showing it was always more effective than saying it.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to mesh his lips with yours. His swollen lips moved slowly and gently, a stark contrast to the way he was fucking you. His cock was wildly ramming into you, while his lips were softly caressing yours. His tongue quickly made its way inside your mouth, starting a fight with your own to assert dominance, nonetheless, it was futile, that fight was already won by him and you could only back down and enjoy his touch.

“I’m so close.” You moaned, wrapping both of your legs around his waist to make him go even deeper. “I need to— fuck, I need to cum.”

Jungkook shook his head, heavily breathing while gathering his thoughts to talk properly. The feeling of it all was making him feel dizzy.

“Just… Just wait a bit longer.” He ordered you.

You groaned, fluttering your eyes shut while trying your best to hold it until he told you to let go. It became a torture once again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to wait for too long, especially with the change in pace and how deep his cock was reaching. His tip was nudging at that sweet spot of yours, making your whole body stutter and whine so perfectly that it made Jungkook grunt into your neck.

“I’m almost there.” He announced, manically pounding into you. “Just a bit more, princess.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I can wait… anymore.” You cried out, fisting his hair while your hips were desperately moving on their own volition, searching for some sweet release. “I’m gonna cum.”

It was not a warning anymore, it was a fact. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, making your body tremble with the waves of your awaited release. Rather than holding yourself back, you finally let go, enjoying the sensations and pleasure your orgasm brought with itself.

Jungkook hissed at the way your pussy clenched on his dick, making it almost impossible for him to keep moving.

“Oh, fuck.” He cursed, looking down at where your bodies were joined, feeling a bit lightheaded from how good it felt. Your cum was coating his cock, making it shine so perfectly. “That’s my good girl, make a mess on my dick, come on.”

His encouraging words only made it even difficult for you to come down from your high, but the boy couldn’t care any less. Jungkook rejoiced in the feeling of pride for making you feel that way, to make you so vulnerable and weak that the intensity of your release would make you go dumb and turn you into a babbling mess. Not a single thought was behind those beautiful eyes of yours at that precise moment, and Jeon loved how lost you looked, reaching out in need of his comforting touch to ground yourself after such intense orgasm.

Your hands found his, intertwining your fingers to form a hard grip.

Jungkook kept fucking into you, desperately searching for his own release, not stopping for even a second to catch his breath. He needed to cum and needed it now.

“Can I cum inside you?” Jeon was so quick to ask when he felt his orgasm building up in the pit of his stomach. “Please… I wanna fill you up.”

It was such a different side of him. The whiny and needy side of him you loved so much. His begging got you weak in the knees and made your stomach flutter with adoration.

You nodded, gently caressing his face while kissing his lips once again.

“Look at me, please.” Jungkook begged so sweetly. “Keep your eyes on me, I need to see you.”

“Let go for me, baby.” You smiled up at him, staring right into his eyes, while noises full of passion echoed through the room.

His whiny moans rang in your ears, making you feel fuzzy inside.

“Fuck, so good.” He moaned, resting his forehead on yours, his eyes never looking away. “I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Kook.” You said, breathlessly, feeling his warm cum filling your already sore pussy. “Just like that, so good.”

Jungkook kept rocking into you until his legs couldn’t hold him up and he ended up crashing into you. His strong arms slowly wrapped themselves around your frame, keeping you close and safe. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, with his hot breath hitting against your skin. A stream of incoherent curses were coming out his mouth, making you giggle. Neither of you dared to speak for at least five minutes, silently deciding to enjoy each other while recovering from each of your intense orgasms.

It truly felt like heaven on earth, whether it was because of how long you two have been apart, or because of Jungkook’s amazing skills; whatever it was you felt amazing and finally complete. The missing piece of the puzzle was finally here, making your life ten times better and brighter.

Jungkook was the first one to break the silence, with his babbling and groaning.

“What was that?” You asked him to repeat himself.

“I said…” He sighed, pulling away from your neck. “I’m fucking spent.”

“Me too.” You giggled. “But it was worth it.”

“Damn right it was.”

Jungkook finally pulled out, watching his cum slowly flow out from your cunt. Two of his fingers gathered the liquid coming out of you and pushed it back inside, making you gasp in surprise.

“We can’t afford to waste any drop now, can we?” He smirked at you while his fingers danced slowly inside you. “You always feel so warm, baby, no wonder why I love your pussy so much.”

After a few seconds, Jungkook retrieved his fingers from inside of you and wrapped his pink lips around them, liking every drop of both of your cums.

“So sweet.”

A part of you wanted to push him to lay down and ride him until your legs couldn’t keep you still, but you were so tired and exhausted that even the idea of putting any effort into making Jungkook lay down made you groan.

“Come here, baby.” Jeon wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, making your head rest on his firm chest. “Let’s rest for a bit before I fuck you again.”

You hit him softly in his stomach, causing both of you to giggle.

“Just how much stamina you think I have?” You asked.

“Not so much, to be honest.” He joked. “But it’s bold of you to assume I would make you work for it a second time. I’m not that mean, baby.”

“Yeah, that’s what you want me to think.”

You looked up at him, only to realize Jungkook was already staring at you. His doe eyes were looking right into your own, making their easy way into your heart. Jungkook had a way to always make you feel special whenever he looked at you. He did it back when you two were nothing more than a quick fuck, and he did it now when your souls were finally intertwined.

“I meant it.” He started saying. “I really love you, Y/n.”

“I know, Kook.” You assured him. “And I love you too, just as much.”

A soft kiss was delivered to your forehead. “I just wanted to make it clear. I spent too much time hiding my real feelings that I’m scared you’ll get the wrong idea and feel like I’m not being honest enough.”

Your hand flew right up to rest on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone tenderly.

“I understand the sentiment, but there’s no need to hide from each other anymore. I can feel your love now, Jungkook, and it’s one of the most amazing sensations I’ve ever had.”

Your words helped the boy to feel at ease. Jungkook was on high alert for any discomfort he might cause you unwillingly; he feared you would simply leave his side if he such as said that your hands were starting to get cold. That kind of feeling was something you didn’t want the boy to experience and you were more than happy to reassure him over and over again that what he felt was not only reciprocated but it was also enough for the both of you.

“Let’s sleep a little bit, I’m too tired to even talk.” You snuggled into his side, hiding your face in the crook of his face while your arms wrapped around his torso.

Jungkook smiled fondly, looking down at your already sleepy figure.

“Rest well, princess.”

Taglist 🏷️

@aphrwodite, @r1r111, @cholychi, @artificialsuicid, @tatamicc

#jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jk x reader #jk x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!#[su&l!jk]#[shut up ‘n listen fic!]

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 1 year

Text

Ding dong, here’s the final chapter! I have an epilogue in mind so that may come later, but for now, Thanks so so much for the response to this series and Enjoy!

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

[talking] [talking passes]

Gai: You knew right away, didn’t you? Kka: Correct. I knew something was wrong when you weren’t trying to do situps or anything..... You little criminal, who smuggled that in for you? Gai: Naruto

Kks: How did you get him to do that? /I/ cant even get Naruto to do things. The tear tracks and shit eating grin are cute. Kinda wanna kiss you. Gai: Don’t let me be a hindrance to-

Gai: What are you giggling about? Kks: I just remembered

Kks: I get to hold over your head that I held mirai before you. Gai: You what?! Your first baby hold and I missed it? Get off of me Kks: So mean! Near death made you crabby. Gai: I won’t give into this Kks: You will, you always succumb. [gai sighs annoyed]

Gai: [Groans] When are they making you swear in as hokage? Kks: That’s not happening anymore thankfully. Gai: Huuuh?? Tenzou didn’t tell me that!

Gai: He said Lady Tsunade was retiring and you were the only choice. Naruto even tried to- Kks: Where do you think i’ve been all day? I convinced her to hold out until Naruto or whoever took over next. Gai: How did you smooth talk that one? Kks: I agreed to do her paperwork and cover for when she needs R&R. I also advised her to ditch the elders so she can actually run this shit show right. Gai: And they... took that well? The elders? Kks: No, not at all. Let’s just say I said some... things that made them backtrack on their decision.

Gai: YOu cant just say that and not tell me now!! I gotta know! Kks: Well... Homura: Absolutely not! Kks: If I am appointed, I’ll be replacing you regardless. Naruto certainly will. It’s inevitable. Koharu: Those kids don’t know how this village runs!

Kks:Those kids just won your war and this is how you speak of them. Or are “those kids“ only respectable to you when they’re eager to die at your beckon call and shut up. Elders: How dare- Watch your tongue! Kks: I won’t be someone who you can walk all over. Things will change. Just so my intentions are clear

Gai: What next?! Kks: That’s is really. Kinda tuned the rest out and passed out for 3 hours. Gai: Rival, I was so invested Kks: Sorry Gai: So you agreed to essentially split the work of a hokage but not publicly take the title? Kks: Mhm Gai: So cool! Apologies, I had just assumes since you were gonna accept last time Kks:[hums] Things changed. Konoha’s not on the brink of war, Tsunade’s still here. The village can breathe and rebuild now.

Kks: After a glimpse of the hassle and public attention the last time, I’m just... Not interested in any of that. I’ve never dreamed or desired to be the hokage. That was always something others wanted /for/ me. So I said no. I know you were happy for me so- Gai: Kakashi

Gai: I’m so very proud of you for expressing how you truly feel. You and tsunade will do amazing work supporting the next generation. Even If you chose to retire today, I’d still be just as proud of you. Also a selfish part of me if happy to have more time with you. [kks huffs]

Kks: I’m proud of you too, y’ know. All your hard work, you’re fucking incredible. Glad my dad made me talk to the cool kid in the green jumpsuit. 2nd coolest shinobi. Gai: Only took 25 years, but I’ve finally caught your eye! Kks: Yup, let’s move in together.

Gai: WHAT?1 Whu-! Kks: I’m fixing up dad’s old house with Tenzou. you should live there with me Gai: Why? Kks: Why are yo suspicious? I’m serious. Space, accessibility for you... I want you around more. Gai: Ok Kks: Ok? Gai: An exciting change is just what my youthful journey needs!! Kks: So yes?

Gai: I would love to share a home with you, Rival [kks giggling] What now?

Kks: Did I just make you succumb, Gai-kun? Gai: When can we have a match next, I need to consensually slap you in the head [kks laughs] Why did you say it like that? Kks: I’m sorry! Your pout looks so cute.... You are still moving in with me, right? That wasnt a joke.

Gai: I’m gonna let you sweat on that one awhile... [whimpers]

Kks: Love you so much, Gai

[gai snoring]

#KakaGai #gaikaka #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #might guy #naruto #tsunade senju #shizune #//teeth #my art

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diagonal-queen · 25 days

Note

Ooo may I ask for Leviathan, Satan, Mammon, Asmodeus, and Solomon with a clumsy!reader that just smiles and apologizes after accidentally hurting themselves?

Like reader could almost split their head in two on their way back home and they would just smile and brush it off as if a part of their head isn't bleeding profusely-

If you're not comfy with this, I respect that! Have a nice week!:3

-🎧

With a clumsy S/O

♡ characters: Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Solomon x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: you're just silly and clumsy and they're worried about you </3

♡ cw: Swearing, bruises, cuts, scrapes, falling over on the fuckign floor, blood

note: wow my first obey me req!! how silly and fun. you guys don't know the joy i felt when i went to my follower page and saw a bunch of OM pfps, you guys are so cool! should i download nightbringer or nah (i was gonna do it when it first came out but i saw the 3d models and got scared) apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Mammon:

You're going to give him a fucking aneurysm

Mammon loves you so much, like this man is WHIPPED, so if you ever get hurt all of his protective instincts kick in

He's overprotective even if you don't get hurt. If it looks like you're in any kind of danger, he's right by your side anyway worrying about you like a devoted puppy

And then when you inevitably do get hurt, you *apologise* for it? Even though you're literally dying (he thinks)???? He's not having it!!

While he'll definitely chide you while he helps you recover, he's really just trying to cover up the fact that he's unbelievably worried about you. Pride isn't his sin but damn if he doesn't have way too much of it

It doesn't matter how many times this happens, he never gets used to it. And every single time he demands you don't apologise, but also demands that you be more careful not to do it again, lol

There is also a small part of him that does not want you to get hurt because he's the one who's been tasked with supervising you, and he knows Lucifer will ground his ass if he finds out you've sustained moderate injury (or worse. confiscate goldie)

He sometimes wonders how you can possibly be so nonchalant about it, because you're a fragile little human!! how aren't you more worried??!?!?!

Honestly this mf is such a hypocrite because i KNOW his ass is clumsy as shit too, but it's not okay when you do it because he loves you, and he doesn't like seeing his loved ones get hurt. So you better not keep letting yourself get hurt, got it??

Leviathan:

Do you want me to be honest? Do you really want me to be honest??

After a while, he would just start filming you whenever you fall and making compilations of you eating absolute shit

Like, clearly it doesn't bother you. After the first few times where he gets all frantic and jittery, he learns not to take it too seriously

(Unless you genuinely injure yourself of course, which he'll panic about regardless of how you react)

Every time he sees anyone get hurt, in any way, ever, he'll point and be like 'haha babe that's you'

He doesn't want you to sit in his gaming chair because he knows you'll roll around in it and then inevitably fall down, damaging both you and the chair in the process

Levi would never admit this, but the more you hang out in his room, the more blankets and pillows he leaves on the ground where you guys sit to watch anime/game together. Claims it's to make you more comfortable but mostly because he doesn't want you to get hurt while he's watching you

He's so used to you wandering into his room, bloody palms/head/knees, that he begins to keep a first aid kit in there for you (he would also totally buy you anime-themed bandaids let's be honest)

His biggest struggle with all of this at the end of the day is when you enter his room while he's livestreaming and the chat starts spamming about the fucked up bloody ghostly spirit in the background and he has to be like 'no that is the loml actually'

Satan:

Satan is so normal ❤️ he's so Studio Ghibli man coded and I'll die on this hill

If you come home bleeding, he'll do all the classic romantic shit for you. I'm talking the gently cleaning your wounds, bandaging you up, making you warm tea, reading to you while you rest in his bed AUGH 😩

He'll ask you to please try to be careful and stay safe from now on, because he just couldn't ever get anything done constantly worrying about you the way he does.

You always promise to try and be more careful, but that promise is, somehow, never kept (he lets it slide because he's a sweetie)

When you two are cuddling in bed together he'll gently caress and trace his fingers over your assorted bruises and healing scrapes

Satan doesn't let you apologise for hurting yourself, either. He reassures you that it's okay, but he really does just want you to keep safe and well

He is willing to carry you sometimes to avoid you slipping. He'll also make sure you stay away from sharp objects and he'll idiot-proof his bedroom so you can spend time in there. This man will take no chances because he wants to hang out with you that much

Satan catches you if you trip because he's romantic like that. Tbh he's been so conditioned into expecting it that he's always on alert whenever he leaves the house with you

Congratulations, you pavlov'd the devil into being gentle and caring. Do with this new power what you will, but for the love of god please be more careful

Asmodeus:

You are actively driving up his concealer consumption because he keeps having to USE it all on you because you won't stop BRUISING

Dabbing some of it over a hickey he gave you is one thing. This is unreasonable, he says, it's ridiculous!

Asmo is so worried you'll get some kind of infection, so he's so careful when he does your makeup. He has alcohol wipes and warm cloths to clean your cuts and bruises and everything

He begins carrying bandaids with him just in case. He's really gentle when he puts them on, it's basically an intimate ritual between the two of you at this point

Tbh though he does love to pamper you, so he doesn't mind spending his time undressing you, washing you, cleaning you up and then cuddling you for the whole night (among other things- this is Asmo we're talking about)

You genuinely have nothing to worry about either, because you could just be a walking bruise and Asmo would still think you're the cutest human in the three realms. He'll still participate in an unacceptable amount of PDA regardless of how hurt you are and that's the Asmodeus guarantee

He's really way more worried about you than you are. He *insists* that you're more careful, because if you were to get seriously injured or die, then who oh who would go clothes shopping with him then?? Who would he have to do makeup on? Whose nails would he have to paint? The absolute horror

(What a drama queen lmao)

My mans is not beating the down bad allegations anytime soon, but he doesn't care because his precious little lamb is hurt!! And he can't have that, not at all.

Solomon:

Lowkey unbothered

You think this dude has lived 200+ years to not know healing spells? Nah. You wander up to him and he's just like 'tut tut. why are you like this' and fixes you right up

It's not that he's fine with seeing you hurt−he's not−but he takes little time to get used to it, and being as powerful as he is he knows he can just heal you

He kind of secretly enjoys being your healer. He likes the way you rely on him for that kind of thing, because let's be real he's got a dom thing. Don't lie to yourselves folks.

Whenever he sees a new mark on your body he'll sigh and ask what happened, more out of mild amusement than exasperation. If you're too embarrassed to answer he'll chuckle but not press further

Solomon is a teaser. He'll tease you about this, and there's nothing you can do about it. What are you gonna do? Tell Lucifer? They don't have a PACT (lmfao suck it)

(This is gonna be very embarrassing for me if it turns out they did make a pact in nightbringer and i don't know because i just never fuckin played it)

Anyway, you notice that as time goes on, whenever Solomon holds your hand, his grip gets just that little bit tighter. Like Satan, he is always prepared

Maybe he really is secretly worried about you. Who knows? Solomon is a wild card, but if there's one thing to be sure of, it's that he'll always be there to help heal you no questions asked.

taglist~ ♡

DM me if you'd like to join my Obey Me! taglist!

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

So request kinda if not just sharing my thoughts in general.

Alex. My boy. What if reader is a civ or even another soldier in a different squad and the whole thing with him joining Farah’s forces indefinitely. I think this can really lend itself to some angst and that good old misunderstanding. Kinda leaning towards civ!reader just because the more miscommunication. I guess it’d have to be an angsty ending though 😳, but regardless-

Love your writing and, as always, feel free to change anything or do whatever gives you the most inspiration

World Caves In

PAIRING: Alex Keller x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Perhaps it would have been better if your husband had died - at the very least you could understand that.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, misunderstandings/miscommunication, hurt/comfort, vulgar language, abandonment?, Alex being an adorable husband, fluff, etc.

A/N: I was gonna make this an angsty ending but I got my period and thinking about that made me cry so here we are, lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you’d been escorted out of work by two uniformed men, you knew the news wasn’t going to be good. Sitting in the back of a large black car, you spare nervous glances as the vehicle jumps, its wheels going over the last speed bump. Your work building begins to become a fraction of a memory and disappears faster than your resolve.

The men sit on either side of you, silent, and the only comment is to the driver as you all enter the main road. Swallowing, you part your lips and mutter, plain dread in your tone, “Is he alive?”

All you get is a glance from the front mirror and nothing more. You hunch more in your seat and stew in agony, mind far off on the topic of your husband.

Alex wasn’t overly reckless, you’d managed to snuff most of that out over the course of the many years you’d expressed concern to him about it, but a large chuck of the blond was still too selfless for his own good. It was hard not to think the worst.

From training to advising, your husband was always off on one mission to another, far from your quaint and quiet home here—where you waited day after day for even a sliver of contact from him. Alex specialized in so many things that trying to wrap your head around it was impossible.

Even now, you only knew the bare minimum.

The soft-smiled man worked in the SAD division of the CIA. He’s an Operations Officer. Currently, he’s somewhere across the globe.

Away from you.

Thinning your lips, you take down a deep breath and settle back into the seat, pulse flying. The men were obviously Agents—you’d looked closely at their badges when they’d first shown their faces at the front desk and had kept within view of your work’s security cameras just in case this was a ruse. When you could find nothing out of the ordinary, you had tensely asked them what was happening.

They would be holding his dog tags if he was dead, you had reasoned, desperately, a flag.

It was frantic, the way you had thought that up; how could you not be like that? Alex was the light of your life! With him constantly putting his life on the line, it was inevitable for him to get hurt, sometimes seriously. It was ingrained into your mind the way you would help clean his wounds in the middle of the night when the pain woke him up with a grunt stuck in his throat. The way you would sit half-asleep in his lap and re-wrap bandages while he told you to go back to bed half-heartedly. His hands drifting over your warm skin like he was cascading his fingers up and down the spine of an old book.

You never listened.

“It’s late, Bug, I can’t keep you up like this.” His drawl echoes in your ear as you rub a heavy palm into your eye. Alex’s hands are both on your hips, squeezing the flesh just below your tiny sleep shorts. You have him sitting on the floor, back resting on the wall and shirt discarded to the side only wearing loose gray sweatpants. A long cut up his left pec is the center of your blurry attention—a wet rag held as you dab at it. Blue eyes narrow at you. “I’m just fine with doing it myself, y’know.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” you utter, the soft light of the bathroom placed at half-capacity to at least try and keep some of the veil of sleep over your heads. “I told you to wake me up when you needed it cleaned.” Your skin brushes his and Alex shivers under you, sighing breathily. “And you’re not keeping me here—I’m helping.”

A small flash of that full smile, mustache flinching up, “Well when you look so pretty sleepin’ I can’t just shake you awake and tell you to fix me up.”

You take your free hand and pinch his nose, yawning as he grunts out chuckles. A delicate glance is thrown his way as the rag lowers from reddened skin. Like a butterfly's whisper, you study his face gently; reaching and cupping his cheek with your palm.

Alex’s lids flutter, heavy weight falling into you as if waiting for this—lips pressing to your inner wrist in reverence. You hold back a tired giggle and feel the corner of his mouth pull up when he feels it.

“All that talk, and yet,” pressing a smooch to his forehead you take your hand back and hear the grumble he lets out after, “you still like it better when I’m the one that’s working on you.”

“Can’t complain too much,” he admits slowly as his head leans back to tap the wall, “my wife’s hands are way softer than mine.”

Alex’s grip on your flesh tightens when you sipe away the last line of crimson from the wound, tattooed arms flexing.

“Sorry,” you whisper, watching his eyes slightly awash with pain. “Got caught on a stitch.”

“Ah, well,” the blond sighs, shifting “I suppose I can forgive you.”

Laughing quietly as the house settles, you shake your head and rest your forehead on his.

“Such a saint,” your lips utter teasingly as Alex smiles wide, his hands moving higher to your waist. You lean into him, stealing his warmth as your tired eyes flutter; feeling his thumbs run circles over the flesh of your lower spine.

A content breath escapes you.

“Go back to bed, Sweetheart,” Alex whispers, lips brushing yours like silk, the bristles of his facial hair tickling you. “I can do the rest, promise.”

“Know you can,” your mutterings are barely heard, but the man seems to register them, sea-glass gaze incredibly soft. He chuckles at your sleepiness, one hand leaving your waist to capture the back of your head; weaving into your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You practically melt into him, limbs going slack, slurring out, “Quit it. Wanna help, Alex.”

His laughter shakes you, and with a huff escaping, you bury your burning face into his neck and lean into him, careful of his wound even in your fatigued state.

“No offense, Bug,” Alex shifts, grunting as he easily maneuvers you until you’re laying in his arms, inked forearms under your knees and behind your shoulders with vivid images of grim reapers, snakes, and angels guarding you close. A kiss is firmly pressed to your forehead as the blonde smirks downwards, “But you’re about as helpful to me right now as an empty mag.”

You grumble, trying to disappear into his skin and letting him dig his stubble into your cheek.

“If you bring me back to bed before you’re done,” you yawn and close your eyes, “I’m divorcing you.”

He laughs deeply into your ear, body shaking as he pulls back and sends you an incredulous look.

“Hell, we can’t have that, can we, Mrs. Keller? I’d lose my damn mind.”

It’s a long drive, and you worry through the entirety of it. A primal, whole-body-shaking type of fear. You’d built a life with Alex and loved him more than anything or anyone that had come before. Even if he was gone a lot, that had never dulled what the two of you had—your marriage was nothing short of something you would find in a fairy tale; flashing pictures on pages with vivid colors and tender glances. The very cover itself is made of the finest leather and inlaid with gold calligraphy.

Please, Alex, you plead in your head as you remember his loving gaze—his back as he makes supper in the kitchen and hums to himself. Please be okay.

The men hold open the car door when it comes to a stop outside a very obviously abandoned apartment complex near the outskirts of town. You get out quickly. Looking around, you take in the overgrown grass and the broken concrete with a knife in your lung; holding back the flood of anxious tears.

Though, confusion takes president.

“Where did you…?” You turn to look at the Agents, but they’re already clambering back into their car and snapping the doors shut. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed you watch them speed off as a cloud of dust drifts into the air.

Pulse echoing in your ears, you watch the vehicle speed down the road and disappear.

Swallowing, you whisper, “What the actual fuck?” Turning in circles, no one else is around. A part of you starts to worry less for Alex and more for yourself.

They were CIA, you reiterate, I checked their badges—Alex showed me the standard ones. Could I have missed something?

Expression nervous, you shift on your feet before your stuttering legs take you closer to the abandoned building, not really seeing much choice here. You could imagine the scene from The Wizard Of Oz—when the man pulls back the curtain and all is revealed.

That said, you could really only hope that was what was actually happening to you and you weren't getting kidnapped or shot. Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and enter the building through the open front door.

It was in the wide lobby that you locked eyes with Kate Laswell. You blank, mouth parting as the scent of concrete and decaying furniture get stuck in your nose.

The woman seems highly agitated, brows tight and jaw clenched. Her white blouse had been flattened multiple times by rough hands, lanyard swaying on her neck like Alex’s dog tags would. She holds a file in her hands; the paper bulky as if holding something more than just paper inside its manila clutches.

“Kate?” You ask, confused, “What are you doing here? What’s all of this about?” Taking quick steps forward you splay your hands as your voice grows more serious. “Where’s my damn husband?”

You didn’t know Laswell personally, in fact, when you had first got a glimpse of her here, you’d forgotten the older woman’s name for a moment. The first meeting between the two of you had been at a CIA get-together that Alex had been forced to go to because of his position—some celebration because a group of ICBMs had been taken back into US hands after being stolen. Your husband had introduced you to the Station Chief over a drink with a hand on the small of your back.

But it didn’t stop you now from talking to her like you’d known her for years. Not when fear was flooding your veins.

“What the hell is going on?” You say harshly, glancing around the room for any sight of someone else here.

Kate sighs heavily but wastes no time in speaking, her professional tone and serious face leaving your already fast-paced heart racing.

“Alex isn’t coming back to the United States.” Your eyes blank, staring into icy blue. She holds out her manila folder, jaw tight. Blunt. “He’s a deserter.”

It’s like your entire being halts; your skin suit feels as if it’s sagging on your bones with the weight of a cinder block connected by hooks to the floor.

What did she just say?

Opening and closing your mouth you stutter, lids blinking rapidly.

“I…” Fingers flinching in the air, an exhalation from your nose sounds more like a wheeze. Kate watches stiffly, taking a look at the floor before returning her attention to you; emotion flashes in her eyes. “...W-what?”

“Keller deserted his post—I tried to speak with the Colonel but there’s only so much I can do.” Laswell takes a deep breath as you continue to go through shock. Alex wasn’t coming home? How, why? “He’s staying in Urzikstan to fight with the Liberation Force.”

“Urzikstan?!” You gape, but the woman continues.

“For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be here, but Alex asked me personally to hand these to you.” Again the manilla folder is shown to you, but when you only glare and fight the fear and confusion rampaging in your gut a sigh echoes out and it’s placed on a termite-eaten side table. “Even communicating with you could put you in danger now that he’s gotten on the bad side of the entire SAD and CIA branches. This is all I can do.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hand coming up to capture your mouth.

“If Alex re-enters the states—he’ll be arrested and tried in a court of law. If he’s not shot on sight for what he knows.” Kate watches you closely, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry,” there’s a strained pause, “but he’s made his decision.”

As she brushes past you, leaving the folder on the side table, you feel your wide eyes well with tears—confused and horrified. But he’s coming back to me, right? Alex…Alex wouldn’t leave me here alone.

It was common knowledge that over the last years the blond had gotten more agitated at his line of work; the orders that he didn’t want to follow but had no choice. No voice. But he can’t just abandon you...could he? You’d taken vows. Had a happy marriage and relationship. Loved each other.

He can’t just…he can’t…

Your hands shake and you’re unable to stop them, gaze locked on that unassuming manilla folder. Kate pauses in the doorway, peeking back and seeing your sickly-looking face, the agony written in the lines of your forehead. Like the picture of a loyal wife being told her husband was never coming home. And Alex wasn’t even dead. Resentment begins to burn.

But he made his bed.

“He told me to tell you that he wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to leave him,” was all she said, a final knife being stabbed into your heart and being ripped out like a live wire. Electricity makes your back go stiff in an instant. “It would be best to never tell anyone that we met.”

You were alone, full body shivers and bile stuck in the back of your throat. Cold sweat coats your palms, a sticky mess of your barebones disturbance.

“He…” your voice is hoarse, bouncing off the far walls. “Alex left me here? He left me.”

It was easier to say that the sun had exploded and you were waiting for the last beam of light to incinerate you. Inside of your skull your brain pounds as, in a mad dash of desperation, you rush to the manilla folder and rip it open with vibrating arms.

Having Laswell tell you that Alex wouldn’t be mad if you…if you…the hairs on the back of your neck rise and suddenly you’re angry beyond a sliver of a doubt. It was insulting.

“Alex fucking Keller,” the paper opens to the bulk of your husband's dog tags and a flip phone—reports like his own personal file and the patch that he had once worn so proudly on his combat vest. Red, white, and blue dig into your retinas; it was old, worn beyond measure, but that little patch was something that was never removed. Not even to be cleaned.

“The dirtier it is,” Alex had commented on the American flag patch when you’d offered to mend it for him, cringing at all the blood stains and dirt flecking off it as he slipped his vest off in the foyer of your home. “The luckier I am.”

“I think the stench of it alone will frighten off anyone who comes near,” you had raised a brow, smirking up at him as he walked over, laughing. A kiss is placed on your lips, Alex’s bright smile transferring over to you as if able to spread from his mouth to yours that simply. You sigh dreamily.

He pulls back with a tiny wink as you gaze up at him, cheekily stating, “That’s the plan, Sweet Thing. Gotta make sure I come home to you in one piece.”

You brush your hands over it and think that maybe it would have been better if he had died. Then you could understand why he’s doing this to you. Anger spreads into rage.

Looking next at the phone and dog tags, all you do is shake your head and slam the folder shut, bitter tears tracking your face. You can’t read anything—can’t see his name imprinted on that metal that used to press coldly into your skin as you both slept in bed. You don’t care about the phone or the files.

None of it mattered.

“He fucking left me here,” it’s like you’re a broken record replaying over and over again. “You absolute bastard, Keller!” Yelling, you press your fingers into your face, hands spreading over your eyes and mouth to muffle your enraged sobs.

“You’re still alive and you left me alone.”

Only the abandoned building echoes your pain; replaying it back over and over again as your wails echo around the lobby like a symphony of laughing jesters.

—

The phone that Laswell had given you had been going off at least three times every day—morning, noon, and at night. You had stared at it with fury, knowing exactly who was calling even if the thing was displaying an unknown number. By now you had steeped in your anger enough that you had found yourself snapping at friends and family alike when asked if you were alright.

You wished Alex was here so you could hit him upside the head for being so stupid. So you could hate him until you had the pleasure to love him again.

Urzikstan.

You’d looked up the country after you had spent two days straight in bed, afterward manically cleaning the house with a glare that could light fires. The far-off place was a land utterly divided by war. Russian occupation, a terrorist group; the force that your husband had joined. Mass against mass against mass.

Brick meets wall.

And Alex had chosen to stay—without a doubt because he’d seen the dire situation and had used that damnable good heart of his to empathize to the max. Forget donations, humanitarian work, or anything else, the man had fucking decided to join in a Liberation Force.

As much as you wanted to say you hated him; had wanted to slam your gold wedding band to the table with a good riddance for betraying you like that…you still had his dog tags around your neck, and the ring was still on your finger.

“Too good for his own sake,” you grumble, shoving dirty clothes into the washer like they had tried to attack you. “Deserted the fucking CIA, Jesus Alex. Do you even think when I’m not around?”

There were only so many times you could curse his name until you felt a deceiving needle of pride slither itself into your skull. You could describe Alex as many things but he would always be steadfast in causes that truly needed his help. He often told you that the best missions were the ones where he could do so much more than take out a target—he strived to help the individuals he met. Form bonds.

God forbid something came in between the blond and the ones he’d chosen to give his loyalty to.

You slam the washer shut and stomp into the living room after starting another cycle. Stress cleaning was really not a good look on you—the entire house was without a single spec of dust but you yourself felt like you’d run seven marathons. Clenching your teeth, you go and drop to the couch, a grunt falling from your lips as your head hits the pillow.

Staring at the ceiling, you finally take in the utter silence of the house—not a home, because it could only be that if Alex was here—with a pained crease forming on your brow. The pipes spit water, and the washer grunted its mechanical garble…but there was no humming man making food in the kitchen. No blond hair visible as a head rests on your chest; your fingers playing in the locks that act like silk as you part them, the man on top of you purring. Body a weighted blanket.

“Was it really that easy,” you whisper to nothing, lip quivering. “Was it really that easy to stay away, Alex? I thought…I…”

Eyes wrenching shut, you hear the phone right at noon again as it sits on the coffee table. And you let it.

There were voicemails, no doubt, but you hadn’t thought to listen to those either. This small act of rebellion was all you could act on but for the simple fact that it also harmed you. Barbed wire steadily digging deeper as it kept your hands wound to your sides—neck plastered to the pillow as bright silver spikes glinted. You stare at the unknown caller who really wasn’t all that unknown and watch the screen light, vibrating over the wood in steady intervals.

What hurt the most was that if he’d asked you to come along—become an Expat just for him—you would have said yes. You could find a new job, a new place to call home. Humanitarian work would have been at the top of your list and Alex…well….he would still be fighting, just as he always had.

But at the very least you would have been there to clean his wounds. Together. You’d both promised on that altar to do nothing less. He could’ve asked. He should have asked.

Alex…

“Urzikstan,” you mutter for what seems like the fiftieth time. When the ringing stops a few moments later the new voicemail icon flashes. Placing your arm over your mouth, you clench your hand so tight it starts to shake, whispering into your skin, “Fine. I guess you did make your bed. And…and I won't be there to lie in it with you.” No matter how much I want to.

You slip the wedding band off of your finger and place it beside the phone before turning and burying your head into the cushions; feeling more numb than you ever had before.

—

It carried on like this for three months. The ring didn’t move from the coffee table and neither did the flip phone; the file had all but been tossed in the trash as it sat teetering on the living room desk. You carried on as well as you could, all things considered.

Work was a blur, going out with friends even harder to enjoy, and any enjoyment of hobbies or activities was dulled to an almost gray existence. Like a ghost, you wafted through experiences with dog tags and a withering appearance. Eventually, you just stopped going out unless it couldn’t be helped. You still bought meals for two at the grocery store out of habit. You placed blankets where Alex used to sleep beside you. You went to work.

And still, the calls never stopped except for a brief pause after the first month. You’d thought he’d finally given up, but no. Back at it.

It had gotten to a point now where the device was automatically deleting all recent voicemails—too little space in the inbox.

Angry curiosity was tempting you. It would be easy, you reason, to simply play the first message and listen. The worst part of it was that you’d begun to forget Alex’s voice and perhaps that was why, on that dead-aired Saturday, you snatched the phone and brought it into the kitchen.

Firmly planting it on the counter, you stand behind one of the island chairs and glare, hands tapping into the wood.

“I’m giving you three minutes, Alex,” you speak as if he’s still here, as if his form stands right behind you, head tilted like a damn dog with that infectious smile and those sea-glass eyes. “Three minutes,” your fingers snap the device open and you go to your voicemails; jaw tight, “and if you don’t hear you groveling, Keller, I’m deleting all of them and chucking this phone into the sink.”

You go down the line to the very first message, small buttons clicking, and before you can stop yourself you press play.

It begins with a small moment of silence. A cough.

“Hey,” he says your first name, not one of your epithets. Your brows deepen their annoyed furrow, but you can’t help the uptick in your heart rate. Inside your flesh, the sinews of your throat close in on itself like a balloon. “I…I’m guessin’ I have a good enough ass-kicking waiting for me since you didn’t answer.” A strained laugh before another pause. You feel acidic tears boil behind your lids. “I’m not surprised—not really. Done some stupid things but never something like this.” You can hear him shake his head, voice going lower in defiance. “But they were asking me to leave Urzikstan in a worse place than when I entered it. This Liberation Force, Bug, it…they’re good people and what they’re asking me to do…” Alex huffs, growling under his throat. “I can’t stand by that. The man you chose to marry, he can’t stand by that. They need me here. I’m not asking you to not be angry—to not hate me for this. I know I damn well deserve it.”

You let your tears hit the counter, head slightly bowing over. That was your Alex.

“You need a leash,” your strained voice hits the walls, bouncing off picture frames and your husband's cooking utensils. The small pieces that make up the whole picture frame of your life. “God,” you huff wetly, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know I should have talked to you first, figured out some plan. But, uh,” Alex’s throat gets choked up, and you snap a hand to your mouth when you realize he’s close to tears. He clears his throat. “Hell, I should have done a lot of things, Sweetheart.”

You can hear shouts in the background, calls in Arabic. The pounding of a door and a woman’s voice.

“Alex, we need to move! Everyone is ready—Barkov’s lab cannot be left standing a moment longer.” The hurried hand to the line muffles the words, but you hear him anyway.

“Affirmative!” He comes back. “I don’t have time to explain more, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I’d understand if you don’t use the passport Laswell’ll give you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stop calling.” Alex laughs and your face freezes.

“Passport?”

“What kind of Husband would I be if I just let the most perfect woman in the world go without a fight, huh? I’ll be waiting until you call to tell me to shut the hell up and leave you alone or that you’re down in the airport waiting.” There’s a large sound of combat vests being clicked on—pistols being situated into holsters and a rifle strap slipped over a chest. Alex suddenly pauses and you stare at the phone blankly. “I know this is a big ask, Doll, and I know I’m horrible for even springin’ this on you when I’m half a world away from our bed. But I had to try, even if it was selfish. I just…I just really need to hear your voice telling me if I’m an idiot or not for thinking this up. Call me back soon…or when you run out of my clothes to burn in the firepit out back…I love you, okay? More…more than anything.”

There’s a minute or two of nothing, just Alex’s ragged breathing, and then there’s an older man’s voice ordering him to hurry up. The line clicks.

Your ears ring as it does, wide eyes dripping tears from your bottom lashes as your lungs chill over. Hand slowly flinching out, you ghost over the keys before clicking on the following voicemail. As it plays, your feet start to take you backward at a snail's pace, your spine flattering against the wall as blood drains to your feet.

“Hey, it’s me again. I still haven’t heard from you—that’s alright. Take your time.” Steadying yourself with a hand, you look out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the manila folder on the desk, its tan hide sucking you in. Pulse in your throat, you rush out to grab it as Alex’s voice echoes. “I know Laswell gave you the file, I trust her that much at least.” A sigh. “But even if it’s just to yell at me, please pick up the phone soon. Let me save some of my dignity and give me a chance to beg on an open line, huh, Sweetheart…? But I guess that’s all—gotta go. I love you.”

You don’t play the next message because you’re ripping open the file with rabid hands, seeing exactly as you had when Laswell left it for you. Alex’s mission report; his patch. The dog tags around your neck clink together like a song, some brutal rhythm.

“Passport?” Grasping the mission report you pick it up, flipping through the multiple pages of blacked-out words and more confused than ever. “Airport?”

The words come out as whimpers, hands so shaky that the pages slip from your fingers. They slam to the floor in a flurry of bond paper and you curse loudly, snatching for the remnants futilely. Grasping on your hands and knees hitches build in your breath as your fingers dance rapidly before they slip across something distinctly not paper.

Small, tiny, and blue. Laminate.

Your very blood seems to stop in your veins. Pushing back one last piece of paper, you come face to face with a singular American passport. Gasping down mute breaths and licking your lips, you pick it up lightly, leaning back on your legs as if you’d just slammed your head into the concrete.

“Alex…” you whisper to no one.

Flipping the hard cover open, a small, palm-sized piece of paper slips out to your lap as your own face stares at you in image form. You blink for a moment before going to take the note and separate the ends. Formal script is inside, stiff lettering. Not your husband's handwriting, but you didn’t have to guess who’d written out these directions for you.

Laswell.

There was a destination in fountain pen ink—an airport near the Urzikstanian and Georgian border. Seeing as Urzikstan was on the travel-ban list due to the turbulence of the government and terrorist threats, you wouldn’t be able to get there directly.

But you supposed Kate had your back for that too.

Georgian safehouse - wait for Keller there. It’s secure. More directions and then a small gap. A pause. Good luck.

You don’t know how long you stare at that paper—that passport. The first thing you think about is how could Alex ask you to do this. Uproot yourself with the snap of a finger. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything beyond what could fit in a few suitcases. No furniture, no large amount of clothes, or even sentimental items. You’d have to quit your job; leave behind family and friends to travel to a war-torn country.

But he’d said it was your choice, and he wouldn’t push you to make it. He’d said you could leave him if you wanted—keep all of this that you’d built here.

…But you’d built it together, hadn’t you?

You think of Alex’s bright smile and his mustache. His tattoos. How he’d hold you so tight in the long hours of sleep that you half-believed he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t; nuzzling his nose into the back of your head and grumbling out nonsense. The way you could trace his scars and watch as he willingly submitted to your praise, delicate lips curving into sheepish grins as you place soft kisses on the raised skin. Red cheeks.

This place wasn’t a home without Alex in it.

You look over at the coffee table and lock onto the gold of your wedding band.

—

Getting into Georgia was a long affair of paperwork and screenings—not days but months of legal jargon that Alex had dodged entirely because of his desertion. By the time you’d landed in country, you were wholly exhausted down to the very marrow of your bones. You get through the checkpoints, pick up your bags, and look out at the entirely new world outside of the airport’s windows.

“Okay,” you swallow saliva and nod carefully before looking down at Laswell’s directions to the safehouse.

You slip the paper into your pocket after memorizing the address, tips of your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the flip phone. Clenching your eyes shut, you take your hand back out and go to try and hire a driver. You were here, but that doesn’t mean all of this was forgiven.

After you find someone able to drive you to where you need to go, you end up standing with a quaint hostel ahead of you, home far behind. Gazing slightly nervous at the strange place you’ve found yourself, you think of Alex’s hand on the small of your back and sigh; caressing the cool metal of the ring around your finger.

Walking forward, you hitch your bags over your shoulders and grit your teeth against the hot sun. When you meet the owner at the front desk you state your name and ask for a bed.

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he looks at something on his countertop, raising a brow in thought. Grabbing at a stack of papers he holds up a finger and begins digging. Too tired and overwhelmed to ask what was wrong, you just watch and rub at your face.

“Ah,” the man snaps his fingers and laughs to himself, “here it is! I knew I had placed the note somewhere, Mrs. Keller.” You blink, confused, but the man just takes a key from the wall and motions for you to follow. Sparing a glance around for a moment, you slowly slink after, not really having a choice.

“I remember your Husband coming to me—the blond with the tattoos.” The owner looks back, making sure you’re following. He motions to his right side with splayed fingers. “Scars on the side of his head, to reserve a room.”

Alex was here? How much had he done already pertaining to the chance that you would show up?

“Y-yeah,” you chuckle stiffly, “that was him. Sorry for being so long I was…preoccupied.”

“You’re lucky he kept up on payments,” the man grumbles, opening a door with the key and motioning you inside. “My pleasure to finally have you, regardless.”

Entering the small and sparse room, you take the key from him with a thankful smile and a quick thank you before he closes the door. As the barrier thuds, you sway on your feet. Blinking. Breathing hard. You drop all of your bags with a heavy thump that echoes off the walls in a single instant. Heart pounding at everything that was striking you in an instant, you walk slowly back to the bed. You don’t bother to take a shower or brush your teeth; even change.

You fall down on the mattress and pray you don’t have to dream about Alex sending money to this place every week simply on a suffocating hope that you’d come back to him. You pray you don’t dream at all.

The phone wakes you up only thirty minutes later.

Groaning, you shift your body so your hand can snake into your pocket, grasping it and tossing it to the pillow beside your head. You’d never made it through all of the voicemails without crying, so you just deleted all of them and let the inbox fill back up again.

Feeling the dog tags press against your chest as you form your chest into the bed, you shove your head downward and listen to it ring.

Bring-bring, bring-bring, bring-bring

It happens in a flurry of a sleep-addled mind and a horrible desperation to see your husband after nearly a full year of no contact. You flip it open and answer with your nose pressed deeply into the pillow below you. Ears straining and pulse running like a starving cat after a mouse.

Dead silence.

“...Sweetheart…?” It’s pitiful how fast the tears flood you at Alex’s shocked and tiny voice. Tight breathing sounds over the line from his end and your other hand digs into your scalp. A small, cut-off laugh. “Hey…I—”

You hang up with a vicious slam of the screen and let the silence settle again. People walk the hall; the sun dims as night sets in. This isn’t home. Dropping the phone back down to the pillow you curl into a tight ball and cry yourself back to sleep.

If you had to guess, you’d say the small curse was what woke you for the second time, though you didn’t register it until minutes later. That muffled ‘shit’ as a foot hits your dropped bags near the door. But then it’s silent again and your ears only twitch to the gentle sigh that brushes against your face; a thumb and forefinger caressing your cheek as hair is placed back over your ear.

Perhaps the only reason at all as to why you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder is because of his calluses. They burn your flesh as they slide over it—as ingrained into your very being as your own heart is. As if Alex’s touch was another organ that was needed to survive. More important than a liver or a spleen.

When your eyes slip open he’s leaning back in a chair he had turned to face you, built form shifting as the rickety wood creaks. No more than five feet away sits your husband, and all you do is suck in a tight breath and lock gazes with soft sea glass.

Alex freezes at the same time, strong brow line peeling back and mustache stiff as his lips immediately thin. You both stare for a good while, a thread of tension entering the air. The night deepens.

He speaks first, in the dense hours of confrontation. Your heart feels like it’s been stuck with a spear, vignette at the sides of your vision, and a blooming center of only Alex’s body and his messy hair. The scarf around his neck. The combat vest.

Had he driven all this way to see if you were here? Because you’d answered the phone? But you hadn’t even said anything. Your head stays on the pillow, wondering if you were hallucinating.

“Hey,” Alex forces a chuff before he glances away, nervous arms crossed. “Hey there, Doll. Sorry that I woke you. I…ah,” your eyes bore into him, hand on the sheets slowly clenching into a fist. “I figured there was an off chance you would be here.” He clears his voice, throat closing on a trying laugh. “Guess I’m glad I looked. You should remember to lock your door, by the way.”

At the sight of your rising glare, his tone drops, expression falling even more than it already was. Deep well of sadness grew in his eyes, lips pulling back in a strained agony.

Alex’s gaze drops to the floor.

“I know,” is what hits the air, “I know, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” you push your body up as his large shoulders tighten—such an accomplished and strong man brought to a squirming heap when his wife’s sharp words hit him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Alex?!”

Heavy feet hit the floor as you stalk over, fatigue and tiredness pushed all the way to the back of your mind yet also enhancing your emotions. Bitter rage was sparking—held in far too long. Alex’s eyes don’t meet yours, so you grab him by the chin and angle his head up to you.

At the sight of your red sclera and the baggy gaze he stills. Under your grip his beard tickles you, the soft grip of flesh that makes you want to wrap your arms over him and weep; make him promise to never leave like that again.

“I…I wasn’t…”

“That’s the thing isn’t it—you didn’t think.” Sea glass floods over, going glossy; hurt etched into both of your faces as if carved from the same stone. But you don’t stop now, growling out as your skin burns. Alex isn’t sad that you’re angry, he’s sad he’s done this to you. “You disappeared, Alex. Laswell had to just drop all of this shit on me. I thought you had died.” You growl. “Do you know what that feels like?!”

“Sweetheart—”

“Shut up! You let me talk,” he falls silent, hand delicately coming up to grab your wrist. Not to pull you away, just to hold you. To feel your skin and the heat of it. You sniffle and his eyes break. “And the worst part of it was that if you had just asked I would have followed you right then and there.” Alex sharply looks back at you. “But the biggest insult was that you thought I would leave you—that you even considered that.”

Shock slowly gives way to a blank expression. He was confused, now.

Was that what you were angry about?

“You’re an idiot, Keller. Hot-headed. Cocky.” You shake your head, but a tiny smile begins to bleed onto Alex’s face. Watching you like you’d just sprung a million dollars on him. His grip slightly squeezes, calloused thumb running the span of your knuckles as you shake his head with your hand. “Damn nuisance to my health, is what you are.” Trying to remain angry is tough when he’s looking at you like that—starstruck—but you spit out, “It’s insulting that you thought I’d just give up on us that easily.”

“Most women don’t want a man who’s wanted for desertion, Doll,” Alex whispers, testing a smirk on his lips with his expression still strained.

“Arrogant!” your voice snaps. “Not a single brain cell in his stupid little head.” You let go of his chin and grip the sides of his skull, feeling the dirty but still soft strands of hair before you huff at him.

But he just looks at you and smiles, face smooshed.

“...You really came?” Alex asks quietly. You fall silent and after a moment you deflate.

After the silence of trying to keep the sneer on your face, you let it drop, lips quivering slightly. Anger glints with pain. “I should hit you upside the head, Keller, for all the worry you’ve put me through,” you grunt, eyes flashing over every new bruise on his face—every cut you’d have to re-learn. He looks tired.

Oh, Alex…

Before the blond can respond to you, you’ve captured the back of his head and shoved it into your chest; face burying itself into his scalp to bring forth that scent of dust and cologne. You whimper out as he grips you around the waist with just as much fervor, “Did you think that I would stay away?”

Alex says nothing, only the slight tremor in his bicep betraying him. You firmly kiss his skull and run your fingers through his hair, the both of you so tight together there’s barely enough room in your ribs to allow your lungs to inflate.

But holding him was more important than air, a sentiment that Alex seemed to share entirely.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Bug.” He mutters into your skin. “Feels good to be able to hold my girl again.”

You stay like that for a long time before you pull back and capture his cheeks, face pulling closer before you kiss him deeply. It’s not a fast-paced or desperate thing—no clashing teeth or tongue. That wasn’t what you needed right now.

All that you needed was Alex. Your home.

You both separate and the blond grabs the back of your neck, forcing you back so he can lay another on the side of your mouth; nose, cheek. Anywhere that he could reach as his mustache tickled you to a smile. Giggles worm out and you wiggle out of his grip to wipe at your cheeks, spreading away tiny tear tracks and saliva.

“Quit it,” you whisper, and Alex gazes up at you reverently from his chair.

“Negative, Ma’am,” he says, equally as soft, not even blinking. “Don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes, face hot.

The seconds draw long of only watching one another before you shake your head and move your hands to shimmy out of the dog tags around your neck. Alex’s gaze locks on the metal swiftly, smile shifting.

“You’re horrible.” You huff, quietly, before shoving his dog tags at his chest. “Now put them back on.”

“But I’m not in the—” Your glare shuts him up. Alex clears his throat sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You nod and watch as they’re resituated around his neck. Right where they should be. When you take a step back to really take him in, there’s a moment where you skim over the state of his left leg. After all, the metal was barely noticeable in the dark. But when you do see it every little part of you shrivels up with confused pain.

Alex stands with a noticeable preference to his right and as he towers over you, fingers coming to grab at your face and slowly drag it back up.

A slightly apologetic look washes over him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t listen to all of the voicemails.”

“Alex…” you slowly cut off. “You…” Staring at the metal limb instead of the real one, you gape. “...how?”

“Y’know,” he laughs, but you don’t find this funny. He notices and kisses your forehead, tapping his scalp to yours and saying after a contemplative pause, “I think it’s better if I don’t explain it. I’m alright, just...” Alex smiles cheekily, the spark that you love coming back easily as it shimmers in his eyes, “just a little more carbon fiber and aluminum than I was before.”

You hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, I should have come sooner—I was just angry, and I wasn’t—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alex sighs, grabbing you and maneuvering the both of you to the bed. He sits and you end up laying in his lap like that moment in the bathroom ages ago. “None of this is your fault, okay? You deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have put such a burden on you.”

You sigh in his arms, head under his chin and heart finally able to return to a steady pace. Licking your lips, you ask, “Does it hurt?”

Sending a glance down, Alex’s lips twitch with a grin before it disappears. He hums.

“Sometimes.” Your hand grips his opposite cheek and you lay a kiss on his chin, caressing his flesh.

It’s a tentative kind of love. An understanding and a plea all at once.

The blond leans back against the wall and pulls you closer, closing his eyes. Finally relaxing for the first time in what seems like forever. But his girl is in his arms, and he’s never been this calm.

“I have a home in Urzikstan,” he confesses lightly, fingers brushing your body and giving way to shivers. You listen, eyes fluttering at the vibrations of his words. “It’s safe—protected. I…want us to live there.” Alex nods against your head, swallowing. “If you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”

You feel his breath hitch, soft chuckles brushing your hair far better than any comb. There’s a small tremor in his voice as he says, “I love you. God, do I love you.”

Your lips pull up, body growing heavy with a final sense of home.

“I love you, too.” Soft kisses and tight arms. Shifting tattoos. “But if you ever do something like that again without talking to me, I’m telling Laswell she has permission to put a bullet in your ass.”

His loud laughs shake your body, and you press your face into his neck to steady yourself; smiling.

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oatlystrawberryicecream · 23 days

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the way that some people talk about jason and batman and the joker is so jarring to me because it relies on some unspoken assumptions that i will never buy into

1. the assumption that taking a life inevitably always makes the person who did it worse. killing someone isn’t always this earth shattering thing that harms the person who does it and fundamentally changes their outlook on things. i guess if you have never met a veteran or someone who survived an armed robbery or any number of other things you might make that mistake, but like some of the people who fought in wwii came home and were normal members of the community and the times that their bullets hit the mark were not necessarily the parts of the war that kept them up at night. these assumptions that once you kill you are wicked and have to feel bad and do this whole show of repentance are insidious. if you are gonna look at all this through the lens of christian morality you should at least be aware that that is what you are doing but you cant have just one character be wicked and unclean because of his actions when the bible says that everyone is wicked and unclean by our nature and all sins are equal. a lot of people object to that view but if thats how you see it batman and jason and the joker are all sinners and are all as bad as each other so at least be consistant about how you apply that moral framework.

2. the assumption that being robin or being taken in and trained by bruce means full agreement with and acceptance of every part of bruce’s personal philosophy on justice and morality. jason was a homeless child and even if all this was explicitly laid out for him he could not have agreed since he needed bruce as a matter of survival. bruce’s ideology is extremely important to him and he can teach it to his children all he wants but they are not beholden to it above all else the way he thinks they should be. jason has to live according to his own beliefs regardless of how unacceptable bruce finds it and it is unfair and hypocritical of bruce to get bent out of shape about it.

3. the assumption that killing is always bad. maybe i have listened to too many episodes of behind the bastards but some people will do significant and appalling damage to others no matter what unless they are dead. those people can’t be allowed to keep causing harm. it isn’t glorious and there is no honor about it but it is right and just that they be stopped. there is no reason to strive for purity or ideological high ground when you can provide a measure of safety and justice to victims and prevent future harm instead.

4. the assumption that bruce didn’t have to answer to jason. parents have a duty to their children and it is my opinion that that duty does not end when the child dies. bruce adopted jason and made himself responsible and accountable for everything that happened to jason under his care. that responsibility was ignored over many instances. i am not going to detail the things that led to jason’s death here but it was not good or effective parenting. after jason’s death the disrespect starts pretty immediately with bruce compromising evidence of his murder in order to preserve his ability to continue as batman and continues with bruce getting rid of pretty much all traces of jason’s presence in his life. he is only spoken of as a mistake, a lost cause, or a cautionary tale and is assigned blame for his own death, a death that batman never bothered to fully investigate since he was buried next to the woman who led him into the trap. a new kid is endangered and the joker and batman both continue doing whatever they want as if jason’s life only matters for the way it affects them. bruce needs to answer for all of this, as his son jason has a right to expect more from his father. now the extent to which that extends can be debated but it is clear to me that jason deserved better from bruce.

conclusion: killing is accepted in society in certain circumstances, you may or may not agree with this but self defense laws and even things like jury nullification exist because people knew there should be some wiggle room since no one could have the full context of every situation that would ever arise. ending a life is not normal or ideal but it is not an unfathomably rare experience and it does not always weigh on the person who does it. bruce has never to my knowledge killed someone so he has no idea how he would actually respond but that still isn’t even what jason was asking him to do. all he had to do was be present and not move and he would have been the only parental figure who didn’t let jason down.

#i wish christianity didn’t teach people that sin ruins you forever #for many reasons #but right now im frustrated that it keeps coming up in supposedly secular places #hopefully someone gets what im trying to say #jason todd #anti bruce wayne #under the red hood

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rotandguts · 1 year

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✶ ┄ CRAZY TOGETHER

danny (evil dead rise) x fem!reader

summary: during a quiet lull on that tumultuous night, danny realises this may be one of the last few moments he'll ever spend with his best friend.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ mdni, nsfw, sexual content, masturbation (fem receiving), mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of panic attacks, possession and death. praise kink if you squint, bittersweet best friends to lovers. mentions of underaged drinking.

A/N: helllooooo, so this is my first ever fic on this blog wowowowowow i'm nervous. i hope you all like it bc i am DOWN BAD for this mfer. pls let me know what you think!! DANNY IS 18 IN THIS.

publishing date ― may 17th, 2023 | © rotandguts

✶

Through all the horror and dread that had inevitably arisen from the events of the past few hours, Danny would argue that despite the demonic presence lurking in the hallway - it was the guilt of his own actions that was currently feasting on his soul.

The noises from beyond the bolted door of apartment 85 had grown to a momentary halt, the initial attack keeping everyone still alive on edge. Bridget was in the living room temporarily calming her younger sister Kassie with promises of a doctor coming to help their mother, hesitancy evident within her voice as she struggled to believe the words coming from her own mouth. Her wound on her cheek - as much as she had tried to ignore it - was starting to ache. Beth had been raiding the apartment for something to help her hand that the quick relief of duct tape was unable to provide.

And all this because he found that stupid fucking book.

The thing that was making the empty sick feeling in his gut feel like a stab wound of his own, was your lingering presence in the corner of his room.

You were here because of him. Regardless of the book or not, if he hadn’t insisted you come over that night for pizza you would be sitting across the city in the comfort of your own home right now. You could’ve been with your family when the earthquake happened. Fuck, they don’t even know if you’re alive right now.

Beth could now be heard stomping around all the windows in the apartment, shouting to anyone that could hear her that they needed help.

“What the fuck are we gonna do, Dan?” Your timid voice snapped him from his internal ongoing panic attack. His gaze, still concerned, softened when you turned around to look at him. It had been the first time you’d spoken in a long while, your voice providing an almost immediate comfort to the blonde boy. He began biting his nails with furrowed brows, a habit you’d usually chastise him for.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, eyes still on you. Your hands were trembling. Your hands were fucking trembling because of him, the thought led him unable to look you in the eyes momentarily. Tears began to form as you clenched your fists, trying to fight the breathless in your chest as it began to truly sink in how much shit you were in. Your phone had long been out of battery, with Danny dropping his in the vault where he'd found that book. Neither of you had been able to comprehend the necessity of the devices a mere few hours ago.

You were both essentially isolated from the world as you knew it.

Danny sunk onto the bed, sitting upright with wide eyes and quick breaths. You couldn’t bare to see him like this. Sure, was there a part of you that was totally pissed off at him for tempting fate with that old vinyl? Of course. But hell, the worst thing you’d been expecting was tetanus, not satan herself cooking eggs in the kitchen.

You approached his hunched over figure, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He still can’t look you in the eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You spoke with the same hesitance as Bridget in the connecting room. Danny was grown up enough to know otherwise, and yet still for a brief moment took solace in your words.

The mattress sinks beside him and when he turns you’re looking at him through wide, concerned eyes. Your clasped hands are still shaking, despite your best efforts to stop them.

His own hand hovers over them. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding when he finally clasps your hands with his.

Eyes connect in the moment, his own drop briefly to look at your lips. They’re a little bloody from you biting them. Your tongue skates across them, letting the metallic taste fill your mouth. The smell leaking through the damp walls of the apartment itself after the bloodbath caused by Ellie outside.

You might both die tonight, he thinks. This could be it. All those years of friendship over because of him. In fact, he thinks it might be even worse if he survives and you don’t, because he’d be haunting the earth still searching for you at every corner in his life. He considers it for a brief moment, mentally punishing himself with twisted thoughts for the hundredth time that night.

Danny’s stomach drops at the thought of the immense unsaid in your friendship. Every lingering gaze and hand hold, every hushed secret and late night embrace under covers. He lived for those moments, but it was starting to dawn on him that they may remain just that. Fleeting moments of will-they-won’t-they peppering your decade long friendship, the what ifs of tomorrow darkening overnight.

He thinks about the first time he knew he loved you. It was your tenth birthday, a milestone. Your mom had intended on throwing you a lavish party and inviting all the kids in class with the little money she’d had. You’d never been one for showing off or making a big fuss and insisted you just wanted Danny there. The night was spent huddled together in fancy dress costumes, he was a pirate and you were a princess, telling each other spooky stories from the safety of the pillow fort your parents had helped build. He wished this nightmare they were currently experiencing was just that, a spooky story told under the flashlight lit fort.

He could still remember the close proximity you both sat in. The quiet, different from the buzzing playground, had allowed him the opportunity to see you up close. There was something in your words that made his heart beat faster, and when your bright eyes lingered on him while telling your stories he knew deep down that he wanted you to look at him like that for the rest of his life.

You were looking at him like that now.

“Do you remember that night we got home from Oscar’s party?” Your voice was barely a whisper, he almost thought he had made it up in his head. All of a sudden he was very aware of just how close you now were.

Oscar, a classmate and barely a friend, grew up in the richer part of the city. Everyone jumped for a chance to go to his parties for his large pool and the flowing liquor, you had both jumped at the opportunity.

“Yeah.” Danny responded after a beat, still taking the opportunity to inspect your face.

That night you had partaken in your usual drunk hand holding and cuddling, nothing too different from what you’d do sober but with an added possessiveness. You had danced with him like you wanted everyone to watch you together, to know that you were his and he was yours. In those moments, lips had lingered for moments too long at ears and mouths. But ultimately, the night ended with your usual walk home.

If Ellie, Danny’s mom, had known you both weren’t tucked safely in bed in your house she would’ve called a search party to track you down through every nook and cranny in the city. Luckily, you both ended your night in bed by 4am.

“Do you remember what you asked me?” Danny spoke again after a short moment of silence. You were looking at the floor now, your feet occasionally grazing his.

“Yeah.”

“Why haven’t you ever kissed me, Danny?” You asked, he thought you were teasing him but you showed no signs of mocking. Pensive, you rolled to face him. He was frozen in place. The lights were out in your room and your bodies, undressed to different extents that you were both familiar with during an after party sleepover, radiating an addictive warmth that made him want to hold on to you skin to skin.

“I didn’t know that was something you wanted.” His fists were clenched, he was still waiting for this to be a big joke.

“I want it.” The light from the moon illuminated some of your face. He licked his lips.

“Why didn’t we like, ever talk about it after?” If tonight was it, he needed to know. He needed to tell her. He’d rather she hate him and be alive and know than be dead and have the wasted opportunity follow him forever.

“I was scared, I guess - I thought you didn’t like it.” You shrugged.

Soft lips on your own, hands gripping your waist under covers. You’re using all of your self control to not grind yourself into him. The only evidence left of your night together were various lilac bruises scattered on your necks. But neither of you spoke about it. So it was never brought up.

“I liked it.” For the first time tonight since the earthquake, Danny softly smiled. Your eyes lit up, returning the smile to him.

“You never said anything-“

“Neither did you!” He countered, the smile giving away that he wasn’t actually angry. You smirked and rolled your eyes, “Touché.”

As much as it embarrassed you to admit at a time like this, your thighs were pressed together at the thought of you and him that night. Both of you had been virgins prior to the encounter

His left hand tangled through your hair as lips danced, you can still remember how you thought you had a temperature from the summer heat and the sweat coating you both. From his gentle, wordless persuasion of a soft push, you were on your back and his frame was on top pressing into you. By instinct, your legs wrap around his waist and pull him in. His hips grinding to your core, it’s so messy and quick but you can barely think because his other hand is traveling to your thigh to pull you in even closer.

He breaks away from the kiss to trace his thumb across your jaw and your swollen lips. Eyes blown out and wide, jaw slack at the sight of him. You’re spread out under him, the material of your crop top and shorts seemingly oh-so thin now that you’re in this position. Your tongue appears to softly lick the digit of his thumb, his eyes almost rolling back at the sensation. He can feel your thighs clench together around him, seeking a temporary relief from the throbbing between them.

He thinks he might die if he can’t feel it, if only for a second.

Removing the thumb from your mouth, your face immediately portrays your disappointment with a slight pout. Danny lightly smirks, lowering himself down again face to face with you. He reaches down to your thigh, trailing the inside of your leg.

“Can I feel you?”

“I think I’ve been thinking of that night every day since it happened.” He admitted, soft smile lingering. You could feel something stir inside you. Here he was, your best friend, in his oversized shirt and silver chain. He ran his hand through his hair. “I dunno. I just know that I can’t stop thinking about it. And you.” Danny continues.

There was a fucking demon outside the apartment door and quite frankly all you could think about was how badly you wanted that silver chain in your mouth.

Your hand reaches for his jaw, which grows slack at your touch, his gaze seemingly possessed by the thought of you. The summer night heat from that encounter stirred inside of you again.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Apprehensive, you continue to trace your thumb over his cheek, until following his jaw and lips just like he had done that night. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long while.”

He was hypnotised under the touch.

“I love you too. I’ve always loved you. You’re my best friend, man.” Danny felt like fucking crying and you could tell through his voice. Was this a dream? Was that demon back to taunt him for all the time wasted?

He felt consumed by you, like in this moment his purpose was to do anything he could to make it all better. He leaned in to finally press a kiss on your lips, slow and still hesitant. You chase him for another when he pulls away, noses still connected and eyes closed tight.

You wanted to stay like this forever. His fingers laced with the hair behind your ear, grabbing a section and softly pulling. The involuntary moan that left your lips sent a shiver through him, he wanted more, more, more. Your neck was on display for him to reach down and attack with sloppy kisses and light teasing bites. He pressed himself against you, moving your back flat onto the mattress. His lips and tongue messy with your own, clashing to remedy the thirst for each other. Danny’s thigh pressing against your covered core, subconsciously leading you to grind against him.

“Danny, please-” When you were saying things like that, knowing that you didn’t know how much time you even had left together, he had to comply. It had felt so natural, it almost made him feel that guilty feeling again. Why hadn’t they just been doing this all along?

Lifting your skirt to expose the wet lace of your underwear, he asked the same question he did last summer.

“Can I feel you?”

Without hesitation you nodded, guiding his hands through the waistband. “Shit,” He paused for a second, raising his fingers back up to his mouth, spitting on them before returning them to their previous position.

The electric feeling of him on her clit, foreheads pressed together and eyes connected could make anyone forget about the horrors happening beyond the sanctuary of the doors to his room. His fingers filling you, curling and strumming to a syncopated beat, reacting only to your stirring beneath him.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet babe,” He was amazed at the feeling itself, your slick softness. You choked out a gasp, you groping him in an attempt to give him the same ineluctable pleasure he was giving you. He was too preoccupied with you to worry about anything he might be feeling, not when he was the one that got you in this situation. And besides, hovering over you when you looked this fucking good with his fingers stuffed inside you, that was more than enough for him.

“You’re so good, such a good boy.” He quietly whines at your words, pressing rough kisses to your neck again.

You tug his hair back to grant yourself a better look at him. His other hand wrapped around your neck, not restricting your breathing but still lightly grabbing it. When he could tell you were about to make a loud noise, the same hand swiftly moved to cover your mouth. Your eyes wide with his, silently watching each other desperate to moan.

The silver chain resting on your chest, its cold metal grounding you in the moment. “So fuckin’ pretty,” He murmured, still so preoccupied with the feeling of filling you.

“Needed you for so long Dan,” He bites his lip as his pace grows quick, your fingers finally finding their way around the chain that was taunting you all night.

“Thought about you every night. Couldn’t stop thinking about how fuckin’ wet you were.” It was true, in the shame of their last encounter he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. Not when he’d been thinking about it for half his life. “Still so so wet baby.”

Looking at his arms, his tattoos and veins. The way they moved in and out of you, the glint in his eyes as he watched his own work. The overwhelming view and feeling lead to the inescapable wave. “Fuck, Dan, I’m gonna-”

And with that, he holds you tight as you hit your orgasm. Your hands fly to his hair and shoulders, trying to remain grounded as your back arches. “Fuckfuckfuck-” You try your hardest to whisper, but your heart is pounding and all you can feel is the dizzying sweetness of Danny all around you. You have to remind yourself that this is real, you’re real.

He watches you, your heavy breathing providing the soundtrack to the moment. He pressed a light kiss to the top of your breast that was on show from the top you were wearing, before moving back up to place a kiss on your lips. Lying beside you, staring into your eyes with a warmth you’d always thought was unimaginable but realising that it had always been there. It has always been him.

So for that moment, you just lay there. And yeah, there was still so much unsaid regarding their long friendship. But for now, in the uncertainty of the night, they’d managed to say enough. For the first time since finding that book, Danny would feel optimistic about the future, despite all the shit going on with his mom. For a second it felt like they could really do this, they could really be fine. If only they could make it to tomorrow, then everything else could be resolved. He could apologise to Bridget, he could ask you out on a real date. You could let your parents know you were alive, you could fix the mistakes of last summer and go all the way again with Dan instead of pretending it never happened.

Unfortunately, as optimistic as they currently were, tomorrow would not come for either of them.

#morgan davies #evil dead rise #danny evil dead #danny evil dead rise #danny x reader #danny evil dead x reader #danny evil dead rise x reader #evil dead #evil dead smut

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clubdionysus · 2 months

Text

[BAD DECISION #55] Secrets

warnings: he he he, healthy communication!! wahoo!! shower (act surprised), a lil jealousy from koo, mentions of past escapades with jimin, jk with a point to prove!!, jk is a very bad housemate in this one (but he's sexy so tis okay), scene of the crime: jimin's room, spanking, fingering, dominant koo, GASP! a bird!!! in the middle of business!!!!, hehehhe, confessions, a very lovely shag <3

wc: 14K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Every job you've ever applied for, and every resume you've ever sent, tells the same little white lie: great at working under pressure.

While it could be argued that you are perfectly capable of functioning through high-pressure situations, it's more so that you've just mastered the art of masking how stressed you truly are.

It starts in your head. The constant reminder of how much work you have to do, how much time menial tasks will take, and how it will impact the time spent on worthwhile jobs. Then, you deliberate over that: What is worthwhile? Who decides? You?

These insidious thoughts coat your brain like gasoline and drip down your spinal column. Make themselves known in your chest. Flood your heart, until it feels like it's gonna burst.

Your lungs are robust, though. They function normally. Filter out the smoke that inevitably fills them once you spark and find yourself ablaze with the catastrophic consequences of overworking yourself.

Still, you work, work, work until you're burnt from the inside out.

Leaning your head against the cold metal of Jeongguk's apartment complex elevator, the change in temperature is welcome. Respite. Comes with the territory of being close to him, you think, regardless of the steel doors. You hear a ding. Step back. Watch as they open, and consider letting them close again. Going back down. Away from him, and the inevitable conversation that is about to happen.

His voicemail had been ominous. You're not sure if it was intentional, but you do know he'll have just gotten home from therapy. You tell yourself that's it; he just wants to share how it went.

But you're not stupid. You know his voice well enough now to know his tells. He's annoyed, and it would seem that you're the person he's taken issue with. Nobody's perfect, and that extends to the both of you. It's not always gonna be plain sailing. You'd get bored if it was.

Taehyung's words have been ringing in your ears ever since he first spoke them aloud, echoing a statement you'd considered yourself: remember who you're doing this for.

Secrets have been kept for Jeongguk's benefit, but the closer and closer you get to his door, the more stupid it all seems. Perhaps that's why you'd been so insistent on keeping it hush-hush, though. You knew he'd have a problem with it. Likes to fight his own battles. Doesn't enjoy leaning on others for support.

That's the thing, though. He's trying to learn how to, now—trying to understand himself a little bit. Regulate his emotions.

With this, naturally, comes the establishment of firmer boundaries; the acknowledgement that his feelings are valued and justified, and deserve to be known just as much as anyone else's. No more burying his upsets just to keep peace.

Or at least, his therapist said something of a pretty similar sentiment during their session. If he's shelling out the amount of money he is on therapy in an overly beige, awfully pleasant office, then he may as well learn the lessons he's being taught.

He's always been a kinesthetic learner. Has to put theory into practice.

And if you've ever taught him anything, it's that his emotions are safe with you. Never belittled or ridiculed.

Which is probably why he opens the door with a smile. Forgets his upset, for he's blinded by stars.

You're a little less glittered up than usual, but there are sparkles on your skin regardless. There always is.

Easy, it is, for Jeongguk to be distracted by you. His thoughts drift to and fro, like tiny speckles of glitter in water. Ebbing and flowing from thought to thought, his brain is constantly in pursuit of you. No guided meditation video on YouTube or breathing exercise could ever calm him like you do.

Which is why your urgency (and hard-to-hide frown) confuses him as you ask, "Is Jimin in?"

His brows pinch together in an almost comedic fashion. Why would you want to see Jimin?

"No?" He questions back, a little childishly. It'd make you laugh if you weren't so nervous.

"Okay," you breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful for privacy as you step beyond the entrance to his apartment without waiting to be invited in. The door just shuts behind you, and Jeongguk remains in place, entertained by the thorny attitude you seem to have. Shoes off, coat up on a peg, you're at one with the furniture. Are exactly where you're supposed to be. Jeongguk loves having you here. Loves it so much. "Good."

As he turns to face you, a look of bemusement rests upon his pretty features. It's been a couple of days since you were last within touching distance.

He's forgotten all about his earlier irritation. Thinks the perplexion on your face is from—well, he doesn't really know. He just doesn't realise he's to blame.

"Hi," he smiles, all dreamy and entranced by the mere sight of you, and it makes you want to cry.

So pretty, is Jeon Jeongguk in all of his dishevelled glory, his busy day weakening his product's hold on his hair, dressed down in sweats 'cause he figured he wouldn't see you this evening.

Hair dark and lightly waved, it frames his features perfectly. A little grown out, the cut has lost its initial shape, which means he has to style it if he wants to look half decent, but you always secretly prefer him like this. As he bites down on his bottom lip, there's that fabled glisten; his lip ring doing the thing that always makes your stomach flip.

But your stomach is in bits, and he seems to wise up to this as his brows crease together.

"What's up?" he asks, strolling to close the gap between you both. Reaches out to place a palm on either one of your shoulders. Tilts his head like a sweet puppy as he asks, "Hey?"

And now you're confused, because he's the one who left you with a voicemail explicitly stating that you need to talk.

"You're annoyed with me," is all you say, because it's all you know.

The thing is, he doesn't seem annoyed. In fact, he appears perfectly lovely.

"But also," you add. "How was therapy?"

"Who said that?" He protests your first point. "And was fine—will tell you later. Tell me what you're on about first."

"Sure?" You check because you genuinely want to know how it went. "And you did!"

"Sure," he nods, but then lets his features snap back into a state of confusion. "But when did I ever say that?!"

"The voicemail?"

"The—Oh, no," he laughs. Like, really laughs. Heartily. Heavenly . Celestially . Lets a small space form between you both so that he can use his hands to express himself a little. "B, no."

In all honestly, he was annoyed.

Fresh off the bat from his very first therapy session, which he still wasn't convinced was the right thing for him, he'd been greeted home with a flyer to Taehyung's next show.

It wasn't anything bad, but it also wasn't anything you had clued Jeongguk in on. There were mentions of his friends and their respective businesses under the heading: Skills Auction.

Secrets had been kept, and from the looks of it, everyone was in on it.

He took it personally.

Didn't understand why you wouldn't tell him whatever it is that's going on. Considered the possibility that the reason went beyond inconsideration. That it was deliberate .

Once he noticed what the auction was for —to 'help with a local start-up'— he knew he needed to speak to you.

He chalked up two possibilities.

One: you really just didn't care to tell him, and the auction was to raise money for something totally irrelevant to him, or two: you deliberately didn't tell him, 'cause his restaurant is the start-up.

He's not sure which idea bothers him more; you forgetting him, or you keeping things from him.

That's a lie. Truth be told, it's the idea of you forgetting him that really shatters his soul.

You hadn't heard the voicemail until a little while later, so Jeongguk had the chance to simmer and dwell upon it all. Has found his annoyance wilting over the course of the afternoon, and now adoration blooms in its place with just a single look at you.

"But you said we need to talk," you say with a slight pout that you're really trying not to let show.

You hate feeling this feeble, but when the words 'we need to talk' echoed into your ear, you'd almost cried on the spot. Called a cab immediately. Have Jeongguk on your family location app (at his request during a night when he was behind the bar in Dionysus and wanted to make sure you got home safe), so knew he was home. Welled up a couple times in the taxi, too.

Your new fear of losing him is well and truly established, now.

"Because we do ," he says with a soft smile, as if he didn't use potentially the most alarming phrase he could have done. "But not like that ."

"Then why would you say it like that?!"

"Because I didn't think you'd take it like that!"

He's laughing, but he's also trying to soothe you. It's not that he's laughing at you, or at least, not in a mean-spirited way. He thinks it's all rather cute.

"Christ alive, B," he shakes his head, his smile not once ever faltering. "You think I'd have gone to all that trouble trying to get you, only to go and break up with you a week or so later?!"

The way you gasp is comical. Deserving of an Oscar, he thinks. There's a glisten back in your eyes, evidence that you're a little calmer than you had been, as you begin to playfully bend his words.

"Oh, so first you wanna break up with me, and now even dating me was trouble," you joke, knowing that he didn't mean it like that in the slightest. Given the fact you've already had one overreaction, a second one is amusing to you both. Far less serious, this time around.

"Fuck off," he laughs, pleased that your humour is back to biting point. He could have phrased his need to speak to you a little better, but honestly? To see you this worried? To know how much you care? Oh, it's nice. Such a simple declaration of how you feel for him, without uttering a single word. He thinks he should return the favour. "No. Don't twist my words, Byeol. You know you're my favourite thing ever—"

Or at least, he tries to. You're just in too much of a teasing mood now that your woes have been remedied to let him.

"So now I'm a thing , too?!"

It's been said before that the good is never easy, and the easy never good—and in his eyes, the way you get a little difficult at times like this just makes you so much better. You scratch that teeny tiny part of his brain that sits between his unbridled loyalty and complete adoration. A spot reserved just for you.

"Mhmm," he nods, closing the gap between you. Doesn't stop until he can smell your perfume. Cups your jaw, and presses an incredibly sincere kiss to your lips. Soft and hard all within the same second, Jeongguk is a man of complexities. Perfectly imperfect. Just right. "The prettiest thing. Mine, all mine."

The way he nudges his nose against yours feels like he's welcoming you home. Says a silent 'hello ,' or 'I've missed you so much.' Both would be applicable.

"So you don't wanna break up?" You ask, pedantic just for the sake of being so. You know the answer. God, you've never felt so sure of someone in your entire life.

"How are you both the smartest girl I know and also the dumbest?" he grins, before kissing you gently to make up for the fact he called you dumb (and also the fact he's about to call you stupid). "So stupid—" he laughs, tucking hair behind your ear. "—but so goddamn pretty, B. God, my gorgeous girl. Have you spent all afternoon thinking—"

"No," you pout, cutting him off because it's so embarrassing that you actually let your mind fret like that.

"You could have just called."

"Was scared."

"You know how crazy I am about you?" He insists, pulling you in for an all-encompassing hug. Squeezes. Might crush you. Good . You'd welcome it. "You literally never have to worry about that."

Arms strong, he keeps you enclosed as he waltzes you both to his room. Giggles along with you as the awkward footing makes it so much more clumsy than it really needs to be. Refuses to let go of you until you reach the foot of his bed. Gets you right where he wants you: on top of his sheets, trapped beneath his body, even if you are both fully clothed.

"So what did you want to talk about?" You ask, knowing that it's best to get it over and done with now. You aren't stupid—even if he did lovingly say you were earlier—and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. There's only one thing you've done recently that you haven't discussed with him, which you really should have done.

"Take a wild guess," he says with a slight smirk.

It's almost as if he knows you'll still think he's the sexiest man alive regardless of the fact you're about to be reprimanded.

In fact, the telling-off might make him even hotter. The way you bite down on your lip is accidental, but the thoughts of being bent over his knee are a little too tempting.

Jeongguk's usually good at reading your tells but thinks you're just cutely holding back the truth, so he doesn't think much of it, as if he isn't highly aware of how naturally your legs wrap around his body and how perfectly his chain dangles just shy of your chin. He's too hot. Too goddamn hot for you to think straight most of the time.

He's also been in this position too many times before, and knows exactly what it leads to, for him to not get a little excited . You both ignore it, for now.

Instead, you pout. Close your eyes. Whine a little, but are interrupted when Jeongguk starts kissing you again. Couldn't help himself. You look too cute. He really likes how you've done your hair today. Your outfit, too. The way he can't figure out what colour your glitter is, 'cause it shines differently depending on the light. The fact you're wearing his favourite of all your perfumes. And you. Just in general.

God, he just likes you so much. Forgets everything whenever you're near. All he wants is to indulge in the way it feels to be with you. Never let it go.

Lips pressing into yours, the rest of his body kind of follows suit. While one of his arms supports him by the side of your head, the other hand roams. Feels. Squeezes and strokes wherever it can; the base of your throat, the curve of your waist, the fullness of your chest. It's not without reciprocation, though.

Your hands are just as familiar as his - one in his hair, the other squeezing at his ass. A rhythm is set. Hips languid. Effort minimal. The way you rut against one another is lazy, neither of you really aiming for sex—but also neither of you would be mad if it was the inevitable outcome, either way.

Eventually, though, he pulls back. Is a little out of breath. Lets his nose nudge against yours as he shakes his head.

"No," he smiles. "Can't distract me."

"You started it."

"True," he admits, stealing a single kiss and then rolling off you to stare at the ceiling. There's just a single bird above you, now.

It's taunting Jeongguk. He knows exactly what it says. Has only lasted so long because it was strung up after that first Busan trip. Has a little more longevity than the others did.

He reaches over to grab your hand. Ignores the fact his sweats are making his desire for you abundantly obvious. Instead, he links his fingers with yours and holds them on his stomach. Says, "Jimin left the flyer for Tae's next show on the counter."

"Shit."

Jeongguk laughs. It's quiet, but you can feel his chest thud a little from the contractions of his lungs.

He isn't really sure what reaction he was expecting, but is pleased that you aren't trying to deny anything. While you both may bullshit a little from time to time, you'll always admit to it if you're called out on it. You're only human. Not saints, but not sinners, either.

"Yeah, B," he says with a small laugh. " Shit ."

There's gasoline in your heart again, but then Jeongguk squeezes your fingers, and it seems to pump the fluid out. Clears your system. Assures you that everything is okay.

" Skills Auction ," Jeongguk quotes the flyer.

"Mhmm."

"To help support a local start-up, huh?"

You glance across to him, brows a little furrowed, penance prevailing. You really do feel shitty for not including him in on the plans, even if your intentions were good.

"Mhmm."

He twists his head now to meet your gaze. Tries to read your expression. Doesn't try too hard, cause he'll get distracted again, no doubt.

"So why are all the boys listed? Or their workplaces, at least?" Jeongguk asks, and you know exactly what he's talking about.

Advertising space in the local paper, thanks to Namjoon. Custom furniture, courtesy of Min's Studio. A year's free consultation with Jimin's interior design firm. If one of your friends has a sought-after skillset (of which they all do) then they've been roped in. Even Taehyung; a chance to win an original work of his.

Perhaps 'win' is the wrong term.

It's an auction, after all. Bids will be made. But you hope they'll be made competitively. Drive the prices up. Force people to spend pretty pennies—which is exactly why people from Shilla Finances had been added to the guestlist.

They're assholes with money to burn, and they all like to win. You reckon if you have them competing against each other, you'll rake money in.

Before you get a chance to start explaining, he adds, "And where do I fit into all of this?"

"Good question," you say quietly. There's no point in denying it, now. You're not stupid but nor is he. "Look, before you say anything— I was gonna tell you."

"But you haven't ," he reminds you of your wrongdoing. Just like that time he lied about texting a girl to hang out all those months ago, and you refused to go easy on him, he's gonna make sure you learn your lesson. "The show is next week."

With a nod, you know you need to be straightforward with him about your plans. "But I haven't, you're right."

It's not without reason.

Jeongguk is stubborn at best; proud at his worst. Hates accepting help. Even Yoongi had to convince Jeongguk to let him in on the business proposal to take to the bank—and Jeongguk feels ever so embarrassed that Yoongi saw him put in so much hard work only to achieve absolutely nothing. Makes him feel inadequate.

But the restaurant is Jeongguk's dream .

And if you can help him achieve his dream, of course you're gonna try.

Ever since he got the call from the bank, there's been a quiet disappointment in his eyes whenever moments of contemplation have washed over him. Sloped shoulders, firm pouts. It's been hard to watch.

Jeongguk doesn't have the capital to purchase the retail unit outright now that it's for sale, and the bank wouldn't wanna take a chance on an inexperienced businessman like him. Fresh out of university, he doesn't have the credentials built up, yet.

But what Jeongguk does have—and what you'd argue is his absolute strength when it comes to his business plans—is people who love him and want him to succeed. People who will do all they can to help him out in times of need, just like he would for them.

And so when the idea to do a skills sale came into your head, you just sort of ran with it.

The concept is simple: get punters to bid on prizes. Highest bidder wins. The competition aspect will surely propel prices, and the prizes are things that money can't buy, or at least not easily.

The funds raised, once small fees are settled?

Jeongguks, to help with the restaurant start-up. A gift from you all, really. Not just you, even if you are the mastermind.

You didn't even realise how much momentum the entire thing had gained until you were putting together the finishing touches with Taehyung earlier that day.

The collection he's showing is small. Postcard-sized, intricately detailed moments of time spent with his friends, captured in an abstract medium. They're reasonably priced—a little lower than his going rate, to ensure sales—and after the costs of his materials is deducted, the proceeds will go towards the 'start-up'.

The start-up or Jeongguk's dream. Whatever you wanna call it.

The rest of his friends have all donated their time and efforts free of charge. You've even managed to rope in a few companies to partner with the auction. Bartered with Taehyung, and asked if the commission he once promised you as a thank you for helping with the show could be redeemed in the auction—and he agreed.

It's the hot ticket item, you think, although you are severely underestimating how much companies will pay for front-page advertisements in the city paper. They're often booked out well in advance, so for Namjoon to swoop in and reserve it off thanks to an unpaid invoice leaving a slot free next month? Oh, it's like Christmas come early.

And so you tell Jeongguk everything; how the ball started rolling, and how you've been unable to stop it. He listens, and doesn't say a word. Is conflicted.

"I know I should have told you what I was doing," you stress, eyes on the ceiling, just like his. "I just thought you'd tell me no—"

"I would have done."

" Exactly ," you say. "Like I wasn't trying to meddle, I just want you to have options, yanno? Money is the only obstacle. And I just—you've done so much for me. I wanted to return the favour."

"B, there's a favour, and then there's this ," he gently says. He's still holding your hand, so at least he's not mad. That's something.

"I know." Truthfully, you do. It's why you've been so torn up. You knew you should have told him earlier, but also knew he'd probably feel guilty accepting help like this. "I just saw how disappointed you were after the bank called, and like, the only thing standing between you and getting that restaurant going is money and—"

"But it was my call to make, B," he interrupts softly. "What happened with the bank was shitty, and yeah it really sucked for a while, but I would have figured it out. Like, what if I didn't even want to run a restaurant anymore?" You know he does. "What would I do with the money then? They'd start calling me a fraud, or some shit like that. Sue me, probably, for false advertisement. Run me into the ground before I even have a chance to get something going."

With a nod, you don't try and defend yourself. You know he's right—but you also know Jeongguk's achieving his dream regardless of his current difficulties. He's too determined not to achieve his goals.

Instead of trying to reason any of this, you offer an apology.

"I'm sorry," you promise. "Tae said something earlier that kinda made me realise I'd had tunnel vision with it all. I know it'll sound like bullshit, but I really was going to tell—"

"I hate that I didn't know," Jeongguk cuts you off. His interruption is stark. Leaves a cold tail of wind as it escapes his mouth. "I mean, I'm the only one, right?" He frowns, now. "Everyone else knew. They had to, if they're on the flyer. And I just wasn't told. By anyone."

"It's my fault," you say, quickly coming to the defence of his friends. You masterminded it, after all. "Gguk, I literally begged them to keep it quiet until I figured out how to tell you. It's on me. Yoongi said I should tell you. Jimin straight-up told me I was being dumb. The only reason they didn't tell you is 'cause of me. It was a bad judgment call on my part. I'm sorry."

Jeongguk could pretend like he cares about the secrecy.

He doesn't.

He understands why the secret was kept, and why it began. He doesn't see it, really, as deception or as a lie. Is familiar with the concept of surprises, and how they work. Trusts you not to ever lie about personal matters, but does find it a bit baffling nonetheless.

The thing that does upset him, though?

Being left out.

"Just feel stupid," he mumbles. Rubs his thumb against yours. Finds respite in it. "Everyone knew except for me. Feel like a charity case."

"I didn't even think of it like that," you quietly admit, turning to face him again—but he's avoiding your gaze. "Just wanted to fix things for you. Take the pressure off. I should have told you. I really am sorry I didn't."

Jeongguk purses his lips, and his lip ring flips ever so sweetly in the corner of his mouth. He's so handsome, even when he's pouty.

You both show affection and care through acts of service. It's nothing new. He understands the thought process and the good intentions that come with it.

With a sigh, he leverages the grip he has on your hand and pulls you a little. Encourages you onto his lap. It's a position you ease into without difficulty, knees either side of his waist, ankles by his hips as you straddle his body.

Jeongguk holds onto your thighs while your hands ball at the material of his shirt. Eye contact is shamefully avoided, until he sighs once more. "Look, I see what you're trying to do, B. And it's sweet, and I appreciate it. I really do. You just can't keep shit like this from me, okay? Not if it directly concerns me."

You nod, watching your own hands as he clasps them in his own.

"We're a team, right?" He gently says as he encourages your body to lay on top of his. Wraps his arms around you. Holds you close as you nod again into the crook of his neck. "You can be team captain all you like, baby—just don't keep me on the reserves bench. If there's a homerun to be had, I wanna be the one hitting it. Okay?"

"I really am sorry," you say again, 'cause you kind of feel like he's the one trying to make you feel better, which isn't the point of an apology at all.

Thing is, Jeongguk isn't annoyed. Really.

He's a little annoyed at himself for not thinking of the idea first, and a little sad he didn't get the chance to work on it with you—but he's honestly been feeling so stuck about the restaurant for weeks. Spent most of his first therapy session talking about how gutted he was over it all.

And so even though yes, you should have roped him in—or hell, even asked his permission—it kind of feels like you've thrown him a lifeline.

"I still wanna speak it over with Yoongi," Jeongguk tells you as he rubs his hands up and down your back. "Just get his opinion on things—and hey, there's no guarantee we'd actually make any money, right? From the auction?"

It feels different, now, thinking about the restaurant as if it's something that could come to fruition again. Raising the funds for a deposit on the building would alleviate one of the biggest financial burdens. Sure, there's no certainty he'd get approved for a mortgage, or if the bank would even still consider a loan for the refurbs and start-up costs, but it's better than going in empty-handed.

"Totally," you nod, thinking that Yoongi is probably the best person to discuss this all with. "And, actually, that's something else I need to speak to you about."

"Go on," Jeongguk purrs.

"Well, the goal is to raise capital without the need for investors," you say of your thought process behind the auction. "Get their money in exchange for goods or services—not for a stake in your business. Thing is—"

"All the rich twats we know are from Shilla Finances?" Jeongguk grimaces as he references Seokjin's workplace. Can always tell whenever one of those wankers is at Taehyung's show. They all wear Invictus, or 1 Million, as if Paco Rabanne is the scent master of class and wealth, and not just responsible for the cloud of air that hangs in a high school boys' locker room after gym lessons.

"Yeah," you grimace right back. "Chances are, they already know about the show—we always have a few in attendance. Tae's pretty popular with them. I'm pretty sure one of them mentioned some of his work being in one of their meeting rooms at the last show."

You say chances are, because you haven't sent out personal invites yet. That was one of today's tasks, but after speaking with Taehyung, you chose against it. Knew that he was right. That you did have to speak to Jeongguk before going through with it.

"They've got money," he assesses. More than him, by a long shot. Pool their resources, and fuck it—he really might be able to make enough for a deposit on the unit.

"They do," you nod, then begin to explain your theory.

It's not foolproof and there's no guarantee any of them would care particularly for the things on offer, but Taehyung's kind of dominating the local art circuit at the moment. There's a buzz around him that everyone wants to get in on. For flashy, wealth-obsessed wankers who love to keep up with the latest trends, an original commissioned piece from Taehyung would make them the talk of the office for at least a day or two.

"Get investors without getting investors," Jeongguk muses. The idea of being tied to your ex in even the smallest of ways makes him feel physically sick, but this a loophole he could grow to like. "Fuck it. Do it. Invite them. What have we got to lose?"

There's something intrinsic about the way Jeongguk groups you in together with him like this. Your burdens are his burdens; his battles, your battles. He really does view you as a team and intends to keep it that way.

"You sure?" You question, just to confirm it's what he actually wants.

He nods. Adjusts you slightly so that he can look into your eyes as he says, "I'm sure, babe—but if your ex is there, I'm taking you straight to that janitor's closet again."

The boyish charm to his smile makes your eyes roll, but his sentiments do get you a little flustered nonetheless.

"For a chat?" You tease, knowing perfectly well what he means.

Jeongguk just smiles. Plainly states, "No. For a fuck."

"You're so romantic."

"I am," he agrees, ignoring your sarcasm. Smirks as your hair pools around his face, nose nudging up against his. "Gonna fuck you so hard you can't walk straight, and then I'm gonna hold your hand all night to make up for it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," he purrs, pressing a fleeting kiss up to your lips. "Gonna introduce myself to everyone as your boyfriend. Oh, you know the curator? Yeah, she's my girlfriend. I'm her boyfriend. Gonna make sure everyone knows, B. I'll bet you that all those finance bros fancied the shit out of you when you were with your ex. Bet you they're hoping they can make a move on you now. Fat fuckin' chance. Over my dead body."

His tendency to get a little jealous has never been a secret, but you must admit you enjoy seeing it boil to the surface every now and again.

"You're so dumb," you giggle as he begins to press kisses down your throat.

Oh, the jealousy is potent . Has his tongue flicking against you; teeth nipping at your skin.

"Nah, you're just right," Jeongguk husks against your neck. "I am proud. My pride does get in the way. But when my girlfriend looks like you? Fucking hell, when my girlfriend is you? Jesus, B. Hard not to be proud."

"Stop," you smile, pulling back, knowing that you're both gonna take it too far. "You'll give me a big head."

"Then you really will look like a disco ball," he tells you with a straight face, but just can't help himself from letting a grin escape.

"Fuck off," you laugh, but he simply doesn't let you. Pulls you in for half a dozen teeny-tiny kisses, then decides they're not enough, and gives you half a dozen more. They're fleeting and they're fast, but they're all for you. You know it's only a matter of time until you'll be under his sheets instead of on top of them. "Wait, wait, wait—are we good?"

"Course we are," he says as you sit back up on his lap, and your assumptions about his state of desire are proven correct. "Just don't keep shit from me, okay?"

You nod. Know that the way you felt earlier when you listened to his voicemail was enough to scare you into never doing it again. "Promise."

"Then, yeah," he assures you, stroking your thighs, and looking at you with the softest eyes known to man. "We're good, B."

Amazing, what a little bit of open communication between you both can do.

Has you thinking maybe you should admit how terrified you were on the cab ride over—but then he's pulling you up with him, grabbing the pair of towels he keeps neatly folded on a shelf, dragging you to the bathroom.

He's already had one today, and so have you, but he doesn't care. Wants you naked. Wants to prove how 'good' you really are together. Wants to give you reasons to never keep shit from him again. Reward you for your honesty, as if you're a puppy in need of training—which is funny, 'cause when his hair gets all wet beneath the shower and his eyes are so delightfully wide, he's the one who looks like a puppy dog.

The way he leans into your touch as you shampoo his hair? Gets a little whiney when you scratch at his scalp? Oh, he's such a puppy dog. So cute, and cuddly, and—

"Oh, fucking hell," Jeongguk cuts off your train of thought when he turns to face you. Body covered in soapy bubbles that drip down your skin like honey, he's somehow surprised by how badly he wants you. As if he doesn't always want you.

He's never wanted to be shampoo before, but— fuck —he wants to be on you like that. Doesn't care to think about the physical logistics of it all. Just gets your back pressed to the wall, a hand on your waist while the other holds your throat. Forgets the pretty kisses he usually greets you with. Gets his tongue in your mouth, and your whines in his throat. It's messy, and it's feral, but fuck if it isn't just so indicative of how much you crave each other.

It goes beyond that, Jeongguk thinks. Not a want, but a need.

Even though you'd been playing it off like a joke earlier, he's highly aware of the fact you thought he might end things earlier. He never wants to give you that kind of complex. Wants you to know that a few words would never be enough to break what you have together.

So even though Jeongguk is like a puppy dog in how sweetly he adores you, he's also fierce in how defiantly he wants you.

Hair up and out of the stream of his shower, you didn't want to wash it twice in one day, which actually makes things a little easier for him. Means he won't have to wait out your conditioning time. Instead, he reaches across, and shuts off the shower.

Nudging his nose up against yours, he mumbles, "We don't have to, but I totally wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to fuck right now."

"Huh," you hum, letting one of your hands drop from his waist, to delicately trail around the base of his incredibly hard cock. "You wanna fuck? Hadn't noticed."

When he laughs, you feel the air escape his lungs and settle on your skin. It's something so innately human that reminds you Jeongguk is real; that he's yours, and that you'd be a fool to waste such opportunities.

"Said I'm not opposed," he corrects you. "Up to you. I can make you feel good, B, or we can get dressed and do crosswords like an old married couple."

"You've never done a crossword in your life," you guess, narrowing your eyes.

"And I don't really intend on starting now," he smirks.

"Well then you're in luck," you concede.

"You wanna fuck?"

"That rhymed," you say as he pulls back to grab the towels. He gives you yours first, wrapping you up before he reaches for his own. "Maybe you are good with words. Maybe you should do the crosswords, instead." He raises a brow as he shakes his towel through his hair, not caring for the fact he's stark bollock naked. "Jimin's still out, right?"

"Company dinner," Jeongguk says, as he finally begins to wrap his towel around his waist. "Probably won't get home till the early hours."

You nod. Accept this reality. Say, "Good."

And then Jeongguk is left to watch on in a state of disbelief as you rid yourself of his fluffy white towel and toss it his way before walking to the door. Turning to glance over at him as you push down the handle, you're amused by how endearing his surprise is.

"Well, are you coming, or what?" You tease.

Barely a foot out the door, and Jeongguk's wrapping his arms around you. Covering your modesty, while also letting his towel fall to the floor. You're giggling as his lips press wet kisses against your throat, the pair of you so adorable it would make anyone else sick.

"What if he snuck home, huh?" Jeongguk playfully husks against your skin. "Then what?"

"Then it would have been a nice surprise for him," you tease right back. "Give him something to think about when he—"

"Don't," Jeongguk almost fucking growls .

While this might have been true a year ago, Jimin would most likely feel incredibly awful seeing you in such a state of undress, now. Doesn't associate who you are now with the girl they all met at Dionysus way back when. His encounters with you weren't particularly unique, nor meaningful. He doesn't think of them.

Thinks of you now like an add-on of Jeongguk. Both annoying. Both people he's entirely comfortable around. Both improve his mood during bad hangovers. Both are responsible for many of those hangovers. You're a package deal, and he'll forever be grateful for Jeongguk not being weird about things, like he knows many people would have been.

In a similar fashion, Jeongguk doesn't think about it—except for rare occasions, for no better reason than to let himself lean into a little bit of toxicity.

"Don't what?" You feign innocence, but you recognise the look in his eye; a little wild and ever so dark, even if there are still stars in them. "It's not like he's never—"

"I don't care what he has done," Jeongguk cuts you off, and hooks his arm around your waist. Doesn't give a shit. Picks you up, and gets you over his shoulder. You yelp, as if it's not exactly what you were anticipating—but what does surprise you?

The direction he takes you in.

"Gguk—" You laugh, but he's having none of it. Those earlier thoughts of being bent over his knee are remedied as he spanks your ass to assert a little dominance.

"Don't give a fuck what he has done," Jeongguk repeats as he kicks open the door to a bedroom that doesn't belong to him. "'Cause we both know you never fuckin' came in here, did you? Huh? You ever orgasm in here?"

Part of you is in a state of shock. He cannot seriously be thinking about having his way with you in his housemate's room. Anywhere else? Fine. Sure. Have already been there, done that, got the t-shirt. But Jimin's room?!

That part of you is silenced by the keenness that comes with such a sordid act. Of all the times you've ever told yourself fucking Jeongguk is wrong, you know that this time, it really is.

It's a confusing paradox; he's your boyfriend. Fucking him is a-okay. But fucking him here ?! Oh, God, you're going to hell.

"Where's that smart mouth of yours gone, huh?" He smirks as he uses his spare hand to pull out Jimin's desk chair. You're lowered down from Jeongguk's shoulder, and he's pleased to see how wide your eyes are. Likes how needy you look. Steals a kiss. Husks, "Not so loud now, are you, baby?"

How you're even supposed to articulate a response to that when your heart is in your throat, you'll never know.

Jeongguk presses his tongue to the back of his front teeth. Breathes out a stifled laugh as he smirks. Shakes his head. Says, "Knees."

And— fuck —you don't know when you became this pathetic and feeble, but his display of dominance has really done something to you. There's no pushback. No defiance. Just compliance as you do as he says and get to your knees. Eyes on his, always.

"Wait here for me, baby," he says softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Is tender in how he's touching you, but the obscured light filtering in through Jimin's blinds makes him look so much more sinister than usual. You're surprised by how much you like it. "Don't move. Okay?"

You nod, Jeongguk's hand still gently cupping your cheek as his thumb traces your lip, then pushes into your mouth. The wet warmth of your tongue makes him fuckin' twitch. He wants you so fucking badly. Doesn't know why he's torturing himself.

When he leaves, you don't move a muscle. Just listen intently to try and work out what he's doing. You hear the manual lock of the front door go first, so even if Jimin does get home early, there's no way he's getting in. Part of you knows Jeongguk likes the risk factor of shit like this, so it's nice to know where his boundary lies. The pad of his footsteps grows quieter, so you can only assume he's in his room.

You sit on your knees, palms on your thighs. Your poise is well-maintained; a little feline in how you hold yourself. The one thing you do change is your hair. Fix it into a ponytail, instead. You know he likes having something to hold onto, and all you want is to give him the things he enjoys in life.

There's a coolness to the air in Jimin's room. Your nipples are hard, and you know there's a mess between your legs already—which only doubles with anticipation as you hear Jeongguk heading back in the direction of Jimin's room.

Unbeknownst to you both, the closing of Jeongguk's bedroom door creates a stir in the air. Wraps around the only bird left hanging—and then all very suddenly, Jeongguk's ceiling is empty, the final fear nestled in his sheets.

When he enters, unaware of what's just happened, he's so pleased to see you did as you were told… almost .

"It's different," he says of your hair, lifting the ponytail to run his palm down it. You're a little bit disappointed when he doesn't yank it, and kind of question your sanity when you realise what you wanted him to do. "Pretty."

He's pleased to see your cheeks apple as he compliments you, your smile a little shy. As he stands in front of you once more, you notice what he's carrying: the tie of his you're far too well acquainted with.

"Lift your hair up for me, baby," he says, and has to admit, the way you just comply to his every whim makes him so fucking twitchy. Wrapping the tie beneath your ponytail, he brings the ends to the top and ties a pretty (even if a little messy) bow. "Keep that safe for me, yeah? Gonna use it later."

You nod, 'cause what else are you gonna fuckin' do? Say no? Fuck that. You can't remember the last time Jeongguk made you feel this submissive. As much as you like switching up the roles, there's something about relinquishing power to him that really shatters your hard exterior. You wanna be vulnerable for him.

Sinking into the desk chair, you half think Jeongguk is vying for a blowjob—of which you desperately want to give. He notices your eyes, and the way your lips hungrily fold in on themselves as you look towards his cock. Smirks in satisfaction.

"Not yet, baby," he tells you. Holds out his hand to help you up, and uses the other to pull at the lever on the bottom of the chair, lowering it as much as he can. There are no armrests to the chair, making it perfect for what Jeongguk wants—and what he wants isn't so dissimilar from your earlier desires. "Told you not to move, didn't I?"

You stand in front of him, looking down at him in a somewhat odd shift to the dynamic—yet he's still entirely in control as his hands stroke up your figure. Warm and wide, you love his hands. Always have done. Always will.

Nodding, you give no verbal response. Don't feel like it's needed.

"But your hair changed, didn't it?"

There's a softness to his voice that makes everything about this so much more intense than an overtly masculine display of dominance would give. It's the way he holds power, in abundance, without raising his voice or scaring you, that makes your heart feel like it will beat out of your chest.

Again, you nod.

"Not very good at following orders, are you?"

This time, you shake your head.

Feels like there's not a single thought up in your brain right now. Everything has been pushed to the side to make way for the anticipation of what's to come.

Jeongguk's tattooed hand trails down you arm, then wraps around your wrist. Pulls you closer. Turns you slightly, until you're standing next to him, staring yourself out in the mirror. He glances across to it, meets your gaze, and says, "See. Told you so. Pretty."

You hide your smile well, you think. Watch your face in the mirror, and realise that it's impossible to hide how Jeongguk makes you feel, for it blooms over your entire being.

"Just 'cause you're pretty doesn't mean you can break the rules, though, B," he reprimands you, and encourages you to lean over his knees.

The chair's height isn't ideal, and you thank your lucky stars Danbi forces you to pole every other week so you at least have a little power in your legs to keep yourself supported.

Jeongguk wises up to the height issue pretty quickly—but he wants you looking in the mirror, so knows a little compromise has to be made. He supports your body with his forearm, holding you up across the front of your shoulders, his hand curling around your arm to keep you steady.

The sight in the mirror is sin; how Jeongguk is surveying your body, eyes trailing down the dip of your spine to the pert rounding of your ass. The strain on your legs means your brows are already a little furrowed, one of your hands resting on the edge of the seat for extra support, while the other grips onto the arm of his that's keeping you steady.

As his eyes rake down your body, his hands stroke. Grapple. Soothe. Get reacquainted with that ass of yours that he loves so much.

"What's the word?" He asks.

It's a simple phrase only ever uttered in moments of impiety. Lets you know whatever he's about to do goes beyond the realm of your usual encounters and it only serves to get your heart racing even faster.

The whiplash of your earlier upset, and current desperation just makes you so much more pliable for him. So agreeable. You'll do whatever he wants. Are his to use as he pleases—which is funny, because all he wants is to please you .

"Chess," you say, breath so shallow it's almost a whisper.

"Good girl," he says just as softly. He's teasing, and he damn well knows it. Is gentle in how he speaks to you, 'cause he knows he's about to be anything but gentle. "See, you do know how to behave, don't you?"

You nod—then find yourself gasping as the hand that had been softly stroking your skin cracks against it. The force makes your body jerk, but he steadies you just as quickly as he spanks you.

"Words, baby. Tell me."

You try again. Give a pathetic 'yes' , only to be sent reeling once more.

He has the audacity to laugh, and it just makes you fucking drip . The glisten of your pussy leaking onto your inner thighs gets exposed with every spank, and Jeongguk just can't help himself. Lets his middle finger swipe between your soaked folds, before sinking it into your entrance with zero resistance.

The way you moan is like a fucking symphony, he thinks. Mozart would have a field day with the noises you make. Vivaldi would name a season after you. He wishes he had his phone on him. Wants to record your sounds; your bated breaths, your soaked cunt, your desperate gasps, moans, whines—all of it.

Long, slow strokes; his middle finger pumping into you elicits the most pathetic noises from you, eyes fastened shut from how euphoric it feels. It's too bad. He wants to see them. Wants the intimacy that comes with it.

"Eyes open," he tells you.

You try, but it's just too good. You can't help but let your eyes roll back into the pleasure, lids closing as you succumb to the way he feels inside you. You hear the softness of a small laugh, but the words that follow are stern.

"Open, or I'll stop."

"You're so fuckin' mean," you whine, forcing your eyes open—and it really is a struggle, especially when he begins to increase his pace.

His middle finger continues to fuck itself into you, his speed building, the noise of it all so fucking lewd. Shivers run through your body, thanks to the loss of autonomy you always seem to have whenever he's inside you.

"Watch your language, or I'll stop," he threatens, but glances over to the mirror to meet your eyes. You're so headstrong, so stubborn, and yet for him? Oh, you're pathetic . He loves it. "And I can be meaner, baby. Trust me."

"Gguk—"

He pulls out from you quickly, delivering a sharp spank to your ass. The crack echoes into the room, your body jolting, a pathetic whimper mewling from your lips as he steadies you.

As quickly as he withdrew from you, he sinks his finger back into you. Gives you no fuckin' respite. Keeps his momentum up.

"Don't call me that," he husks. If you were to have any cognitive thoughts in this moment, you'd be a little confused. It isn't a name that usually has too much of an effect on him. You just don't realise that that's the issue; he wants you to address him by names only you can say. "Who am I? To you, who am I?"

"My— oh, fuck —you're my boyfriend," You whimper. Admitting it like this gets you feeling all kinds of fucked up. "Shit. Gguk— fuck ."

"Yeah, I am," he grits, a little aggressive in the way he's fingering you, but in such a way that makes you feel like a fire has been sparked inside you. All pleasure, no pain—until he reprimands you for your foul language again.

He pulls out. Spanks you. One cheek, then the next. Is quick in his succession, giving you next to no time to register the sensation, and then is plugging you again with his fingers.

Is gritting his teeth as he growls, "And I'm making you feel good, yeah?"

Clutching his arm so tightly you're gonna leave nail marks, you nod. Gasp. "So good."

His cock is so hard; his tip hot as it throbs, resting up against his lower abdomen. Is trapped between his body and yours, and with every movement he dictates out of you, he's also getting a little friction. Is all desperate and needy, in the way it leaks a pretty bead of precum from the slit, smearing on his skin. Yours, too.

He ignores it as best he can. Is only thinking about you.

"That's right," he says a little breathlessly, a little surprised by just how much he feels like he's out of control, despite having complete authority over you. "So watch your language, and don't call me what everyone else calls me. You've got privileges, baby. Use them."

And then it clicks.

You've got privileges, baby.

It's different to the usual teasing. He doesn't want you to stroke his ego. He wants you to hold his heart.

"I'm sorry," you breathlessly plead for forgiveness, as if he actually gives a shit about your sailor's tongue, and isn't just looking for an excuse to spank you. A second finger of his pushes into you, desperate to elicit more delicate moans. This time, you do watch your language. Do exactly what he wants of you. "Oh, God—" you almost feel like you're gonna cry. "—That's it, babe. God, that's it ."

Babe .

He might actually fuckin' nut from just hearing you call him that.

If he were to really be in control, he'd tell you off for such blatant blasphemy, or some shit like that—but he doesn't care, and can't think straight enough to pretend he does.

"So fuckin' hot," he mumbles instead, as his fingers keep up the pace that's gotten you all shaky for him.

You're really not supporting yourself anymore. It's his hold on you that's keeping you locked in position. Every couple of strokes, your legs shake just a little bit more, and your whines are so breathless he knows you're nearly there.

"Tell me how I make you feel," he husks, voice soft. "Tell me how close you are."

"Close," you whimper, because it's all you can manage. "So close, babe."

"Gonna cum all over my fingers, aren't you?"

"Gguk—" you gasp, mind numb, body burning. He doesn't reprimand you, this time. Keeps his pace. You try and muster an apology for disobeying him, but find it impossible. "Oh, fuck —"

"It's okay," he grits through clenched teeth. You manage to open your eyes for a moment, and just a single glance at his face—his knotted eyebrows, tense jaw, parted lips, damp hair, undeniable beauty—seals the deal. The shaking of your legs gets harder to handle. Knees weak, you really do sound like you might fuckin' cry. "Be a good girl for me, yeah? Cum for me."

It's a request, not a demand, but the pace at which he's fucking you with his fingers makes it impossible to refuse.

The sensation of pleasure that waves over you travels from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, sparking as it reaches its climax. Body tense as your muscles struggle to deal with the lightning that's cracking through your veins, you shudder for him. Don't have to fake a single thing.

Jeongguk's no stranger to what it's like to have you like this, but each and every time it happens he's stunned. Can't form a single cognitive thought, let alone a sentence that makes any sense. Just curses.

"Fuck," he exhales, a fucking laugh stifling in his throat as your orgasm soaks him. You didn't squirt like you sometimes do, but it doesn't matter when he makes you as wet as he does. His fingers and palm were already coated, but you're all over his thigh now as well as your own. "God, this pussy, B," he praises. "So fuckin' perfect."

You give an exhausted giggle, the laughter making your pussy get even tighter around his fingers. Body well and truly spent, it's a miracle you haven't actually fallen to the floor—but his grip on you is so protective, he'd never let that happen.

What he does do, is slowly pull his fingers from you, and stroke at the peachy pink marks left by his palm. "You okay?"

Nodding, eyes closed, you're all pliable for him. Limp and lethargic. Need a moment to recover before you can return the favour. There's a serenity to you, he thinks, as he watches you in the mirror.

Though he doesn't wanna break the moment, he also wants you in his sheets. You look so sleepy, and honestly there's nothing he'd love more than a lazy little fuck with you right now; like a pretty bow tied on top of a present just for him.

Easing you up, Jeongguk makes sure to keep you supported, moving you into a straddle position over his lap. Your ass is closer to his knees than his cock, and it's deliberate, 'cause he doesn't trust himself. Arms draping over his shoulders as his hands grip your waist, you let your foreheads meet, noses not quite nudging.

"Hey," he greets you with a soft whisper. Fixes the issue of your noses not nudging. Cranes his neck a little to get his stroking up against yours—but then pulls a little higher, so he can press a pretty little kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Hi," you reply, dreamy and dulcet in how wrecked you sound.

Nose nestling back against his, you let his lips press down into yours. In search of refuge, they're so pouty that it takes next to no effort.

You grant him the shelter he's seeking; give him a home between your lips as if you don't know you're silently stealing his soul in the process.

Pulling back, even though he really doesn't want to, Jeongguk gets to his feet, wrapping your body around him as he does so. Your arms are secure over his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Head nestled into the crook of his neck, he's reminded of his tie as your hair presses against his jaw. Had intended on using it way before you came undone but kinda got carried away. It's no huge loss. Will just use it later, he's sure.

With a smile, his arm holds you securely in place as he tucks the desk chair back in place.

"We leaving?" you ask, as if you really care.

"Want you in my bed," he simply says, without clarifying. Could be for sex, could be to sleep. Again, you don't really care. Just wanna be stuck to him like glue.

His job in Jimin's room is done. Just wanted to settle that little part of his brain that would sometimes taunt him about your time spent in there. Wanted to rewrite your memories, and is pretty certain he achieved his goal.

Careful as he carries you through the apartment, he knows he's definitely gonna get some negative karma points for what he just did. If Jimin ever found out, he'd probably skin him alive. It's boyish, how Jeongguk smirks to himself, and tightens his grip around your body, thinking to himself that it was worth it.

Setting you down on his bed, he doesn't notice the slight sound of crumpling paper—but you feel it. Chirp a little confusion, which has Jeongguk asking, "Wassup?"

Adjusting slightly, you reach behind yourself.

Jeongguk looks up, just to check on the birds—and that's when he realises.

Bird in your hand, you look up towards him with a loss of autonomy. Forget you have ownership over the birds, too. Don't even think to open it, or at least not until Jeongguk panics and snatches it from you without saying a word.

"Woah, woah, woah," you laugh, your fucked-out soul finally returning to your body. You reach for his hand, but he pulls it back. Doesn't let you take the bird. "Excuse me?!"

"No can do," he shakes his head. "It's wing's broken. You can't look at it. Not yet."

An odd thing for him to say, you think.

Very odd indeed, considering he strung it up after your first trip to Busan, and has had ample opportunity to make any amendments, if he wanted to. You don't know any of this, though.

"Why—"

"Just because!" He interrupts, but he's smiling, at least. Is also naked, and given the fact you're sitting at the end of his bed, he should really be more careful about how vulnerable he is right now. You could sack-tap him, if you really wanted. Forcefully regain access to the 'broken' bird.

Silence lingers between you both, the tilting of Jeongguk's head puppy-like compared to the feline narrowing of your eyes.

Chalk and cheese, you really are ever so different and yet intrinsically fated. Aligning stars and strings of fate are weak in comparison to whatever it is you have between the pair of you.

Glitter and gold, are you and Jeongguk. Cosmic and yet entirely of this earth. Exactly where you're meant to be. Feet on the ground; heads in the clouds.

"Let me see it," you implore, reaching out to pull him onto the bed with you. He complies to this, at least. Even though he's on top of you, he ignores the nakedness, and the almost guaranteed sex he was about to have. Can't think about that right now. "There's nothing to be scared of, remember? It's just me. Just us."

Jeongguk lets the angle of his head drop ever so slightly as he shakes it. There's almost a sense of shame that washes over him; as if there's nothing more embarrassing than the words scrawled onto his bird.

"You're never normally this nervous over birds, Gguk," you smile, reaching up to rake your fingers through his messy, still damp, hair. A smile tweaks at his lips as you do so, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You can't help but notice the glisten of his lip ring from your peripherals. Even now, it still makes your stomach flip. "Nothing you could ever write on those birds would change the way I feel about you. You know that, right?"

Jeongguk barely registers the fact he's speaking out loud when he says, "That's kinda the issue."

With a groan, and a pitiful laugh, he rolls off you. His back thumps against his bed, and just like that, you're a pair of stars looking up to the skies once more. It's as if you're both aware you're meant for more than this world.

But Jeongguk's spent years staring at the ceiling. Never realised it wasn't the plain white paint that was keeping his attention, but his inevitable pull to the galaxies above and beyond.

It takes a second for the realisation to sink in, but once it does, it's stark: there are no birds left on Jeongguk's ceiling.

"How is it an issue?" You laugh, finding his sudden shyness endearing. It's not entirely unlike him, but he's usually far more confident in himself when it comes to the birds. Just a natural consequence of working through so many of them together. "Unless it's a break up bird—but you told me there weren't any."

"And there aren't," he laughs right back, sighing once the joy settles into the atmosphere around him. "It's just…"

You wait for him to carry on, turning your head to look at him. There's a smile etched into his cheeks, eyes starry as they look up towards the nothingness above him—and when he turns to face you too, it's like a meteor shower is happening right before your very eyes.

Silent as he passes the bird to you, silent permission is granted. What's his, is now yours.

"Read the damn bird," he quietly implores you, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. He doesn't need to. Is just preening for the sake of it. Because he can. Because he wants to. Because he needs distraction.

It's kind of funny. His heart was all out of sync when he strung the bird up, but it's calm now. Almost as if it was waiting until the right time. It fell at this very point in time, because divine intervention can exist. When it comes to you and Jeongguk, it seems like it always has done.

A hundred and one crossed paths brought you to this point; placed you right here, right now.

Maybe if you had paid attention during mindless Tinder scrolls and actually replied to the rogue guy who had your favourite Wave to Earth song as his 'anthem', Jeon Jeongguk could have been a casual hookup instead.

If you'd have been the one working on the till instead of serving tables at the cafe you used to part time in, Jeongguk might have dropped his change when he was distracted by your glitter.

Perhaps if you'd have paid more attention to the kind strangers grabbing you their favourite vodka in the supermarket aisles, or the boys you kissed at parties during your reckless university years, you'd have never ended up in Dionysus that night. Or at least you would have, but Jeongguk wouldn't have been a stranger.

If he'd have attended an event with Namjoon two years ago instead of bailing for the chance to grab coffee with Hayun when she was in town, he might've seen you rolling your eyes at the pompous chatter of the city's wealthy. He'd have laughed. Might've struck up a conversation. Probably would have felt guilty afterwards, as if he was doing something wrong. Maybe it would have made him realise Hayun wasn't right for him a hell of a lot sooner.

See, you've been orbiting one another for a while now. Since the dawn of time, really. Your paths just took a little while to align. Now that they have, they'll stay on this path forevermore.

Astronomers have learned that skies are largely made up of binary star systems; two stars orbiting one another. Half of all stars in the sky, or so they say. Some are so close that they even share the same atmosphere.

Collisions of these orbiting stars are rare, and almost impossible to predict. TESS data from NASA predicted such a collision would occur in the constellation of Cygnus, only for the data to have been incorrect. No merge to be seen with the naked eye; no new Red Nova to fill the skies.

Jeongguk half thinks perhaps astronomers had predicted his orbit incorrectly, too; as if they'd aligned him with a meteor when he should have been with a star.

S'why he thinks it took him so long to wise up to his inevitable collision with you.

Now that things have been recalibrated, and the data checked, it seems ridiculous for him to have ever thought a meteor was the correct pairing.

A star is what he needed. What he found in you.

As your fingers hook beneath the paper, and a coy look is thrown his way, Jeongguk realises that none of it matters.

He could blame this on the stars, or the astronomers, or the powers above—but you and Jeongguk are the product of conscious choices. Bad decisions, and good ones, too. Some pretty fuckin' fantastic ones, if you ask him.

There's a speck of glitter on the paper as you unfold the bird. It seems to take hours, Jeongguk thinks - he just doesn't realise he's impatient for you to know what is written inside it.

You give him one final glance before you look down at the paper, drinking in those dark brown eyes that are glittering with the reflection of you, then let your eyes drop.

Part of Jeongguk wants to snatch the paper back, again.

To make a fuss and make a nuisance. To tell you that it was just a fear, and that he didn't really mean it.

But that's the thing.

He's not scared.

And he really did mean it.

Lips parted, there's an endearing confusion lacing your features. Though his handwriting isn't anything to write home about, it's perfectly eligible. He knows you've read his words.

Tell B I love her.

Eyes flicking up to meet his, all wide and without reservation, they're accented with sweetly furrowed brows that just confirm to him that what he had written remains inexorably true.

He is in love with you.

It's sort of charming, how delicately he bites down on his bottom lip, nerves taking hold of his face.

So pretty, is Jeongguk whenever he's unsure of himself. He's strong far more often; confident in a way you don't think you'll ever truly master, but there's something about how dainty he becomes with vulnerability that makes your heart swell.

And God, you don't think your heart could swell any more. If you're not careful, it'll burst, and out will pour liquid gold; origami birds swimming in the essence that makes you live.

It takes you a moment to gather any words, so scared of saying the wrong thing.

"Do you?" You eventually manage to ask; not because you don't believe his words, but because you can't help but second guess.

Are so scared of looking foolish, that even though you know it's not some kind of sick joke, you just want to be sure that he's sure. That the way he felt when he strung that bird up is how he feels now. That the bird was strung up with intention .

There's a timidness to your voice, and that scares him . "Do you want me to?"

Part of you wants to laugh. It's such a cop-out. Can't answer a question with a question.

But you also can't let him doubt himself. Not now. He's given you the moon, and it's time you give him a little something in return.

"Yeah," you say quietly. A shy smile cracks on his pouted lips. "Yeah, I want you to."

And so it comes naturally when Jeongguk matches your tone, and shyly admits, "I do."

He breathes out a laugh, as if he can't believe he's just said it, then realises he hasn't said anything. Not really. He's not verbalised it, and so—

"Love you, I mean," he corrects himself. "Like, I— Well, I mean— Fuck. I just love you. Like, I really fucking love you, B."

"You love me."

"I love you."

"You love me," you say, giggling now.

Oh, it's all so sickening. Disgustingly sweet. Adorable, how your soft hands clutch his sharp jaw, pretty kisses being gifted to his lips.

"You know I do," he mumbles into your lips. "God, you know I do."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you—now are you gonna say it back, or are you gonna keep laughing at me?"

"Not at you, Gguk," you grin. " With you."

"If you could hurry up and make grand declarations with me instead, it'd be much appreciated."

"Why?" You beam. "You think I don't?"

"Well, you've never told me you do."

"Hold that thought—" you clamber off of him and hurry to his desk. Pull open the drawer, with zero questioning from Jeongguk, 'cause what does he have to hide? You know him better than he knows himself. There's no part of him, not even secrets hidden at the back of his drawers, that he wouldn't share with you.

Taking a moment to pause, you reach up, loosen the tie around your hair, and toss it back to him.

"Eyes," you instruct. "Cover them."

Reaching to grab the silky material, Jeongguk just does as he's fuckin' told. After being so dominant with you earlier, he takes solace in letting you lead. Is so pretty, when you glance back, eyes covered, nose dewy, lips pink and perfectly aligned. Gorgeous.

Rummaging for a second, you pull out a fresh sheet of origami paper, and reach across to steal a pen from his pot. It's a black biro, nothing special, but the worlds you scrawl onto the paper? Oh, they're etched from stardust.

Turning to face him, as you fold up your very own bird, you climb back onto his bed, right where you left him. Straddled over his waist, you let the bird drop from your palms onto his chest.

"Oh no," you feign distress, carefully pulling down the tie to ensure it doesn't catch on his lip ring before it rests at the base of his throat. Nod towards his chest where the bird sits. "It fell."

Jeongguk can't hide his smile as he reaches for it. Holds it up to get a good look at it.

"Long lost brother of Perry," he assesses, still amazed at how uneven your folding can be. "Takes after his mother."

"Should read it," you say. "Then you'll know it really takes after its mother."

Of course it does. Is full of adoration for him.

A little hesitation prolongs Jeongguk's opening of the bird. It's like the build of a rollercoaster, and he's trying to ride the high before the drop. He keeps his eyes on yours as he unfolds it. Doesn't look down to read it.

Just looks at you.

Says, "I should have told you sooner."

The smile already on your face blooms a little wider. You just shake your head. Think he timed it just right—or that the birds did.

"Fell when it was supposed to," you promise.

And you're right. Even the birds you thought were too bold, or extreme at the start fell when they were meant to. After all, they lead you here.

Glancing down to your bird, Jeongguk inhales a sharp breath. Knocks his head to the side, hair ruffling against the pillow. His smile grows. Grows and grows and grows. Dimples make themselves at home, and stars litter his eyes.

The words are clear as day; biro on paper, ink on skin, stars in eyes.

I love you.

Looking back up at you, he cheekily asks, "Do you?"

With a roll of your eyes and a smile that Jeongguk thinks is so pretty he should learn how to write poetry, you sink into an all too familiar position with him.

The way your bodies move together is intrinsic; like trained dancers who have been rehearsing their steps for years. When you lead, he follows, much like he is now as your nose nudges up against his. Lips close enough to brush, you giggle. Almost pull back, because you feel all bashful and shy, but know that you can't. Not now.

"Of course I do," you whisper. It's so dumb that he even has to ask, but neither of you have been entirely foreboding about your true feelings. Always kept them squirreled away. Safe. Free from the prying eyes of those who wouldn't understand.

That's the thing though; astronomy is complicated, and tricky, and well above your pay grade, but everyone can see the stars. Everyone loves them regardless. They look to them. Wish upon them. Put faith in the way they move, even if the science makes no sense to them.

The same could be said for the pair of you; Galileo and his Saturn.

"Say it," he teases, lips brushing against yours.

"Say please," you tease right back.

"Not gonna beg you to love me."

"Hmm," you hum a noise of contemplation. Even though he's joking, you realise that there could be a little honesty behind the jibe. "You're a tough bargainer."

"And you love it," he says, because he needs to hear you say it.

There's really no need to play coy. Not now.

So you don't. Just nod. "And I love it."

"And you love me," he chances.

"And I love you."

The way Jeongguk kisses you now goes beyond just a simple meeting of lips. All-encompassing, he cares not for breathing, nor for the fact you're separate human beings. Your lips, your tongue, your moans, he wants it all. Needs it.

And you need him.

"Fuck me," you mumble into his mouth. "Please."

"Yeah?" He asks as if you're not already adjusting, amorous in the way you refuse to part.

Nodding into the kiss, you line yourself up with him. "Yeah."

The first push is slow; a welcome intrusion. You're still a little tender, and he doesn't personally care to be rough with you. Just wants to be with you. To fill you. To be as close as he can, as he mumbles candid declarations into your ear.

You beat him to it, though, as you sink down onto his incredibly hard cock.

"Fuck," you moan, all breathless and feeble despite no real action taking place. Clutching at his jaw, you rest your forehead against his. Swallow back another moan. Swear, through stifled breaths, "I love you."

He laughs. Oh God, he laughs, and you think he's never sounded more beautiful.

"Don't say shit like that," he smiles. Is breathless, too, when he laughs. "I'll die."

And die he does, not even five minutes later, in a mess of slow thrusts and deep confessions that he never thought would see the light of day. With their freedom comes his liberation; the knowledge that he can love and be loved in return. That it's reciprocal.

The way he comes undone for you is celestial; pretty whimpers and kisses that blossom and fall like cherry trees in the spring. Heaven on earth, even when committing acts that'd land you a permanent prison in hell. He'd take it, if it meant he got eternity with you.

That's the thing about love. There are no limits. He'll follow it to the edge of earth; the end of time. You'll encourage him on the chase, not because you're running from him, but because the idea of ever stopping fills you with dread. If eternity is an option, you want it. Want it with him.

Hips jerking beneath you, his back arching ever so slightly as his shoulders press into his duvet, Jeongguk is heaven-sent. There's a shudder to his chest. A haze to his dark eyes; stars sparking with every jolt of his muscles. Neck thick as he strains, the vein that runs up the side of his throat is begging for kisses.

Nodding, you encourage him.

"Please," you mewl, grinding your hips for him. There's a serenity to your skin; dewy and warm, just how he likes you. Cheeks pink, lips even pinker, he wishes he could preserve this moment forevermore, but has no idea where the fuck his phone is. Has to revel in it instead. Pay attention to every single one of his senses just so that he can recall it in his memories for years to come. But then you speak, and he can't compute fuckin' anything. "Cum for me, babe. Show me how much you love me."

He pulls you back down, not to kiss you, but simply hug you as his hips thrash up into you. Something about the way you call him babe just makes him feel so adored. Precious. Pink. Arms strong around your back, he presses kisses against the curve of your neck. Promises, "Oh, God, I love you."

He repeats it like an oath. A sacred prayer. Again and again, until he can't take it any longer. Asks where you want him to finish, and doesn't get a verbalised answer. Just gets your lips on his, whines in each other's mouths. Tongues, too. Teeth clashing, and absolutely no fucks given. It's frankly a mess, but fuck if it isn't the most at-one with another person he's ever felt. Just makes it so easy to unload himself into you; to fill you with everything that he is.

Hand gripping at the base of your ponytail, he pulls you back. Wants to look at you as the final ropes of his cum escape his body and find a home in yours. Eyes hazy and a little fucked-out, desperately trying not to get distracted by the glitter sparkling on your skin, he nods to let you know he's done.

Repeats, once more, "I fuckin' love you."

And then you're bashful. Giggling, as if he's just said the most sordid thing in the world. He winces a little from the pressure around his sensitive cock, but doesn't pull out. In fact, he keeps his hands firmly on your hips, keeping you in place.

Leaning down to deliver an incredibly sweet kiss, one that he'll want to lick from his lips forever, you whisper, "Good. I am your girlfriend. Would be super awkward if you didn't love me."

He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Laughs, now too, then taps your thigh to encourage you off of him, but doesn't let you get too far away. Pulls you in for a hug as soon as you're beside him.

"This shit'll never get old," he says, as he toys with your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. "God, why did it take us so long?"

It's a good question. One that you could theorise answers for—but you're sleepy, and you need to shower again.

"Stupid," is all you reply, pulling away and grabbing a fresh pair of Jeongguk's boxers to slip on just for a little dignity before you walk to the bathroom. He did finish inside you, after all. Is never the neatest of situations. Turning as you reach the doorframe, you're so incredibly enamoured with the way his eyes have followed you, chin pressed to his chest, face a little round from the angle. He's so cute it's hard to remember quite how domineering he had been earlier. "You coming with?"

"Shower?" He asks, to which you nod. "Go start it up. I'll sort the sheets, then join you."

"Want a hand? With the sheets?"

Shaking his head as he gets to his feet, he shoos you off. "I'll be, like, three minutes."

And because you're pathetic and hopelessly in love with the man in front of you, you say, "I'll miss you."

"Gross," he replies with a smirk. "Almost like you love me, or something."

"Nah," you shrug, matching his playful energy. "We're just friends."

"My cum is literally inside you right now."

"Okay, fine ," you exaggerate. " Best friends."

"Get the fuck outta here with that best friends shit," he laughs, as he sets about stripping the bed. "Go. I'll join you."

Eyes trained on you as you walk away, Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip. Shakes his head. Hates how much of a softie he's being, but just can't help himself.

"Hey, B?" He calls after you.

"What?" You yell back from the bathroom, door ajar to make things easier for him. Expecting some dumb remark, you're grinning from ear to ear because of how easy all this is.

Things are finally falling into place.

As his voice echoes through the apartment, it seems like they're falling right where they were always supposed to.

"Love you."

73 notes · View notes

beelsbignaturals · 1 year

Note

HoL and their preferred cuddling styles?

AN: omg posting twice a day look at me go! I WAS gonna queue this but I have no patience sometimes. Also lmk if anyone is interested in a part two with the undateables!

😴SNUGGLY DEMONS💗

Lucifer wants to be the little spoon so damn bad but would rather die than admit it. Please just hold him. If you can ignore his grumbles of "Honestly, MC, I am not a child!" One of two things will happen. Either you let go, to which Luci will respond with an indignant. "I didn't say you could stop." Or if you are a little more persistent, after a small huff, Lucifer will relax in your arms. Regardless, you will have an all-powerful demon melting into your embrace by the end of it. He also enjoys when you plop yourself down on his lap while he deals with another never-ending mountain of paperwork. Don't worry, he's happy to work around you if you just promise to stay. It makes the long hours much more tolerable.

Mammon loves resting his head on you, using your body as a pillow. Doesn't matter if it's your chest, thighs, stomach, or shoulder. You are the great Mammon's personal headrest. That is your sole purpose in life. Why does he like it so much? Well, aside from the fact it usually leads to your hands gently massaging his scalp, it also means he only has to tilt his head just a little to press a quick kiss to your skin. If you do the same, laying your head against him while watching a movie or just in general, Mammon will probably freeze for a moment before his hands find themselves in your hair.

Leviathan is way too embarrassed and also just overwhelmed by physical contact at first. If you want any hope of something that resembles cuddling before you have managed to convince Levi you're not pretending to be into him as a joke, you will need to initiate. Try linking your arm through his while he is playing on his NintenDevil Switch. He'll short-circuit but recover when you say you just want to watch him play. He can only handle so much tactile stimulation before he taps out and needs to lay in the dark for 1-3 business days to recharge so please just… when he shakes you off without blushing and stuttering that's your cue to listen. Once Levi is comfortable enough with you to sleep in either your room or his bedtub, you become his replacement body pillow. Sometimes, he will subconsciously wrap his tail around you in his sleep.

Satan tends to sit in strange positions while reading so honestly, just… wherever you can fit. Find a way to squeeze into his arms without blocking the book, and you're golden. He's upside-down with his legs over the back of the couch? Lay your head on his stomach. Sitting like some sort of contortionist? Wrap your arms around him from behind. Sitting like a normal person for once? That is an invitation, my friend! It's his way of saying, "Get over here and cuddle me now or else." He tends to stay up late reading so… if you are the type to cuddle at night, I will pray for your poor spine.

Asmodeus loves you, but he needs space. Beauty sleep is important! If you share a bed, he wants to hold your hand to feel close to you, but he has to lay on his back so his overnight mask can do its thing without making a mess. You will just need to get by with entwining your fingers with his as you both drift off. He's happy to cuddle up with you any other time, though! If you are lounging anywhere, your lap is fair game for the Avatar of Lust. He can and will sit on your lap regardless of the situation. It's his favorite spot, after all.

For practical reasons, Beelzebub prefers to cuddle you in a way that, when he inevitably gets up for a midnight snack, it won't disturb you too much. But if it won't bother you too much, he loves it when you lay on his chest. He will even go the extra mile and carry you along for his late night kitchen raids. He's strong enough that he can hold you in one arm and his food in the other. Also! Cuddling so that his arms are wrapped around you and you are curled up against him, facing the demon. For the love of all that is good in this world! Just let the man hold you! Beel is just a giant teddy bear. Like the one from ikea. Feel free to initiate cuddles any time, any place. Just watch out for an annoyed Belphie who is not impressed you took his spot as Beel's favorite cuddle buddy.

Belphegor moves around so much in his sleep. The ONLY way to stop this is to fully lay your entire weight on top of him. Like a living, breathing weighted blanket. Careful though, he might get so used to your presence that he will demand you join him because he's just oh so tired but he can't sleep without you sprawled out, completely crushing the demon underneath you. Alas, sometimes your efforts are for naught, and in the middle of the night, sloth incarnate has completely flipped the two of you. And… somehow, he's also upside-down? It's rather hard to sleep with a kneecap digging into your ribs. The picture you managed to get of Belphie hugging your legs like a teddy bear is totally worth it.

#om! shall we date #obey me #obey me mc #obey me x reader #shrimp writes #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader

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agentperezbian · 4 months

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I fully understand people getting upset at straight people in gay bars because gay/lesbian bars serve a certain function that straight people often just. Get in the way of. They're encroaching on the space. But whenever "no x at pride" discourse comes up I'm just like. You can't disallow anyone from pride have you guys ever been to a pride parade or event. It's a festival they aren't letting people in you literally just walk up. You're inevitably gonna have people who end up in the mix because the event is happening in front of their usual coffee place. You're gonna have to be okay with some straight guy being there regardless of your opinions there is literally nothing you can even do about it.

#and also you can't tell if someone is cishet just by looking at them so why even bother

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happilysmythe · 5 months

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❥ 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

trent frederic.

word count: 4.0k

warning: explicit content

"let it happen (it's gonna feel so good)" — tame impala

A/N: this fic was inspired by the locker room raw of trent from december of 2022, gifed above. if you’d like to watch it, you can here. enjoy, and as always, happy reading!

- - -

Being a reporter isn’t all it’s made out to be when you’re harboring something that could put your career at risk.

Yet that’s exactly what you were doing, working as a journalist for the Boston Bruins.

Being in the presence of sweaty, large hockey players was something you’d inevitably have to get used to when working the field that you did. However, you never seemed to struggle with it. When people asked, you always told them that you’d simply set any minor attractions aside and focus on your work, rather than your desires. It was easy.

Until Trent Frederic came into the picture.

Something about him caught your attention the first time you stood in his proximity amongst the other reporters. He wasn’t attractive in the conventional way you knew the other players were. Most people would say he was “cute”, or “good-looking”, but that was the extent. So maybe that was it. Maybe it was his eyes, or his freckles, or the curls that poked out from under his hats.

Or maybe it was simply how fucking gorgeous he was to you, regardless of anyone else’s opinion.

That being said, you were frustrated; frustrated with yourself for letting his appearance get to you, even though you fought yourself daily for years to make sure it never happened. You knew that, at some point, someone would get the best of you, and unfortunately, he just happened to be that someone. You wanted to blame him. To take some of the pressure off of yourself for once. You wanted him and his goddamned charm to be at fault instead of you.

It’s the way he looks at you, you’d tell yourself. He’s trying to get a rise. He has to be. After all this time, you can’t be that weak.

Right?

But you knew that you were. You were weak for him. And it was just about the most unprofessional thing you could do in your position.

“What do you think it’s going to be like—to be in this type of environment?” the first reporter’s voice sounded, blinking you out of your already nervous state as you stood beside Trent.

“Uh, it kinda reminds me of a Penn State,” he replied, hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Or kinda like the, uh…What is it, Yost Arena in Michigan?”

The reporter nodded to confirm his statement. “I like those two rinks, so…hopefully, uh—thought we always,” he paused to breathe, “always played well there, so…hopefully it’s similar.”

Then it was your turn to speak up, and when you cleared your throat, his head pivoted in your direction. His eyes followed your voice and landed on you, his chest rising and falling as he awaited your question.

“Are there any adjustments you had to make where you’re playing in a,” you hesitated as you watched his tongue slip past his parted lips, tracing a line from the center of his bottom lip to the corner of his mouth. Your mind did all but ignore this and his audible, heavy breaths. You quickly blinked out of the state.

“In a smaller arena?” you finally continued in a humiliating attempt to sound put-together. “Or—”

“I don’t think so, I think when you’re playing you really only see the first,” he gestured his hand, “ten rows and up, so I think it’ll be fine. About the same.”

His gaze lingered on you for a split second longer than it should’ve before he turned the other way to face Sophia as she asked the next question. And it was then that you were certain he’d picked up on you.

Not to mention him abruptly cutting you off.

A few minutes passed before the cameras cut and the small crowd dispersed, leaving only him and you standing alone in front of his stall. But his voice stopped you before you could even manage a step in the other direction.

“Hey,” he called out calmly, and when you turned back around you were met with the sight of him standing nonchalantly, arms folded in front of him. “I don’t think we’re done yet.”

“…Yeah, we are. We already finished the media, no?”

“The media’s done,” he spoke, straightening himself out and taking a step toward you. “But we’re not done.”

“Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Trent, but I have places to be. So if you’ll kindly excuse me—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You were taken aback, no doubt, but knew that you had to oblige him whether you wanted to or not. So you let out a sigh and shook your head.

He slipped off his padding, then silently jerked his head to the side, motioning for you to come with him as he walked down the outside hallway and into the nearest empty room. He promptly shut the door behind him, then walked toward you.

“What is it?” you finally piped up.

“Do you have a thing for me?”

“Wow, okay,” you scoffed, irritation lacing your defensive tone. “Do you have some sort of ego issue, or?”

“Do not play dumb right now,” he rasped, leaning closer. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the looks? The staring? The stuttering?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you rebutted, nostrils flared as you swallowed thickly.

“Oh, so you mean to tell me that I wasn’t just saving your ass back there?”

You sighed, finally letting your guard down as you lowered your voice. “Fine,” you admitted through clenched teeth. “I have a thing for you.”

And just like that, the corner of his lips twitched just slightly, as if he were suppressing a smirk. He finally leaned back and gave you room to breathe, so you seized the opportunity and took a long breath. He remained silent, waiting for you to elaborate.

“No matter how bad I want to act on it, I can’t, because I’m already in deep enough shit for wanting you in the first place,” you flatly explained. “But if we ever got caught for something like that…I’d lose my damn job, Trent. The job that I worked my ass off trying to get, and the one that’s already at enough of a fucking risk because of you.”

You shook your head disappointedly. “So sorry if I’m not getting my words right the first time.”

You brushed past him, trying to make your way toward the door but were quickly brought to a standstill when he spoke up.

“You think you’re the only one in that situation?”

You turned back around to face him, brows knit together in confusion as he stepped closer.

“And before you up and leave, I need to make something clear to you,” he spoke.

“Trent—”

“If I wasn’t attracted to you, I wouldn’t be enabling you like I do. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to help you,” he told you promptly. “So think about that next time you want to think you’re the only one with problems.”

“God, Trent, that’s—this whole thing is beyond unprofessional. On both ends,” you scoffed in disbelief. “And you know that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything with you because it would put me at risk.”

Of course, you wanted to. You were lying straight through your teeth. It was clear as day to Trent, too, because the subtleties told him otherwise—the hint of hesitation lacing your tone and the unease in your expression. But, to be fair, it was difficult to mask. You were already struggling with how inappropriate the whole conversation was.

And after all, nobody said it was easy to stop imagining what someone would taste like.

He stepped closer and your feet carried you backward until you came into contact with the wall behind you. Your head tilted back as you looked up at him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Not to mention it’s a,” you hesitated, “—a conflict of interest.”

“Write whatever the hell you want about me, because it won’t change how drawn to you I am.” A large hand gently placed itself on your hip, “And it won’t change that I’d take that chance with you.”

The tension in your face softened, sincerity bleeding through his voice as he spoke to you. You took a long, deep breath and—against any remaining shred of logic in your conflicted mind—lifted your hand to his chest, slowly trailing upward until it reached the curls on the back of his neck.

“If we got caught,” you reiterated, “you’d be the player who hooked up with some reporter…And I’d be the slut who couldn’t keep it professional.”

You softened your voice, “I’ve worked too hard to let it all go to waste, Trent.”

“Sounds more like a societal issue than an us issue,” he shrugged, “and last I checked…two adults deciding to get a little physical isn’t exactly illegal.” His voice shifted to a low rasp, “But I can’t wrap my head around why you’re still here, because someone else in your current position wouldn’t still be here unless they’d started to change their mind.”

“God, you’re frustrating,” you muttered. Warm breath hit your lips, forcing you to realize how close he’d become. Your eyes watched as the remaining beads of sweat dripped slowly down his face. “I haven’t considered anything,” you lied.

“Then tell me to stop.”

Your conscience told you to say it; that stupid guilty conscience that you were admittedly fucking tired of. Normally, it would’ve forced you to rattle off all of the reasons you could’ve said it—why you should’ve—but it didn’t. Because every other part of you wanted the complete opposite. Every consequence seemed to evacuate your thoughts, with Trent conveniently replacing each one.

So you finally turned your mind off and let your body take control.

His lips roughly connected with yours and you didn’t protest. You were quickly pinned to the wall by his hips as his fingers untucked your shirt, hooking under the fabric and slipping it up and over your head, allowing it to hit the floor, and his lips hungrily returned to yours. He was too intoxicating to deny, and the feeling of his tongue as it rolled slowly over yours only solidified that fact.

You reached up and pried the baseball cap off his head, tossing it aside and running your hand through his hair, transferring the moisture from his curls to your fingers, beginning to dampen them. Your other hand slipped under the fabric of his shirt, peeling it from his upper body to reveal his toned physique underneath, which you’d only ever caught small glances of. And boy, did it not disappoint.

When his lips left yours, you whimpered at the loss of contact, but they soon returned to your skin, peppering it with kisses as he trailed a path from your shoulder up to your neck, spending extra time there. Your hands traveled to his bare back, palms resting on his shoulder blades as your head tilted to the side, granting him more access.

“We’re—fuck,” you panted, eyes screwed shut, “we’re screwed if someone hears us.”

“That’s why we’re not near the door,” he muttered, kissing up to your jawline. “And also why we’re going to have to be quiet. Sound good?”

You nodded softly, then felt his lips move to your throat, eyes fixated on him as he reached your collarbones. At his movement, your hands lifted and moved to the wall beside you, palms flattened against it. He continued the path downward and lowered himself to his knees. Soft lips could now be felt on your stomach, burning the skin in their path.

Fingers curled into the waistband of the leather skirt hugging your hips and swiftly removed it, with it the lacy material beneath. The cool air of the empty room hit your exposed skin, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

It was all too much when his hands pried your thighs open so he could slip between them.

His warm breath grazed the sensitive skin between your legs. You knew how close he was. Then you were proved right as he gently pressed a trail of kisses from the inside of your thigh up to the flesh between them. His tongue parted your folds, dragging itself up and down slowly, gathering your taste on it.

He let out a groan of approval when your hand darted out, fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed him closer. You wanted—no, needed more, especially when his mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently as his calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you into him.

He lapped at you hungrily, building you up and forcing you to chase your release. He was no stranger to being between a girl’s legs. He could’ve gone hours with someone’s thighs wrapped around his head. But he never needed to.

And you were going to face the same fate.

“Shit,” you sighed weakly, running your fingers through his damp hair. Heavy breaths filled his ears, your voice breaking through and turning them into soft whimpers.

“Mm,” he hummed against your skin, and your hips slowly, painfully rolled, the grip on your thighs making it near impossible for you to move them enough to give yourself the relief you craved.

But he took this as a sign, holding you tighter as he delved his tongue into you, steadily moving it in and out as he brought you to your breaking point. The thrill of being at such a risk only fueled his fire. Trent always refused to pull away until a girl was properly satisfied. The payoff was as rewarding as ever to him. So why deny someone the pleasure that you were giving them? He never understood it.

Besides, he always got off on seeing a girl come undone so fast.

His name fell from your parted lips in a moan as he flattened his tongue against your clit, that being the final push over the edge. Expert flicks of his tongue worked your body through your release, prolonging the process, and he began to taste you on the tip of it. He collected every last bit, moaning softly in satisfaction as he swallowed.

Finally, he pulled away, pressing a final kiss to your skin before releasing his grip on your thighs and standing up slowly. The grin he donned as he straightened out burned a hole through any remainder of the facade that masked your weakness; the one that made you give in to him unwillingly, without as much as an afterthought. It was too late for regrets. And you didn’t particularly seem to have any.

He watched as your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath as your eyes seemingly fixated on his lips. His thumb came up and wiped the corner of his mouth, then moved in front of his lips for him to lick it clean.

“Keep staring, why don’t ya,” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’ve got some nerve saying that when I could just walk right out,” you quipped.

“Then do it,” he laughed, confidence lacing his expression. “Nobody’s stopping you,” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’d be running quite the risk walking out of here with practically no clothes on, hm?”

“Yeah, as if that’s the only reason I’m not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, knowing full well what would happen if you were to waltz out of the room in the state you were in.

Luckily for you and him, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you’d be moving from your spot.

Weakened legs encircled his waist as he hoisted you up, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His hand reached between you and slid the thin fabric of his pants down just far enough to adjust himself. The other gripped the underside of your thigh, that and the wall supporting your weight as he held you up.

“You think anyone’s looking for us?” you muttered, the pads of your fingers dancing along the skin of his back.

“Probably,” he answered quietly as he lined himself up, and you started to feel the pressure between your legs. “But I don’t care.”

Then, he loosened his hold on you, sliding your body down the wall as he forcefully lowered you onto him. Your lips parted in momentary shock as he stretched your walls. The all-new sensation promptly clouded your vision. Crescent-shaped marks appeared on his skin when your nails dug into it. The size of his wide cock challenged that of any other man you had the unfortunate pleasure of fucking. They made you feel empty. But Trent filled you just right. He was almost too big.

Almost.

When you finally came to, your eyes darted toward his face, quickly meeting his in a forceful gaze. You tried to steady your breaths, but your body refused to allow it until you were fully adjusted to him. Instead, you elicited what sounded like whimpers. And of course, that only drove him more wild.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, brows knitting together as he pulled you up, adjusting you to be more firm in his grasp. “All that professionalism turn you into a prune or something?”

“Shut up,” you retorted, having a sharp intake of breath as he sunk you back down.

He laughed in response. “Mad that I’m right?”

“No,” you were quick to deny. “You’re just,” you hesitated, then cut yourself off sharply, “—just shut up.”

“Sure thing, Miss Reporter.”

That was enough verbal volleying for him and he pulled back, waiting a moment before pushing himself back in. The movement stifled you dead, practically severing your vocal cords as your head fell forward and your forehead promptly connected with his bare shoulder. He groaned in approval as your sensitive walls constricted around his length, his thrusts moving at a slow pace to allow your body to adjust.

Your previous release worked to lubricate the place you were joined, giving him leeway to pick up speed as he smoothly slid in and out, hitting places your mind couldn’t have possibly imagined he—or anyone—could. And Trent, on the flip side, was relishing in how perfectly you enveloped him; how fucking good the acute pressure felt each time he pumped his hips and buried himself to the hilt.

Desperately you clung to him, using some of the strength left in you to keep yourself stable, while the rest went toward forcing yourself into silence. But soon, there wasn’t enough to do both, and his shoulder wasn’t enough to prevent your moans from bouncing off the walls of the small space you inhabited. And if they weren’t taken care of soon, they’d bleed through the walls, and the exact fear that almost drove you out of the room in the first place would have become a reality.

So he whispered your name—piquing your attention enough to lift your head—and pushed his lips to yours, enveloping your mouth in a deep kiss that was enough to keep your noises at bay. At least, for the time being.

Rough palms pressed firmly into your thighs, a grip so firm that the fingers were likely to leave marks. But you didn’t seem to care, nor did you make an effort to stop it from happening. You’d be angry at it later. It wasn’t exactly a prominent worry in your mind while he sharply fucked into you, giving you as much as you could take.

And take him, you could.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and grazed your teeth as your hand snaked into his wet curls and fisted them, hard. He quickly removed his hands from your thighs and pressed them into the small of your back, arms pulling you impossibly closer as your legs tightened around his waist. The movement altered your position and shifted him inside of you, which forced him to hit your sweet spot, prying a moan from deep within your stomach.

It wasn’t often that a guy was rough with you, but he was. And whether you’d admit it or not, you liked it.

“Right—right there,” was all you could manage.

At your word, he sped up, cock burying itself as far into you as your bodies would allow, soft grunts leaving his mouth as he exhaled. With each thrust, his name fell from your lips in soft whimpers as if it were a prayer. And then, the culmination of his hands on you, the noises he made, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you as it craved its release brought you to yours.

The pleasure that washed over you as you came apart around him elicited a long, breathy moan from your throat. Once again, your vision was blackened, mind lost in a repeating loop of the only palpable thought it was able to conjure up, which was how incredible he felt from this angle, fucking you through it. And even when he brought his hand to your mouth to silence you, you allowed it without forethought.

Soon after, the pressure of you contracting around his length, paired with the sound of his name ringing in the form of your voice brought him to his breaking point. He shot into you, thoroughly coating your inner walls in a layer of hot, white liquid. You moaned weakly into his palm, taking him with a strength you would’ve been sure you didn’t have left in you. You maintained it for a few moments longer until his movements finally halted. He stilled inside and gently removed his hand from your mouth, a loud gasp filling his ears as you breathed air into your lungs.

The only sound occupying the small, dark room was that of heavy breaths, the walls absorbing the noise and preventing it from reaching the outside. Finally, Trent carefully pulled out and lowered you back to the ground, and you were grateful that his hands kept a loose hold on you for the support you knew you required.

His hands roamed your sides before finally removing themselves from your body. He pulled his pants back up to his waist and promptly adjusted himself, then bent down and picked up your discarded clothes, giving them back to you as he came back up. You thanked him quietly before stepping into the thin fabric, slipping it up your legs in unison with the leather skirt before returning the blouse to your body. Meanwhile, Trent grabbed his shirt and tugged it on, the taut fabric hugging his upper half as he moved back into your field of view.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up, prompting your head to tilt up in his direction. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, arms folded as your hands rubbed them. “This…this was a one-time thing, Trent. To get it out of our systems.”

“I know,” he nodded, “but I don’t think it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Trent, if anyone ever—”

“I know,” he cut you off, lowering his voice to a near whisper as he stepped closer. “I know. But you can’t deny that it felt good to give in.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in contemplation as you considered his words, then exhaled deeply through your nose. “Yeah,” you dejectedly sighed.

His finger tilted your chin up. “Just think about it, ‘mk?”

You silently nodded and turned to the door, silently making your way over as he followed closely behind you. The air was tense. It had undoubtedly thickened since your bodies parted. You stopped in front of the door, the soft noise of his breathing distracting you. Knowing his proximity to you prevented you from opening the door just yet.

And before your head could catch up with your body, you turned around swiftly and kissed him.

“There’s not much to think about, anyway,” you muttered softly, bringing a hand to his chest and trailing it up to the back of his neck. Your fingers gently brushed the tips of his curls, thumb pressing lightly against his skin just below them. “I’ve already made my decision,” you quietly added.

“Yeah?”

To compartmentalize. Let your body decide what it wanted, regardless of the consequences.

And it wanted him.

#boston bruins #trent frederic #fanfic #trent frederic fic #boston bruins imagine #hockey #trent frederic imagine #hockey fic #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader

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