#listen if I have to know this then so do you

[paper-mario-wiki]

Transgender review of Eminem's use of bigotry in his latest song, Houdini

the first time i listened to this song i rolled my eyes. not because i was particularly annoyed that Historically Homophobic Harry said some things that got on my fee-fees, but because for him to do it in such a passe way was disappointing coming from thee Marshal Mathers. like, your name has meaning brother. you think im going to give my hate-attention to something this bland?

the next time i listened to it it made sense. nah, this dude KNOWS he's the joke. he's taking the joke that he is and telling it himself. the entire music video is him acting like an idiot and doing embarrassing shit, bumbling over himself while he randomly tosses in ad-libs from old songs of his like a parody of what his image is, even going out of his way to insult his own family to demonstrate that he was consciously showing ignorant and meaningless aggression. perhaps im giving the notorious buttery-complexioned MC a little too much credit here, but i think it passes the smell test. maybe not elegantly, but at least to me.

fuck i just hope his whole album isn't this. because to me, this joke can be told once effectively. you dont have to ditch the theme of self parody, but you can only be self deprecatingly coy about your very real bigotry so many times before "it's art" stops being a pass.

[afatkidclub]

Older Boyfriend Simon Riley

Thanks to the notes on my last post, I will be posting this blurb here. It's just for shits and giggles.

Older Boyfriend!Simon Riley who has been the best boyfriend you have ever had.

Refuses to let you call a handyman. Leaky sink? He had it fixed before you even knew there was a problem. Squeaky desk chair? Suddenly completely silent. 

Gets really competitive with Mario Kart and refuses to play again after losing a couple of rounds. Gets really into Minecraft but doesn’t let you help build things because “You’re doing it wrong” even though you’re the one who taught him how to play

Does not understand girl math. 

-- “The fuck you mean it’s not real money

-- “If I use cash, it’s free because it doesn’t come out of my account. Therefore it’s not real money.” 

-- “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.” 

-- Now drops cash in your purse so that you have “fake” money to use. 

Hates girl dinner only because he knows that a bowl of popcorn or a couple crackers and cheese is not a full meal. 

A year of his life drops off every time he hears you saying “I’m doing it for the plot.” 

Refuses to download tiktok but will watch them on your phone with you for hours at a time

Went on a very long lecture about the Roman Empire and how it came to be (talk specifically about the military aspect) once you mentioned something was your Roman empire. Didn’t even notice you had fallen asleep halfway through the lecture. Still doesn’t know what you mean when you say something is your Roman Empire. 

Has absolutely no idea what you mean when you say “same.” 

-- You had to explain that it was just something you said when you found anything relatable

-- “What the bloody hell could be relatable about a plastic bag blowing across the road.” 

Has attempted to use the word slay in a sentence and it only ended with you in the longest laughing fit known to man. 

Listens to you explain celebrity beef and wonders why you talk about them like you know them personally and how you know all this information. 

Vine references, goes right over his head. 

-- One time quoted “Road work ahead, uh yeah I sure hope it does” after you had done it so many times, you nearly choked to death on air that day. 

Emojis are his worst enemy. Never gets the message when you try to hint at something using emojis. 

Learns very early on that anytime you two go out for errands, you require a sweet treat. 

-- Uses going out to get a sweet treat as an excuse to take you out on dates 

-- Also makes sure to buy you a sweet treat anytime you complete a task you didn’t want to do.

[artdcnaldson]

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin. 

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze. 

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass. 

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable. 

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag. 

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed. 

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer. 

How long?

You took another drink. 

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking. 

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly. 

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn. 

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse. 

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow. 

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out. 

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up. 

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace. 

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one. 

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone. 

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in. 

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down. 

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway. 

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side. 

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably. 

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression. 

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled. 

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him. 

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed. 

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare. 

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser. 

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely. 

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later. 

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt. 

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat. 

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands. 

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?  “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip. 

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him. 

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave. 

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core. 

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation. 

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit. 

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back. 

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge. 

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly. 

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair. 

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then. 

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled. 

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh. 

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle. 

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins. 

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours. 

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies. 

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder. 

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever. 

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest. 

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room. 

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying. 

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.” 

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all. 

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise. 

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind. 

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded. 

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes. 

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne. 

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat. 

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out. 

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod. 

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever. 

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly. 

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs. 

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist. 

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?” 

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance. 

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy. 

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need. 

“Close,” you gasped. 

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.” 

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth. 

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep. 

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly.  A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves. 

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him. 

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air. 

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place. 

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment. 

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls. 

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones. 

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him. 

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early. 

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word. 

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

[holybibly]

𝕀'𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕟 | 𝕐𝕦𝕟𝕙𝕠 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Best friend Yunho x reader 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 / 𝔸𝕦 / 𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕖: Smut, Friends to lovers!au, Non-Idol AU ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5.2k 𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Yunho is a good friend, perhaps too good for you, and who else but him will help you discover a new sexual experience? Or Yunho will show you what it's like to have a real man take care of you. 𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Hands and fingers kink, finger sucking, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise kink and more.

𝕟𝕖𝕥: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet

𝔸/ℕ: My responses to your requests, bunnies, are being taken to a whole new level. It's also what's been on your mind so much lately - Yunho and his beautiful fingers. Honestly, it's just a huge chunk of pure smut dedicated to Yunho's hands. But, I don't regret it at all.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl

"You know, it's not that difficult. If you want to give it a try, I can do it for you, Chagi."

When you hear these words fall from his pretty lips, your eyes widen in a comical way, and your mouth falls open a little.

'What do you mean?' You ask him quietly, just to make sure Yunho meant exactly what he said. 

'Cum, baby. I can make you come with just the touch of my fingers.' Yunho says this in an easy, casual way, raising his big hand to the level of your face and moving his fingers to get your attention. "You know, it's called fingering."

Oh shit. He really meant what he said. Your heart starts beating faster at the sound of his slightly husky voice, and you automatically focus your gaze on his beautiful, long fingers. Fucking long, beautiful fingers. Sometimes you even wonder if Yunho's fingers could be longer than the dicks of some guys you've had sex with. Jeong Yunho was not just a good friend. He was the greatest friend in the world. Accommodating, sweet, and witty, he was always ready to help you in every situation and listen to you anytime, day and night. There were never any secrets between you two; Yunho knew everything about you, just as you knew everything about him. 

You couldn't have been more grateful to him when Yunho came over to your house with ice cream and sweets after another 'cool' guy had turned you down on a date. 

He sat beside you, big and warm like a golden retriever puppy, listening to all your complaints about being dumped, letting you nibble away your disappointment with ice cream and chocolate, wrapped up in his wonderfully soft sweatshirt, smelling of his vanilla-woody perfume. The smell of him used to make you dizzy all the time.

This was not the first time you'd been in this situation, and nights like this had become something of a tradition for you. Yunho always listened to you when you complained about how disgusting and unsatisfying your dates were. He was always on your side. To be honest, you always liked Yunho—much more than you should like a friend, but who wouldn't like Yunho? He was the absolute embodiment of the perfect man—looks, manners, character, and on and on. And you were completely out of his league. But in spite of all of that, Yunho never made you feel uncomfortable when you were in his presence. You always talked to each other in an open way, and there were no taboo subjects between the two of you. Even about sex... Over the years of your friendship, you had a good idea of what Yunho was capable of in bed, and he knew your preferences and desires regarding sex. 

But when you told him about your other boyfriend's inability to bring you to orgasm, he had never offered to help you with your sexual frustration. To this very day.

"C'mon, you don't mean that." You say this as you shove a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into your mouth. The creamy, whipped mass melts in an instant as soon as it comes into contact with the warmth of your tongue, leaving behind a light taste of berry.

Right now, instead of your favourite ice cream, you really wish that Yunho had brought a couple of bottles of soju with him. Then you could blame the alcohol in your blood for making you blush, rather than the fact that his suggestion made you both confused and excited.

"Actually, I'm quite serious, Chagiya. I can make you cum with just the tips of my fingers.' He said it just as easily and calmly as he had before, looking at you with those big, shiny eyes of his. 

Yunho looked so relaxed as he sat next to you, his arms wrapped around the big soft cushion, and you, in contrast to him, began to squirm a little in your seat under the sudden weight of his usually soft chocolate gaze.

"Look, T/N, if you don't want to do this, I understand; you don't have to worry so much. We can pretend this conversation never happened, and I'll keep listening to you complain to me about men who are too selfish in their desires and can't give you what you need. I've always told you, Chagiya, that you deserve so much more than these pathetic idiots you've been dating, and unlike them, I don't have to stick my cock in your pussy to make you come. I can fuck you stupid, just with my  fingers." Yunho puts the pillow to the side and leans in a little bit closer to you. When he starts to speak again, his voice becomes more husky and sultry. "But I'm not going to do anything that you don't ask me to do. Just say the word, and we'll forget the whole thing." 

"Yunho... I don't know; it's all so sudden." You mumbled, unsure, biting down on your lower lip and glancing down at his hands once more. 

God, Yunho's offer was as tempting as it was damaging, but damn it, this was exactly what you wanted. You wanted it so badly. Perhaps, just perhaps, you'd been thinking about his hands more often than you'd admitted. More than once or twice, you've imagined how those broad, big palms of his would feel on your body, and even more so, how great his long fingers would feel as they plunged deep into your pussy. You are sure that the stretching is going to be nothing short of delicious. But you also knew that if you agreed to his proposal, your little crush on him would take a dangerous new turn. You were already halfway to falling head over heels in love with him, and this situation wasn't going to make it any easier for you at all.

"Relax, Chagi; there's no pressure. We can just forget about it; I already told you. If you don't want it...'

'But I do want to.' Before you had a second to think about what you'd just said, the words flew out of your mouth. 

For a moment, you couldn't think straight, and there was a heavy pause between you that made you want to slap yourself on the forehead. You shyly glanced at Yunho from under your lashes in an attempt to analyse the expression on his pretty face. 

Yunho runs his tongue over his lips, leaving a glistening trace on the soft, pink flesh, and you unconsciously repeat the movement as he does. He can already see that you're totally into it, and a slight satisfied smile appears on his face.

"I'm not going to lie; it sounds nice. But you don't have to do that; I understand if you were just kidding and..." 

"Y/N, I'm not kidding. You're beautiful, sexy, and sweet, and you totally deserve to have your body worshipped. You need a man to show you how it's done, not a boy, Chagiya.' Yunho raised his eyes to you, and the darkness swirling inside them was something you'd never seen before. 

God, that look—why does he have to look like that right now? It was the first time since you'd met Yunho that you felt so turned on by his presence. Damn it. You could feel your body heating up and moisture starting to gather between your legs, making your lace panties stick uncomfortably to your bare pussy. But you tried to ignore it and just squeezed your thighs tighter. He probably didn't even mean it in a serious way, and you're already starting to fantasise about it.

'Oh, Yunho...' That's all you could manage to say at the moment. There were too many thoughts running around in your head—too many ideas—for you to be able to focus on anything in particular. 

On the outside, Yunho was completely calm, but there was a real flame of desire burning inside of him. He wanted to touch you so badly; he wanted to touch you in a way that friends were never supposed to do. It literally ate him up from within, but he was just a friend to you. You never looked at him with those seductive eyes that he knew you gave to other guys, guys not like him, guys who could never satisfy you properly, who could never fill you and make you squeal and dumb from their dicks. He could give you that. Yunho could give you anything you wanted. 

Tonight, when he had offered to fuck you with his fingers, it had been a thought he hadn't even realised he had said out loud. But damn, now he was unspeakably glad he had done it. You were right there in front of him, and he wasn't going to deny himself the chance to finally get what he wanted. He didn't care about the consequences. After all, when Yunho was done with you, you wouldn't be able to think about anyone else but him. God, all he can think about is how beautiful you'll look when you collapse under his touch and the blissful look on your face when you come on his fingers. Hell, he's hoping to see you drooling and squirting with his name on your lips. 

"What should I do?" you ask, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt tighter over your hands so that only your fingertips are visible. God, this is so fucking embarrassing. 

Yunho just grinned and moved even closer to you, so that your legs were now resting against his thigh. He gently cupped his large, warm palms around your face and forced you to look into his eyes. 

"Just relax for me. Will you? Let a real man take care of you properly, Chagiya."

Jeong fucking Yunho, you should stop now, or you'll start begging him for more than his fingers, and when you say that, you mean his dick. And generally, it wasn't even metaphorical—erything in Yunho's body was of impressive size, and his dick was no exception. You'd never tell Yunho, but you might have accidentally seen him masturbating a couple of times when he stayed at your place. Of course, it was completely by accident, but the image of his beautiful hands wrapping around his huge, thick, veiny cock, the deep, husky moaning and the blissful expression on his handsome face—that's the image that's burned into the back of your eyelids for life. The memory alone made your pussy clench around nothing.

Yunho slowly ran his thumb over your lips, smearing the remains of your favourite strawberry ice cream, while you were lost in thought. He made a mental note to buy you some strawberry lube for the next time you have sex, which is definitely going to happen. He doesn't even doubt it. You reflexively open your lips as you feel the slightly rough pad of his thumb pressing against the soft, sticky flesh of your lower lip, allowing him to push his finger deep into the wet warmth of your mouth. 

Yunho's eyes grow heavy with desire as your tongue wraps lightly around the long appendage and you begin to suck on his finger, looking up at him from under your lashes with big stag eyes as if to ask for his approval. 

"Such a good girl for me." A deep groan echoes in his chest as he sees your plush lips wrapped tightly around his finger, and Yunho can't help but think about how those same lips would wrap beautifully around his thick cock. But what he'll really be dreaming about for the next few weeks is the sugary expression on your face as you lick the slightly calloused pad of his thumb with your tongue. Your lower lip glistens with ice cream residue and saliva. Fuck. You look so fucking slutty and sweet at the same time that all he wants to do is bend you over and fuck your brains out. 

You can't hold back the whimper that comes out of your throat at the praise he gives you. Did you ever think that you would have a craving for praise in you, or is it just because of Yunho? The vibration around his finger reaches all the way up to his crotch, and his cock twitches as it strains against the jeans. You suck his finger deeper into your mouth—wet and hot—sliding your tongue over it, up and down. Back and forth over it. When he suddenly pulls his finger out of your mouth, a thread of saliva connecting it to your flushed lips, you let out a weak moan of frustration. 

"Baby, I'm the one who has to take care of you today. Aren't I?" He said as he let go of your face and got up from the couch, only to kneel down in front of you, but even in this position, Yunho still towered over you, making you feel small and vulnerable. When did your adorable puppy retriever ever have the time to turn into a big, bad wolf? "If you change your mind..." He began placing his hot palms on the bare skin of your thighs and discreetly pulling them apart so he could get a good look at your wet panties, the sight of which made his mouth fill with saliva. "Just say the word, and I'll stop immediately. Anytime, chagi..." 

Honestly, Yunho is absolutely lying to you right now; he doesn't know if he can take his hands off you at all, especially after seeing your pretty pussy covered only by the thin lace. The milky French lace hugs your cunt perfectly, stretching just enough to outline the shape of your labia, and he can't stop himself from moaning as he sees it. Your excitement seeps out onto the fabric, forming a large wet patch at the front. Yunho knows that your hole is throbbing with the need to be filled and your clit is swelling, begging to be touched.

Yunho's fingers dig hard into the soft flesh of your thighs, much harder than you expected, and you whimper, biting your lower lip and shaking slightly under the grip of his hands. 

"I get it...I trust you, Yunho."

"That's it, Chagi. I'm going to make you feel so good. I swear." Yunho whispers as he leans down and kisses the top of your thighs while he keeps his eyes on your face for a second. Your mind is in such a state of confusion that you can't concentrate on anything else but Yunho and the warmth of his hands and his lips on your skin. 

He can't resist sticking out his tongue and licking the thick strip on your clothed cunt. He moans into your pussy and your face feels like it's burning. Yunho runs his tongue over the smooth fabric of your pussy once more, moistening it even more with his saliva.

God, you're amazing. He's wanted this for such a damn long time, and right now he can say that his cock is harder than it's ever been. He wouldn't be lying. How could he not be?

"You're so beautiful, baby." You begin to wriggle in his arms as Yunho's lips close over your pussy, and you hear the sound of faint sucking on the wet lace in his mouth, his beautiful lips pressing right up against your throbbing clit making your little hole contract even more, begging to be filled.

'Oh God, Yuyu...' Your tone is whiny, almost pleading, and you feel a satisfied smile spread across his mouth as he buries his face harder into your pussy, your legs trembling slightly at the movement of the lace over your sensitive folds. He hasn't even done anything yet, and he's practically pushing you to your limit, and you're almost ashamed of it. If Yunho keeps going like this, you're going to come just from him sucking on your panties, and he doesn't even have to use his hands to do it. 

"Mmm, my girl is so warm and sweet; I can't wait to feel that cunt from the inside." He says it quietly. His voice is deeper and huskier than you've ever heard before. Yunho lets the disgustingly wet material of your underwear out of his mouth and bites lightly on the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp for breath. "Chagi, as much as I like seeing you in my clothes, I want you to take off your sweater. Let me see those nice tits of yours." 

Maybe it's his voice, or the dark, burning look in his eyes that are usually too soft and shiny, or maybe it's Yunho himself, but you obediently follow his command, eager to please him. Agonisingly slowly, your hands pull up the super-soft fabric, exposing more of your  skin millimetre by millimetre. You find yourself holding your breath, waiting to see what his reaction to your naked body will be. Your fingers brushed against the boning of your bra, sliding up the thin lace cup, higher up the bulging tops of your breasts, until Yunho's sweatshirt was next to you on the couch, and you were standing in front of him in nothing but your lace underwear. Remembering what he'd said, you cupped your breasts with your palms and squeezed lightly a few times before pulling the lace cup down and letting your tits fall out. Your nipples were instantly made hard by the coolness of the air. 

"You've got such nice tits, baby. Play with them for me. Show me how you like to please yourself." Jesus, what's going on right now? Your ex-boyfriends never treated you like this, eager to get into your cunt as fast as possible to get their own high. And that condescending tone of his voice, you would never have thought that Yunho could be like that, but damn, you were in love with it. Maybe even a bit too much for your own good.

'Mm, okay.' You closed your eyes tightly and concentrated on massaging and kneading your breasts, occasionally tracing the sensitive nipples and lightly scratching them with your fingernails, before wrapping your fingers around them and pulling. 

Your back arched, and your mouth opened in a loud moan. The sharp sensation of the rough stimulation sent a powerful rush of pleasure through your body. 

"You're so good for me; next time I'll suck your tits until you cum just from the feel of my mouth on your nipples."  The words made your pussy quiver, spurting out more moisture, and you moaned loudly, flicking your fingers over the hard, dark pink buds.

"You can't say such things..." You whimper at Yunho's vulgar words, but still, your body responds in the most delightful manner to this. 

"Stop me then, Chagi. Tell me that I should stop." Yunho says, kissing your clothed pussy gently and drooling even more on your panties.  The sensation of his kisses almost made you miss the moment when his fingers ran along your slit, lightly pressing the lace between your labia. The contrast between the lace fabric and the soft touch of his warm lips was making your body burn, and if he was going to continue to tease you like this, you were just going to go crazy.

"P-please... Please, Yunho." You whimpered, which made him stop teasing you for a moment, and he lifted his head to meet your gaze. You looked so fucking beautiful for him: your hands squeezing the swollen flesh of your tits, leaving the red fingerprints on them; your hair a total mess; your legs spread wide so he could see your pretty pussy; and your gaze completely unfocused and hazy. He was just getting started playing with you, and you looked so fucked already. 

"Please, what, baby? What do you want? Tell me, Chagi."

"I need more, please... Fuck me, Yunho. Make me cum on your fingers." You began to whimper, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Look at you; you're already such a slut to me, aren't you, Chagi? Your pretty little panties are all sticky and wet from the amount of slime leaking from your needy cunt. Do you want my fingers deep inside you?  Shall I make you squirt, baby?" Yunho's voice was dark and low as he lightly scraped his nail across your clit through the lace, and you screamed as your body began to tremble slightly as your cunt tightened around nothing at all. "You want that, don't you?"

"Mmm hmm." You moaned, shaking your head to confirm. Right now, you can barely concentrate on anything but the sensation of Yunho's presence beside you, his hand touching your wet pussy. When he touches you like this, you can't help but think about the size of his hands, the length of his fingers, and how deep they can go into you. 

Yunho's fingers hook into the lace of your panties before pulling them aside as he blows lightly on your pussy. A smug smirk spreads across his handsome lips as you're shrieking softly and your hips are shaking weakly from the intense stimulation.

"The words, Chagi, I need your words; otherwise, you won't get what you want so much. I could play with you all night long..." Yunho presses his fingers to your swollen clit, rubbing it in tight circles before scratching it with his fingernail, causing you to moan lewdly and raise your hips to get more of the burning sensation of euphoria that is spreading through your body from his touch. You are completely unaware of how much your dynamic with Yunho has changed in such a short time. You hadn't noticed the dark, domineering side of his personality before, cleverly hidden behind his chocolate eyes and adorable puppy behaviour. 

"Oh God, yes, I want it so badly. Please, Yunho, fuck me as deep as you can with your fingers. Make me squirt. I need it so badly..."

"Since you're asking me so nicely, baby, Who am I to refuse you?" 

Everything is happening too fast for you to be aware of it.  Yunho's long, flexible fingers slide easily into your cunt as the slightly rough pads of his fingers rub along the soft, tight walls of your pussy.

You moan pathetically. The sensation of pleasure mixes with the pain and flows through your body like hot lava as he forces your tender pussy to stretch around his fingers, your soft walls aching as they open up for him. He pushes his fingers deeper and deeper into you until the long appendages are inside of you all the way down to the base. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing it in rough, tight circles as he goes. You let out a long, loud moan, so obscene you can hardly believe it's coming from you. But there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it, especially when Yunho's beautiful, skilled fingers are delighting you. 

'Yunho...' His name flies out of your bitten lips with a soft, panting whimper. 

You lower your eyes down, your vision blurred with excitement, and through the lustful haze, you see how much his fingers are glistening with your juices as they thrust in and out, making slippery, wet noises with each movement of his hand. You're so fucking wet, it's almost embarrassing. 

"Do you like it when I fuck you with my fingers?' Yunho asks you with a smug smile as he carelessly pushes his fingers into your pussy. When he pulls them out of your hole, a huge amount of mucus comes out of the small opening, a sight that is so disgusting and erotic at the same time that it almost makes him cum. His hard dick, painfully squeezed between his underwear and the thick denim, throbs and leaks pre-cum. 

Yunho's throat dries up as he sees the thick sheen of your excitement covering the length of his fingers, and he sticks out his tongue to lick his lips. He runs his fingers along your folds, smearing as much of the slime as he can over them, watching as the thick and sticky strands of moisture stretch out behind his fingers. 

Your wetness shines everywhere: on your swollen labia, on your soft, silky folds, on the inside of your thighs, and he desperately wants to lick you. But he'll save that for another time; right now, it's all about making you cum just from his hands.

"Y-yeah, I like that so much. Fuck...". Your words turn into a long, drawn-out whimper as Yunho spreads the folds of your folds with his fingers and gently blows cool air over your swollen clit. He can clearly see how red and swollen your pussy is, and the excitement that flows from your quivering hole is gathering in the slippery puddle under your arse as you lie on the couch. 

"Fuck, you're so perfect—all pretty and flushed for me. I'm going to milk that sweet cunt of yours until you're a total wreck and you beg me to stop. Orgasm after orgasm, you're going to give me every last drop of you." Yunho plunges two fingers into your tight cunt once more, his long appendages easily opening you up and stretching the silky walls. He bends his fingers deep inside of you, pressing them perfectly against the small, super-sensitive bundle of nerves, and you almost lose it. 

You instantly scream in ecstasy, your eyes rolling up as the pleasure runs through your body like a surge of electricity, the tight walls of your pussy clenching rhythmically, thick streams of your sweet moisture dripping from your hole onto the palm of his hand and running down his veiny forearm. 

Yunho immediately picks up the pace and starts fucking you as if his life depended on it. With his other hand, he squeezes your thigh to keep you in place and to prevent you from closing your legs. 

As your hips start shaking violently, your groans turn to pathetic sobs, and your cunt begins to milk his fingers—your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers—Yunho knows you're close. He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, and before you can react, he slaps you across your pussy with the open palm of his hand. You squeal at the searing contact, black spots dancing in front of your eyes as you sink into blinding bliss and feel a wave of incredible pleasure wash over you. 

But Yunho doesn't stop there; he slaps your pretty cunt several more times, each time a little bit harder than the last.

"God, you look gorgeous. We're almost there, baby, just a little bit more..." Yunho groans like he's about to come. But you are so lost in a thick haze of bliss that you are barely aware of what he is saying to you.

His fingers plunge into you again, this time even deeper, stroking over your most sensitive spot over and over again, almost bringing you to a state of semi-consciousness. Your body is tensed, your back is arched, and your hips are rolling wildly as he moves his hand. The knuckles of his fingers flex mercilessly as he aggressively caresses the sensitive, spongy stretch of nerve inside you. There is a genuine sense of euphoria coursing through your veins. The silky walls of your vagina clench together almost to the point of pain to prevent the movement of his fingers. 

The edges of your vision blur, and you feel the walls of your pussy begin to contract intensively, a sign that your climax is near.

"Yunho! Shit, I... I'm going to..." As your orgasm consumed you, your head was thrown back, and your mouth opened in a loud moan.  God, this must be exactly what Yunho had in mind when he told you that you were in need of a man, not a boy. You've been fucked, really fucked, for the first time in your life. But Yunho doesn't want to let you rest; instead, he continues to play with your throbbing pussy and sticks a third long finger into you with a dirty, obscene squelch.

"It's too much... Yuyu. Please, too much..." 

Your words were nothing more than noise as Yunho paid no attention to them and continued his merciless caresses. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you. A pleasure that went so deep into you that it became almost unbearable. But it was exactly what you'd always wanted—the feeling that none of your exes had been able to give you. 

Yunho continued to twist and turn his fingers, touching the spongy and sensitive spot, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably as your cum flowed uncontrollably down his arm and down his forearm as Yunho continued to push his fingers deep inside you, making your pussy squelch even louder, all the while keeping you at the height of your orgasm. 

Every time his finger tips touched your cervix, a delightful shiver ran through your body.

His other hand grabbed hold of your thigh, his long fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, leaving black, stinging marks and nails that were almost scratched until they bled.

"Please, Yunho... I can't take it any longer. Please!" You begged, but all he did was laugh sombrely and  spread his fingers inside you, stretching you even further. "N-no, this is too much..."You were sobbing openly now as he lowered his head to lick the strips between your folds, occasionally circling your defenceless clit with his tongue, his silky hair tickling the inflamed skin on the inside of your thighs.

"Let go, Chagi, cum on my fingers; feel what it's like to be fucked by a man instead of a boy. Show me how you squirt, baby. Make a real mess of it for me." He said this without slowing down the pace of his movements at all.

You felt the familiar tension in your belly again, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he suddenly pulled the palm of his hand away from your thigh and used two fingers to pinch your clit instead. The spiral in your stomach burst without warning, and then you came, but this time it was different for you: a huge wave of clear liquid erupted from your over-excited cunt and soaked Yunho's hand and his chin, flooding the couch beneath you and his white t-shirt. 

The lightning-like waves travelled all over your body, and you were practically panting from the hot pleasure that was washing over you. Yunho gently stroked your folds and whispered sweet words about how well you had done and what a good girl you had been for him as he let you enjoy your third orgasm. 

Finally, he pulled away and removed his fingers from your used, swollen cunt. His lips curled into a satisfied grin when he saw the mess you made.

You hiss with over-excitement as Yunho runs his tongue over your sensitive folds once again. His tongue swirls seductively over your quivering, leaking hole, and as he does so, you let out a strangled scream from your throat. 

When Yunho is completely satisfied, he releases you and raises the gaze of his beautiful chocolate eyes to your face, which is exhausted from several repeated orgasms.

"I told you, Chagi, it's not hard at all. You just need the perfect man, and in my hope, I will be that man for you.".

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (14) - FINALE (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of trauma & family drama; lots of fluff; explicit sexual content (lots of making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, un/protected sex)  (18+)

Chapter Word count: 32.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: And then it ends! Please bear with the length of this final chapter - it felt right to finish the series with all this 🤭 This was so satisfying to write despite the emotional roller coaster, and I just want to thank you for sticking with me through this and showing me/it so much love. It's a fanfic writer bucket list of mine to write boss JK! I hope you enjoy! 🥰 Like I've said before, I have plans for season 2, but I don't know if I'll actually be able to write it so 🤞🏽

And like always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight for listening to me talk about this for months. 💕

## 

Your heavy eyes flutter open before they close again, and for the briefest moment, you think you see Jungkook smiling at you, his doe eyes gazing at your sleeping form. You do it again, and right after your eyes fall shut, you feel soft lips on your bare shoulder, his warm breath heating your shivering body. 

His absence causes you to quiver, but you’re too tired to move. Even if you weren’t, you probably wouldn’t be able to pull the covers over you, not when you have the said man leaving kisses down your spine and then back up to peck on your exposed cheek. Yet no matter how tempting it is to return them, your mind decides it just needs a bit more time to wake up, and so does your sore body that feels like it ran a marathon that you just weren’t trained for.

Because much as you took on Jungkook’s challenge last night about being able to have sex all night, as it turns out, you’re the one who couldn’t do it.

He first had you on top of him, kneading your ass and directing your movements while he pounded on you from below. The way he felt from that angle had your stomach in knots, and when he wrapped his arms around you to keep you steady while he tried to go deeper as he sucked and licked your neck, you were a goner. 

You were on your back before you knew it. And while he aided you in coming down from your high through languid kisses and licks on your mouth, it wasn’t long before he had you keening again. His tongue lapped up your folds and swirled around your sensitive nub, and despite your mind feeling numb by then, your cunt throbbed for him. It wasn’t long before he was inside you again, thrusting into you fervently before slowing the pace and taking you more gently. 

The way he grunted as you whispered for him to come suddenly rings in your mind. Coupled with his morning kisses all over your body, you moan in pleasure, and he hasn’t even done much yet. 

Perhaps it’s also because of these luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets that are making you feel like you’re in heaven. Or the fact that they smell so good, too, like fresh laundry but more delicate, and all you want is to drown in this softness. So you do something close and bury your face on the pillow while you remain flat on your belly. You take a deep breath and release it with another moan.

“Sounds like someone slept well, huh?” You hear him chuckle, his mouth now detaching from your skin. 

“You tired me out, Jungkook,” you hum, your eyes still closed as you bask in the comfort of his bed. “Why are you even awake?”

“Because I always wake up early. And it’s past 10,” he reasons. “I went for a run then hit the gym. I figured you’d be awake by now and well… you aren’t.”

“I—”

Your mind slightly catches some life as you hear that he’d just done a workout, so you take a peak and the sight doesn’t disappoint. He stands by the bedside with only his track pants on, his hands in his pockets with damp hair while he looks on as you slowly twist and turn on the bed. 

“I—” you repeat.

“You don’t have to get up if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I woke you,” he says softly. 

You catch on to his apologetic tone and it’s what forces you awake. You know he’s used to starting his day early and you… you’re used to burying yourself in your bed until you have to get up to eat. Having someone to spend your days with is probably something you’re both gonna have to start getting used to.

Your eyes finally open and stay that way, and despite his sweat having dried already, Jungkook still looks like he’s glowing against the late morning sun that’s shining through his bedroom window. You shift yourself and sit up, suddenly hyper aware of how naked you are… in his bedroom, and for a brief moment, you think it was all in your head. 

With the sheets finally covering your body, you look at him, prompting him to sit on the edge of the bed and smile at you. You take his hand and caress the fingers that held you, that gave you pleasure, that traced patterns on your skin that you feel are now etched in its memory. 

“Last night wasn’t a dream,” you utter, as if proclaiming it to the universe, as if claiming this reality for yourself. 

“It better not be,” he laughs, softening when you do. “You, uh, you found me.”

“Well, you did tell me where to go,” you point out.

“Yes, unlike you,” he counters, recalling how your letter had just told him to find you with no instructions of where.

Your pout makes him laugh and it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, one you didn’t know when you’d hear again. But you give him a pass because he’s right, and all you want to do is make it up to him for making these past few weeks quite unbearable.

But he gets to you first, as he kisses your cheek. There’s adoration mixed with shyness in his eyes and tenderness with his every touch. You wouldn’t say it’s something you didn’t expect despite his usual detachment, but it strikes you just how much of this softness has been hiding underneath. You’ve seen him be protective of you and be caring, but this side of him is new. You suppose being mellow and giggly comes naturally once he’s allowed himself to be vulnerable and open up. Maybe it’s also just a result of last night’s events.

He removes the strands of your hair that had stuck to your face, and it dawns on you again that it’s morning and you had indeed just woken up. You whine that you’ve got crusty eyes and morning breath so you create some distance, but he just laughs and says he doesn’t care one bit.

“You’re pretty even in the morning,” he adds.

Jungkook watches you nibble your lips as you try to suppress a smile that you make anyway. When you’re bold about what you want from him, something inside him stirs, a certain kind of desire that explodes because he wants to fulfill your need, to make you feel good, to let you know that you affect him the same way. 

But when you’re shy the way you are right now, as if you’re still trying to wrap your head around your new reality with him, giggling and grinning like a schoolgirl with a crush, he wants to just hold you in his arms and keep you there. Something softens in him because you - strong and stubborn you - gets flustered because of him. The competent and confident woman he knows suddenly doesn’t know what to say when he calls her pretty, which he’s glad he’s able to verbalize now. It used to be a thought that just constantly rang in his head, but one he tried so hard to quell. He gets to say it to you with confidence from now on and he’ll be able to say it everyday. 

Once your face settles with a comfortable smile, he sighs in contentment, once again feeling like that dark cloud that hovered over him for years has gone away. Things used to feel so heavy as he wandered around an unknown place he's been in for so long, not knowing where to go. It’s as if the days just passed him by and he’d forgotten how he spent them because there wasn’t really much that he looked forward to. 

Now he does, and he realized it when he woke up this morning and found you lying next to him. You were in deep sleep with your lips just slightly parted. Your hands were curled under your chin as you laid on your side, and there was this calmness on your face that gave him so much relief. 

He felt light; he felt the darkness subside, too, and the unknown place he’d been wandering about suddenly looked familiar, yet it was still somehow new. There was that feeling of safety, of clarity, like he could do or be anything with you around. Those were things you gave him when you were still his assistant, and he gets to feel them again now that you’re so much more than that. 

“What?” You ask, nudging him with your foot as he briefly zones out just thinking about all the things he wants to do with you. 

“I was just savoring the look of you being flattered,” he hums. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Oh shush,” you laugh. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Well, it’s not like I could just say you’ll looked pretty when I was still your boss,” he points out. 

“True,” you nod. “Good thing you aren’t anymore, then.”

“Exactly. So you’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

He looks at you as if it’s a warning, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you whisper to tease.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I want to kiss you right now.”

“Don’t tell me that turned you on!” You gasp, giggling now as he shakes his head.

“Only if you say it like that!” He whines, the sultry tone of your voice echoing in his ears. “You know what, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“And I’m gonna brush my teeth so you can kiss me all you want!”

“I’m gonna have to get used to that, too,” he smiles.

“Well, it’s not like I could say that to you when I was still your assistant,” you repeat his words.

“And good thing you aren’t anymore, Ms. Cho,” he laughs, not wanting to get carried away right now.

You laugh as well before he leaves to take a shower. You give yourself this quiet time on your own to process where you are at this moment. You’re in a room you used to enter everyday, and your mere glances made you curious about what Jungkook kept in his personal space. 

You’re here now, and you see that there’s really not much, other than a floor-to-ceiling window, a television, a bar cart, and a couch. He’s got an interesting light fixture and abstract art on the wall. His decorative pieces consist of small sculptures and framed buildings, but there are no photos or other mementos. You suppose he’s not really the type, and that just makes you hope that you can help him add a bit of personal touch so that his room could feel more comfortable, or maybe add a bit of warmth to an otherwise cold, monochromati space. You decide that’s something you’ll eventually figure out. 

You take your phone from the bedside and finally reply to your mom and your friends with more details about last night. You merely told them that you and Jungkook have made up, but it’s just today that you’re telling them how it happened. 

He converted the archives section to a children’s library, you say in your message. Found him in his office, we talked, and I spent the night at his place. That’s all for now. I’ll talk to you soon.

Soomin’s barrage of excited curses is immediate. Jimin says he’s happy for you. And your mom sends you a heart emoji and tells you to stay happy.

You send a message to Yoongi, too, saying that you found Jungkook and that now you can learn what your heart is capable of. You thank him again, even if you know that those words will never be enough.

Standing from the bed, you head to the bathroom to finally wash up, thinking that it’ll take a while more before Jungkook finishes. You brush your teeth as you face the mirror, seeing his silhouette behind the frosted glass of the shower enclosure from the reflection. He exits before you finish, and you slow your movements once he comes into view, naked and all wet, and somehow even more breathtakingly handsome than usual. 

You try to act unbothered as you wash your face, only glancing up to see him with a towel around his waist and another one that he uses to dry his hair. The flex of his tattooed arm brings back memories from last night when it was propped up on your side, supporting his body while he thrusted relentlessly inside you. You gripped that arm when he went deeper, and it was the same one that held you when you started drifting off to sleep. 

He stands behind you and gives you a boyish smile before wrapping his arms around your waist. You jerk a little in surprise but soften when his chin rests on your shoulder, and the way he looks comfortable and content has your heart soaring at this side of him - bold and vulnerable as he expresses the things he feels for you in action.

“Can I do this?” He asks as he buries his face in your neck.

“Jungkook, we’ve done a lot in the last 12 hours,” you remind him. “Why are you asking permission to hug me?”

“I just don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You turn around to face him and look at him questioningly, unable to follow. You’d think that given all that you’ve both done, simple affection like this is far from overwhelming. 

“What I mean is… Sex is sex. With you, it’s meaningful and intimate. We’re so lost in the feeling of desire and all that but this…” he says, wrapping your arms around him as if to explain. “This… this is a different kind of intimate. Waking up next to each other, morning kisses, random hugs… they say something else.”

“And that is?” You ask after a beat of silence, needing that quiet to take in his words.

“That I want you beyond all that lust and that high,” he answers. “And this… This takes more from us. And I know that because this used to scare me. This… I don’t know, vulnerability I guess? Having someone next to me while I sleep, being the first thing they see in the morning, doing ordinary things with them like taking a shower or something. Holding their hand. Hugging them because it just feels right. I don’t know if I’m making sense but—”

“You are,” you interject, knowing exactly what he means. 

You used to say how you were intimate with the men you dated but you couldn’t say that you shared intimacy with them. It was such an abstract concept for you. That familiarity, that emotional connection, that feeling of safety and belongingness, and of certainty and clarity seemed so intangible. 

There’s a reason why you never had them over at your place, why you could sleep and wake up next to them in their homes but prefer to spend the rest of the day by yourself or with your friends. There’s a reason why you were cautious about the personal things you shared, about your dreams and fears, why you never let them close enough to know how to love you. Something was always lacking and a part of that was because you never allowed yourself to give them more than what they could touch. Your body was as far as they could go; your heart was a restricted place that no one could enter.

Until Jungkook, and suddenly that intimacy is something tangible. You can feel it when his arms are around you, you can hear it in his giggles, you can see it in his smile, you can smell it as he stands a breath away, and you can taste it in his mouth, one that welcomes you in when you kiss him tenderly. You know there’ll be more ways that it will be tangible to you, that it’ll be something real and definite, something your mind could at least try to grasp. And he’s right - doing this takes more from you than sex for the sake of it ever could. 

You’re letting someone into a place you’ve kept to yourself for so long. And that itself could be quite disorienting and overwhelming. He gets it because it’s something he’s probably done before, and he’s doing it again now.

You tell him with the way you kiss him that you get it, too. You tell him by the way you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer that that’s where you want him, and that he’s settled in your heart so suddenly yet so certainly that you don’t want him to go anywhere. 

You’re content with this. You feel your need for pleasure heighten, you feel that slight throbbing of your cunt and the need for friction, you feel that desire course through your veins but you’re satisfied with this intimacy you share. You say it with how tenderly your fingers graze his face, with how your hand gently rests on his bare chest, and with how your movements remain slow, focused on the feel of him more than anything else.

He understands your contentment, too, and he says it with how he follows your pace, with how he softly palms your bare thighs, and with how he nibbles your lips in affection. You both pull away to get some air but he tells you, too, through his soft kisses on your cheeks and your forehead before a final one on your nose that this is enough, and that right now, this is all he needs. 

“I bought breakfast,” he tells you as he takes your hand in his then leads you out of the bathroom. He grabs a pair of shorts from his closet while you watch on. “I got those street toasts and some pastries. I’ll warm them up and heat the coffee. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you respond, giddy at the thought that he bought those for you. You mentioned in passing last night that you’ve missed eating them after being at your mom’s place for much of the week. “You still don’t have anything in your fridge or your pantry.”

“Exactly. So uh, I was thinking we could go do some groceries today and I can make something for you for a change, and no, the eggs on toast that one time don’t count.”

You’re endeared by the shy look on his face, and it’s not really one you can say no to. 

“Sure, that would be nice,” you smile. 

“I was hoping you’d, uh, stay the night again. And again. I canceled work for the team on Monday but I have to meet Hoseok and my father. Maybe I should cancel that, too.”

“And tell them, what? That you’re gonna be with me?” You chuckle. “That’s not happening. This… this can’t come between you and your job, okay?” You remind him, as you don’t want your newly formed relationship to negatively affect him, especially after all the work he’s done to be what he is now. “Work comes first. I’ll always understand.”

“It goes both ways,” he hums, as he sets the food in front of you. “So, when do you start your new job?”

“Next Monday,” you answer. “Which reminds me… I have to shop for trousers and dresses.”

“So, a wardrobe change, huh?” He asks, placing the cup of coffee and glass of water on the table before taking the seat next to you. 

“Sort of. The pencil skirts feel restrictive. Plus, every time we ate out, I was always scared that the zipper would pop or something,” you laugh. 

“It always felt odd that that was the recommended outfit for assistants,” he says. “I liked them on you though… respectfully speaking.”

You playfully shake your head at his statement, but he defends that they always paired well with your pastel-colored blouses that he claims bring out the color of your eyes. 

“Well, I’ll still be using those. I just need to pair them with something else less formal.”

“We can go shopping today then,” he suggests. “Not unless that’s something you want to do on your own. I understand if it is. I mean, I… I don’t want to impose.  I… I didn’t even ask you what you wanted to do today.”

“I didn’t really have anything in mind. My weekends are usually just spent doing chores and errands or watching stuff at home or in my local theater,” you say. “Not unless my friends visit or I go home. Other than that I just… do whatever I feel like on my own. And you? What do you usually do on weekends?” 

“Work, gym, drink, watch sports, sleep,” he chuckles, recalling those days of loneliness and nothingness, which really wasn’t that long ago. “Meet my parents if I have to, hang out with my friends if I’m in the mood.”

“And go to the clubs?” You cock an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he hums, knowing what you’re alluding to. “I do it less frequently now, though. I just go there to catch up with them then I go home. Don’t you do that, too?”

“Only when Jimin and Soomin are here. Socialite stuff, you know?” You explain.

“I guess,” he shrugs. “But we can do anything you want today. It’s up to you.”

“Okay, then shopping it is,” you smile at him, thinking it’s something fun that you could do together. 

You think anything with him would be, and it excites you to know that many of the things you used to do alone is something you could now share and do with him. Maybe you could even do something new, like some outdoor activity or go to the arcades or even do a ghost tour just because.

But something ordinary like going to the groceries and shopping for new clothes are things you want to experience with him, too. They’re those intimate acts that he talked about earlier - simple and mundane, yet special and comfortable. 

As you watch him in his plain shirt and shorts with his legs spread out as he sits on the chair beside you, and with him asking if you’re full and if there’s anything else you want, you think about all the days you’d spent on your own. There was always a certain kind of peace you felt then; you were alone but you weren’t lonely. 

There were days when it got to you though, as you thought that it was probably nice to have someone to share a meal with, to laugh with as you watched your variety shows, and to lay next to as you talked about your day. You dwelled on the scenes that played in your head only briefly, knowing that there wasn’t anyone in your life then that you wanted to do those simple, mundane things with. 

But with Jungkook here with you now, sharing those with someone does seem to require a level of vulnerability you hadn’t really thought about. You’re letting him in a space that’s always just had you in it, doing things that gave you peace, that gave you energy, that gave you those bits of happiness. He’ll no longer just be getting a peek into the world you carved for yourself; he’ll now truly be a part of it. And you want him to know that even if it may seem like it’s overwhelming, you welcome him completely.

“What you said earlier about not wanting to overwhelm me,” you start, “I… I appreciate that. This isn’t just a new side of you I’m experiencing. This is also a new side of myself that I’m getting to know, that I’m going to get used to.”

“I know. And I understand that,” he responds, turning to face you now. “People bring out parts of ourselves that we didn’t know we had. Or forgotten we had.”

“I guess. I’ve just… I’ve just never had a proper relationship before, you know? I’ve dated people but there were sides of me I didn’t wanna show, and there were things that I couldn’t really bring myself to do.”

“Such as?”

“Lingering,” you say after a beat of silence. “Little forms of affection that you mindlessly do,” you continue, fiddling with his fingers. “And meeting the parents. That was always too much for me.”

“Well, you’ve met mine,” he points out. “You knew them before you even knew me.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice but you’re reminded of the secret you kept, and that it’s something you still haven’t really acknowledged.

“I’m sorry about keeping that from you,” you bow your head. “I didn’t plan on deceiving you or anything. And I didn’t think it mattered. It only did once I started liking you. And I got too caught up with what I felt that I didn’t tell you right away.”

“Hey, you had your reasons,” he nudges your knee so you’d look at him. You look up and see the softness in his eyes. “And I’ll never fault you for them. You did what you had to do and I’m just glad you stayed long enough for us to meet again. I admit I… I thought that maybe you mistook your feelings for loyalty. That you cared because you thought you had to. And I’m sorry I did.”

“You had your reasons, too,” you answer. “And I’m sorry that’s what you thought after I kept it all from you. But it wasn’t hard to care about you, Jungkook,” you smile now. “What was hard was stopping myself from doing so. Even your parents noticed that. I guess I don’t have to prove that to them anymore. I’d like to think that with all the talks I had with your father, they already approve of me being with their son.”

His shy smile makes you feel giddy, as he bites his lip and the little dip on his cheek turns up. 

“Well, I hope that your mom approves of me being with her daughter after that one talk with her,” he says worriedly. 

“After expressing your feelings for me like that? Of course she does,” you giggle. “She told me not to go back to the house unless I’m with you so… yes, she definitely approves.”

“That’s a relief. I mean, after everything I put you through?”

His face falls a little and you’re starting to learn that he needs assurance every once in a while. So you give it to him, as you surprise him by sitting on his lap and cupping his face with your hands. 

“We put each other through a lot but we’re together now,” you remind him. “We’re done with being idiots.”

“We are,” he chuckles, agreeing with Yoongi and Mr. Ri who fondly and frustratingly called you that. “But your mother might be serious about not welcoming you back there until I’m with you so let’s schedule that trip, okay? Maybe I could meet her husband, too?”

“They’re not actually married,” you sigh, shifting so that you’re leaning on his chest now. “They’ve been together for over 10 years and Min-woo has even proposed but she doesn’t think marrying is necessary. They’re committed, they’re happy, she treats Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin like her daughters. This… this family is all they need, not a marriage. Plus, it’s quite expensive to do that and she’s just being practical.”

 “Do you agree with her?”

“I guess,” you shrug. “I mean, what else is stronger than love? Than committing your whole self to that person?”

“Committing the rest of your life to them,” Jungkook responds.

He knows it’s not easy though. He’d seen his parents drift apart but he also saw them stand by each other after all that. Maybe they had to because that’s what commitment means - it’s an obligation, a duty; it gives the person no choice but to stay. But then again, after speaking to them more regularly these past weeks, he’s seen their little acts of care and support for each other, of understanding and trust. Perhaps commitment is also that devotion, that promise and constancy, that tangibility of connection and permanence.  

“Maybe,” you hum. “I think it’s just a fear that she never really got over. Her parents divorced. My biological father had plans of marrying her only to leave before I was born. She says she doesn’t want to taint what she already has with Min-woo over some symbolic act that’s hurt her twice before. And I don’t blame her. Things hurt us and then… we just get scared. It’s human nature, I think.”

“That’s true. I… I’m proof of that,” he whispers, as if in shame. 

“So am I,” you utter, shifting now so you can look at him again in assurance. “It wasn’t even my pain I carried; it was hers. But that still kept me from accepting good things. I was scared to open myself up, I was scared to love…”

Love. It’s a foreign word to you in the context of romance. It’s something that seemed easy to understand but you realized that feeling it isn’t. Nor is finding it. You know you’ve never felt anything like how Jungkook makes you feel, and you wonder if love is something like this, and if it’s something that he feels, too.

“I get it,” he looks away. “It’s not easy to do nor is it easy to take. You never know if you’re good enough for it or if you deserve it. I learned that the hard way, and I still don’t think I…” he trails, shaking his head, as if it’s too much or too soon for him to say. 

You suppose it is. You don’t know much about his relationships but you do remember Taehyung mentioning an ex-girlfriend before, someone whom Jungkook seemed to have loved so much, given the heartbreak he suffered through after the breakup. You wonder if he’ll ever talk about her, or if it even matters. He’s already let you in, and you don’t want to give him a reason to shut you out or feel like you’re intruding. Your relationships are hard to talk about, too, not because they hurt you but because you feel ashamed of them. There are crevices in your heart that you want to leave untouched; you suppose that so does he.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, hoping he’d look at you again. 

He eventually does, the softness on his face returning when you tell him you understand. He nods and smiles, pulling you close for a languid kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as you match his slow place. 

Jungkook feels you smile against his lips. Whatever heaviness he felt earlier as he talked about love, something he’s been afraid to have again after he shunned it away, disappears. 

That’s what kissing you does to him, he’s learning now. It makes the pain hurt less. It makes him forget about his burdens. It makes him feel something he hasn’t in a long time. It makes him hope that he’s capable of doing right by you this time. 

And with how you hug him tightly after you pull away to breathe, he knows that kissing you gives him that strength to face whatever it is he’s still afraid of, and that you’ll stand by him until he’s ready.

You watch Jungkook from next to your closet as you wear your slip-on dress, a practical outfit given your shopping plans this afternoon. You’ve gone back to your apartment for a change of clothes and to bring some back to his place, and you left him in your living room as you packed your stuff from several meters away. 

He stands by your couch, hands in his pockets as he looks at your photos on the shelf. He has a faraway look in his eyes, one that’s different from the times he zones out and temporarily escapes to somewhere in his head. You wonder what specific photo he’s focused on and what he’s thinking, so you walk over to him and stand on his side. 

It’s the one of you in your uniform during your first day at your new school in Busan. You don’t remember much from that day but your mom said you were shy to make friends. She told you that she was going to just be around because she worked there, too. You smiled just like she asked as she knelt down next to you while a moment marking your new life in a new town was being memorialized. 

You don’t recall taking that many pictures growing up but apparently she did, as she gave you a box of them when you moved back to Seoul on your own. They were all memories from a past you either couldn’t remember or tried hard to forget, but somehow she kept the good ones, perhaps to remind you that in the midst of all that nightmare, she did her best to keep you safe and happy.

“You have your mother’s smile,” Jungkook says. “It’s very warm and encouraging. I get it now, why my father thought you were just like her. You’ve always had this tenderness ever since you were young.”

“I guess,” you hum. “Who’d know the pain underneath all that, right?”

“I’m sorry for what you had to go through,” he turns to you, feeling that tinge of pain in recalling what you experienced as a child. 

“And I’m sorry for what it did to your family,” you sigh, an apology that took you this long to give.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he responds, turning his gaze back to the photo. “I let the resentment get to me. I guess… my parents didn’t deserve that.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you were hurt, Jungkook. Your parents will always carry that with them. But they… they saved us. They helped us get away,” you remind him. 

“I know. You get to be next to me because of them and that… that’s helped me alot,” he admits. “It helped me understand and forgive.”

“That’s good. I’m sure that means everything to them.”

There’s silence as his eyes remain focused on the photo, and you wonder what else he’s thinking, if there’s anything else he’s sorry or thankful for.

“I’m trying so hard to remember meeting you that day,” he finally says, with a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’ve buried so many memories and this is the one I wish I kept but I… I can’t because it’s gone. I hate that it is.”

“I’ve been trying to remember you, too,” you respond. “I almost didn’t believe my mom when she said that we’ve met before. She never told me about it but she said it slipped her mind. It was a long time ago and so much happened that day. Seeing you with that chocopie triggered that memory, I guess. We don’t really talk about that time anymore. And I hate that it’s buried somewhere in my mind. But it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” You turn to him. “We met all those years ago and we never knew. But I kept you with me in the form of a dessert that I still absolutely love, that I eat whenever I’m sad or alone or upset. Connections aren’t fleeting, I’m sure of it now. You’re proof of that.”  

He returns your look, one of sadness but acceptance. It’s one of those things you’re both going to have to deal with, as all the truths about your past come to light. You hope you can just focus on the good things from now on, and with how his lips slowly turn up in a smile, you think that so does he.

“That’s true,” he hums. “You stuck it out for me without even knowing. That’s… that’s pretty special.”

“It is,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug and hearing him release a breath when you do. He returns the affection immediately, and realizing that it’s something you both naturally give to and receive from each other makes you smile. “It’s as if there was some invisible string that kept pulling me towards you. It’s kinda stubborn like me, I think.”

It’s a thought you hold close to your heart. You’re not really one who believes in fate, but with Jungkook, it’s easy to fall into it. You can’t help but think that beyond the debt you felt you had to pay, you unknowingly stayed in the company for another reason, and perhaps that’s so you could meet him and remember it this time. 

You held out so you could build something with him, so you could learn to want to be free, and then want it enough to finally put yourself first. You’re only able to be with him because of that choice, and despite what it took for you to get here, it’s that same string that’s keeping you from regretting all your decisions. 

He responds with a soft kiss on your lips, one that you quickly melt into. The tender moment is slightly disrupted when he kneads your ass, something you’re also learning he’s quite fond of doing, causing you to yelp in surprise and laugh in response. But he just giggles and says he can’t help it. He buries his face in your neck, the feel of him so close warming your insides as he seems to crave that proximity, too.

His phone ringing prompts him to pull away, and you let him go once he greets his mother on the other line. 

“Hello, my dear,” she chirps. “How are you feeling today? Your father told me that you left the Arts Center quite early last night.”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” he hums, sitting on the couch now while he watches you finish your packing. “I was just tired from all the socializing.”

“I understand. I can imagine how exhausted you must feel. Were you able to get some rest?”

“Sort of,” he answers, smiling internally at how the night went. 

Sure, there was a bit of rest, if he counts the four hours of sleep he had because he just couldn’t get enough of you. Even when he was spent from all that you did, he’d just take you in his arms and all you had to do was smile at him or softly kiss his lips and then he wanted to go another round. 

He supposes that all the built-up tension and months of holding himself back had just exploded, and he wants every opportunity he could have to show you how much you mean to him.

“Well, even then, I was hoping you’re free for dinner tonight,” his mother says. “Think of it as a celebration now that your big project is completed.”

“I, uh, I’m kinda busy tonight,” he responds. “Maybe we can have dinner another time?”

“What else could you possibly be busy with this time?” She asks, but she doesn’t sound offended. 

There’s a tone of acceptance in her voice. Jungkook knows she’s used to this, but he doesn’t want this to continue being a norm. He genuinely wants to make time for them, and it’s something you encouraged him to do, too. But he’s still caught up with his new reality with you, so he decides to be honest instead.

“Being with ___,” he admits. “We finally talked and we, uh, we spent the night together. And we’re going out today.”

“Oh, that’s amazing news,” she sighs in relief. “Your father can breathe easy now. And he can finally claim to be a matchmaker,” she chuckles.

Jungkook hears his old man in the background say that it took 20 years but he’ll take it.

“Is he next to you?” Jungkook laughs. 

“He is,” she responds. “He said he saw ___ last night and she was looking for you, but he wasn’t sure how to ask you how it went. So he asked me to invite you to dinner and see if you had plans and well, we’re glad you do.”

“Yeah, we just have a lot to make up for,” he explains, glancing at you. “If you were serious about a celebratory dinner then we can have it another day. Is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear,” she responds. “What about next weekend?”

“I’ll confirm with her and let you know.”

“Alright, son. Well, we don’t want to keep you,” his mother says. “You and ___ have a good day, okay? We’ll see you soon.”

You watch Jungkook smile through the conversation with his parents, something you assume hasn’t happened in years. It’s nice to see him slowly start to mend their relationship. And though you want him to spend time with them, you also can’t help but want to have him all to yourself, and staying in where he promised to cook you his speciality for dinner is how you want to spend your Saturday evening.

The thought excites you. Everything that happened last night just intensified your desire for him. For months, the affection you felt towards him slowly developed. And for months after, you tried to downplay it and hold yourself back from all you could feel. Now, you get to have him in all the ways you want, and it’s overwhelming. What once was a battle of conflicting emotions in your head and heart has been replaced with an overflow of them - all good ones, and it’s a new experience. 

It’s a new experience being able to talk about the things that hurt you, that scared you, that you dream about, just like you did last night while you sat on the couch. It’s new being entangled with someone under soft sheets and actually wanting to stay. It’s new sharing a meal with someone while you talk about your plans for the day, and then holding their hand while they drive later on. It’s a new experience welcoming someone into your home and imagining spending days with them here. 

It’s also a new experience being able to openly ogle them, like what you’re doing now as you gaze at Jungkook sitting on your couch, phone still in hand as he now talks to Seokjin on the phone. 

He’s donned in a pair of jeans and plain white shirt with a baseball cap on, a casual ensemble that still has you melting because of how comfortable he looks. The thin, silver chain is an unexpected accessory, and he said it’s something he’s always had but rarely wore. But upon seeing your satisfied look, he said he’ll wear it from now on. The way he smirked at you plays in your head, and with how he’s got his legs splayed out and his hand behind his head, you start to feel that familiar knot in your belly. You turn around before you get tempted to do anything. And while you’re free to do so, some self-discipline wouldn’t hurt. 

You’re not pressed for time so you let him continue with his call. Based on what you hear, he’s updating his best friends about what happened last night, and his groans tell you that they’re probably teasing him about it. Affectionately, you assume. 

You decide to water your plants while waiting. It's been days. Some leaves have started to dry up so you remove those, too. You’re focused on what you’re doing and jerk in surprise when you feel Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist. But you settle in his hold immediately, leaning on his chest and humming in contentment now that your plants look better and more alive. 

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he says, his chin resting on your shoulder now. 

“It’s alright,” you reply. “How did the talk with your parents go? And your friends?”

“All fine. My parents want to have dinner and the guys want to go to a club,” he sighs. “But I said you’re my priority right now and not them, so they just have to wait until I’m free, which probably won’t be for a while since we have plans and all.”

“And what are those plans?” You turn around and ask. 

“I don’t know, we’ll just have to make them.”

You playfully shake your head and lay your hands on his chest, a habit you think you’re going to develop with the way he constantly pulls you close. 

“We could make plans with them,” you say softly. “Not unless you, uh, don’t want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” he frowns. “Of course I do. I just don’t want to impose and have you spend time with my family and friends if you don’t want to.”

“Why won’t I want to?” You frown back. “Plus, that’s part of being with you, isn’t it? Spending time with the people you care about?”

“It is,” he smiles. “So, uh, what do you think about next Saturday? We can have dinner with my parents then go out with the guys and then say we’re tired so we can leave early?”

“That’s… that’s quite the plan,” you laugh. 

“Or we could just reschedule time with Seokjin and Taehyung. They’ll understand.”

“I’m fine with that, too,” you nod. “And then maybe we could also, uh, make the trip to Daegu and I can properly introduce you to my family?” 

“That sounds good,” he nods. “And what about your friends? That is, if they want to spend time with me. And by they, I mean Jimin.”

You snort in response to Jungkook's statement, which he’s not wrong for making. The last time they were in the same room together, you felt the tension through the roof. 

“He’s just being protective, as he should,” you explain. “He’s seen me date men who turned out to be shitty and he just wants to make sure I’m treated well. And that I’m happy. And I am, so he’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” Jungkook questions.

“Yes,” you assure him. “We’ve been best friends for 20 years. It’s natural to be cautious about people. At least he is because I’m clearly not.”

“Okay,” he hums. “We’ll make plans, then. And then we can go to one of our properties in Gwangju. And Jeju. And anywhere you want to go to. We could fly to Japan or Europe or wherever, really.”

“Alright, one at a time,” you chuckle, the mix of excitement and nervousness filling you up. “Let’s not forget that I have a budget and limited leaves.”

“Which we’ll work out,” he says, adding that he’s definitely not going to make you spend a single cent. “But we could also just stay in or go to a park or watch movies. Anything, really.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that you recognize, like this admission of longing that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. You soften as you caress his face, wanting him to know that whatever it is he wants to do, you want to do all of those with him, too.

“I… I don’t know when the last time was that I actually looked forward to the weekend,” he admits. “I didn’t actually like it, only because I was forced to not work. And I always wanted to work. It… it made me forget how lonely I really was.”

He looks away, as he reveals a part of him that he’s never shared to anyone. 

It wasn’t always like this. His teenage years were filled with holidays with his parents and weekends in their scenic properties despite the distance he felt from them. But he couldn’t wait to grow up, to be independent and live life his way. He studied hard and by the time he was in university, he was working at the company already, eager to learn and earn money, something he continued to do when he did his postgraduate studies in Singapore. 

But he had Chaerin then, and his life was filled with excitement and happiness. There was always something to do, something to look forward to, until he lost it all and became a shell of who he was. There was so much void within that continued to get larger the more he spent time on his own after the breakup. 

He worked even harder because he didn’t know what to do with his time. He bought useless things because he didn’t know what to do with his money. He went to clubs and slept around because he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, only so he wouldn’t be faced with the reality that he wasn’t happy, that all the things he wanted - a sense of purpose, a hand to hold - were out of his reach.

The Arts Center was his saving grace. It gave his life meaning, as he sought meaning through it. And that’s what allowed him to be here with you. In building something for others, he realized how strong his desire for intimacy was, and how much he wanted to experience the world with someone, to share in its joys and difficulties, to learn what more he could give and get from it. And you’re everything tangible that used to just be a blur to him.

In building something for you, he realized how much he wants you to be happy, how much he wants you to always be safe. And he gets to be that person who makes it happen. 

It’s barely been a day but he supposes it’s why he can’t get enough of you, why he constantly reaches out, needing to know you’re next to him and not some image he conjured in his mind. It’s why he wants to make all these plans, so he could experience all the things he’s wanted but was always afraid to feel because of the fear of losing it one day. 

“There are so many places I want to explore and I want us to do them together,” you whisper, tilting his chin so he faces you again. “There are all these things I want to try and experience, even some things I usually do on my own that I want to share with you. I get you, Jungkook. I let days pass me by. All I did was look forward to something I didn’t even know. Now I know what I want, and that includes having them with you.”

His eyes soften as you utter the words, with your fingers tracing his face as if to see if he’s real, too, and if happiness is something that you can finally touch. 

“You don’t have to feel alone anymore,” you continue. “And I don’t have to feel that way, either, because you’re there. I want you to always be there.”

“I will,” he smiles, gently pressing his lips onto yours. “And we can do whatever you want.”

“Okay. A ghost tour is on my list,” you say, thinking to lighten the mood.

“It is, huh?” He laughs. “I mean, sure. I can definitely protect you.”

“You mean, I can protect you,” you counter. 

“___, I’m scared of thunder, not ghosts. I think I’ll be fine,” he chuckles. 

“And I’m scared of the living, not the dead, so I’ll be fine, too,” you point out. “I’ve always wanted to try it but I didn’t want a spirit to latch onto me because I was alone.”

“I don’t think that’s how it goes,” he playfully shakes his head. “But sure, we can do that. Anything else?”

“Hmm. Something outdoors? I… I really liked it when we were at your lake house and we sat on the rocks by the stream,” you reminisce. “It was very peaceful and it was just nice being out there.”

“Did you like it when you had your arms around me during the ATV ride, too?” He smirks. “Because I did.”

“It was bumpy,” you pout. “I should drive it next time and you can be my passenger.”

“Gotta learn how to drive first,” he teases. “How come you never learned?”

“Because it didn’t seem practical to learn and not have a car to drive,” you reason. “I’ll just forget it so I never bothered. Probably when I’m in my forties and I can afford to buy one.”

“Or I can get you one.”

He looks at you like he’s serious, and he probably is. So you draw the line before he thinks it’s okay for him to do that.

“You won’t. I will not accept it,” you say sternly. “And you will not buy me anything of that kind.”

“Fine. But I can buy you other things like jewelry and clothes and—”

“Jungkook, you know I don’t like you for your money, right?” You frown. “I know we’re leagues apart in terms of wealth and I—”

“I know,” he says, pulling open your crossed arms and wrapping them around him again. “I’m just saying that I want to buy you things because I like you. It’s… just a way for me to show you how I feel. No cars, I promise.”

“Good. I’m not gonna be able to drive it anyway,” you laugh.

“I can always teach you,” he says. “It’s still a good skill to have, you know?”

“Hmm, maybe one of these days,” you smile. 

“So in the meantime, I can get you something else. Maybe something for work? Please?”

He uses his doe-eyes to convince you, and it doesn’t take much. You suppose that for someone who’s not always good with words, buying you things is a way for him to make up for it. He built you a library, after all. You’re not always good with words, either, but perhaps accepting what he gives is a way for you to show him how you feel, too, among other things. 

“Fine,” you give in. “Just one thing.”

You find yourself hours later in a boutique shop on a quiet street in Incheon. 

You and Jungkook agreed that doing your shopping in the neighboring city will keep you from running into people that you don’t want knowing about your relationship at this point, such as the management support team or anyone else, really. 

You went to a shopping center after the hour-long drive. You opted for mid-range brands that offered comfortable basics, stocking up on slacks and tops to match the blazers and coats that you already have. You picked some flowy skirts and dresses, too, while Jungkook convinced you to get some of the statement pieces that caught your eye. 

He was an engaged companion, carrying your basket as you walked around and then finding you when you wandered too far. He gave approving nods whenever you showed something to him, surprising you when he’d comment that you already have a similar colored top. He looked embarrassed then, when he explained that you had outfits that stuck with him. You admitted that so did you, with his charcoal and navy suits as your favorites. 

He sported that shy smile again, a sight you never thought you’d one day be spoiled with. It always gave you a kind of comfort that you’ve never felt before, and you suppose it’s why you wanted to keep seeing it. Doing this with him today has given you that same feeling, especially when he’d look at you satisfied and say that he really likes how the outfit looks on you. 

You passed on the premium outlet shopping center, stating your case to Jungkook that you’re not one to wear luxury brands to a place as constant as your workplace. And while you agreed to him buying you something, you said you preferred it to be one of quality, and not just because it was expensive. Which is why you’re currently in this local boutique store selling the prettiest shoes you’ve ever seen.  

The name sounds familiar, and you remember going through some fashion magazines at Taehyung’s shop and seeing this listed on a best new brands list. Deservingly so, it seems, as the collection before you boasts of a variety of simple and statement designs that look soft and comfortable, too. You’re particularly drawn to the colored ones, since you could never wear those styles before. Your recommended outfits only allowed basic and muted colors, so your black and nude pumps were your go-to. And while you’ll still be wearing those, you definitely want a pair that would stand out. Or two. 

“See anything you like?” Jungkook breaks through your thoughts. 

You turn to him with a sparkle in your eyes as you nod shyly. 

“See anything you really like?” He chuckles as he walks towards you and you nod again. 

“Tell me,” he urges.

You get the ones that caught your eye - a pair of orange satin pumps and these olive green suede heels with ankle straps. You love the hues and how they’ll contrast some of your neutral-colored outfits, but right now, you don’t know which one you want more.

“I can’t choose between these two,” you say, scrunching your eyebrows. 

“Easy. We get both of them,” Jungkook replies as he asks the staff to get your size. 

He stands in front of you as you try each pair, his eyes following you as you walk around the store and check yourself in the mirror. He softens at your smile as you look at your reflection. There’s wonder in it, and he’s glad that he’s able to give this to you, of all things. It’s cliche but those shoes will take you to places; he looks forward to being next to you when they do. 

He giggles when you wear one of each pair and keep turning positions to see how you look in them. 

“Hey, I’m serious,” he says. “We can get both of them. You can even get more.”

“But I don’t want you to spoil me,” you pout. 

“But I will,” he insists, standing in front of you now. “I liked the smile you had earlier. I want to keep making you smile like that. And no, I don’t think you’re being materialistic or anything,” he adds before you unnecessarily defend yourself. “They’re pretty things and I want to give them to you.”

“Fine,” you pout again. “Do you like them, at least?”

“They’re nice,” he compliments.

“Just nice?” You frown. “That’s what you said the first time you saw me in a dress.” 

Your teasing smile makes him laugh, but it somehow comforts him. He remembers that day clearly, when you accompanied him to Taehyung’s shop to fit the suits made for him, and you tried on the gowns that his best friend made for you, too. Seeing you in that burgundy attire made his heart drop, and that’s what’s been happening every single time that he sees you all dressed up. He didn’t think you’d remember but apparently, it stuck with you. 

“It’s not like I could say that you looked stunning then, now could I?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

“So that’s what you thought, huh?” You nibble your lower lip.

“Always,” he responds. “It’s been hard keeping myself together ever since.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks at his confession, and for all the times you cursed yourself for being unprofessional for finding him attractive, you at least don’t feel too bad now that he thought the same. 

“That makes both of us,” you smirk, liking how he playfully shakes his head and turns away.

He wants to kiss you right now but he knows it’s not the time nor place. 

“So, both of these shoes, then?” He confirms. “Are you sure you only want two?”

“Yes. You’ve spoiled me enough already,” you state. 

He concedes, even if he really wants to buy you more. He wants to shower you with so many things but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you with that side of him just yet, so he’ll take things slow for now. 

He walks with you to the counter where he pays for the shoes. He sees the sparkle in your eyes when he takes the shopping bags from the staff and there’s something so wholesome about how you look that has his insides warming up. 

“You like them, too, right?” You ask as you both walk out the store to head back to the car. 

“Of course,” he hums. “They’re pretty and you like them. Plus, I saw the reviews that said the shoes are comfortable and sturdy. And you need that. I can’t have you tripping yourself because of unstable heels and then falling into the arms of some man again. I won’t be there to catch you anymore.”

“Hey,” you pull his arm to get his attention, frowning at him when he turns to you at the reminder of that Arts Center incident. “That was one time.”

“You trip on yourself when you’re on the ladder, too,” he points out. “And I’m always there breaking your fall.”

“And why are you?” You cock an eyebrow. “You always had your eyes on me, didn’t you, Mr. Jeon?”

“Couldn’t help it, even if I wasn’t supposed to,” he says. “I just found myself always looking out for you. And you just happened to be tripping a few of those times.”

You laugh in response because he’s not wrong, but it’s also a way for you to tell him it’s okay. You suppose you weren’t the only one paying attention because he seemed to do that a lot with you. And the more you think about it, the more you realize that the feelings you once doubted were sincere have been present all this time. But he held himself back, just like you did. He tried not to cross the line because he knew it wouldn’t be right until you did, and all he wanted was to keep you close so he could be there for you. Because the moment he knew what was keeping you there, he made the difficult decision of letting you go. 

You smile at the thought, learning now that when it comes to you, Jungkook is attentive. He’s protective and he wants to make you happy, to shower you with gifts, to make you experience good things in life because it’s his way of expressing his feelings. You may be starting a new job that requires you to be apart from him, but in his own ways, he’s still looking out for you. 

You want to carry him with you as you take on a new challenge, too. And you’ll look back on today as a way for you to do that. It’s in the shoes that he bought for you; it’s in his company and patience as you went around looking for clothes earlier; it’s in the experience of doing something together. 

A sigh of relief escapes you as you settle in the passenger seat. It’s been tiring but also really fun, and you smile again at the thought of being able to do this for yourself. 

Since your first visit at Rkive Publishing, you’ve been envisioning how you’d look and how your days were going to be. It filled you with excitement seeing that image of you in your mind - dressed in clothes that made you feel comfortable but powerful, in an environment that was challenging but exhilarating, in a place that didn’t make you feel stuck or constrained. It truly feels like a new beginning, and you didn’t realize that the simple act of shopping could make you see yourself differently, that it could make your approach to work feel more relaxed.

“I didn’t know you enjoyed shopping that much,” Jungkook says. “Guess we’ll have to do that again.”

“I didn’t know, too,” you chuckle. “But I think it’s more than that,” you turn to him with a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever really shopped for a full wardrobe before. All my office clothes were hand-me-downs from my mom when I started working and I just gradually bought my own over the years. But now I get to buy all these new things for what I feel like is a new chapter in my life, you know? It sounds silly but I’m pretty sentimental about it.”

“It’s not silly,” he replies. “You’re doing something that you chose, that you’re happy with. That means everything.”

His eyes soften and you realize that you haven’t really talked about your resignation. And with all your excitement for your new job, the last thing you want is for you to think that you felt burdened by working for him.

“Jungkook, I… I’m sorry for resigning when I did,” you start, earning you a shake of his head. “I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t happy working for the company. Because I had great moments, and you were one of them,” you explain. 

He nods as he takes in your words, and you take his hand to tell him you mean them. 

“It was hard at first but I stuck it out because it felt ungrateful of me to leave,” you continue. “Things got better when I was under Hoseok but there was always that feeling that I didn’t deserve everything, even if I was giving all of myself to the job. And that was all on me. I realized that I was the one who couldn’t move on from my past. And I just constantly felt stuck. Working hard was all I knew how to do until I didn’t know myself anymore but you… You helped me realize what I was missing. You helped me realize what I could be.”

“How?” He asks.

“The Arts Center,” you say. “Learning about why you wanted to build it showed me that it’s what I wanted, too - to create meaning, to connect people to something, to experience something tangible that could stay with us. You were so passionate about it and I wanted to be passionate about something just like you. And I’m sorry I had to leave because of that. And well, I also really like you and it didn’t feel right to stay any longer after what happened.”

“I didn’t realize that it meant that much to you,” he responds, caressing your hand now. 

“It did. It still does. Being there last night made me feel so many things, especially the library,” you say. “I think I’ll need time to really soak everything in.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” he suggests. “It’ll be open until late all weekend and we can go around if you want.”

“I’d really like that,” you smile at him. 

He smiles back but there’s still that tinge of sadness in his eyes, and you continue looking at him to urge him to say what he wants to say. 

“I should’ve asked you why you wanted to leave instead of asking you to stay,” he sighs. “I probably would’ve understood. I mean I… I’m working for my family and it’s all I’ll ever do. I’ve lost myself in it, too. I know it’s not the same but I guess that’s why constructing the Arts Center mattered that much to me. It was different. I felt like it was the only way I could find meaning in what I was doing, something that went beyond my duties to my family. I… I learned what I wanted to be for someone, too, because of you. So I understand why you have to do this for yourself, ___,” he turns to you with an assuring look. “After everything settled, I knew that leaving would be the only way for you to be truly happy because then, you get to do something for yourself. And I just want you to know that I really want this for you, too. I’m just glad I get to be next to you like this.”

You feel your eyes turn glassy. You hadn’t realized just how much you needed to hear that from him. And given all the new experiences and challenges you’ll be facing, having someone to hold your hand and tell you that things will be okay makes it more meaningful. You won’t be going through things on your own anymore. And you get to tell him that he won’t, either. 

His smile tells you that he understands, and it’s one that you mirror.

“Your new boss seems nice,” Jungkook says as he looks back on the road. “He called me one day and asked about you.”

“Namjoon did say he spoke with you,” you respond. “And yes, he’s very kind. He rambles a lot but he’s just very passionate about books and literature. I’m sure I’ll learn so much from him.”

“That’s good. It’s a new industry so it’s important to have a mentor like him,” Jungkook hums. “Just, you know, don’t trip and fall into his arms or something.”

“That is not going to happen,” you laugh. “Are you jealous?” You nudge him. “Are you the jealous type?”

“No,” he frowns. 

“Good. You have nothing to be worried about, okay? He has nice dimples but I like yours better,” you tease. 

He pouts at you but you just kiss his cheek to appease him, your own affection surprising you. You find yourself constantly showing it to him, wanting him to know how you feel instead of words you don’t think you’ll be able to say. 

“Are you the jealous type?” He asks now.

“I actually don’t know,” you wonder. 

Your past relationships weren’t really exclusive so you didn’t have a reason to be jealous. 

“We should go to a club and see,” he says. 

“Hey,” you whine. “All the women will flock to you.”

“And who says the men won’t flock to you?” He arches an eyebrow. “You’re the one that people fall for.”

“And you’re not?”

“___, I’ve slept with women but let’s not pretend they wanted to be with me,” he chuckles. 

“Maybe they did, and you just never gave them a chance,” you reason.

“Well, I never let them stay long enough to know,” he shrugs. “It’s not something I do, and it’s not something I ask of them.”

But you asked me to, you don’t say. You remember the look of rejection in his eyes that night at his office and how you turned him away. Perhaps to him, you’re also someone he was willing to crawl out of his walls for, and for a time, he thought you didn’t want him enough. 

You promise yourself that you’ll make it a point to show him that you always do, whether it’s through words or actions but especially through your way of opening up yourself to him completely. 

You nudge his hand that’s still in yours, prompting him to look at you. 

“I’m here to stay,” you tell him, wanting him to feel the weight of your words because you don’t do that for anyone, either. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You say it almost in a whisper, like it’s a promise you want him to know you’ll always keep. He lifts your hand to his lips and he kisses it, a way to let you know that he’s not going anywhere, too. He’ll keep holding your hand wherever you or he goes because he knows that right next to you is where he wants to be.

It’s a very intimate act, and it’s barely been a day but he’s done so many of those already with you, including expressing his honest and sentimental feelings. He supposes it’s all the time he’s held back. Or maybe all the years that he kept himself from feeling and showing any of that. 

But you have each other to share those with now and he hopes that however he chooses to show them to you, you’ll understand and accept them and like you said, you’ll stay and not go anywhere. 

You spend the rest of the car ride back to Seoul talking about the posts and articles being written about the Arts Center. You go on social media and read them out to Jungkook, warming at how softly he smiles with every compliment from the visitors and artists. Even if you weren’t there during the ceremony last night, you’re glad that you’re at least able to celebrate with him from this day forward. 

You arrive at a supermarket and let Jungkook take the lead. But while he’s buying to fill up his fridge and pantry, he’s taken it upon himself to make sure you have everything you need and want, too. 

He picks up the coffee pods and grounds that you mentioned you like. He asks you for your preferred snacks and desserts on top of the chocopie that he gets boxes of. He lets you choose your skincare and bath products. He grabs containers of side dishes and an array of meat and vegetables, as well as a sack of rice. There are other ingredients he gets and before you know it, you’ve got a cart filled to the brim and a satisfied man pushing it to the counter. 

He pays for his purchases and you realize just how much he’s actually bought.

“Are you throwing a party that I don’t know of?” You tease, as he hauls all the groceries in his trunk. “That’s a lot of shopping for one person.”

“I, uh, I was hoping to have you stay over during the weekends,” he says shyly. “I mean, we can also stay at your place if you’re okay with us being there. But I just thought about buying a lot of what we want when we stay in and stuff.”

“Are you bribing me with food so that I’ll spend more nights with you?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Yes? Well, I’d like to think I’m good company, too,” he chuckles. “And that you’d, uh, want to spend time with me. Is it too much?”

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s sweet actually, how you’re making a space for me in your home. And you don’t have to bribe me, you know? The place is good, the company’s good,” and whispering in his ear, you add, “the sex is good. I… I’d like to spend time with you, too.”

“That’s comforting,” he laughs as you both head inside the car. “Although I’d prefer for that last one to be more than good.”

“Hmm. Good thing you have tonight to show me, then,” you teasingly smile. 

He groans as he playfully shakes his head, this bold version of you still flustering him. But he wants to tease back, so he turns to you and pulls your face close to him. He gives you a deep kiss before booping your nose with his.

“Just make sure to keep up, yeah?” He answers. 

“Rude,” you gasp, earning you a laugh. “It’s not my fault you don’t get tired.”

“It’s not my fault that you do.”

Your pout makes him want to erase it with a kiss so that’s what he does again, and he likes that he can do this over and over, as many times as he wants. 

“I’m kidding. I’ll do whatever you want,” he smiles. “Just as long as it makes you feel good.”

You’re only able to nod now, not wanting to provoke him any further because another word of him telling you what he can do is gonna cause you to spiral. 

The sun is still out by the time you arrive at his penthouse with everything you bought for the day. He insists on having your clothes washed - a perk he has as owner of the building, and you give in. He says it’s so they’re all ready for you next week, and you’re once again reminded of this thoughtful side of him. Sure, money helps, but you suppose it’s easy for a rich man to just think of what conveniences him but not others. In many ways, he’s shown you that he’s more than that. You’re able to see it all up close now, and you can’t help but like him even more. 

After he hands your bag of clothes to the butler, he heads to the kitchen where he says he’s going to prepare dinner. You follow him and look on curiously as he brings out a few of the ingredients you bought earlier.

“What’s on the menu?” You ask, sitting on the counter right next to where he’s got his work space laid out.

“Buckwheat noodles with my special sauce,” he answers. “And some boiled pork.”

“That sounds delicious,” you hum. “And here I thought you hire people to cook for you.”

“Can’t really call someone over at 2AM to make me dinner, can I?” He laughs. 

“Why would you have dinner at 2AM?!”

“Because it’s how I am,” he shrugs. “I mean, sometimes I have dinner out. Some nights I’m so tired from work so I take a nap and wake up at odd hours, or I’d just work all night and realize I haven’t eaten so I make something then. Meat is easy to grill, noodles are quick to make, but for you, I’m making special versions.”

“I feel special already,” you giggle. “But that’s not healthy, Jungkook,” you turn serious. “Meal time is meal time and rest time is rest time. You always work so hard, you need to take a break and not overdo yourself.”

“I know. You used to tell me that all the time,” he smiles softly. “It was nice to hear, and I listened to you. I guess those were the only times when I let myself take a breath. You were pretty stubborn about it.”

“Because you were a hard-head about it,” you frown. “So much for being protective of me when you couldn’t even look out for yourself.”

“I know, that’s why you were there,” he points out. “And you were the same, so that’s why I was there for you, too. We, uh, I guess we complemented each other that way.” 

“I guess,” you smile now. 

There’s some sadness in that thought, though, at how you both went on years just focusing on your respective jobs individually and not having much you share with others. Sure, you had your friends and so did he, but in the silence of your own homes, you lived through every day just waiting for the next, not knowing what to look forward to about it. 

You suppose that’s what happens when you share only the most shallow parts of yourself to someone - your body, your time, your energy - but even those were limited. Now, you get to feel what it’s like to share more of them, in ways that require more. But you’re willing to do all that, and you can see that so is he.   

Jungkook boils the pork in some spices and says that it’ll take some time. He gestures towards the balcony where you see the sun about to set. You’ve never seen it from this high, and he says that he hasn’t watched it from here in months because he’s been getting home late. His office doesn’t offer this same view. 

You head out and take a seat on the couch where he follows. He positions himself next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer until you’ve got your legs on his lap and your head on his chest. Being with him like this, you feel comfortable again; you feel safe. 

The sky is beautiful and it’s another version of it that you get to share with him. You know there’ll be more of this that you’ll have, and you’ll keep this in your memory just like all the other times that you did. 

His free hand draws patterns on your knee and you try to decipher what they are, recalling those days of watching him doodle on his leather notebook and wondering what’s on his mind. 

It’s something you ask him and there's a beat of silence before he answers.

“There’s a lot of things I think about,” he says. “Most times I don’t know how to make sense of them or express them so I just draw whatever I feel like. They’re mostly figures and structures because they at least make sense to me even if my feelings don’t.”

“What about now? Do your feelings make sense?”

“A little bit,” he hums, but he assures you it’s not a bad thing. “You always felt familiar. I think that’s why I was so hesitant to get to know you and why I felt like I had to keep my distance. It wasn’t right to feel that way for my assistant. I know now why that was. We crossed paths a long time ago and I guess we made each other feel something that we couldn’t find in others or that we couldn’t find ourselves. It’s familiar but it’s all new. Isn’t it contradictory?”

“Maybe. But it also could be that we felt something like that before and we lost it along the way. And we met again and so we’re feeling it again, but in a different way,” you try to explain. “Familiar but new. Do you doubt it?”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head. “I just couldn’t help but think about it because this version of myself feels different but it’s still me.” 

“I get you. I’m not really like this, either. I’m not fond of affection. I’m not this giggly or this… honest or this bold. I’m terrified of many things so I’m also not this brave but you… you bring all that out of me, Jungkook. And it feels really good.”

“I’m not this honest, too. I don’t know where my words come from,” he chuckles. 

“I was about to say that you’re able to express your feelings just fine,” you smile. 

“That’s barely scratching the surface,” he says. “There’s still a lot I don’t know how to say.”

Regret is one of them, Jungkook thinks. And guilt and fear and an overwhelming joy and clarity that he can’t fully express. There’s still hesitation somehow but vulnerability, too. There’s a feeling of inadequacy and a desire to give you everything he can.

“Me, too,” you sigh. “We can always just keep showing it to each other in different ways. I know that’s not always easy, but we can… we can keep trying. I held so much of what I felt for months and I’m just glad I don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I held back for a year,” he blurts, surprising you. Your questioning eyes urge him to continue. “I… I thought you were pretty. And you put me in my place, you’re honest and caring, you’re so good at what you do, you’re… someone I wanted to be around, even if it didn’t seem like it. And I’ll always be sorry for how I treated you.”

“I have a lot of shortcomings, too, Jungkook,” you admit. “I judged you before I met you because you never smiled during the times I saw you. And then I constantly compared you to Hoseok and I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, look at me now. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled this much,” he chuckles. “But it’s okay. We… we were getting used to each other.”

“We were. And I… I like seeing you smile. There would be nights when I’d fall asleep thinking about it,” you confess. 

“Here I thought I was the only one doing that,” he laughs. 

“We’re so ridiculous,” you laugh back. “We’ve said too much. Now we can kiss.”

“You like doing that, huh?” He smirks, pulling you to sit on top of him now. 

You shift on his lap and find a position that has your heart racing. You moan when his hands guide you in grinding against his slowly hardening length. And he watches you move before his eyes flit to meet yours, the desire heightening and the tension building.

“I do, very much,” you whisper, bending down to graze your nose against his before you kiss him. 

It starts off tender but with the feel of him underneath you and his tongue amorously entangling with yours, it gets rough soon enough. You’re thankful that you’re seated closer to the door, leaving you less exposed than if you were near the railings. It’s enough privacy that he’s able to sneak his hand under your scrunched up dress without you minding, and you moan louder when he pulls your bra so he could flick your nipple that’s clearly screaming to be touched. 

You return the favor, untucking his shirt so you could touch his chest, too. It reminds you of how you’d mapped this out last night, the tautness of it making you imagine all the ways you could pleasure him there. But you settle with your nails grazing against his smooth torso this time, knowing you have all of tonight and perhaps tomorrow to do it. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your lips. “Baby, we’re gonna have to take this inside,” he says, although he doesn’t stop nor let you go. He continues to kiss you and drag his hands all over your back.

“We should,” you say, not stopping either. 

It takes a few more nibbles on each other’s lips before you finally pull away, heaving in pleasure and wanting more. But you remove yourself from him before you get into it again. Walking back inside, he surprises you with another squeeze of your ass, prompting you to turn to him. 

“You like doing that, huh?” You repeat his words. 

“I do, very much,” he hums. He hugs you from behind and says, “this, too,” as he nuzzles your neck.

You only laugh in response but deep down, there’s this warmth you feel at how much affection he’s giving you and how much you’re accepting and returning it. You weren’t big on intimacy with your exes. You weren’t the type to hold their hand or cling to them or caress them outside of sex. They weren’t natural for you, and you suppose those kinds of acts required more openness and emotional closeness that you didn’t feel for them.

But with Jungkook, it’s as if it’s all you want to do, and it seems to be the same for him. You didn’t realize how holding his hand could be so assuring, or how feeling him wrap around you could relieve you of your tiredness, or how kissing him could make time stop yet you still feel there’s not enough of it when you’re with him. 

And as he stands by the stove, pan frying dumplings for your appetizer while the pork continues to boil, all you want to do is watch him be. 

You’ve always admired him for his dedication to his craft. You’ve sat through countless meetings, watched him draft blueprints and plans and present them, and listened to him put together ideas and designs. He’s creative, rational, and very smart, and it always impressed you how much technical knowledge he has. He always had such confidence in his abilities and that also made him very attractive to you. 

But seeing him in a domestic setting in his casual clothes while cooking your dinner ignites something else within you. It’s this desire to see and experience all sides of him, and to be welcomed in every nook of his big heart. 

He arranges the dumplings on a plate and mixes the dipping sauce, then places the dish on the counter for both of you to enjoy. He takes a piece, blows on it, then feeds it to you, and you laugh to yourself because this is something that you used to tell Hajoon that you could do on your own so he doesn’t have to. But with Jungkook doing it now, he triggers a swarm of butterflies in your belly that has you giggling. 

He just smiles, the warmth in his eyes telling you that this is something he wants to do for you and you let him. He’s told you he wants to take care of you and you want that, too. You want to show him that you can do it as well.

Jungkook gets a bowl and starts making the sauce while he boils the buckwheat noodles. It’s something he came up with one late evening, adding perilla oil and egg yolk to the different condiments he had on stock. You feed him dumplings while he mixes the ingredients, which he eventually pours over the noodles then sprinkles seaweed on top of it. It looks creamy and delicious, and partnered with the boiled pork that he plates on a wooden board, your mouth starts to water.

It’s all surprisingly delicious, as you tell him that you didn’t think that just putting a bunch of sauces together would create something that good. You enjoy dinner over beer and then insist that you’ll clean up while he takes a bath. 

It’s an hour later when you exit his bathroom, your heart skipping a beat at seeing him sitting on the bed, his back across the frame with the covers over his legs while he scrolls through his phone. He doesn’t have a shirt on, leaving his toned upper body in full display for you to stare at. You’ve already seen this last night; ran your hands all over them, even, but somehow you know it’ll always take your breath away. 

He looks up when he senses you’re back, and he smiles seeing you donned in one of his oversized shirts. He likes you in his clothes. There’s something so domestic about it, even if he’ll end up taking them off of you anyway. 

And that’s what he does, as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed while you remain standing in front of him. He caresses the sides of your thighs while he looks up at you, before pulling up your shirt that you help him remove. 

You giggle when his lips immediately plant themselves on your torso, where he kisses and sucks the soft plane of flesh that has you moaning in pleasure. His hands travel around - kneading your ass, sliding up then fondling your breasts, before they’re removing your underwear and then cupping your bare cunt.

“Jungkook, baby,” you whine, feeling the sensation all over your body. “Want you, please.”

It’s the words he loves hearing from you, knowing the desire comes from somewhere deep. It’s because you’ve allowed him to a place that no one’s ever been to before, and it’s a place he wants to stay in for as long as you’ll let him. 

And he takes it to heart. He wants to feel you feel good; he wants to hear it, to breathe it, to let your pleasure course through his body and let it linger, and that’s the only way he’ll feel good. It’s not just about chasing his own high like it used to be. With you, it’s always more.

He switches places with you, lays you on the edge of the bed while he kneels on the floor for that angle that lets him taste all of you. He laps you up and he feels your clit pulsate against his tongue, your breathy curses complementing the way your body screams for him. He increases the pressure to build you up then slows down to prolong it. 

You seek him. Your hands pull him forward, your cunt thrusts against his face, you yell out his name, and when you come, his lips are what you want all over you, all over again. 

You’re eager. The short second it takes for him to stand up, you’re pulling his boxers down and stroking his length; you’re swallowing him whole before he could even catch a breath. But it’s everything he wants, as your warmth coats his aching cock and he pushes into you, hearing your obscene sounds as you take him in. 

“You feel so good,” he grunts, your tongue swirling around his slit. “Fuck, baby, just like that.”

He manages to open his eyes, and the sight of you eager to please him sends shivers down his spine. You fondle his balls, you play with your breast, you thrust against nothing while you moan with your mouth full of him. He softens for a while, tucking the damp strands of hair behind your ear, before he pulls away then guides you to flip over with your hands and knees on the bed.

You’re able to take a breath while he puts on his condom, but you're already dazed, your mind completely hazy from everything that Jungkook makes you feel. 

The way he fills you up is heavenly. He hits your deepest spot, and the pace of his movement has him grazing every inch of your walls. He pushes your waist down with his every thrust, making both of you feel the sensation in a mind-numbing way.

Your knees are trembling but you don’t mind. Your knuckles are probably turning white from how hard you’re gripping his sheets but it’s your only anchor for now. Your neck is straining and you’re breathless as he relentlessly bucks his hip against you but you don’t want him to stop. 

He switches it up, both his hands on your waist now to keep it steady while he drags himself in and out of you. You clench around him and push against his movements, and it has him moaning curses with your name. His pace becomes erratic, and that’s how you know he’s close.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he instructs you. “Come with me. Fuck, fuck, I want you to come.”

You do as you’re told, reaching down to stroke your clit while he pounds you from behind. And when you hear his deep breaths and a prolonged moan, you quicken your pace until you’re coming once again.

He pants, all the energy being drained out of him, but you still feel him gently kiss your shoulders, then your spine, then your ass cheeks before he lays in bed next to you. 

He breathes heavily but he manages a soft smile that mirrors yours, and all you want to do is wrap him in your arms until you both fall asleep. 

“Sex just good?” He teasingly asks. 

“Were you trying to make a point?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he huffs.

You shift your position, your arm now supporting your body as you lay on your side. Your hand traces his bare torso, which still rises and falls from the ordeal, and he hums in satisfaction. 

“Did you like that?” You whisper in his ear, biting your lip in anticipation of his answer. 

“Uh-huh,” he breathes out. “Fuck, you feel so good. You take me so well, baby. That was just…”

“I want to keep making you feel good, Jungkook,” you moan, liking how he’s at a loss for words. “And I want you to keep fucking me like that.”

Your vulgar words contrast the tender way you graze your nose against his neck, and it somehow makes his mind even more hazy. You’re everything he wants, and he’ll do everything to keep you next to him. 

“I will,” he promises, turning to his side to face you. “I’ll do that and more.”

And he does, as he cleans you up and tucks you under the covers with his arms around your body. You’re cradled in his, and the clarity you feel after such a mind-numbing experience is so satisfying. 

You suppose this is what intimacy is - feeling that high and then landing on a soft field of everything beautiful, and you decide that this is the only place you’ll ever want to be in. Jungkook smiles at you and you just know he feels the same way you do.

You wake up with Jungkook next to you this time, your limbs entangled with his under the comforts of his soft blanket. Your eyes flutter open and you see him propped up on his tattooed arm, smiling at you.

“Were you just watching me sleep?” You mumble.

“Maybe,” he teasingly shrugs. “It’s nice to see you resting well.”

“It’s your sheets,” you say, earning you a laugh.

“Guess I know what to spoil you with next time,” he winks. 

“What time is it? And why aren’t you working out?” You ask, knowing it’s how he always starts his day. 

“11,” he answers. “I’m surprised I didn’t wake up earlier. But when I did I just thought to sleep in with you.”

“Hmm, good decision,” you grunt, your mind still half asleep but awake enough to appreciate his half naked form next to you. You scoot closer and hug him, causing him to lay flat on his back while he wraps his arm around your bare body. “This is better than a workout.”

“Well, I kinda had mine last night,” he giggles.

And he’s not wrong. After he tucked you in bed, you spent another hour or so just talking and cuddling and that led to another round of him pounding into you from the side, and then another one with him over you. He went so hard that he had to take another shower at 3 in the morning and he’s probably done his arm and core exercises for today. 

You don’t even know how you managed to withstand all that, but you did, and you loved every second of it. You loved how he bit his lip in pleasure and how his neck veins popped out as he pounded into you intensely. You basked in his whimpered sounds and the kisses he showered you with as he came down. 

And now you’re in his embrace, curled against him. You'd do this all day if you could.

“But this is nice,” he hums, as he strokes your back while also combing your hair with his fingers. 

He kisses the top of your head while you moan in satisfaction, a kind of soft pleasure that relaxes you, that makes you feel like you’re floating but also enveloped in pure warmth. That’s what hugging Jungkook feels like, as his toned but smooth arms wrap around you. His rough fingers tenderly roam your body, and it eases your tired being; nuzzling his neck, you feel like you could fall asleep again. 

But you’re quite hungry and you assume that so is he, so you slowly disentangle yourself from him and say that you’ll be cooking lunch when he whines. 

“I told you I’ll make something for you this time,” you say, appeasing him with a kiss on the cheek. 

“Fine,” he concedes, stating that he’ll go over the interview questions that a few reporters have sent over for him to answer while you’re cooking. 

He follows you to wash up in the bathroom - then gives you a deeper kiss right after - and then to the kitchen. He sits on the stool by the counter while you cook rice and seafood pajeon, something you boasted about last night. 

“Babe, you think you could help me with the questions?” He asks, catching you off guard with the pet name that he uses in a different context for the first time. 

“Sure,” you hum. “Read them out loud.”

So he does, and you spend much of the hour going through them and sipping your coffee, with him pulling you for a hug when you wander to his side. 

You eat lunch while watching sports highlights on TV, then you spend the afternoon laughing over the variety TV show episodes that you’ve missed these past weeks. 

It’s 5PM when you both start dressing up for dinner that  he’ll treat you to for your first official date, he’d said, insisting that he likes eating at nice places. He has you to share the experience with this time, and he doesn’t want you to worry about expenses of any kind. He wants to eat at your favorite noodle houses, too, and that’s a plan for another day. 

You have on a skirt and top outfit that thankfully matches your new pumps. Once you finish putting on your makeup, you head to Jungkook’s walk-in closet to check on him, your throat drying up at seeing him in an all-black denim ensemble. He’s sexy enough as it is, with the skinny jeans accentuating his ass and his thick thighs. But when the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and when the buttons are undone just up to his chest to show the tank top he’s wearing underneath, sexy becomes too simplistic. Even more so when you spot the silver chain around his neck again, simple and classic but definitely dangerous.

He turns to you and takes in your look before he smirks. But just as you expect him to compliment you or even kiss you, he instead reaches out for your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours when you take it. 

“Let’s go,” he says, leading you out. 

He doesn’t say much on the way to the car. He just gazes at you then smiles when you look at him. It’s during the drive when he kisses your hand, surprising you, and there’s that warmth that you feel again. You listen to the soft sounds of the radio this time, sharing in the silence the way that you used to, and it’s far from uncomfortable, especially with him thumbing your hand that he’s not letting go of. 

You make it to the restaurant where you’re seated by the window, able to appreciate the setting of the sun. The food is delicious, with the variety of tender meats causing you to silently moan at how good it is. There’s an array of dishes that Jungkook orders, and you spend the rest of dinner talking about your favorite food and the other places you want to try. 

Satisfied from the meal, you both head to the Arts Center. You know you’ll have another time to fully explore. You’ll remember how the areas looked before renovation and you’ll look on in pride at how different they are now. There’ll be opportunities for you to check every exhibition and watch performances here. When the Center hosts some of the international film festival events in two months, you’ll definitely attend and pay attention to the halls and other spaces. You’ll come during the day and appreciate the light coming through the windows, and you’ll be able to gaze at the art installations outdoors.

But tonight, you want your focus to be on the children’s library, the one that Jungkook had built for you. 

The Center closes late on weekends so you have time to savor it. You want to remember the feeling of being inside it with him, as if you’re making him part of the memory, as if you’re including him in the best moments of your childhood. 

You finally enter the grand library, appreciating the details and the grandness of it. You ask Jungkook where the archive section is now, and what the process of moving it was like. 

“I had to incorporate it in the main area instead of separating it,” he explains. “Yoongi and I found a corner to establish its presence and then scattered the pieces beyond that, putting them in glass enclosures around the desks and on the walls. I think it’s better that way; visitors become intrigued and want to learn more, so they could go around and end up exploring more of the library.”

“That’s strategic,” you say, appeased that there were gains in making the change. You stand at the entrance of the children’s space and then to him. “So, what made you decide to do this?”

He talks about his late afternoon jog one weekend and discovering a park that reminded him of the playground that his father built for him. He tells you about all the apologies his old man couldn’t make, and all the words left unsaid that Jungkook realized had held them together despite the distance and the detachment. 

“I thought about all the times that you needed someone and I happened to be there,” he continues as he follows you around inside. “And then the times when I wasn’t or no one was. I don’t ever want you to feel alone. I thought that if I’m not in your life anymore, I could at least build you something that would make you happy, that would protect you, the way you said your old neighborhood library made you feel.”

His words leave you speechless. You suppose that for someone not good with them, he finds the right ones when he needs to. You were overwhelmed with emotions the first time you saw this, and you couldn’t fully grasp how he could make something like this for you. 

That playground mattered to him, the way your old library did. Only he would understand how a space or a structure could comfort you, how it could take your fears away, and how that feeling could stay with you for a long time. He wanted you to continue feeling that whether you found your way back to each other or not, and now that you have, you feel that happiness and that safety even more.

You run your fingers across the murals then sit on the couch with the fluffy teddy bear next to you. The more you look around, the more you realize that this isn’t just meant for children. The seating areas are big enough for adults, so is the activity space at the back. It’s where those with child-like hearts and minds can stay - to reminisce perhaps, or to make new memories. You think you’ll be doing both.

“Is it close to how your library looked?” He asks, as you both walk past the shelves and you scan the books they have. 

“Jungkook, that was a semi-rundown library that used to be someone’s house. It had chipped wallpapers and creaking wooden floors,” you giggle. “This is definitely much prettier but I see so much of the old one in here. The warm lights, all the colors, the different areas to read and draw and color. The paper dolls,” you squeal. “It’s… familiar but new, just like everything with you is. I… I don’t know what else to say.”

“A thank you is fine,” he smiles, pulling you close to him. You’re behind one of the shelves, and with no one else here this late Sunday evening, he wraps his arms around your waist. “I wouldn’t mind a kiss, too.”

“You deserve more than all that,” you whisper, kissing him softly. “Thank you, Jungkook. I’ll be spending weekends here. Or when I have a tough day at work. Or when you’re away and I’m missing you.”

“Good. That way I know that when you’re down, you have somewhere to go so you could feel better. And less alone.”

That’s all he hopes, after all - that on days when he can’t be what you need, there’s a place that he built that will make you feel better. 

He treasures your smile and the way your eyes shine as you go through the picture books that have their own row of shelves. He beams at how beautiful you look being enamored with the space that reminds you of the best parts of your childhood. And he softens when you look at him with so much adoration, words seemingly not enough to express how you feel. 

You don’t say much as you walk back to the car though. When he drives to his penthouse, you hold his hand. But something inside you stirs so you guide his palm to your thigh, smiling when he caresses it. He sees you bite your bottom lip at the act, and though he’s tempted to do more, he decides that tracing your skin is what he wants to do for now.

The feel of Jungkook touching any part of your body is electrifying. He ignites a kind of desire in you that you’ve never felt before, whether it’s simply holding your hand or stroking the inside of your thigh.

Being back in the library made you feel many things. It brought back memories and made you imagine all the new ones you’ll make. It also filled you with an overwhelming need for him, as you think of all the ways you could show him your appreciation. Including one that you could do tonight.

So after making it past the door of his apartment, and after briefly watching his impeccable figure walk down his hallway, you don’t hold back. He turns around and you don’t even hear what he asks. You just head towards him and kiss him.

You kiss him hard and deep, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him as close as you can get him, even as you guide him towards his living room, knowing where you want him. He moans when you bite his lower lip, your fingers desperately gripping his shirt now as you want more. 

You pull away to catch your breath, your intense eyes saying everything you want to do to him. He caresses your cheek but only briefly, as his thumb traces your lips before pushing it past them. The sight of you sucking his finger - gentle at first before you do it desperately - has his cock throbbing, impatient to feel your mouth wrapped around it.

“Fuck. Good girl,” he says under his breath, as you lick his thumb teasingly to tell him what you want to do. 

You kiss him again, your fingers now eagerly undoing his buttons. He removes his shirt then you pull his tank top off him before you push him to sit on the couch. You stand before him and stare at him shamelessly, as he sits comfortably and stares back at you. His hands are behind his head now, with his taut arms in full display for you to salivate over. 

But it’s his chest that you want to pay attention to rigjt now, all perfectly toned and every bit breathtaking.

“Take your clothes off,” he says before you can make your move. 

“Is that an order, Mr. Jeon?” You breathe out, knowing how the name affects him. 

“Yes,” he huffs. “An urgent one.”

You smirk as he plays along, and you take your time in undressing. You watch his eyes move with you, his breaths deepening now as you bare yourself in front of him. 

“Don't touch yourself. I’ll do that,” you instruct. “And that’s not a suggestion.”

He chuckles in response but he seems to enjoy it, relaxing in his position. You take that as your cue, settling on his lap and then mapping his torso with your hands as you lick and suck his neck. He angles it to give you more space, and he hisses when you take advantage. 

Your mouth travels south, leaving kisses on his collarbone and sternum before twirling your tongue around his pert nipples that are aching for attention. He starts to pant and you decide to take your time, wanting his pleasure to build up so you could hear him beg for you this time. You moan as you nibble his buds, but your own pleasure builds, too, and with your hand feeling his thick length underneath those jeans, you suddenly can’t wait any longer.

“You like that, baby?” You whisper in his ears. “You like it when I do that?”

“Fuck, yes,” he wails. “Fuck, baby. That’s so good.”

With a few more kisses towards his hips, you move as well, now finding yourself kneeling on the floor and quickly undoing his belt. He lets you do all the work, and you don’t mind. You like how his chest rises and falls in anticipation, and when you finally free his cock, you let out an obscene sound that even you’ve never heard before.

You’ve been graced with this scene these past days, but it still leaves a lump in your throat. He’s thick and veiny and everything you want to taste and have inside you. You pull off his jeans until he’s bare as well. You stroke him once and the moan he makes is all you need. 

With your thumb on his slit, you lick up his shaft until you’re swallowing him whole, his tip hitting your throat that it makes you groan. The vibration has him grunting and it pushes you, so you start moving your mouth and hand up and down his length, with your tongue swirling over his tip and all the other sensitive parts of him. 

Your free hand explores. You stroke his leg and then brush your fingers over his inner thighs. You caress his torso when you go deep and bask in the way he breathlessly curses, over and over again. 

Needing a quick breather, you let your hands do their work. But Jungkook takes this chance to bend over and capture your mouth in his. He kisses you fervently, sucking the air out of you and you don’t really mind running out of it, not when he tastes as good as he does, when he’s as desperate for you as you are for him. He pulls on your hair gently, slowly tightening his grip when your kiss gets more intense. 

He eventually pulls away, leaving you free to tease and suck his cock once again. He moans continuously, cursing under his breath once you let him guide your head to take all of him in. His obscene sounds make it all worth it, especially once you feel his body tighten.

“Fuck, baby I’m close,” he whimpers. “Fuck, I–I need to come inside you, fuck.”

You slowly remove yourself from him, but your hand remains wrapped around his length. You look at him with your glassy eyes, desperate to feel every inch of him possible.

“Come inside me, please,” you whisper. “I want to feel you come inside me. I need…”

You pant, your eyes telling him what you really mean. You don’t want any more barriers. You want to feel him drag against your walls, to release his warmth and fill you up completely. You’ve mentioned being clean and so has he; you said in passing how you’re on implants, too. He looks at you and nods in understanding, just like all the times that you’ve spoken to each other through your gazes. With the way he heaves, he seems to want it just as much as you. 

He pulls you towards him and guides you to sit on his lap. He strokes his cock and drags his tip through your folds, teasing you before slowly pushing it inside you. He feels even more immaculate like this, and your walls embrace him immediately, as if he’s always meant to be there. You get on your knees as you position yourself to ride him, and your gentle movements follow a pace that has you keening, especially when he starts licking your pert nipples that’s been needing his attention. 

You grind against him with his hands kneading your ass to guide you. You feel him deep, and it has you breathless and wanting more.You sit up and wrap your arms around his neck for support as he pounds on you from below, and with his tight grip around your waist and his mouth sucking your breasts, you start to feel hazy.

“You feel so good around me, shit,” he moans. “Fuck, baby. You’re so perfect for me, fuck.”

He continues his thrusts and you’re so lost in the overstimulation. Your body starts to shake as you chase the high, letting it all overwhelm you. 

“Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whimper. “I’m—”

Your orgasm is a loud crash, and you feel it linger. You feel your essence coat him; you feel the slick drip out of you and stick to your bodies, mixed with the sweat from all the work of building each other up.   

He curses again as he feels the wetness all over his cock, and it’s heavenly. Feeling you like this does something to him, and he wants you to do it again. 

So he pounds even harder, not giving you much time to calm down. You moan in response, scratching his back as you hold onto him tightly while he releases all his energy onto pleasuring you and him. He slows his pace and moves in circular motions before he lays you on your back. Your eyes are glassy. Your mouth knows only his name. Your hair is damp and you’re panting. And you look absolutely beautiful as you beg for him to make you come again, and for him to finally come inside you.

Watching you feel all that he can give is what he needs. With his arms propped on your sides to support him, he goes hard and deep. He’s been somewhat gentle these first few times, and he knows that that drives you wild. But he also knows that going a bit rough would make you lose your mind even more, so that’s what he does. 

He pins your arms down as he slowly pushes inside you.

“You like it like this, yeah?” He pants. “You like it when I reach this deep?”

“Yes, baby. Yes, please. Please don’t stop,” you whimper, this view of him with his damp hair and his silver chain hanging over you making you crazy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head with how good he feels, especially when he hits you at an angle that makes your body come alive but also numb, and it’s a feeling you can’t get enough of. 

He hums in satisfaction, choosing now to suck on your neck while he continues his assault on your pussy. He licks the shell of your ear and whispers how good you make him feel.

“You take me so well, baby. Such a good girl, yeah?” He grunts. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

You can only moan in response, unable to form proper words now. And he senses it, with your mouth hanging open and your erratic breathing escaping it. 

He straightens himself, knowing what he needs to do. So he plays with your clit while his other movements continue, and that’s how you find your voice again. He quickens his pace, his thumb doing its work on your most sensitive spot while your walls pulsate around his throbbing cock. Your legs start to shake until you’re wailing in pleasure, screaming his name as you orgasm another time. He knows enough to focus on kissing you, swallowing your sounds as you come down.

But you want him to reach his peak this time, so you tell him to keep going, to find his spot so he could fill you up this time. He spreads your legs open in response, giving him a view that makes him throb even more. It’s what he needs, as he focuses on his pleasure like you told him. He bucks his hips, finding his pace that quickens then slows down then quickens again, until his erratic movements signal that he’s close, too.

“Yes, baby,” you urge him. “You’re gonna fill me up so good. I want it so bad. Come for me, please baby.”

He does a few more thrusts before he’s spilling his warm seed inside you, with him moaning out curses every second. His cum drips from your hole but he catches it with his tip, pushing it back inside you until so is he. He stays there for a while as you both catch your breaths, with him collapsing to your side while you move along with him. You can still feel his cock pulsate against your walls, and it causes you to moan. You’ve never felt that before, and it’s another intimate thing you share with him, as he wraps his arm around you and languidly kisses you after. 

“That was amazing,” he breathes out.

“It was,” you hum, smiling at him looking spent and content. “I like you here. Stay a while, please.”

He chuckles at your request but he doesn’t mind it either. It’s intimate, as all things with you beyond sex are. He just wants to stay close to you, to hear your soft breaths and revel in the feel of you, sweat and slick included. 

But as much as he could fall asleep here, he knows he shouldn’t. He pulls away and lets you head to the bathroom to clean up. He follows soon after and he catches you on the sink, removing your makeup then turning to him once you hear him arrive.

“My body’s kinda sore,” he says. “Do you wanna have a bath?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” you smile. “But we can’t stay long. You have work tomorrow so you need to sleep soon.”

“Alright,” he nods, walking to the bathtub now. “I’ll try to keep my hands off of you, then.”

Jungkook doesn’t. And neither do you, even when you both head to the shower to rinse yourselves. 

You curl in his arms right when he lays next to you, and despite all the intensity from earlier, you know that this will always be your favorite part - his fingers tracing patterns on your back, his lips constantly finding yours, and his eyes telling you all the other things that words or actions can’t say. He’s your safe place. You think from now on, he’ll always be.

You wake up to your alarm the next morning, the ringing pulling out a groan from you; you haven’t needed it this past week and you suddenly miss just sleeping in.

But it’s Monday, the start of a new week. Jungkook will be off to work and you’ll have to go back to your own apartment and start preparing for your own job that will start next week. You manage to get yourself off the bed and his soft sheets and go to the bathroom to wash up.

Once you finish, you head out and immediately hear his grunts from where you are. You know he’s in the middle of his workout, so you peek inside the gym, finally shameless to be doing it this time. He’s shirtless doing some arm exercise on his equipment, but he has his back turned on you so you stare at it instead, instantly feeling hot at the view of his broad shoulders and slim waist. His muscles contract with every movement and you remember how that felt when you held onto them last night to keep you grounded as he pounded into you from every angle. 

His set finishes and he turns around and sees you, donned in his shirt and standing by the door. He moves to another machine, takes a seat, and starts doing a shoulder press while gazing back at you. Half of you is tempted to sit on his lap and kiss him stupid, but the other half wants to stay rooted on your spot to watch him. 

The latter wins and you stand there, thighs squeezing at the sight and sound of him, as he grunts with his every push of the weights. His eyes don’t move away from you and you just know he’s enjoying this, too, especially when he smirks once your mouth slowly opens. 

“Enjoying yourself there?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You like how I look? How I sound?”

“Oh, shush,” you frown at being teased. “You’re overdoing it. You’re not that loud when you exercise.”

“So you listen to me, huh?” He smirks again, walking towards you now. “How did that make you feel?”

“I used to come here every morning, Jungkook. I couldn’t not hear you,” you cross your arms. “And I just looked away.”

“You’re not looking away now.”

“How can I when you’re teasing like that,” you scrunch your eyebrows. 

“Is it working?”

“Were you always this cocky?” You laugh now.

“No,” he chuckles. “Just now. Only because I see your jaw dropping and your thighs squeezing.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” 

“Oh, don’t challenge me like that,” he warns, caging you against the wall. 

He eyes your lips but he bends down towards your chest instead, biting your pert nipple that’s gotten so obvious under his cotton shirt. He nibbles on it briefly before swirling his tongue around it. You hiss, feeling the sensation all over your body with that small movement, and it’s what urges him to face you again.

“Cute,” he whispers.

He licks your mouth, prompting you to open it and let him inside, and your moan at the taste of him is immediate. Your hands move on their own, pulling him by his neck then caressing his chest like it’s natural. You start to feel the dampness in your underwear and pull away, knowing that you can’t fall into this early in the morning, and not when he has a job to go to.

“Jungkook, you have work,” you say, hating that you have to cut this moment short. “If we start then…”

“I know,” he sighs, given how you both can’t seem to stop once you get into it. “I’ll just do a bit more and then wash up. You can still watch if you like.”

“Tempting, but I’ll be making us breakfast.”

“And what’s on the menu?”

“Fried rice,” you smile.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Now I don’t need to hide how much I enjoy that.”

You giggle and let him go then head to the kitchen where you work on making enough for tomorrow, in case he wants to have it again before he leaves. You brew coffee and work around just like you used to, but with a bit more freedom this time. You hum while you cook and prepare in excitement. You’ve learned that you like doing things for him, and this is one way that you could spoil him.

Jungkook exits his gym after some ab workouts and stretching, his heart racing in a different way when he sees you in his kitchen again. It brings him back to this past year of his weekday mornings and his favorite routine.

But you’re not in your work outfit this time, and it won’t be stolen glances or comfortable silence you’ll be sharing. There’ll be more, and though this won’t be the norm, given your own job that you’ll be starting next week, Jungkook decides this is another favorite of his. He hopes for more moments of domestic bliss where it’s just you and him in his home, sharing meals and hugs and kisses in between. 

He gives himself some time before he calls your attention, wanting to savor this first before he faces a busy week, one he’ll have to go through without you. 

“Enjoying yourself there?” You tease this time. 

“Yes,” he chuckles. “It’s just… nice to start a work week with you again.”

You smile softly at him, knowing that it hurt him to be without this for weeks. You show him the bowl of fried rice you’ve made, and even you’re salivating. Perhaps it’s also because of the man standing in front of you, and the sight of him like this just never fails to take your breath away.

“It’s nice to start with this, too,” you gesture towards the food. “It’s a new recipe but I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” he smiles back, following you to the table and sitting next to you. 

He hums in satisfaction after the first spoonful. You watch him as he eats, endeared by the way he’s enjoying the dish despite looking like a whole meal himself. 

You both finish and you clean up while he takes a bath, quickly dressing yourself then heading to his closet. It’s no longer your responsibility but it’s a task you secretly enjoyed, so you put out a navy blue ensemble for Jungkook and set aside a few outfits that he can pack for his trips this week. 

He walks in with a towel wrapped around his waist, and you stop yourself again from wanting to do anything. It’s hard when he looks as good as he does at any time of the day, but it’s something you’ll just have to get used to. You get to be around while he puts on his clothes now, and he doesn’t seem to mind at all, given his teasing smile and soft laughter. 

You stand in front of him and fix his necktie. His eyes flit from your fingers to your face, liking that he’s able to do that this time.

“You know you don’t have to do this,” he says. “But… I like that you are.”

“It’s intimate, isn’t it? Dressing someone?” You glance at him.

You’ve done something similar in the past, like when you fixed the creases of his suit or the time he put his jacket over you. They were so simple but they stuck with you, and something in you stirs as you do this for him now. 

“It is,” he smiles back, nibbling his lower lip.

You help him wear the coat then fix his tie again. You meet his eyes and then his lips before exiting the room, your gazes saying more than words could. He picks up your bags then you both walk to the car so he could drive you home before he heads to work.

“I’ll see you tonight?” You turn to him.

“Of course. I’ll get to you at 6, is that okay?”

“Yes, I’ll make dinner,” you smile. 

He lets you go after a kiss and you head inside your apartment with all your freshly washed clothes and new shoes. It’s a nice feeling being able to go through them and then fixing them in your closet. It’s nice having this time for yourself, too. While you like being with Jungkook, you know it’s important to not forget how it’s like to be on your own. 

You do your chores for the rest of the morning while talking to Soomin and Jimin on the phone, as you’re finally able to tell them most of what’s happened since Friday night. They’re supportive, as they often are, and they seem to be looking forward to hanging out with him like you suggested. 

You go out for lunch at a small noodle house before settling at a nice cafe where you read the book that Namjoon gave you. At mid-afternoon, you head to the supermarket to buy your groceries for the next two weeks, including tonight’s dinner. Thinking about what you’ll make for him was easy; you just hope you’ll do it justice, considering that it’s one of Jungkook’s favorite things to eat. 

You don’t hear much from him during the day. He messaged you during lunch time just to say he was eating out with Yoongi then asked how you were. He didn’t respond after a few texts, which you didn’t mind. You always felt that he wasn’t the texting type, which is good because you aren’t, either. There’s at least that level of understanding and expectation on both sides. You know of his tendency to hyper focus; he’s also a very busy man, which is why you know that when he’s with you, he’s focused on just you and nothing else, which is really what you prefer. 

He calls when he’s on the way to you and before you know it, he’s ringing the doorbell and you’re being greeted by the said man who still looks impeccable after a long day. He hands you flowers and a bottle of champagne. 

“You didn’t have to but this is lovely,” you smile at him. 

You put the bouquet on a vase then place it on the coffee table. After taking his seat, you serve the dish that you’ve spent the past few hours making, wanting to make sure that the meat is tender and flavorful. The beef looks so soft and the aroma is filling your apartment. You watch him after the first bite, your heart soaring when he smiles and hums in satisfaction.

“This is so good,” he says. “Reminds me so much of the beef brisket from that restaurant near the office.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted. That dish is your favorite,” you explain. “You order it often. It was also the first dish you ever bought for me.”

He stops his movements and looks at you questioningly. 

“It was after the first board report submission,” you recall. “You instructed me to buy the team lunch from that restaurant and this is what I ordered because you always did. I… I treat it as the first meal you got for me and I wanted to try making it for you.”

Jungkook remembers that day. You were surprised that he gave that instruction. You also made sure that the team enjoyed it and thanked him for it. He liked that you enjoyed it as well, but claiming that that was the first dish he got you is technically untrue. And he’s unsure if telling you the truth is a good idea, but he supposes it’s one he can share now.

“It was actually pork cutlets with curry,” he says, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “It was on my first day. I… I made you do so many things and you missed lunch.”

The memory comes back to you. He had you annotate documents and attend meetings and you were starving the whole day.

“Right. I stayed late that day and I think Yoongi got me dinner. How was that…”

You remember more. Yoongi had spoken with Jungkook before he left then came back with a rice bowl. Is it possible that—

“I asked him to get it for you and not say it was from me,” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “The pastries during the meeting, too. Those… those were the first things I bought for you, all because I was guilty about how I treated you that day.”

You see the sadness and apology in his eyes. You suppose with how you both started, it’s easy to fall into a cycle of feeling bad about what happened, forgiving, moving on, and then remembering something again. But maybe it’s necessary this time, as you both get to know each other and settle in this new relationship. Mistakes will come up, and it’s on both of you to assure each other that it’s all okay. 

So that’s what you do, as you tell him you’re not upset when he asks if you are.

“I guess in a way, you’ve always looked out for me,” you smile at him. 

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” he sighs, wanting to be positive about it like you are. 

But you don’t want to dwell on the past. You’ve been apologizing to each other for days and you know you’ll have to stop that at some point. 

“You’ve been soft for me since the start, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him in an effort to lighten the mood.

“I was attracted to you from the beginning,” he admits. “You were nothing like I imagined and you kept proving me wrong. I’d zone out when you spoke to me, I’d hold my breath when you were close… so I detached myself from you and that hurt you in some ways. And I knew that was wrong so I fought the feelings and that made it worse.”

“What changed?”

“I hated seeing you have a hard time, whether it was because of me or not,” he says. “One moment it was out of guilt and then the next… it was just about wanting to see you happy and safe. And then wanting to see all of that up close.”

“You get to do that now,” you smile at him. “Happy, safe… that’s what I am.”

“Good. Me, too,” he smiles back.

You continue with your meal while he talks about his relatively quiet but busy day and you talk about yours. It’s nice being able to share mundane things that happened to you with someone who does the same. 

The sadness in his eyes eventually disappears. He insists on doing the dishes this time and you both laugh as he navigates washing in the tiny sink. You sit on the couch with him, the sounds of the TV in the background merely white noise, and with your head on his chest and his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, you think that ending your days like this is a lot more peaceful and satisfying than being on your own.

“What time do you leave in the morning?” You ask. 

“7,” he responds. 

He’s got a busy week ahead - a trip to Incheon then Busan tomorrow to do some promotions of the Arts Center, and then he goes straight to Japan on Wednesday for meetings with culture and tourism ministers. He comes back on Friday evening, and that’s four days without you. It may sound silly, but that’s four days too long. He managed before though, but then again, he didn’t have much to look forward to after other than seeing you once he returned. Now, it’s that and so much more.

“I can’t believe that we just got together and now we have to do LDR,” he shakes his head.

This causes you to laugh. You angle your head and look at him, with your arms wrapped around his waist now. 

“Wow, Mr. Jeon. I didn’t think you were that dramatic,” you tease. 

He’d laugh back because he really does sound silly, but the way your soft eyes gaze at him makes him feel a little more sentimental. And definitely honest.  

“Just wanna be with you, that’s all,” he shrugs.

“You’re clingy and needy and cheesy too,” you laugh, kissing his cheek after every word. 

He groans and you’re endeared by how he pouts at you. He’s definitely been expressive about how he feels, but you’ll be apart for the next few days. You’ll be outside your little bubble of affection this time and now have to learn how to balance your relationship with every other responsibility you both have. But you want to assure him just like you hope he’d assure you.

You climb onto his lap, interlock your fingers with his, then smile at him. 

“I like it because it’s you,” you whisper. “And I like you a lot. And I wanna be with you, too. But you have duties and so do I. So you’ll get through this week and do well in those appearances and meetings, and then I can meet you on Friday for dinner and spend the weekend together. Does that sound good?”

“It does,” he smiles back, kissing your hand that has your heart racing because of how tender he does it. “I’m not really uh, a texting kind of person, but let me know how you’re doing, okay? We could talk at night and you can tell me how your day went.”

“I will. And you can tell me, too.”

You nod in agreement and hug him. You’re flushed against his chest and there’s just so much comfort in this. You exhale a deep breath as you feel relaxed, especially when he starts to rub your back. It’s calming, until his hands slip underneath your shirt and his touch slowly rouses you. You feel his desire as he hugs you tightly, and now all you want is for those hands to touch everything else, and for yours to do the same.

You sit back up then pull him forward for a deep kiss, cupping his face and inhaling him, tasting him, feeling him. You slowly unknot his loose necktie, and you feel him smile against your lips, knowing exactly what comes next. You pull away and let him lean back, giving you the space to unbutton his dress shirt while you’re snug on top of his length, liking the bit of friction you feel while you expose more of him to you. 

You reveal his torso, and he watches you admire him from this view. You’re stunning like this, especially with the desire for him painting your face. Your hands map out his body, and he tries to steady his breathing but to no avail. It’s only been a few days but he doesn’t think he’ll get over how your touch affects him anytime soon, not when it ignites something feral in him. 

But he’ll take his time just like you seem to be doing. Even your kisses on his neck and chest are slow and tender, as if you’re savoring all this, knowing you’ll be without it for a few days. You’ll both have to be outside this bubble of safety while he’s away, and he supposes it’s the start of how things will be from now on. But he’s excited for it, if his week will start and end this way. It’s something he can now look forward to, and that carries with it excitement and relief. 

Your lips trail south, the soft pecks being accompanied by your tongue and teeth doing more now. You start to rhythmically grind against his semi-hard length, and when you guide his hand under your shirt and on your breast, he lets out a low growl that has you biting your lip in anticipation. 

It’s what does it for him, and soon enough, you’re both undressed, moaning each other’s names, and damp from sweat. He’s holding you in his arms by the end of it, both your chests still heaving and minds probably hazy. But this is what he wants with you - this feeling of passion and overwhelming desire, of a kind of intensity that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Or maybe even ever. 

But he has to let you go, and when he does, there’s that comfort he didn’t think that letting you go would make him feel. He’ll go home knowing you’re thinking of him. He’ll go through his days knowing he’ll be hearing from you. And he’ll meet you eventually, knowing that it will be this same desire you’ll be sharing and expressing, and that’s definitely something he can’t wait to do again.

You’re a little disoriented when you wake up in your bed the next morning. It’s not soft sheets that you bury yourself into this time, but then again, the body soreness is quite familiar. It’s something you don’t mind though, not when you know the reason why.

It’s only been a few days but Jungkook just seems to know your body. He seems to really like it, too, with the way he takes his time kissing it, caressing it, and praising it. He knows just how to work his tongue on your most sensitive parts to make you reach your peak. He knows just how much strength to exert, or how deep he should go in what angle, and when to increase his pace or slow down. He knows just what to say, vulgar or otherwise, or when to look at you tenderly or as if he’ll devour you, or when to grip you tightly and when to hold you softly. 

And he’d done all of that last night. While your tiny couch could only make you do so much, you both still knew what to do whether you were on top of him, on your knees, or under him. 

It was definitely a good way to say goodbye, and he would’ve gone another round if it wasn’t for you convincing him that he had to go home so he could pack his things and be ready for an early trip. You don’t want him to be too tired then oversleep, and you’re glad that he didn’t. 

You check your phone and see that he messaged you at 7:15 to say that he and Mr. Ri have already left and are on their way to Incheon. He’ll attend a meeting and then appear at an event before they take the long drive to Busan for another event where he’ll present the Arts Center and make a speech. He’ll spend the night there before an early morning flight to Tokyo. It’s the first of many post-opening promotions he’ll be doing, and you know there’ll be more of these business trips that you’ll have to get used to.

But you don’t mind being alone this time, not when you have your own preparations and rest to do, and not when you know that you’ll be hearing from him at the end of the day. There’s the weekend you’ll be looking forward to with him. 

Your mom had reminded you during a brief call yesterday about making sure you preserve your independence and identity, and you tell her that you always had.

“Yes, because those relationships were different,” she said of your exes. “You did that because you didn’t want to share much of yourself with them. But with Jungkook, you are, and it’s also the first time. Just… make sure to hold onto the things that made you happy before him, and he should, too,” she advises. “Share them, but don’t forget them. Don’t lose what makes you, you.”

It’s wisdom from someone who’d gone through relationships herself, who’d loved and lost and loved again. And it’s a good reminder. 

This is all new to you, and you suppose it’s easy to fall into this trap of dependence with your partner, of the honeymoon stage and the giddy, euphoric parts of romance. At the end of the day, Jungkook still has duties and you have a new path to take on. You’ll both have days of being too busy, too tired, maybe a bit frustrated, too. You’ll need to ground yourself in other ways and like your mom had said, not depend on the other person to always make things better, even if most days they could. 

It’s the same thing that your next-door neighbor tells you when you decide to have lunch with her after she lures you with some grilled fish. She tells you about the encounter with Jungkook and you narrate how you got together. It may all seem too much, too soon and now that you’re apart from him, maybe it is. Maybe it’s also just all the emotions you both kept in finally being expressed. 

And you think that maybe it’s also good that you have this time for yourself to remind you of all the other things you enjoy in life. Now you don’t have to treat them as substitutes for what you really desire because you already have that connection and intimacy you’ve been yearning for. You get to truly feel the joy of immersing yourself in your interests, and you suppose that’s one way to not lose yourself.

So you go back home and tend to your plants. You go to the theater and watch a local film and not feel like you’re escaping your life or anything this time. You bake cookies after your chicken in broth dinner because it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. 

You share all these things with Jungkook later that evening while you’re on a video call with him, including what your mom and neighbor had said. 

“I was a little down that you’ll be away but now I… I’m thinking I shouldn’t be,” you say. “I’ll always miss and think about you but I don’t want to feel like I miss myself when I’m with you. Am I making any sense?”

“You are,” he smiles on the screen. “It’s the same reason why you didn’t want me to miss my meeting with my father and cousin yesterday. I still have a role. Now that I’m with you, I feel like I’ll stop feeling like that weighs me down. It used to because all I was was tied to that title. I didn’t feel like I was anything else.”

You think about his words and how resigning felt liberating for you. Beyond feeling indebted, it’s clear to you that you felt stuck because it’s all you knew to do; being an assistant was all you knew how to be. It wasn’t just the stress or the pressure because you know every job you take will have those. In fact, you look forward to it in your new position. You realize that you like working, you like the hustle, you like the grind. But if it’s all you do, you lose the joy. 

Now, you have a hand to hold and a warm body to wake up to. You have someone to share your days and joys and frustrations with. You have someone to laugh with and cry to. And so days on your own feel like much-needed time to enjoy things you prefer doing by yourself. And work could feel more challenging in a good way, pushing you to be better and seeing what else you could accomplish. Somehow, being with Jungkook makes you feel like there’s so much more you could do because at the end of the day, there’s someone to celebrate with, to share your thoughts with; there’s someone to cheer you on and support you.

You tell him all this and he seems to reflect on it as well. 

“The councils were very impressed with the Arts Center,” he says after a while. “They said it’s a good complement to their efforts of promoting local artists because of the opportunities for exhibitions. At that moment, I felt proud of what we’ve done. And it reminded me of why I wanted to focus on this aspect of the job. I always told my parents that I wanted to be responsible for the creative side of the company and I am but it felt so heavy even if I asked for it. I don’t have to carry that pressure with me all the time. I get to take a break from it when I’m with you and I think that’s made me enjoy it more.”

It’s a realization Jungkook had on the way home after that dinner meeting with a local artist in Busan. She talked about envisioning her pieces displayed in a space like the Arts Center and he felt that joy of being able to create something for others to be a part of. Structures are beautiful on their own, but then the meaning deepens because of what they mean for users; the sense of fulfillment is different. He supposes that he’s able to appreciate that part of the job even more now. 

“That’s good for us, then,” you hum, as you slowly succumb to sleep. “I have quite the day tomorrow and so do you. Rest now, Jungkook. And I’ll talk to you again.”

He says goodbye with such softness in his eyes. You miss him, but you’re happy that he’s able to experience all this on his own, too. Hearing him talk about it is different than witnessing it yourself and that’s perhaps the joy in being with someone. It’s not just about experiencing what they experience; it’s also about being on the receiving end when they try to make sense of it. 

Maybe that’s what partnership is about, and you can’t imagine sharing all this to anyone else but him. And that’s the difference this time. This is a person you admire and who admires you back.  He’s someone you could trust and feel safe enough to be your true self with, and after tonight’s conversation, you feel like you’re that same person for him.

You wake up early enough the next day and manage to send Jungkook a message wishing him well on his flight to Tokyo. He gives you a call as he’s about to board and says he has so many things lined up this Wednesday but that he’ll talk to you again in the evening. It’s a promise of tonight despite the distance, and you suppose that makes all the difference for him this time. 

You go about your busy day, too. You make yourself a simple breakfast and then head to Rkive Publishing for your onboarding. You requested this to be done earlier so that you could focus on your tasks when you start on Monday, and Namjoon gladly agreed to your request.

He introduces you to Won-woo, your co-production officer who’ll be handling projects alongside you, and to the associates and assistants whom you’ll manage to get the books ready for selling. The team seems a lot more relaxed than what you’re used to, and they share your excitement in working together soon.

Namjoon shows you your desk and turns over your laptop. He introduces you to the rest of the staff and lets the HR go through all the administrative matters with you. He gives you a folder with all the existing and upcoming projects that the associates prepared, including the processes and suppliers list, as well as your team’s personnel files. 

You smile at the documents because preparing these used to be your job, and now you’re at the receiving end of it. It’s a different feeling, but being here today excites you even more. 

You join them at a book launch and take notes of how it’s being run. As a small company, planning these events is done by a special team composed of a staff member from every department but there isn’t really someone who manages it. That’s a responsibility given to you because of your background, and it’s a challenge you’re willing to take. You have more freedom this time and you have ideas. You observe how Namjoon and the other managers engage with the author and his team. It’s definitely different from what you’re used to, and you feel there’s more sincerity in these people than the millionaires you had to deal with at your old job. 

You feel accomplished at the end of it, and it’s something you share with Jungkook again that evening when you eat your Chinese takeout while he munches on some dessert over the phone. 

Not wanting to stay home the next day, you go to a park and finish reading your book. You decide to go to the library at the Arts Center and go through the project documents. You walk around, too, able to take in more of the surroundings with the sun still out. It’s a calming place that has you coming up with ideas for book launches, as you take note of the indoor and outdoor spaces that could definitely hold those types of events. You feel fulfilled, and it’s something you share with Yoongi during dinner later that night. 

You share it with Jungkook, too, over a late evening video call after he had drinks with some business partners. He sounds quite tipsy, and he goes on about having your lemon ginger tea that you convince him to ask room service to make. You remind him of his lunch breakfast meeting and afternoon flight, and tell him that you could both meet for dinner after he clocks out of work.

It’s what you do the next day, as you wait for him at a French restaurant that you reserved for tonight. You turn around when he calls your name, and your smile is immediate when he comes up to you and hugs you tightly. He sounded tired when he called on the way here, and you suppose that he hasn’t really properly rested these past few days. He’s been going from one meeting or event to another, and he’s said before how the socializing drains all of his energy. 

You feel that now, as he exhales deeply while his arms wrap around you. 

“Long week, huh?” You say after you both take your seats. 

“Crazy,” he shakes his head. “Talking about the plans was exciting but the actual talking was tiring.”

He goes on about how the rest of his trip went and you laugh at his commentary about all the people he’s met and his observations. You realize just how much is on his mind, and it reminds you of all the times that you’d seen him look detached when in fact, he’d been making notes and plans in his head. 

Once the food arrives and you salivate at the dishes, he says he’ll stop talking about work now.

“It’s part of your day. Why should you stop talking about it?” You turn to him with a pout.

“I don’t want to bother you about it.”

“But I like hearing you talk about it,” you say. “I like knowing what’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours.”

“There’s always too much going on inside it,” he laughs. “I don’t always know how to make sense of them.”

“It’s because you don’t talk about them,” you point out. “I’m here to listen. I always am.”

He smiles and shares what happened today during the meeting he had with the team to discuss all the proposals they’ve been getting with regards to promoting the Arts Center. A subsidiary company is handling operations and marketing, but other than the planned partnerships with the Culture Ministry and the International Film Festival organizers, Jungkook didn’t expect other industries, as well as local and foreign companies and institutions, to want to partner with Jeon Corporation as well, specifically him. 

He had a phone meeting with his father and Hoseok during the drive from the airport about how they can strategically go about this but that requires more canvassing and research. This is something they can tap on, and it’s good for the company image and sustainability. Residential and commercial infrastructure have always been their expertise but they can build on the cultural sides of property development, too, and Jungkook would be at the forefront of that.

“Monitoring the Arts Center is a big task in itself. I’m gonna have to set a plan for how the VP Office is going to handle it, among many other things,” he says. 

“Maybe it’s time to revisit each team member’s portfolio and responsibilities,” you suggest. “Under Hoseok, only Manager Lee and Chin-sun directly handled projects, but they were all small ones so they could handle multiple. Do-hyun and Yohan managed all administrative affairs and I oversaw a bit of everything. Monitoring the Arts Center might require more than one person so maybe Chin-sun could do it with Do-hyun as a form of mentorship. You have the call to give projects to the young ones now, and maybe add another person to help with administration and events planning. Lucas could need that support.”

Jungkook is quiet and you’re afraid you might’ve crossed a line by advising him on what he could do as VP. You may have been his assistant but that doesn’t mean you could just go on and suggest things. You don’t even know if it’s appropriate to do this. He didn’t even technically ask for your opinion. 

You’re about to apologize when he speaks.

“Those are great ideas. I’ll be meeting them about their development and professional goals soon. Maybe I could align expanded responsibilities and portfolios with that,” he hums. “And mentorship is good, too. Hoseok said he planned on doing that but he had to oversee so many projects that it got pushed back so maybe I can institutionalize that now. And yeah, I’m seeing now that we’d need another person to ease the load off the others. I don’t want them to be overworking and actually, neither should I.”

A smile forms on your face as the ideas come flowing. He probably had thought of those already but needed a sounding board outside of the team. That would usually be his assistant but if it’s about them, he’d need another person for it. 

“I’m sorry I’m bringing this upon you,” he shakes his head. “That’s… that’s not your job anymore. You’re not my assistant anymore. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you for that.”

You didn’t really think of it that way but you don’t blame him for thinking about it. You did accuse him of wanting you to stay for the convenience of it, and maybe that’s still weighing on him.

“I don’t mind,” you assure him. “This is new territory for us, I guess, and it’s something we have to learn to navigate but this is important to you, which means it’s important to me, too. If we treat it like that, then it’s all okay.”

You caress his hand to assure him, and his smile says he understands. He’ll seek advice from his father, he tells you, and you’re glad that he’s actively working on that relationship personally and professionally. 

“How are you feeling about your first day?” He asks, his hand on your bare thigh now while you eat the chocolate mousse dessert. “Do you feel like you’re ready?”

“I’m really excited. And I think I’m ready to just get on with it,” you smile. “Being there last Wednesday helped, and I just have all these ideas for the projects we’ve got lined up. I… I even thought of having book launches in the Arts Center. As long as, you know, it’s not a conflict of interest or anything.”

Your shy smile endears him, and he assures you that it’s not a problem. You’re just using your network. At the end of the day, it’s still the managing company’s call and your own boss’ decision. But you end up bouncing off ideas with him, too, like the Arts Center hosting writing workshops or spoken poetry sessions with the authors whose books you’ll be publishing. 

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” He says after you’ve finished dinner and you’re walking to his car. “We’re out here just coming up with these ideas.”

“We work pretty well together so it’s not a surprise,” you smile at him. “I like that there’s no pressure, too. And that we could just share these things with each other, you know?”

“That’s true. I mean, I’m not assessing you or anything,” he laughs. “But I can openly admire you for it. And then think it’s sexy when you use publishing terms that I don’t understand.”

“So that’s what you want, huh?” You giggle. “I mean, I understand. It’s how I am with you.”

“Ah, so you find it sexy when I talk about the blueprints and design stuff, then?” He teases. 

“I do,” you smirk. “A hot guy with a big brain? Of course that’s sexy.”

“Hmm, that’s nice to know,” he says, caging you against the door of the car. 

His eyes soften as he takes you in and you mirror the way he looks. 

“I’m happy I get to be with you again,” he whispers, his lips inching closer to yours. 

“Me, too,” you whisper back. “And I get to sleep and wake up next to you.”

“That’s always a good plan,” he hums, kissing you deeply, something he could definitely do in an empty basement parking that he couldn’t do at a restaurant. 

You fall into him immediately, and all you want is to do this without worry. “Do you mind if we spend the night at my place?” You suggest. “It’s closer.”

He laughs when he pulls away but agrees that getting home as quickly as possible is a good idea. You both enter the car and his palm is glued to your thigh again and you feel the desire heighten now that you’re alone.

Once the door of your apartment shuts, his hands are all over you immediately. You’re undressed by the time you make the short walk to your dining area, and before you could breathe from your rough kissing, you’re whimpering already with how his tongue expertly laps up your sopping cunt. 

You’re bent on the table one minute, coming on his mouth and then the next, you’ve got your leg on it while he pounds you from behind, his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts. 

You go another round in your tiny bathroom, and then another one on the edge of your bed before you’re able to properly lie on it. You’re spent after another quick shower, but it’s worth it when he fucks you as good as he does, especially after not seeing him for a few days.

You’re laid on your side, facing him who does the same. The lamp from your living room is the only source of light you have, but it’s enough for you to see his face and the smile that paints it as you explain that your bed is not as comfortable and your sheets are not as soft as his are. He says that he’ll get used to it, but you insist on passing up on your apartment next time because it’s definitely not sex-conducive unlike his penthouse. He laughs at your comments, saying that he could have sex with you anywhere and it would still be amazing. 

But that cheekiness quickly fades away, and the anxious look in his eyes starts to worry you.

It takes a while but you hear it - the pitter-patter on your window that slowly starts getting louder. You turn around and watch helplessly as the drizzle turns to a downpour in seconds, and you rush out of the bed to close the curtains. 

Jungkook looks uneasy - his jaws are clenched, his eyes flit from the window to you, and his breathing starts to quicken. His body shrivels, as he pulls the covers tight around him and you can’t imagine how anxious he feels. You turn on your speaker and put on some soft music to hopefully drown out the sounds. It works only a little, and you’re reminded of all the times that you felt powerless and unable to give him comfort.

But that’s not the case now, as his words prompt you to move.

“Come here, please,” he mumbles. “I need you with me.”

You return to your spot next to him, and he loosens his hold on the blanket to let you in. 

“I’m here, okay?” You whisper, cupping his face and looking at him in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me, Jungkook.”

His eyes soften a bit before they close, and you cover his ears with your hands the way you did all those months ago to block out the noise. It works, as his breathing starts to slow down. But his hold on your arms tightens, and you feel that he needs you as an anchor to get through this, so you shift up and let his arms wrap around you. He finds purchase in your neck while you caress his back, and you pace your breathing with his to let him know that you’re with him, and that you’re not letting him go.

The thunder doesn’t come, but you hold Jungkook the entire night to tell him that you’re there to comfort him even when the storm has passed. You drift to sleep once you hear his soft snores, letting his warmth envelope you as well.

You awake the next morning laid on your stomach like you tend to be, with only the warmth from the blanket covering you. You’re no longer hugging Jungkook. He also isn’t next to you. 

You shift on your back and then find him by the balcony, the curtains open now, allowing you to see the clear skies outside. He stands looking out, with a faraway look in his eyes the way he had the day after his nightmare. You watch him for a while, wondering what’s on his mind, if the fear still remains, or if your comfort helped him get through the night.

He senses you’re awake, so he turns around and faces you. There’s a softness in his eyes now and you wonder where that’s from.

“Hey,” he greets. “Did the light wake you?”

“No. The empty space next to me did,” you say softly, sitting up on the bed now.

“I’m sorry. I… I had to exercise a bit to expend the negative energy,” he explains. 

“What did you do?” You wonder. 

“Just some push-ups and lunges. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. You looked pretty peaceful,” he smiles.

“I don’t even know what time I slept. But it wasn’t long after you did. How do you feel?”

“Better. It was one of those nights, you know?”

You nod, suddenly overcome with a wave of sadness and regret. He notices the change in your expression and sits on the edge of the bed facing you. 

“Hey, is everything okay?”

You look at him with a pout. “I asked you to come here. Then it rained. And I know how you like to workout in the mornings and I have nothing to offer here.”

“You know you can’t control the weather, right?” He nudges your knee. “I would’ve asked if we could come here if you hadn’t because it was closer. And you… you were all I needed last night. I held onto you like a lifeline, ___.”

“You did,” you nod, appreciating his words, even if he’s not the one who should be comforting you after what happened. “I’m glad I could do that for you. I guess I’m just… a little ashamed because this is all I have and—”

“Baby, I’m gonna stop you there before you say anything else,” he says, scooting closer to you and tilting your chin so you could look at him. “This is your home and I… I know you don’t just let anyone in. I like being here. I like being with you. And last night, that will be one of many. I know I won’t be going through that on my own anymore.”

“I can’t control the weather, right?” You repeat his words. “What if it happens and I’m not with you?”

“I’ll just imagine that you are,” he hums. “And then I can head to you the next day and I’ll feel better. And that’s… that’s new for me.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thankful that you’re able to give him as much comfort and safety that he does with you. “I’m just here even if I’m not around.”

“I know,” he smiles, leaning close to kiss you. 

You give him a soft one then pout again, saying you still have to brush your teeth, so he lets you go and you scurry to the bathroom. You return to your bed with him lying on his back now, his arm folded behind his head as he gestures to the space next to him. You climb up and lay on top of his chest, kissing him languidly as his arms wrap around your waist to hold you in place.

He’s gentle with the way his tongue rolls around with yours, and with how his hands stroke your back as they’ve snuck underneath your shirt. There’s something about the rare cool morning that has you wanting to just lazily make out with him while you feel each other up.

And that’s exactly what happens. You hum and giggle against each other’s lips, and your hand maps his torso while he palms your waist down to your thigh. 

Laying on his chest now, you turn to him.

“I’m nervous about tonight,” you confess.

“Baby, you know my parents. And you know they like you,” he says, turning to you. “Even you think that they already approve of you.”

It’s true, you remind yourself. They have always been kind to you. You’ve had several conversations with CEO Jeon and he was the one who showed you the library. They also sounded excited about dinner when they called Jungkook last week, but being around them in a different context this time makes you anxious. 

“Approval is one thing but meeting expectations is another, and that’s what I’m worried about,” you explain. “They know me as an employee but not as the woman you’re, uh, currently seeing.”

“You mean dating.”

“Yes, that,” you shyly smile. “I worked for their family and now I’m… dating their son. And there are standards to that.”

“Standards that you already meet,” he assures you. “For all that my parents are, I at least know that what matters the most to them is that I’m with someone who genuinely wants me, and considering how you can’t get your hands off me, I know you do.”

You laugh at this teasing but you don’t deny it. 

“You’re quite irresistible, if I’m being honest,” you giggle. “I’m still getting used to the fact that I could, uh, do all this with you.”

“Well, I hope you don’t get tired of it. Because I won’t.”

“Look at you being good with words and all,” you smirk. “You surprise me, Mr. Jeon. I can’t wait to know what else is inside that heart of yours.”

“Me, too, actually,” he hums, realizing that there’s still so much he doesn’t know about what he’s capable of doing and feeling this time around. “I guess we can find out together.”

You smile at his honesty and think the same. You’re on this journey of learning what your heart can do and he’ll be the one to show you that. 

You lay in bed with Jungkook for the rest of the morning, having short naps and then lazy make out sessions before deciding to wash up. You eat at a cafe for lunch then head to his place this time. He works out for a bit then joins you on the couch as you watch a show before you both prepare for that dinner at his parents’ estate. 

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon warmly greet you when you arrive. They lead you to the dining room and you tone down your amazement at the spread before you. There are all types of meat and seafood and other fancy dishes that get you curious, something Jungkook seems to notice as he fills your plate and tells you to let him know what else you want more of. 

“Don’t be shy, dear,” his mother says. “Have as much as you want. We want you to feel at home and comfortable, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jeon,” you smile. 

You try to loosen up but still act proper, not wanting to give the impression that you’re uncultured and ignorant. Their family has so much experience of traveling the world and you want to show that you can keep up, that you’re worthy of sitting and walking alongside them and their son. You seem to be doing okay, but you don’t realize how nervous you really are until you feel Jungkook’s hand wrap around your own and then his fingers interlocking with yours.

He’s warm and stable, and when you tighten your grip, you see him smile from your periphery. You smile as well, wanting him to know that you appreciate the encouragement he’s giving. And it helps, as once you’re asked about your new job, you feel yourself relax in his hold, until he slowly lets you go, showing you that you’re doing well and can hold your own.

You talk with confidence and excitement about the publishing house and your responsibilities. Jungkook watches you beam when you mention your upcoming projects and the things you’re looking forward to learning, and he thinks you’re incredibly beautiful like this. It’s new and exciting for him, too, and it’s at this moment when all the pain and frustration from losing you the first time that it all feels truly worth it. 

Jungkook doesn’t expect to be as engaged as he is once his mother asks about his trips this past week. Oftentimes he’d give simple and straightforward answers, but with you around, there’s this new kind of comfort and feeling of openness towards his parents. Perhaps it’s gratitude that they helped you and your mom all those years ago. Maybe it’s also you, because being around you makes him want to be better. It might be both of that and more - it might also be him, realizing that he’s capable of receiving and returning the love of the two people who've given him the most. 

After dinner, you all proceed to the sitting room outside that overlooks the garden. You settle with a flute of champagne and sit next to Mrs. Jeon, appreciating the moon casting over the grand space filled with big trees and flower beds and a fountain. 

“I’ve added more outdoor lights,” CEO Jeon informs Jungkook as they sip their glass of whiskey. “I’ll show you the new ones.”

Jungkook nods and gestures to you that he’ll just go with his father. You watch them head out and walk around, with the older man pointing to different posts and seemingly explaining the lighting. Jungkook engages with him, and compared to what you’d witnessed in the past, his body language this time is no longer of detachment.

“You’ve done so much for our son, ___,” his mother breaks through your thoughts, prompting you to turn to her. “I hope you never doubt your place in this family. I know it’s all new and it’s just been a week but I want you to feel like you belong here, with him and with us.”

“That’s an honor to give me, Mrs. Jeon,” you respond in gratitude. “Please know that I won’t take that for granted.”

“I feel more grateful that you’re around,” she faintly smiles. “We’re just like most families, you know? I don’t want to be ignorant in saying that but we… We have our troubles. We never say enough, we say things we don’t mean, we let distance keep us apart, we love but we don’t show it the right way. But we try. We try with our sons but it doesn’t always get through. I always feel like too much has happened and we just never knew how to make up for it.”

“I think Jungkook’s seeing that now,” you assure her. “He’s told me about wanting to spend more time with you, to celebrate birthdays and holidays. It might take time but he wants to make plans. He won’t feel so far away from you anymore.”

“And we thank you for that,” she says. “We didn’t know how to make him open up to us and there are still things we don’t know about him. We lost so many years and I… I’ve been hoping that in being back here, he’ll give us a chance and now he has. And that’s because of you. You showed him the good that’s around him and you made him open up to those good things. All it took was you.”

“He did the same for me,” you point out. “I carried a lot of pain, too, and I’ve only started to embrace the good things around me because of him. Your son has such a beautiful heart, Mrs. Jeon, and regardless of what happened, I know he took that from you, too,” your voice cracks now. 

“Oh, dear,” she huffs, taking your hand in hers. “You have no idea how much it means to me to know that.”

She wipes the tears that form in her eyes and you give her a comforting smile. 

“He cares about you, Mrs. Jeon. And he’s slowly learning how to express that.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she smiles. “I hope you always stay by his side, dear. It can get hard sometimes, as it is with all relationships. But… I hope you hold each other’s hands throughout all of that.”

“I’m sure we’ll learn that, too,” you nod. 

You turn to where Jungkook and his father are and see that they’ve gone a bit further down. You ask his mother where they might be and she answers that they’re probably by the playground, as new lights have been installed in that area, too.

“You should go to him,” she urges. “That’s such a special place for him and I’m sure he’d want to show it to you.”

You nod and head out, your heart warming at finally being able to be in his safe space this time. You get there without catching their attention, and you look back at the humble structure before you, seeing the love that created it for a man you hold so close to you.

“That’s such a lovely playground, Mr. Jeon,” you say, prompting both men to turn to you. “Did you build this all by yourself?”

“Oh, I thought you were talking to me,” Jungkook states.

“You’re only Jungkook to me now,” you playfully shake your head, although you don’t miss the teasing way he cocks his eyebrow because you definitely still use the formalities as you please.

CEO Jeon laughs but gets back to your question. “I did. It was the first time I ever designed and constructed one and it took a while to do it. I had to figure out how to hide it from Jungkook because he would follow me out here that I had his mother take him to one of our properties in the mountains for the weekend just so I could finish it,” he laughs at the memory. “But it was all worth it. He loved it as a child and it stood the test of time.”

“It’s because you maintain it, father,” Jungkook points out. “That’s, uh, that’s dedication.”

“I knew how much it mattered to you, and that mattered to me,” the older man hums. “I wanted you to have a place where you felt safe every time you were here. Maintaining it was my way of feeling close to you.”

You watch as both of them share a look of gratitude and acceptance, and though mending this relationship will also take time, you know that with this, it’s starting to.

“Well, I’m sure Jungkook would love to show it off,” CEO Jeon smiles. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

You’re left alone with Jungkook now, and with his hand around your waist, you rest your head on his chest and hug him tight. You imagine a young boy running about, excitedly riding the swing and going down the slide and then sitting at his favorite spot while he draws buildings and the sky on his sketch pad. That same boy stands next to you now and holds you close, in a way sharing those memories with you as you stand in silence and take in the beauty of a humble playground. 

Jungkook turns and kisses you on the forehead. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispers. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” you smile. “Thank you for taking me here.”

You know that for him, it’s not just about how you managed the evening with his parents. It’s also more than just a celebratory dinner for the Arts Center. Tonight is a way for him to show his parents that he’s ready to receive all the good that they’ve been showing him. 

And it’s his way of telling you that as long as you’re both navigating your pains and your fears together, everything is going to be alright.

You spent the rest of Saturday night curled in Jungkook’s arms as you both watched a horror movie on his living room couch. On Sunday, you slept in and cooked lunch together before he took you to a spa. He insisted on getting a massage to help you relax before your big first day, and with the steam room and afternoon tea included in the couples package, you couldn’t say no. 

He looked happy seeing you satisfied. There was something about the soft kisses and sensual touches that got you relaxed and definitely turned on. You had dinner out after that then he took you home where he stayed until you started dozing off, wanting to spend time with you as long as he can before another busy week. 

Your alarm goes off on Monday morning and you immediately get up, feeling that excitement of your first day rush through you. It’s a different feeling this time - you’ll be establishing a new routine, be around a different set of people, exploring new food places to eat at for lunch, and your days will be filled with new tasks and responsibilities that you can’t wait to get to. 

You’ll learn new things and manage a team this time, and it will challenge you in so many ways. You’ll also engage with authors and artists, and you suppose that's what you’re most excited about - you want to connect with your inner self and your surroundings more, and to find peace and strength in other people’s words. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror after your shower, you can’t help but smile. There’s that joy on your face that’s new. There’s a bit of fear, too, but even then, you wish Jungkook was here to see how excited you look, or maybe to remind you that things are going to be alright. He messaged earlier to greet you good morning and you’ll probably settle with texts for now, as he might be on the way to work with Lucas next to him. 

Wrapping a towel around your body, you head out the bathroom to dress up. But that’s when your doorbell rings, and you freeze for a moment because you’re not scheduled to have anyone this early in the morning. It might be your neighbor. But it could also be—

“Babe?” Jungkook calls from the other side. “Are you still there?”

You immediately open the door to let him in and you stare at him, all dressed and ready for work.

“Hey,” you say, returning his kiss. “What are you doing here? Did Mr. Ri drive for you?”

“No, I did,” he smiles. “I told him and Lucas that I’ll just meet them at the office and I won’t be in until around 9.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s your first day. And I wanted to get you breakfast. And drive you to work,” he explains. “Maybe ease your nerves if you’re a little anxious.”

You soften as you watch him lay out the pastries and cups of coffee on your dining table. You were just thinking about him, and now he’s here, making sure he’s got your first meal and transportation covered on this pretty important day. 

“I’m actually quite excited,” you beam. “And I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Good,” he smiles, taking his seat. “I… I know you’re a grown adult and all but I didn’t want you to go through this on your own.”

You want to hug and kiss him at this moment but doing so while wrapped in a damp towel isn’t a good idea. So you ask for a second and quickly wear your nightgown from last night, then you scurry towards him. You sit on his lap and bury your face in his neck, taking in his scent while your arms wrap around him. 

His arms wrap around you, too, tightening his grip on your waist the more you curl into his body. He adores this giddy version of you, the one that melts in joy when he does something nice. It’s wholesome, he thinks. He always believed you deserved that kind of care and treatment. He’d spoil you with whatever you like, but it’s this tenderness that he learned from you, that he wants to try to keep showing. 

You cup his face with your hands and kiss him softly while he palms your outer thigh as your legs lay on his lap. You pull away before you start to want more, grazing your nose against his instead then going to your seat. 

The pastries look divine and you already feel energized. You thank him again for making the effort to buy all this and drive to you, and his proud smile makes the butterflies in your belly go off. 

“Dress up now,” he says once you finish. “I’ll clean up here and make you coffee to-go.”

“Okay,” you mumble, leaving him to finally get ready.

Jungkook puts away the remaining food and wraps it for your breakfast tomorrow. He uses the coffee machine that his office gave as a farewell gift to make your drink that you’ll be needing to get you through the rest of the morning. He glances at you and sees you choosing between two blouses. You turn to him to show both of them, your eyes asking which one you should wear.

“Blush,” he answers. “Pairs better with the green.” 

He gestures towards the shoes next to your closet, the ones he got for you last weekend. 

“Thought so,” you smile, turning around to put it on. 

He walks towards you as you tuck it in your beige slacks and look at yourself in the mirror. He watches as you tie the knot by the neckline of your top, aligning the bows constantly. You don’t seem to be satisfied, as you pull the tails then do it all over again, straightening the bows once more. He knows you can do this even with your eyes closed, but a bit of help won’t hurt, especially as he senses that something’s causing you to be quite jittery.

“Hey,” he calls out. “Let me.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror then turn around to face him. He tightens the knot and aligns it, and you watch him the whole time he does. Something about the way he’s focused on this makes your heart race, and you smile to yourself at how the roles have reversed. 

But unlike how both of you used to stand still and hold your breaths when it was you on the other side, this time, there’s calmness despite what you’re feeling.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous,” you admit, prompting him to look at you. “It’s just that… so much has happened for me to get here and I want to do it right. I want to do well. I don’t want to fail at this, Jungkook.”

“And you won’t,” he comforts, cupping your face now as he looks at you tenderly. “You worked hard to get here, to have this kind of freedom. You deserve to pursue what makes you happy, ___, and you deserve to want it, okay? You’re gonna go there and impress everyone with your beautiful mind and admirable work ethic and kindness. And that boss of yours is going to constantly be thankful that you gave him a chance and didn’t shut him out when he spoke to you at that bookstore.”

He thumbs your cheek as you slowly smile, and he mirrors your look of adoration. 

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Jungkook continues. “And this new role, this company… they’ll test you but I know you. You’ll make them believe in your capabilities and your vision. Your heart will make them trust you. And you’ll lead them well; I don’t doubt it one bit.”

“Okay,” you nod, feeling the warmth of his words all over your body.

You’re thankful that he decided to come today, as you probably would’ve stressed about so many things and then become anxious right as you’re entering the office. 

But you aren’t. You feel confident and excited and for the first time, you feel like yourself. It’s not because you’re tying your identity and purpose to a job again, which is what pulled you down before. But right now, you don’t feel the baggage of your past. You don’t feel like you’re performing a role. You don’t feel emptiness or disconnection from things and people around you. 

Perhaps this is when you start to really get to know who you are -  as a professional, as a leader, as a potential artist… Maybe as a lover and someone’s partner, too, as you take what Jungkook is giving you. This is when you get to know yourself as a person and what you can give to others and how much you can receive. This is when you get to know yourself outside of what you do and let it be about what you feel and think and enjoy. 

This is when it could be about what you love. And perhaps this is when you learn what your heart could truly do, and you can’t wait to explore all that with him.

“Thank you,” you mumble, exhaling a sigh of relief once you feel his soft lips against your forehead. “I’m glad I’m not doing this on my own.”

Jungkook just smiles, content on seeing that joy and calmness on your face. You stop him when he pulls you to finally leave the house, and you think there’s one thing you can do for him this time.

You align his necktie, and while he’s been doing it correctly recently, you can’t pass up on this part of your routine together. 

He smiles again and kisses your hand in thanks, then he leads you to his car where he drives the half hour to your office, all while your fingers are intertwined with his. It’s calming and everything you need before your big day, one that will start with a meeting to prepare you for your operations planning at the end of the week. 

Jungkook pulls over on the street and faces you. And just as you’re about to kiss him goodbye, he tells you that there’s something he wants to give you as an added gift. 

You look at him in warning because you said you didn’t want anything else.

“It’s nothing grand, I promise,” he chuckles, as he retrieves a bag from the backseat. 

He hands it to you and you excitedly peek in, feeling a wave of emotion as you hold up a snake plant. 

“I heard it’s good for positive energy,” he says to fill up the silence in the car. 

He’s right because you told him that. And he’s been taking care of the one on his office desk, the one that you gave him for his birthday. He also told you the other day that looking at it now makes him feel your presence, as if you’re rooting for him even when you’re not around. You suppose that’s what he’s trying to tell you, too.

“It is,” you smile. “I heard it’s also good at reminding its owner that someone’s always there for them.”

“I can confirm that saying,” he chuckles. 

You lean over and give him a soft kiss. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you smile, feeling the calmness wash over you. 

“You’re welcome,” he smiles back. “Now go. You can’t be late on your first day.”

You laugh and open the door. “I’ll see you tonight,” you say before walking out. 

You turn back and wave him goodbye one last time. 

It’s quite symbolic, as you think about Jungkook as happiness, dropping you off at a new place that already gives you another kind of fulfillment. You used to think there was only one way to feel it, that it only consisted of one thing or person. 

You realize that happiness could be in many forms, and that the feeling of connection and intimacy is alive, it’s ongoing, it’s a constant pursuit that’s both tangible and elusive, and it requires vulnerability; it requires strength. 

As you enter your new office and greet your new colleagues, and as you place the plant with the ‘good luck’ note on it on your desk and retrieve the supplies that your former team gave you, you see all the things that connect you to your past and the ones that clarify your new present. There’s so much to learn and unlearn - how to be good to yourself is one of them, and you can’t wait for that, too.

“Ms. Cho,” a deep voice calls out. 

You look at the man in front of you and you both share a brief moment of silence before bursting in laughter.

“It feels weird,” Namjoon says. He straightens himself before turning to you again. “___,” he corrects. “Meeting time, let’s go.”

It’s casual and comfortable and everything you need. You don’t want the formalities either, and it’s this type of environment that you truly believe will make you better. 

You follow him to the meeting room and there’s a wave of nostalgia that hits you, especially once you start taking minutes that you shouldn’t be doing anymore. 

You laugh to yourself. Maybe there’ll always be that person in you, but you don’t pity her anymore; in fact, you admire her. It’s her strength and grace that got you here, and you know it’s the same things that will make you appreciate and protect and fight for all the things that you have now. 

That includes your job. That includes yourself. And that definitely includes Jungkook.

END.

Series Masterlist

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[formulamoons]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ FOLLOW YOU AROUND - LANDO NORRIS

Rich boy Lando is practically canon in my mind! Haha, I know this might not fit perfectly into an F3-school timeline, but bear with me here. If you have any thoughts on this concept or want to share anything else, please feel free to do so!

Rich boy Lando would learn your entire class schedule and follow you around the school like a lost puppy. Even after you roll your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh every time you see him waiting outside your classroom, his smile only grows wider at the sight of your annoyance.

He would always get ahead of you in the few classes you shared, swooping in to take your books and notes from your desk the moment class ended. flashing you a flirtatious smile as he stepped out of the classroom.

"Norris, stop it! Give me my books back," you say, trying to catch up.

"Easy, gorgeous," he replies, effortlessly stopping your hand as you attempt to snatch the books away.

"I'm serious, I'm going to be late for class." You don't notice his grin until you realize he's led you into your math classroom.

“So, listen, one of my f3 friends is throwing a party next Friday” he says while sitting at your usual desk right in front of the classroom “come with me yeah?”

Lando Norris is relentless. Everyone knows that for the past six months; he's been persistently asking begging you to go out with him. All he wants is a chance to prove he’s not just another spoiled rich kid. He desperately wishes for you to laugh at his jokes the way you do with his other friends, to hold your beautiful face between his hands, and kiss you until the world fades away.

He's never chased anyone before, never really participated in the whole courtship thing. Usually, he's just fooling around with a different girl every week, uninterested in attachments. But with you, it's different. He'd follow you around forever if you asked him to. Ever since the old, grumpy English professor paired you two up for a project, he's craved more.

Even though you've rejected him every single time he asks, he still tries, his hopeful eyes fixed on yours. Sometimes, you feel like giving in, but you stop yourself, remembering that he's likely just interested in getting into your pants, relishing the excitement of the chase. Why else would Lando Norris, who couldn’t even remember your name six months ago, suddenly become so eager to go out with you?

“I can’t sorry I already have plans” you start to say not even trying to put together a good excuse. Lando pouts at your answer standing up from your desk and putting his hands into his pocket.

"Oh, okay, no problem," his voice loses some of its cheery tone, so he clears his throat, trying to conceal it. However, you notice the change. He stands in front of you for a moment before the rest of your classmates start to fill the room. "See you later, sweetheart," he whispers loud enough for you to hear him before stepping out of the classroom.

You swear that the last encounter has nothing to do with how you let Max drag you to Lando’s next race, you even smile when he waves at you from the podium.

Formulamoons, please do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend my content outside of Tumblr.

notes.- inspired by a jjk au i read a while ago

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[mingyus-blackcard]

ੈ✩ i did not need to know that (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : charles leclerc x norris! fem reader

summary : With all the extra information being spilled, noriss’s sister spills something way important !

tw : a lot of sexual innuendos , cursing, chaotic af

fc: megan roche *she is so pretty-*

a/n : thank you so much to @xshazxx for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norissfr, lordperceval, lilihye, albono, maximilian and 76 others

norizzfr y’all my brother was not paying attention to Zak 🫷🏻

view comments

mclaren Lando Noriss, kindly report to the office 🙌🏻

norissfr such a lovely sister 😒

norizzfr any day my loving brother 🧡

oscarpastry does the official McLaren account follow your private !?

norizzfr cuz the admin loves me 💪🏻

mclaren 🙌🏻🧡

norissfr admin… stay away from her

mclaren 🙌🏻🧡

jrchilli he never listened to me as well ☹️

norissfr oh shut up you no fish !

lordperceval damn, is it only my eyes but you look ugly

norizzfr if you care for you balls, you better keep that thing of yours shut

fernandoalonso yes Charles, don’t be rude

norizzfr 🤍🩵

lordperceval but i speak genuine facts 🫶🏻

norissfr dw charles, she can’t see that’s why she wears those huge ass balls on her face

norizzfr at least i am getting some balls -

norissfr i would rather have some 🐱 instead of 🐔

norizzfr EW BROTHER

albono i did not need to see that -

maximilian stop acting as if he is not sucking your balls everyday !

lordperceval can everyone stop exposing the dirty little secrets ?

hamsandwich charles, do you want me to start ?

mercedesgeorge lewis, remember the gold old times of us two in a tub?

carmenvroom sleep in the tub tonight then ! ❤️

norizzfr WHY THE HELL IS EVERYONE’S SEX LIFE BEING TALKED ABOUT IN MY COMMENTS !?

lilyhye i feel bad for you luv 🫶🏻

norizzfr thank you bubs 😤

liked by norissfr, lordperceval, lilihye, albono, maximilian and 56 others

norizzfr my personal papprazzi @ norissfr

view comments

norizzfr i am an elder brother, ofc i was blackmailed to click these 😌

norissfr i am a younger sister, ofc i will expose all your broken vases to mum 🤩

fernandoalonso My child, you should not be posting these on the internet with every other person seeing !

maximilian its her private account 😐

mercedesgeorge you commenting from your main makes me nervous as well

fernandoalonso i cant handle this one, you expect me to have another !?

lilihye no lube, no protection, all night , all day, from the kitchen to the bathroom -

albono babe, why are you telling are sex life again ?

lilihye WHAT !?

carmenvroom WHt!? alex it was a joke

norizzfr i definitly did not need to know my best freinds sex life but WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NOT USING PROTECTION

albono SHE ASKED FOR IT

hamsandwich please be safe kids 🙏

jrchilli where did you pop out of ?

hamsandwich my mom

lilihye ALEX SHUT UP

albono YOU ONLY TOLD ME STOP BEING QUITE “ LET ME HEAR YOU ALEX !”

norizzfr my comments always become someones sex life discussion

lordperceval wanna tell them about ours ?

norissfr EXCUSE ME WHAT !? Y/N !?

norizzfr i hate him more than toto could hate ferrari

mercedesgeorge true that 💪🏻

maximilian you look pretty y/n!

norissfr the only normal comment 😩 thank you so much max 🫶🏻

liked by lilyhye, albono, norissfr, lord perceval and 64 others

norizzfr so yes, i do golf 💪🏻⛳️

view comments

norissfr i was third wheeling the whole day !

albono us brother us 🙌🏻

norizzfr yall just jealous that lily loves me

lilihye I LOVE YOU 🫶🏻❤️

norizzfr I LOVE YOU TOO 🫶🏻❤️

maximilian suprised that hey found a stick shorter than lando 🧐

norissfr watch out for your next crash 😗

oscarpastry zak would not orefer that ☺️

mclaren Lando noriss in my office please - Zak

norissfr fuck, i forgot they follow her private, ADMIN UNFOLLOW HER

mclaren 🫶🏻🧡

lordperceval the first slide is making me see things 🙂‍↕️

norizzfr shut up before you see your own ass

lordperceval you have seen it though -

mercedesgeorge i think i am missing something -

jrchilli we missed a whole chapter -

hamsandwich kids these days 😌

norizzfr Sir Hamilton, you talk as if you dont have girls in your hotel room 🫶🏻

liked by lordperceval, norissfr, maximilian, lilyhye and 82 others

norizzfr in my polaroid era 📷

view comments

albono I-

mercedesgeorge did she mean to -

norissfr Y/N NORISS WHAT THE HELL !?

norizzfr why are you screaming for no reason ?

lilihye hun, who clicked the first two pictures ?

norizzfr my friend …

lilihye the friend is visible in the third slide 🙂

norizzfr fuck…

norizzfr CHARLES BABE I AM SORRY

lilihye HIS FACE WAS NOT VISIBLE !

albono she just exposed the guy herself 🪽

norizzfr oh. so i just exposed it myself ….

norissfr Yes ma'am , CARE TO EXPLAIN !? I THOUGH IT WAS A GUY AND WAS OK WITH YOU DATING ! BUT WITH FUCKING CHARLES !? CHSRLES LECLERC?

lordperceval they could not see my face bubs ❤️

norizzfr well atleast i would now not have to pretend to hate you 🫶🏻

lordperceval the prettiest love ❤️

norissfr can you both not ?

hamsandwich ew.

maximillian ew.

mercedesgeorge ew.

albono they were better hating each other

lordoerceval I LOVE YOU Y/N

norizzfr I LOVE ME TOO CHARLES

lordoerceval HEY! we agreed to stop hating

norizzfr I LOVE YOU TOO CHARLES 💌

[rebelspykatie]

Part 2

Part 1

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie stands and follows Steve to the door as he’s pulling on his shoes. He wants to stop him, pull the shoe out of his hand and drag Steve back to the couch, but he doesn’t have any right. He’s not entirely sure Steve won’t push him away if he tries to touch him right now, anyways.

“You think I’m straight and I was convinced you were into me,” Steve leans against the door frame to pull his other shoe on. He mutters under his breath, “I should’ve never listened to Robin an-”

“Robin was in on this?” He interrupts that thought. It throws Eddie. They’re such a tight knit group, he doesn’t know how they were so far off track with him.

“We spent hours going through every stupid interaction we had. Thought we had it all figured out.” He huffs and walks back over to the coffee table to pick up his wallet and keys. “I guess we’re both idiots.”

“No, Steve,” he tries to reach out and grab Steve’s arm, but he moves too quickly and Eddie’s left grasping air, “you’re not.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, anyways.” Steve scrambles to pull his sweater back on, the cold just starting to seep into the night air outside.

“Can you just slow down for a second?” Eddie stops trying to catch Steve and plants himself in front of the door. “What do you mean, you’re used to it?”

“Are you going to trap me here?”

“Answer the question.”

“This part, Eddie,” he sighs and gestures between them like that means anything to Eddie. “Everyone I’ve ever confessed to or made a move on has had the same reaction.” He looks off to the side, unable to look Eddie in the eye. “I’m pretty sure I’m the problem. Good ole Steve Harrington, too stupid to notice no one is interested in him.”

“Steve, you’re not stupid.”

“Feels like it most of the time.” He pinches his nose again, still not looking at Eddie, more like through him, gaze pinned to somewhere in the middle of Eddie’s chest. “Can you please move? We can pretend like this never happened and I promise I won’t make any weird moves on you ever again. I’m still friends with Nancy and Robin after everything, I can do it with you, too.”

Eddie skips over the whole Robin part of that in his head because he doesn’t have the brain power to analyze anything beyond Steve’s feelings for him. He never saw this coming. No one, boy or girl or anything in between, has ever made a move on Eddie before. He’s the local freak. There’s no way he could have predicted the town’s golden boy hero would make the moves on him.

He takes in how disheveled Steve’s become in the last few minutes. How hastily he’s thrown on his sweater. The mess of Steve’s hair from the hand that’s run through it several times since he got up from the couch. Barely laced up shoes so he could get out the door faster. He’s normally so put together and this, the sight of him so frazzled, frightens Eddie.

They were fast friends after everything happened with Vecna, leaning on each other for support. Becoming inseparable with King Steve wasn’t something Eddie ever imagined, but it was so easy. Neither of them were what each other had built up in their heads from the rumor mill around Hawkins. Eddie’s never had a guy friend as close as Steve. Sure, he had Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, but Eddie’s always been a bit of a loner.

It was impossible to feel alone with Steve as a friend. He had a way of knowing when you needed support, always just there when Eddie felt alone or needed a physical presence when the weight of the upside down was dragging him down. There wasn’t a day in the past six months that Eddie didn’t see Steve, even if it was only in passing or a quick little jaunt down to Family Video, he’s a constant presence in Eddie’s life.

To lose that? Would be like losing a part of himself. Like losing a limb. Losing his home.

And he’s scared. He doesn’t want to let Steve walk out that door, the weight of losing him forever lingering in the air. But he can’t trap him here. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve.

He moves out of the way, taking a step towards Steve, but he sidesteps Eddie and reaches for the door.

“Steve-”

“Don’t worry about me, Eddie,” he doesn’t turn around, but hesitates halfway out the door. “I’ll be fine.”

With the soft click of the door closing, he’s gone.

And that should be the end of it. Closed book. Eddie doesn’t like Steve and Steve needs to move on. There’s not much Eddie can do about that.

But it haunts him.

If you didn’t know Steve, you wouldn’t realize that anything was wrong. He’s acting normal, smile on his face when he jokes with Robin, complaining about the kids being terrors, going to his job.

But there’s something in the set of his shoulders, in the way his smile droops when he thinks no one’s paying attention to him, in the way Robin protectively hovers around him when Eddie is nearby. It’s clearly a facade he’s putting on to get by.

And Eddie aches. There’s a pit in his stomach that opened up that day and it hasn’t closed. Steve avoids his touch and the chasm grows larger, dragging Eddie further into the darkness. Casual hangouts halted. No more divulging of nightmares or fears late at night. A piece of Eddie is with Steve and he’s bereft of comfort. Unsettled.

He lies awake replaying that kiss over and over in his head. Thinking about what Steve said after. There’s no comfort in the way he handled the situation. It feels like he miscalculated, like pushing Steve away was the wrong move and now his life will never be the same again.

Maybe it won’t. Maybe there’s no way for them to move forward and for him to not break Steve’s heart every day. Steve said he was an idiot, but Eddie’s positive he’s got it all backwards. Eddie’s the idiot.

And he can’t stop thinking about kissing Steve.

[barcaatthemoon]

safe || alexia putellas x reader ||

alexia doesn't hear you when you use your safeword.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

alexia's pace was relentless. you could just barely hear her muttering under her breath as she fucked you. every so often you'd hear her speak up, the odd catalan phrase punctuated with forceful thrusts. you were teetering on the edge of an orgasm, but instead of alexia's thrusts getting you closer to your climax, they pushed you away from it.

you tried to move away from alexia a bit, but she didn't give up. you couldn't get even an inch away from her. alexia seemed to chase you down with her thrusts. you couldn't push back against her because you knew that alexia would take that as a sign that you wanted more. your body couldn't even handle what she was giving you, but alexia showed no signs of stopping.

"red." you tried to speak as clearly as you could, but your words came out muffled. alexia was pushing your head down into the pillows as she thrust into you. it was hard, but you managed to push yourself up a bit more. "ale, please."

"that's it baby." it was the first time that you had heard alexia speak english since she started fucking you. usually, that would have been a bit comforting, but she obviously was misunderstanding your tone. she took your desperation for desire, and started to thrust even harder.

"alexia, red!" this time, it was impossible for alexia not to hear you. she practically jumped back to get away from you. once alexia had pulled out of you, you scrambled up towards the pillows and curled into yourself. you felt a bit like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, and a part of you wanted alexia there next to you.

one look at her told you that was not happening. alexia looked absolutely distraught, enough so that it distracted from your own feelings. however, you couldn't bring yourself to comfort her. alexia sat down at the edge of the bed, obviously wanting to check on you, but unable to tear her eyes away from the floor.

"alexia, will you come here please?" you asked her. alexia looked over at you, but didn't move a muscle. you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and crawled across the bed to lay against her. alexia didn't move, as if she was afraid of touching you. "are you okay?"

"i should be asking you that," alexia grumbled. the fear was starting to subside, but you hated what was coming next. alexia was angry, absolutely furious with herself. "i should have been paying attention to you. i should have been listening. why are you being so nice to me?"

"because i love you, and i know that you weren't doing it on purpose," you told her. alexia seemed to accept that. she did everything that you asked her to. the two of you showered together and alexia held you all throughout the night.

alexia had been a distant in the morning, but you hadn't noticed until the two of you got to training. the media team wanted to make a couple of videos about alexia's resigning, so you hadn't thought twice when she left without you. however, it became increasingly obvious that you needed to talk to alexia about the night before as she avoided you throughout the day.

"capi, do you have a minute?" alexia tensed at the sound of your voice, but she couldn't ignore you now. to everybody else, it looked like you had official team business. irene and mapi walked away from alexia, leaving the two of you alone together to talk. "ale, i'm not mad at you about last night."

"well, you should be. i didn't listen when i should have. i violated you," alexia's voice cracked as she whispered the last part. you sighed as you pulled her in for a hug. "i can't even look at myself. i don't know how you can stand to be around me."

"because i love you, and despite what happened last night, you make me feel safe. i know that you didn't do that on purpose. i know that you'd never hurt me any more than i ask you to, and even then, you're hesitant," you told her.

"you feel safe with me?" alexia asked you. your heart broke at the genuine surprise in her voice. there had never been a time when you felt unsafe with alexia nearby. even before your relationship blossomed into what it was, she was always someone you had trusted.

"of course i do. i think that we could do with better communication, but alexia, there is nothing you could do to make me not trust you," you told her. alexia ducked her head down a little and smiled. "i love you."

"i love you too," alexia said as she lifted her head from the crook of your neck. the rest of your practice went by smoothly, both of you glad that alexia had stopped avoiding you. she was a bit more affectionate than normal, almost as if she was trying to make up for the time she had spent distancing herself from you. either way, you weren't going to complain about the extra hugs and kisses you were getting from your girlfriend.

[semiis]

their cuddle positions w/haikyuu

pairing: various x reader

genre: headcanons ; fluff

warning(s): none

a/n: this is an old post i uploaded on my hq blog from 2020. this was one of my favorites so I thought it was be nice to post it again. back then, i went with the ones i wrote for so i'm keeping it just the way it is. i’m really sorry if your favorite isn’t there. i hope you guys like them !!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

atsumu, ushijima, daichi ⥼ the sweetheart cradle. i personally think this would be his go to cuddling position. his arm wrapped around you, holding you close while he lays on his back, your head buried deep into his chest while you inhale the scent of his cologne. most definitely pats or strokes your head as a sign of comfort or whispers nothing but comforting words to you. 

suna, kageyama, tsukishima ⥼ the leg hug. i don’t know why, but this is definitely you guy’s go to. the two of you would be chilling on either one’s bed, sleeping, on the phone, playing games etc. while one of your legs are entangled together. it’s much more relaxing to him and you both get the physical contact you were craving from each other. 

oikawa, sugawara, kita, asahi ⥼ the honeymoon hug. oikawa loves the physical affection between you two and whenever he’s feeling touch starved this is his go to. the both of you are entwined together, holding the other tight, arms wrapped around each other - almost as if refusing to let go. his chin (or yours) is delicately propped up on top of yours. he can feel your breath against the crook of his neck and he adores it. sometimes find him or yourself peppering soft kisses on the other. 

bokuto, lev, yamaguchi ⥼ the spoon. he loves cuddling, especially when it’s with you. he mostly loves cuddling after a long day a practice when he’s beat and worn out.  he lives for having his arms securely around your torso while your back is pressed up against his chest. you would sometimes find his hands caressing your sides or arms and he’d be eager to leave the most tender kisses against the back of your neck. 

hinata, osamu, noya, tanaka ⥼ the butt pillow. you or him laying on your stomach while the other has their head propped up on your butt. also an easy way to tease his s/o. he loves it. the “best pillow in the room” and the only one you guys want to lay your head against. it’s common if he strokes/caresses your leg, might even draw an invisible heart on it. 

tendou, kuroo, iwaizumi, semi ⥼ the cradle. he enjoys when you're laying on top of him, legs on either side of his body, cradling him while his arms hold you firm against his chest. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat and almost find yourself falling asleep to the soothing, rhythmic sound. 

kenma, sakusa, akaashi ⥼ the lap pillow. he’s fond of laying his head in your lap and often finds himself doing it every time he comes over to your place and vice versa. play with his hair, stroke his cheek with your finger, boop his nose, bend over to place kisses on his face - all of them would make him melt. loves peering up at your face from that angle and admires just how attractive you are. 

© semiis 2024 ; do not translate, repost, modify, or copy my work.

[violetarks]

“baby keep talking, but nobody’s listening!”

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, choso, fushiguro toji

summary: they find you on a date with someone they've never seen before, but they don't need to look for long to see how bored you were. deciding for you that it would be the first and only date you ever went on with that man, they come to your rescue.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is on a date with a man, said date sucks ass (trying to regulate what y/n eats, snarky comments, egotistical, rude to hospitality workers), shoko/itadori/shiu help set you up on a date but they suck at it

↣ gojo satoru

"satoru, you have to get out," you huff at him, crossed arms over your chest. he sat on your cough, flicking through tv channels. "my date is coming here in ten minutes!"

"you mean the stranger that shoko met at the mall and said would 'totally be your type'?" he says, looking over his shoulder to you. you raise a brow. "c'mon, blow him off. we need to finish 'the last of us'!"

"don't you dare watch it while i'm gone, satoru, or god so help me—" your phone rings, interrupting your threat. you answer when you see the number of your date. "hello? oh, yes, this is y/n."

you begin to walk to grab your keys and your bag, satoru following after you when you suddenly stop.

"oh, uh... you want to meet there?" you say, tilting your head, "no, that's fine, i'll leave now. see you—..."

"he's not coming to pick you up?" satoru questions, watching as you take out your car keys.

"he's actually already there. and he's ordered for me." you say with a bit of doubt in your voice. satoru can hear it. "it's fine, i should go now. don't you dare watch that show, i will kill you. see you, satoru."

the whole time you're gone, he can’t do anything. he’s sitting in silence for an hour, not even looking at his phone. he felt angry at himself.

so he followed you, obviously.

he looked up the restaurant you had mentioned to him before and saw the pictures posted online. it looked like such a nice first date place. and that boiled even more jealousy in him. of course he had to follow you.

and luckily he did; you looked miserable.

he takes out his phone as soon as possible.

“you know how many calories are in that meal?” your date said after the waiter left your table, “way better for you than what you wanted.”

you had just told him your favourite dish in the menu. and he told you he ordered you just a salad. while he got two meals because he was ‘bulking’.

when shoko showed you his instagram, you had to admit that he was cute. he was fit too, and you did your fair share of exercise. he had a nice smile and he also posted photos of his dog. but that couldn’t shield you from what was right in front of you.

you found out he was a model for a magazine you’ve never heard of, and while that was impressive, it was his whole personality. you asked about his pet, and he somehow turned it back to his career and how he did a fireman themed calendar last year. you’d think he was surely more than that, but it didn’t seem it. you had barely talked about yourself. it didn’t look like he was interested anyway.

“hm, what did i do today?” he thought out. you cringed at the way he tapped his chin, pretending to think. “i hit the gym at 5am, walked my pet for an hour and a half, took some photos for my resume since i’ve got a new deal coming up, and spent time from then to now just at the studio.”

you were waiting for him to ask about your day. he doesn’t.

“and you know, i’m actually the most valued model at my studio. they always call me for shoots, i’m always first on their list. you’d think i could catch a break every so often,” he chuckles out, rubbing up and down his arms. you hold back from rolling your eyes as you sip your water. “but it’s hard being so… handsome.”

you stare at him and fight the urge to roll your eyes once again.

"what about you?" the moment you've waited for comes a little too late. you're not even interested in speaking about yourself.

"well, i did some grocery shopping this morning—"

"what did you buy?"

"me and my friends are having a movie tomorrow, so i just bought some snacks for us," you explained for some reason, "chocolates, popcorn, chips—"

"junk food?" he scoffs back, "no, no, you don't need all that. you oughta' bring it back and get some fruit. way better for you."

you down the rest of your alcoholic drink you had ordered (the one thing he did let you choose) and look away.

that is when you feel a hand rest on your upper back.

"excuse me, ma'am," you look up and widen your eyes when you see satoru standing before you. he's wearing a white button-up, black slacks, dress shoes and a black waist apron. you freeze up. "the gentleman over there asked me to give you this, already paid for."

you look over to where he was pointing. nanami sits in his own suit as he waves his hand at you, pained smile. satoru places a mojito in front of you. your date stands up.

"the hell? doesn't he see that i'm here?" he scoffs as he stands up. his chair screeches against the floor, which collects everyone's attention in the restaurant. "he's insulting me! what a prick! i'm gonna fuck him up!"

"hey!" you stand up as he begins trudging over. satoru places a hand on your shoulder to stop you, and you see nanami roll his eyes and stand up as well, ready for the fight. "what are you two doing here? and why are you dressed like that?"

"i'm the ultimate undercover agent, of course," he replies. he begins pulling off his apron and dropping it on your seat. he hooks his arm with yours and smiles. "let's get outta' here."

"but my date—"

"he's fine," you watch as nanami dodges one of his punches with and irritated face. "nanami will take care of him."

you let him whisk you out of the restaurant while everyone is watching the two men fight (not really). satoru walks you to his car and starts the engine. you see nanami's car behind his.

"did you seriously bring him along to get me out of that date?" you chuckle as you stare at him. satoru purses his lips and looks away. "thank you, satoru. you didn't have to."

"you're welcome, gorgeous," he responds to you, "i could tell from the phone call that he wasn't all that. wonder what barrel they fished him out of."

you let out a small sigh and look out the window. you were embarrassed; this was the first date you've ever been set up on, and it went horribly. you knew you should've left earlier, not wait until satoru came along. he was your saviour for today, you had to admit.

but what was even worse, you seemingly let than man talk to you like that. you could chalk it up to just being friendly and giving him the best benefit of the doubt, but deep down you know you would never have let that slide with people you know. hell, yaga could speak to you that way and you would still give him an earful.

"don't be sad, y/n, now we can go to yours and watch our show," satoru attempts to cheer you up. he flashes you a smile. "i promise, i won't eat all your food."

"you're a liar, satoru." you laugh back.

"seriously though, that guy was a wreck. why did he keep talking about calories and stuff?" he mumbles out with a disapproving shake of his head, "i had to shut him up somehow. i should've just spilt the drink over him."

"oh god, what about the food? i didn't pay for my meal."

"you mean the salad you didn't want? i cancelled it for ya'."

"why aren't you this nice all the time? you usually bully me." you claim in a joking matter. satoru pouts at you. "i appreciate this, a lot. i guess guys who only ever think about themselves aren't my type."

there's a quietness in the car as he turns on his indicator. you enjoy the little noise coming from the radio, a song that you've heard quite a lot.

"you know, yuuji, nobara and megumi?" he clears his throat.

"yeah?" you respond to him in confusion.

"yeah," he hums with a nod of his head, "i think 'bout them a lot. they're good kids."

"they are," you agree with him. it takes you a few seconds before you look at him again. "satoru, that's not what i meant."

"so am i your type?"

"oh my god."

"answer the question, y/n."

↣ choso

"yuuji?"

"yeah?"

"do you know who this is?" choso shoves his phone into his brother's face.

"uh, that's y/n." yuuji responds in a bit of confusion. the two of them were sitting in a new restaurant with ramen on their tables. choso’s sat nearly untouched for the past ten minutes as he flicked through some pictures you sent to a groupchat with him in it. yuuji was halfway through chewing noodles when choso asked him about the photo you sent a few minutes ago. “why? she looks good.”

“no doubt,” choso mutters in response as he zooms in on the other figure in the picture you took of your reflections in the window, “i mean him.”

“oh, that’s the guy who me, nobara and y/n saw last week at the movies,” yuuji responds, “he asked y/n for her number, so i think they’re out together right now.”

he looks at yuuji in disbelief as the pink-haired boy starts slurping on the soup. it takes him a few seconds to properly react.

“are you serious?” choso says a little loudly. people turn to stare at the pair. “you let him get her number?”

“what? he seemed cool and y/n didn’t seem to mind that i gave it to him.” yuuji holds his hands up in defense as choso angrily glares at the photos on his phone screen. “you said you weren’t gonna’ make a move on her anyway!”

“that doesn’t—” a groan leaves his lips as choso holds his head. he lets in a deep breath. “okay, it’s fine.”

“i’m sorry, choso.”

“no, it’s my fault, i did say i wasn’t going to ask her out,” he tells yuuji, who slowly goes back to eating, “i… i missed out, i guess.”

yuuji frowns as the guy in front of him sadly eats his food.

“you know…” he begins with a small smile. choso looks up to him. “they’re just out for lunch nearby. y/n told me where they were going. we could—”

“yuuji! hurry up!” choso has grabbed his jacket and is rushing to the door before yuuji can reply, “we might miss them!”

yuuji scurries out of restaurant after he gobbles down his ramen. it isn’t too far of a drive, actually. it took about 15 minutes to get there and choso had easily spotted your car in front of a cozy cafe. he parks next to it and almost ducks when be notices you in the chair facing the window, facing the two of them, with your date sitting in the booth — your favourite spot. choso always let you sit in the booth side.

choso clutched onto the steering wheel with gritted teeth. yuuji looked towards you to get a better view.

“huh… she looks annoyed.” yuuji points out.

“this guy…” choso grunts.

inside the cafe, you had taken a few photos of your food and your drink. you’re glad yuuji suggested this place, you loved the service and the food here. the servers were always so nice and helpful and quick, and the food was amazing too.

it was obvious to you that your date didn’t think the same.

“god, everything in here is so…” he begins as he examines the design on his waffles. he cringes a little. “girly.”

“it’s just a bunny design,” you point out as you sadly stir the cat-shaped foam into your hot drink, “it’s cute.”

“it’s embarrassing,” he reiterates. you purse your lips and sip your drink. the delicious taste was enough to make you forget his sour tone. until he speaks up again. “can’t believe your friend told us to go here.”

“i love this cafe,” you state, “everyone here is so nice.”

“the service is slow and they gave me the blueberry waffles instead of the normal ones like i said,” he complains. you set your drink down and hold back from rolling your eyes. “i don’t care how busy you are, you always check five times that the order is correct.”

you don’t even reply to him after that, only trying to enjoy your meal that you paid for. he wasn't helping at all. you thought that because he was so charismatic when talking to yuuji that he was probably a good catch, but you couldn't have been more wrong. maybe he was just putting up a front in order to score you. you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover anymore.

"hey. over here," he begins to snap his fingers and nodding at a server with four full plates of food. the guy looks over frantically, obviously under pressure. "i wanna' ask you something."

"ah, right, give me a second, sir—" the guy was trying to distribute the food with the customers who he was serving.

"i told you, slow service," your date scowls towards you. could you be any more embarrassed right now? the server finishes off his task before coming over to you two. before he can even ask, your date is holding up a nearly empty cup of coffee. "this is the most bitter coffee i have ever had in my whole entire life."

"oh, well, you ordered an americano, sir," the poor server explains, "they tend to be bitter."

"what? no, no, no," the guy in the booth starts shaking his head, "i ordered a flat white."

"you..." the server begins. he was the one who had taken your order too.

"you ordered the americano, actually," you pointed out. the guy raised a brow at you, unamused. "it's okay, you can just order a flat white—"

"god, i did not order an americano." he claims.

but you distinctly remember him saying 'americano' for his drink. and the server repeated the order back to him before it was confirmed annoyedly. you stare down at his nearly empty cup.

"y'know what? just put the flat white on the tab, i will pay for it." you sigh out as you rub your neck.

your date looks more pissed off as the server leaves.

"he was wrong, you don't have to pay for another drink." he mutters out.

"it's nothing, don't worry." you retort and stare back down at your food. you didn't have an appetite anymore and a few minutes pass in silence.

the flat white comes out after such a long time of waiting. your date drinks it quietly, but you notice that he makes a face to show he doesn't like it. you quickly excuse yourself to go and pay at the counter for your food (he insisted on splitting the bill since he didn't like the place) so that you don't have to hear him bicker about it.

"hey," you turn behind you to see choso standing there in a baggy hoodie, a bit nervous, "fancy seeing you here..."

your eyes flicker to outside, where you see yuuji waving at you from choso's car. a smile lands on your face.

"nice to see you, choso," you mutter back as you fish out your wallet. the cashier rings up your total and you press your card to the reader. "how was your lunch with yuuji?"

"good. we cut it short to save you," he bluntly says. you blink as he glares at your date. "i don't like the guy you're with."

"me neither," you sigh out, "i think this is the last time i'll see him. but i gotta' tough it out for the rest of the date."

"you could just leave now." choso adds. he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"ah... i'm not that confident—"

"a takeaway box and takeaway cup, please," choso asks the cashier. she had been sitting there and silently agreeing with you that the guy you were sitting with was a total jerk. "thank you."

he places them in your hands and pushes you gently towards the table.

"who the hell is this guy?" your date scoffs and glares at choso, who does the same back.

"look, i'm not really having a good time on this date," you say as you play with the takeaway boxes. choso hastily takes them from you and fills it with your food in an organised matter. "i think this is the farthest we go. please enjoy the rest of your food, though."

"you serious? ditching me for some jackass?" he accusingly points at choso who wears a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is bullshit!"

"calm down, god..." you groan and rub your temple, "i just don't like you, you're so rude."

"me? you're the one who dragged me to this shithole!"

"shut your mouth before i drop you right now," choso scowls as he pushes the guy back into the booth seat. everyone was watching now, quietly thanking choso for showing up and dealing with him. "grow up, man. you act like a child."

choso grabs your hand and tugs you out of the cafe. you both thank the service with your takeaway in hand. yuuji gets out of the car with a wide smile once you two get closer.

"so, how did it go?" he asks with wide eyes.

you throw your keys at his chest.

"you're driving my car back to my apartment as punishment for setting me up with that asshole," you say with a small frown. you all knew you didn't really blame him, though. "never giving my number out to anyone ever again."

yuuji apologises thoroughly before getting into your car and driving off in the wrong direction. choso opens your door and gives you the food. once he's inside the car himself, he starts it up and begins driving.

you rest a hand over choso's on the middle console.

"thanks, choso," you sigh out, "i should've done that earlier."

"it's fine, y/n, i just wished i came sooner." he replies.

you stare at the side of his face, how irritated he looked just thinking about your date. a smile settles onto your lips and you brush your thumb over his knuckles. he falters and looks back to you for a second before muttering a 'what'.

"i'll take you out for dinner as a thank you," you state, which makes his ears go red, "you're a sweetheart, choso."

"i... uh, yeah, i'll go out with you," he mutters, "thanks..."

the laugh you let out is worth ruining thousands of your dates.

↣ fushiguro toji

"have you ever been to france?" the conceited finance guy in front of you asks, fixing his tie. he wears this smirk on his face that proves that he just knows how rich he was. he wasn't coy at all. you force a smile and shake your head slowly, trying to enjoy your meal at least. "really? that's a shame. i've been plenty of times before, and i've gotta say, the best part is..."

you begin to zone out, sighing to yourself as you move your pasta around on your plate haphazardly. he had chosen such a nice italian restaurant to absolutely ruin your perception of this guy after the first ten minutes of talking to him. you look to your watch, showing it had been only two hours since your date started.

cursing out shiu in your head, you cautiously look out the window to the sky. it wasn't that dark yet, but it felt like your night had been taken away. your mind wanders to yesterday to your conversation with shiu.

shoe

you're getting picked up at 5 tomorrow

y/n

am or pm?

shoe

???

shoe

don't show him how stupid you are, he's a rich guy. maybe he'll bring you to a yacht

y/n

why would i want to be on a yacht for our first date? is he nice?

shoe

he's rich, y/n. that's all that matters.

sometimes, you wonder how he managed to meet all these people. but then you remember that assholes attract assholes. they move together in flocks.

you stare at your red wine and tap your finger on your cheek.

"what do you think about it?" he questions, getting your attention again. you look up to see his smug face. did he really want to know?

"oh, me?" you asks, sitting up straight. you had no idea what he had been saying for the past 15 minutes.

"well, who else would i be talking to, silly?" he says in this mocking tone.

'yourself, it's who you've been talking to all night', you internally say. you had wasted such a nice outfit too. it was such a shame.

"mmm, well, it's a bit—" you begin, only to get interrupted.

"it's insane, isn't it? how could you lose so much money in only a year?" he barks out a laugh, as obnoxious as he was. the table shakes as he bangs his fist against it, waiters and guests looking towards you two. "it's absolutely preposterous! i would never make such a decision like that."

you chew out an awkward laugh before turning to your wine, sipping it.

unknowingly to you, toji was waiting in the car outside the building, getting a good view of you and your new date. he cursed shiu in a huff; not only did he set you up with someone, but the guy was a total prick. he couldn't have done a worse job, and he was broke. he pulled his seat back, watching him with pointed eyes. that guy's mouth hadn't stopped moving ever since you entered the restaurant.

and you? you looked gorgeous, your dress hugged you just right, so much so that he was jealous. toji knows it should've been him to go and take you somewhere like this.

he snaps when the guy calls the waiter over, complaining about his half-eaten food and causing a scene. you looked so uncomfortable. standing up, you excused yourself to the bathroom. and toji is quick to get out of the car.

"he's such an asshole." toji claims as you exit the ladies room. you freeze, pressing out the creases of your dress before walking closer to him at the end of the hall.

"when did you get here?" you ask, hand on your hip, "and how do you know he's an asshole?"

"been watchin' the whole time from the car," he tells you, watching as you widen your eyes and tilt your head at him, "what? couldn't help myself. shiu said you were on a date with some rich guy, 'n i had to see it."

"yeah, well, remind me to kill shiu. he's got the worst taste in men." you sigh out, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall with him. he peers at you. "you know he asked to try every single wine they had before we ordered? and he complained about the merlot not being darker. not only that, he saw my plate and said 'are you gonna' eat all of that?'. the dickhead!"

"that shit looked good." he commented, shaking his head, "who wouldn't finish that food."

"right? ugh, i hate him so much. and he hasn't even asked me about myself other than my name. he explained to me his 'entrepreneurship' and dropshipping. wanted to clock him in the face." you complained more, only fueling toji's own hate for the man.

he lifts himself off the wall, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. "go 'n get your things. we're gettin' out of here."

"what? what am i supposed to say to him?" you mumble, stumbling behind him, "where are we going?"

"don't say anything to him. if ya' feel bad, pay for your own food." he explains to you, hand moving to rest on your back, "i'm not lettin' you waste that pretty little dress on someone like that guy."

you stare at the back of his head before falling into step with him, stopping at the table with your date. he does a double take once he sees toji, slowly standing up.

"who's he?" he asks, scanning him up and down.

"none of your business." toji retorts, looking down at him.

you begin to grab your purse when he holds out his hand to you. "where the hell are you going?" your date asks you.

"here. for my food." you say, handing him a fifty. the note flutters onto the table in front of him, which he stares at in awe. tugging on your jacket, you stare back at him with furrowed brows. "good luck in life."

with that, you turn around and begin to walk to the exit. behind you, toji sticks his tongue out at the other man and follows after. his hand finds your back once more and you wait to cross the road, sighing out to him, "thank you, toji. saved me."

"no problem." he replies, opening the door for you.

"how did you get in my car?" you ask, sitting in the driver's seat.

"don't ask." he tosses you the keys, making you wonder even more. he gets into the other side, looking back at you. “we’ll hit up that restaurant downtown. the one you always talk about wanting to go to.”

“but you said you don’t like their cuisine.” you claim, starting the car.

“it’s the only place i know that’s fancy.” he explains, looking out the window.

“sweetheart, i wouldn’t say that’s fancy—”

“do you want to go out or not?”

you laugh, reaching out a hand and holding his. he gives a small smile before looking back at you. “thank you, toji.” you say, stopping at a red light. you glance at him, sincere look in your eyes. “it means a lot that you care.”

“jus’ saving you from being stupid as fuck.” he tells you, making you roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, “could ya’ not tell he was a tool when he didn’t knock at your door? motherfucker waited in his car.”

“my god, you’ve been watching since then? toji!” you jokingly reprimand, looking at him for a split second, "i should've known from the start though... he was on his phone the whole time, in the car ride. on bluetooth speaker too."

"i woulda' jumped out the car." he retorts, shaking his head, "we should jump shiu."

"we really should." you laugh, smiling at him, "maybe for our next date."

toji can't help but roll his eyes. he knows deep down that you were hoping shiu was going to set you up with him instead. he can see it on your face, a smile that is pushing through on your lips. you're secretly happy that it was toji who 'ruined' your 'date'.

"i say that because i know you can't pay for dinner."

"did you think i was paying for this one?"

you scoff back, elbowing him, "you leech."

"you know you love me." he says it teasingly, but he knows better than anyone that you actually do.

[yeyinde]

Brain went brrrrrrrr

Price and the new 141 member getting into an argument. Price is all like if you don't behave ill take you over my knee girl.

She's all like I fucking dare you or you'll have to catch me first or even you don't have the balls.

🫠🫠

i’ve always wanted someone who was super by the book to clash with John “i routinely tell my superiors i’m going to maim/murder/hang them” Price. this gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. 

noncon spanking. abuse of authority. power imbalance. size kink. mean, dom!Price. forced submission.

You have this way of getting under his skin. 

An impossible itch. No matter how many times he picks and prods at his flesh, you worm beneath the dermis, burrowing deep. Sitting pretty against his goddamn bones. Festering. 

Incurable. 

He turns to vice to stem the irritation. Cigars. Whiskey. His hand shoved down his trousers like he's a fuckin' boy and not a man on the wrong side of forty. 

Thinking of you—of breaking that smart mouth of yours on his cock. 

It's the way you saunter around with your head held high, balancing golden eggs on your crown, that irks him something awful. The patronising drawl when you huffily remind him that what he's doing is breaking seven, no, ten, different laws, Price. You can't just do whatever you want, there are rules—

And that's the crux of it. 

A difference of ideas. Experience. You still see the world in shades of black and white. Good and bad. Unwilling to acknowledge that the line between is saturated and blurred. A putrid muck that traps all. Bogish. 

He knew it was a mistake when they sent him your file, asked if he needed the additional help. Hostage negotiator. He's heard of you. By the fucking book. You recite passages like it's gospel, turning printed words into a knife. A terrible fit for a team that works in the pivotal no man's land you claim doesn't exist. 

Yet—

He takes you on. Brings you in. Buries his anger at your fucking gall deep in his chest where it rots. Grows. Swallows down the rage, apoplectic fury, when you undermine him at every opportunity, citing laws and regulations like it's a fucking prayer. 

A calamitous decision, he knows. Terrible. But—

Despite it all, you're good at what you do. Brilliant. A budding rose germinating in fecund soil. You'll grow into something wild, won't you? Something untamed. 

Under his hands, you'll bloom the prettiest. He knows this deep in his bones. But—

“You're breaking the rules, Captain—”

—pedantic little thing, aren't you? 

Obediently following the wrong master. 

It irks him. He's been known to step on the toes of his superior officers for less, caustic words hissing foul from between his teeth. 

But unlike them, you're worth something. Even as the moral antithesis to his utilitarian dogma, he sees your potential. How you can shape this world dangling on a brittle thread if you lay down your senseless principles and follow him. Listen to him. 

But of course, you don't. 

And he supposes he ought to have known better. It's dripping gasoline over an open flame. The sequence of events is easily premeditated, seen, when you refuse to listen to what he says (“it's against the law, Price!”), walking away from him, his team, the mission, and take matters into your own, morally righteous hands. Bringing his underhanded methods to the desk of your superior officer, demanding he be investigated for crimes. The result is a loose warning from someone in a suit several sizes too big for them, and your fury when he pulls you back, has you assigned to another mission with the 141, with himself. Preens at your glower when you march back into his office, into his hands. 

In the fallout, he has no one to blame but himself, really. Anyone could have seen this coming. But the thing about shirking his morality in favour of a better outcome—above all else—is that he doesn't have to. 

And so, he doesn't. 

No. He blames you. 

(How perfect for him, then, that there's no one on base except you and him.)

“If you think I'm not going to report you again if you do something illegal, Price, you're wrong.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at your fucking audacity. 

"Better watch that mouth of yours, Sergeant, or you won't like what happens next." 

His palm itches when you look up, offering him a slow, feline blink. Leonine eyes creasing at the corners. 

"And what is that, sir? I'm just doing my job—" it's whispered breathlessly, all faux professionalism even as jest leaks down your brow. They pinch, then. Drawing together in a mockery of confusion. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?" 

"What is that, mm?" He mocks, arms folding over his chest. He has to breathe through his nose for a moment. Gather himself together before he does something reckless, something like— 

It's the defiant little jut of your chin that does him in. That unravels this fraying knot of control until threads slip through his fingers. Falling too fast for him to clench down on them. 

He's threatened his superiors for far less. His kin, teammates. You have no one to blame but yourself for this, really. No one at all when he pulls his hand from where it's tucked under his armpit, curling rough, worn fingers around your wrist. Pulls you close, wrenching you into his chest until your nose bumps the buckle of his vest. 

"'m'gonna take you over my fuckin' knee, is what's going to happen." 

Your swallow is a gunshot. “You—you wouldn't dare—”

He leans in close, closer still. Breath scorching over your cheek. Preening when you bare your little teeth at him. “Wanna bet on that, Sergeant?” 

It's easier than he would have expected to wrangle you over his knee, pinning you down with an arm across your lower back. The height of his chair keeps your front bent, belly pressed against his thigh. Ass seated perfectly in his lap. Precious gem. 

He hums low in his throat, teeth sinking into the butt of his cigar as he locks you tight against him. Grabbing your wrist, twisting it up behind your back. Holding steady. A warning. 

The dangerous twinge in your bone stills you. 

One wrong move and he'd snap it in half. 

This has you taking a different approach, legs falling limp over the armrest. Head dropping over the other side. Malleable in his grasp—however artificial it is.

“Price—” you breathe, winded. Panic on a spindle. “What are you—what do you think you're doing—?”

He hums, mouth tense around the cigar. Words muffled, slurred. “What I should have done a long time ago.” 

“What—hey!”

Your words pepper off into a choked scream when his other hand falls to the hem of your pants, grabbing the fabric in his fist. The shock fades into indignation. Anger. He tastes it in the air as your hips squirm, legs kicking at nothing. Furious little growls spilling from your lips as you thrash, unconcerned by the ache in your bone. 

“Better keep still, love,” he taunts, mouth curling over his teeth as he twists his hand high, higher, up the small of your back until your fingers brush the skin between your shoulder blades. Any more and he'll break it—

“I'm going to fucking—!” It ends on a whine. A whimper. The pain makes you shiver. “Fuck, fuck—stop, stop, ow, stop—!”

“Not a fan of a little pain then, mm?” 

Your breath is ragged. Paints the air in a fine mist of defeat. He has you. The only option out of this is breaking your bone, a threshold no one is willing to cross. 

Price purses his lips back around the cigar, inhaling once, thrice, before he slips his fingers out of the hem of your trousers, reaching up to take hold of the cigar. It's all so matter-of-fact. So nonchalant when he places it in the ashtray. When he brings his heavy, warm hand back to your ass, curling his fingers beneath the fabric. Pulling. Tugging. 

They come off easier than he'd expected. A harsh tug, and the cleft of your ass is revealed. Plush skin curving enticingly as he rips them down to mid-thigh—panties and all. 

The shock fades back into indignation. You hiss something foul under your breath that makes him huff out a chuckle. 

“Not really in the position for that, are you, love?” 

“Shut up—”

He likes the way you sound like this. Feral. Furious. There's ash in your throat. It blots soot around each word, giving them weight. Gone is the woman who barged into his office, sniffing like you smelled something foul. Backing him into a corner. Sputtering in his face about rules. Regulation. 

Now you're bare-assed, panting, in his lap. Small little fawn in the maw of a bear. But oh, do you fight back—

Teeth bared, indignation bleeding into embarrassment, blotting pink in the whites of your eyes.

The sight is hewn into his hindbrain. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, petting your cheeks. “Been beggin’ to be bent over my knee since you got here, haven't you?” 

“Begging? Don't be—ahh!”

He brings his hand down with a small huff, eyes glued to your flesh. Watching it shake under his hand. The width of one swallowing up an entire cheek. So big is he that you're nearly made infinitesimal in his clutch. The thought makes him groan.

You squirm more in shock than discomfort. Head craning over your shoulder, eyes misting over with tears. Glaring at him. 

“What the fuck, Price!”

He strokes your skin, feeling the heat of your flesh bleed through his palm. Resilient little thing, aren't you? He huffs again, blood buzzing. Electric. There's a kindling fire in his guts. Embers sparking, catching. 

He can't deny how badly he's been wanting to have you like this. Craving your tears, your agony, your submission.

“Count,” he barks out, rough. Abrasive. “You're getting ten. Count ‘em for me, and if you miss one, I'm adding two more.”

“You're crazy, you're—!”

His hand comes down again. The impact shakes the fat of your ass. The strike makes you yowl, thrashing to get away. You don't get very far, still trapped in his hold. The threat of a broken bone keeps you from lashing out too wildly, and all you can really do is sit in his lap, and take it—

The notion has him groaning low in his throat. Something wicked spooling in his veins. Wanting. The sight of you heaving, bare-assed, and begging for mercy unleashes something inside of him. Something primal. Starving. 

Price takes a breath to steady himself, head buzzing. Heart pounding. It feels like the euphoria of nicotine—all bliss, sedation. Ease. 

Cathartic. 

“I said count,” he rasps, words cinder in his chest. Smoke. Dragged up from that burning pyre in his belly. Nocuous, hungry. “That's an order, Sergeant.” 

His hand is scorching against your skin. Thoughts turning over themselves as you hiccup in his lap. So pretty, he thinks, eyes flitting over to you. Taking in the sight of your shock, your denial. It tastes like fine wine on his tongue. Heady. 

“Here comes one—”

“One?”

“I told you, didn't I?” His nail rakes across your skin, cruel. Mean. Something preens when you gasp. Your pain perfuming the air. “M’addin’ two more if you don't count. Thought your speciality was listenin’?”

You scowl, twisting back to level him with an awful sneer. “Oh, fuck you—!”

His hand comes down again, harder this time. Vicious. The scream is tangled in your throat, gagged. He feels pleasure—dark and ugly—bloom in his chest, dripping, liquid, down the length of his spine. The twist of agony on your face is beatific. 

“Not gonna count?” He taunts, pinching your inflamed flesh between his thumb and forefinger. “We're gonna be here all day at this rate, love.”

He leans down, broad chest curling over the small of your back, hand cupped possessively over your cheeks. “But maybe you want that, mm? Maybe all this, mhm, insubordination has just been for show. You wanted this. Wanted to be taken over my knee—”

“You're wrong. I haven't—” it tapers off into a squeak when he pinches your flesh again. 

Price pulls back, breathes shallowly through his nose. 

“You and that smart fuckin' mouth. Told you it was gonna get you in trouble—”

He doesn't wait. His hand rears, and comes down with a loud smack that echoes in the sparse office he has you trapped inside. Your howl races alongside it, curling up the walls. Beautiful in all its agony. 

“Christ—” it's a dagger to his resolve. You sound so fucking good howling like this. Oscillating between feral anger and pain, hissing vitriol between clenched teeth. Choking on sobs. 

The first few are experimental. Testing the waters. Feeling. You're combative during it all. Fighting. Screaming. Each strike is uncounted, echoed only with a plea for help. One he knows won't come—

The only person on base is his Lieutenant. Ghost knows better than to barge in on his affairs. 

“No one's comin’, love,” he grunts, sweat beading along his hairline, dripping down his temple. The room heats along with the blood in his veins, stifling and oppressive. He reinforces each hit with more strength, increasing the tempo until you're screaming on his lap, begging for mercy, mercy, please, please, Price stop, stop—

Your skin raises with each new strike. Swelling. Becoming inflamed. The perfect imprint of his handprint sits on each cheek, edges intumescent. The globes shake, shuddering deliciously under each hit. 

He gets to eleven before you break. Tears streaming down your face, voice a threadbare whisper. Hoarse from screaming. 

His hand rains down, slaps your left cheek so hard it stings his hand. Burns. You whimper. Mewling. Squirming on his lap, and then—

“O–one—”

He grunts, feels himself thicken in his trousers. “Good girl.” 

You shudder, body breaking out in goosebumps. “Price—”

“Ah, ah, love. You're not allowed to speak unless you're counting.”

He hits you again, cock throbbing when you tense up, sniffling. Grinding out a soft two between trembling lips. 

You don't break the way he wants you to. There's a glare on your face despite the tears, the sniffles. A defiance that burns over the bridge of your nose. 

But that's fine. He has eight more strikes to ruin you, doesn't he? 

He sets to it with a low moan, your pelvis pressing taut to his tumid cock, the friction raging in his guts. 

But that, he finds, isn't really the point. No. The pleasure, the arousal, is secondary to the way you fall to pieces at his hand. Flesh stinging his palm with each loud smack that rings out sharply in the room. Uneven breaths. Shuddering little ah-ah-ahs that tumble out through clenched teeth. 

It's addictive, this. Therapeutic. 

There's static in his head. White noise. It renders everything else mute. Moot. Molasses drips down, thick and entrenching, congealing over every churning thought in the back of his head. There's a sense of peace, ease, he hasn't felt in years. In decades. 

He feels his belly knot each time your ass jiggles, skin bulging up from the trauma of being hit so harshly. Chafed under his palm. Welts forming in the shape of his hand. A tattoo you'll have for weeks when he's through with you. Aching each time you try to sit. And fuck—

You'll think of him. Of this. Being taken over his goddamn knee like the bad fucking girl you are. Broken in over his lap. Helpless. Submissive. 

The whimpers fade, replaced with shallow hiccups. Your throat is torn. Raw, ruined, by your screams, yowls. Each rasping whine sends jolts of pleasure down his spine. Liquid want molten in his marrow. 

“S–seven, nngh—”

The moan slips out—scorched, bleached—and drills deep into his loins. 

He peels his gaze away from your blistered skin, glancing at your face, but you duck from his view. Hide. Dropping your head over the armrest. Evading him. 

It's new, this. This meekness. 

You were so combative, so feral before. His gaze rakes down the expanse of your spine, over the curve of your cheeks, before settling, hot and heavy, at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. You squirm in his lap, thighs sliding together. Rubbing. It's no different from before when he'd spank you, but—

He catches it. 

It glints in the soft light when you move, and he feels something dark, ruinous, curl in the tar-stained fibrils of his chest. Congealing in the crevasses. Hardening. 

Price flicks his tongue out, swiping over his lower lip. The bristles of his beard graze the soft flesh, prickling across it. His throat is suddenly dry. Parched. 

His hand comes down again, notably softer than the other hits he subjected you to. Almost—

Tender. 

This isn't meant to hurt. Not this one. 

He strokes his finger over your skin, cock throbbing with the rasping gasp that spills—a twisted amalgamation of pain, skin still smarting, burning to the touch, and—

His lashes flutter. Nostrils flaring. 

Your slick, wet, between your inner thighs. 

He slides his hand down, down, until your ass cheek is cupped in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger. Nestled tight. A perfect fit. The sight of your skin—soft, so soft—against his bearish, hirsute paw is sickeningly addictive. He grunts, pressing his thumb into the crease between your cheek and thigh. 

“P–Price—”

And then he pulls, moaning deep in his chest as he peels the fat of your ass away, unveiling your cunt to his rapacious gaze. Fuck—

“What’s this?” He taunts, breathless. Pinched. You squirm, trying to press your thighs together. Hiding your pussy from his scorching stare. He doesn't let you. “Gettin’ off on me spankin’ your arse?” 

“N–no, I'm—”

He pushes his thumb up, sliding it over your skin. Gathers your slick on the tip. “Don't lie to me, mm. You're fuckin' soaked.”

The air is punched from his lungs. Spills out in a wretched grunt. In the vacuum, something grows. Knots. Festering inside his chest. Animalistic. Primal. There's an itch in the back of his head. 

He lets go of your arm, knows you won't run. Won't try to escape. No. 

You're a good girl, aren't you? One who does what they're told. Follows orders. It tangles in the soporific slurry of his head, pitching a bivouac of need when you bring your arm down, curling it through the gap of the armrest, holding tight. 

Bracing yourself. 

His hum breaks in his throat. He drags his hand away from your cunt, reaching for the snuffed cigar idling in the ashtray. There's a fever in his veins. It makes his hand tremble. Shake. He needs the blunted drag of nicotine to quench this heady anticipation blooming in his guts. A brumous storm gyring inside him, an incipient maelstrom of want thickening. Intensifying. Threatening to spill over. 

He needs something to steady himself before he tears into you like a beast—

You cock your head over your shoulder, staring at him with eyes drenched in midnight ink. There's a flicker across your tear-stained expression. Something coy. Feline. Leonine. 

There's nothing said. Nothing needs to be. He finds what he's looking for in the fracture of your mien, and scoffs under his breath at your sheer gall. Little fuckin' minx. 

Tobacco proves to be a paltry facsimile when he draws in a bursting mouthful. The restive glow of it dulled under the adrenaline coursing through his veins, heady. Syrupy. A roaring deluge of anticipation broiling in the balmy air, crackling around him like a storm cresting over the horizon. Ozone saturates in the thickening atmosphere. 

Something will break. Shatter. 

He tenses, waiting for the first stormcloud to breach, and drops his hand back to your tender ass. Stroking over the raised welts just to make you gasp. Your hips flex under the shocks of pain riveting down your spine, undulating in his lap. Pitched perfectly over his cock. 

His breath shudders through a needlepoint. The friction is electric. 

In petty retaliation—and just to see you squirm—he trails his knuckles over your heated skin, luxuriating in the way you shiver. Head falling back down over the armrest, beautifully alluring in your vulpine submission. His fingers dip between the cleft of your cheeks, feeling the slickness sticking to your soft, sensitive skin. Soaked between your thighs. Wretched girl. 

His index and middle finger slide over your slit, parting your folds. He feels the small pulses of your drenched hole against his flesh when he slides over it with the press of his fingers. Eager little thing.  

He hums under his breath at the sight of his hand seated across your hand, fingers shoved between the globes of your smarting ass. Soft and tender to worn and gnarled. The cropping of dark hair over his knuckles, his hand, against your bare skin is obscene. The picture of sin with your stricken flesh and his thick veins. The contrast curdled in the back of his head, morphing into something ugly and wanting. 

Idly, he thinks of making you bounce your sore ass on his lap later, your pussy swallowing up his fat cock. Taking it all the way to the root. Over and over again. Breaking you on it until you're begging for mercy, until this little attitude of yours is crushed between his teeth. 

Slick gathers against the rough pads of his fingers, drenching them. The hair on his knuckles is matted down, wet with your arousal. Naughty girl. He'll make you pay for that. 

And for the puddle seeping into his trousers. 

You mewl when he slips, sliding over your clit. The noise spilling molten over your lips, bludgeoning into his loins. 

He drags in another mouthful of smoke. Lets it rot between his teeth as he drops the cigar into the ashtray once more, attention riveting to the slip-slide of your slick thighs rubbing together for friction against your aching clit. Cunt pulsing needily against his hand. 

You haven't learned a damn thing at all, have you? 

Smoke funnels out of his nostrils when he growls. “Spoiled, aren't you? Need to be taught a lesson in respect.” 

“I, ah, am respectful, Captain—” 

He sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. This lippiness of yours grates on his nerves. He wants you begging for mercy, limp in his hold. Pretty doll. Waiting obediently for him to put you back together again. Soft and submissive at his heel. 

“Got three more to go, love.” You shiver when he strokes over your ass. Petting gently with wet, tacky fingers. “If you're a good girl and take it for me, I'll play with your pretty cunt, mm. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” 

Price brings his hand down, grunting when you moan out his name. Sharp and needy. Your plaintive posturing is a spark inside a tinderbox. 

“E–eight.” 

The next one is harder, sharper. The force twinges his joints. Rattles through his bone. 

It's unexpected, and the pain makes you yowl, body drawing tight like a bow. There's no pleasure when it's like that. No friction against your cunt. It's just—

“Price—!” You yelp, shrill and distressed. The lead up to this has been child's play. A soft hand to tender a nervous mare. 

His old man taught him to never strike with the whip first but to wean them slowly. 

He waits, humming mockingly to your pettering whimpers as you heave, tremulous, into the air. Shuddering in his grasp at the aftershocks of agony rippling through your body. 

Waits. Waits. And—

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, cooing low and condescending when you gasp, craning your neck to level him with an imploring, pleading stare as you stammer out a frenetic nine in a breathless rush. Tears soak your lashline, clumping them together when you blink through another deluge pooling against the rim. Your lip wobbles. The stream breaks, spilling over. Fresh tears run down your wet, sticky cheeks. 

There's real panic in the whites of your eyes now. That haughty, pedant gleam buried under pyretic desperation. Gone is the coy twist to your lips. The wily little bloom of amusement in your gaze. 

Aw, poor thing. But—

Too late. “You didn't count. You know what that means, love.” 

That knot in his chest unfurls, and leaks acid into his lungs. This want is corrosive. A poison. The sob breaks through your chest. The first thunderclap. He relishes in it. Leans back in his chair to bask in the potency of your unmaking. 

“Good girl,” he husks out, burning lungs spewing black smoke into the air. “Just ten more now, love. Know you can take it for me, can't you?”

Pretty thing. He'll have that haughty attitude snuffed out before the end of the night. Have you begging for his touch, his cock, him, before the sun draws across the horizon. 

Your ruination at his hand. The thought strokes along the kindling smouldering inside of his chest. Burning away at the pyre he's been building since the day he met you. When you looked up at him, pretty in your scorn, and disobeyed his command. Undermined him. So righteous in your fury. A burgeoning flame he wanted nothing more than to snuff out under his heel, and now—

Wide, wet eyes plead with him. “Please, Price. Please, please. I'll be good—I promise I'll be good, sir—”

—ash in the palm of his hand. 

He strokes over your searing flesh, humming softly under his breath. “I know you will, pretty girl—” basks in the hiccup of relief you let out, lets it glue in his ears, echoing over and over again. So sweet. 

He lets your relief live for a moment. Take its first breath of air through aching lungs—

“But I told you, didn't I? That I'd take you over my knee.” Price pats his hand over your cheek, shushing you when you startle, squirming on his lap. 

“Now. Be a good girl and count for me, mm?”

[joedirtymadre]

Your First Fight

Headcanon 🫶 (Pls send more requests)

LUFFY + ZORO + SANJI + LAW + ACE + SABO

LUFFY

“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me,” he said as he watched you pace around the room. “Are you serious? I asked you to stay behind on the ship, because you know this island is known to be a common Navy stop! All I needed was to grab some herbs and plants for the garden and who do I see rocketing into the middle of the plaza?” You asked, knowing damn well who it was. “Me…” he replied softly. “Exactly! I asked you to stay behind and watch the ship with the others! Why can’t you do the simplest of tasks?” You yelled. “So what if I left? I got bored, and why are you trying to tell me what to do?! If you want me to remind you, I’m your captain! You listen to me!” He yelled back.

“Well it obviously doesn’t look like it, since you were hurling at max speed into a Navy base island without a care in the world! Grow up! I asked you to stay behind because we had others who needed to stock up on supplies, which means you had to stay behind and make sure we’re not discovered or the ship isn’t hijacked!” You yelled. “We would have been fine! We always escape, so why are you so mad at me?” He asked. “Just because it hasn’t happened doesn’t mean it won’t. Plus I asked you to do something and you just ignored it,” You replied. “Well if you want to boss people around so much, go find your own ship. Maybe you’ll be a better captain,” he said coldly as he walked out of the bedroom.

ZORO

“Hey stop!” You called out to your boyfriend. You were both currently lost… or he was lost, you knew where to go, but Zoro wasn’t listening. “Zoro, I told you a billion times that the ship is the other way,” you said. “I know where it is! You don’t need to babysit me, I’m not a little kid,” he sighed. “I’m not trying to,” you said. “Well it feels like it… like I can’t take a break,” he grumbled. “Ok… but why are you so upset? I’m just giving you dire-“ he cut you off. “Because you’re always doing this!” He shouted as he stopped and looked at you.

“Huh?” You asked. “You’re always… suffocating me. I can never have a moment to myself, ever since we started dating. It’s like you’re a leech and I can never get rid of you for 5 seconds,” he groaned. “Oh…” your voice cracked. “I didn’t m-mean…” you trailed off. “Wait… (Y/N), I didn’t mean all that. I’m just-“ you cut him off. “No… it’s fine, I understand… You just want some space…I’ll head back to the ship, I’ll see you there,” you said as you turned on your heels and ran towards the ship. “(Y/N)!” You heard as you continued to run off.

SANJI

You slowly approached your boyfriend, excited to help him with whatever he needs. “Hey!” You smiled. “Hi beautiful, how are you?” He smiled back. “I’m great, so what are we making today?” You asked. “Nami-swan asked if I could make her some fruit tarts so I’ll be preparing that for her,” he smiled. “Mind if I help? If you finish quickly we can go-“ he cut you off. “Sorry (Y/N), but I’d hate for this to be messed up. It’s better if I do it alone,” he explained.

“Oh… but I normally help you in the kitchen, why can’t I help you with this one?” You asked, confused. “To make sure it’s perfect for my Nami-swan! Plus, you still haven’t mastered certain techniques, and I’d hate for this treat to not be perfect for my beloved Nami,” he swooned. “Seriously?” You huffed. “I didn’t mean to offend you my love, I was just answering your question,” he replied as he began preparing the dessert. “Ok fine, I’ll get out of your way. Maybe your beloved Nami will come help you out in the future,” you said coldly and began walking out of the kitchen. “(Y/N)! Hey! Wait!” He called out, but you continued to your bedroom.

LAW

“(Y/N) you’ve been at that for the past 6 hours, it’s time to take a break,” Law said as he watched you continue to try to fix the electrical issue that’s been causing problems with the motor. “But I can’t just stop now… what if the motor stops when we’re trying to escape from someone?” You asked, feeling frustrated by the uncooperative wires. “Come on, maybe you need some fresh air. We’ve been ducked at this island for a whole day and you haven’t even looked outside to see it,” he sighed. “Well I’m sorry that I’m trying to fix your ship!” You huffed. “That’s fine, but you need a break,” he said.

“Well I don’t want a break, what I want to do is fix this stupid thing!” You groaned. “And I really don’t need someone breathing down my neck when I’m trying to do something!” You added. “I’m just trying to look out for you, but if you’re gonna act like this then I’m leaving,” he said softly and headed towards the exit. “Good, maybe I’ll finally be able to fix this,” you glared as he walked out.

ACE

“Come on babe, are you really still mad at me?” Ace asked as he followed you to your bedroom. “What makes you think that?” You asked as you tried to shut the door in his face, but he quickly stopped it and stepped in. “That’s why,” he frowned. “Just making sure to close the door behind me,” you said as you gave a tight smile. “Come on, what’s the big deal? I’m sorry I left without telling you,” he said as he tried to hold you. “You just don’t understand,” you huffed as you brushed off his embrace. “Then tell me,” he said as he sat on your bed.

“What if you died?” You said bluntly. “Well… that’s being optimistic…” Ace said awkwardly. “I’m serious, what if you died? You really left without me knowing, and sure you made it back safe, but what if next time you’re not so lucky? And I end up finding out my boyfriend died in the middle of the sea, and I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you said softly. “Ok, ok… well I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left. Even though you know I’ll always be safe. So, forgive me now?” He smiled. “No, because you’re not taking me seriously!” You groaned. “Why are you still mad at me? I said, " I'm sorry, don’t worry so much!” He yelled back. “I worry because I love you, but if you’re so dense, then just get out! I don’t know why I even put up with you. When it obviously shows how little you care about my feelings!” You shouted as you pushed Ace out of your room. “Wait, (Y/N) I’m sorry! Let’s keep-“ but you cut his words off with the door.

SABO

“Sabo~” you cooed. “Yes (Y/N)?” He replied. “I’m bored, can you please put the book down for a second and let’s go walk around the island or grab something to eat?” You asked hopefully. “Not today, plus you know we’re not supposed to be venturing out when he has to be on duty,” he explained. “I know, but we both get and hour break from standing guard and you’ve been spending each break reading. Can’t we do something, the two of us? Together?” You added. “Why? We’re spending time together right now,” he rolled his eyes.

Your eyes fell to the floor, “Alright,” you said softly as you headed back to the base. “What’s wrong?” Sabo called out. “Nothing, just gonna head inside,” you replied. You heard footsteps behind you, “What’s wrong? Tell me,” he said as he grabbed your arm. “Sabo we’ve been here for 2 weeks and you don’t want to do any normal couple stuff with me? Not even for an hour?” You asked. “(Y/N) you know-“ you cut him off. “Yeah I know, I also know how hard it is to have a relationship in our positions, but that didn't stop you from asking me out… Plus… I’ve seen you go out with Koala on a few occasions, you didn’t seem to have an issue with the rules then,” you glared. He quickly released your arm. “Hold on, you’re misunderstanding that (Y/N). You know Koala and I-“ you cut him off once again. “I know, but it doesn't mean you’re off having fun with another girl. While your real girlfriend is stuck here watching you read a book,” you said softly before turning on your heels and heading back towards the base.

[borathae]

Too Sweet

“You’re too sweet for him, but he can’t get enough of the taste. Even if lately he makes you feel as if he has. Taehyung doesn’t like that you feel this way, showing you that the only drug he ever needs is you.”

Pairing: Gangster!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: crime!AU, established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: mention of past smoking, mention of murder as well as blood & violence, Dom!Taehyung, sub!Reader, lingerie kink, hand kink, dirty talk, praise, he calls her his slut fondly, he also calls her babygirl and (baby)doll, the title Sir is said like three times, cockwarming in his office chair, desperate sex on top of his office desk, DP of her pussy with his cock & fingers, choking without applying pressure, bondage with his tie, strength kink, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), squirting, he fucks her so good she pees a little jjsjsj, creampie, subby girl tears, he is as gentle with her as he is rough (sexy), smol ownership kink, kinda exhibitionism cause they fuck loudly with his guards outside the doors, hints at female masturbation, allusion to somnophilia, breast play with painless tit spanking, idk if this is warning worthy but he is a little "dismissive" of her feeling neglected by fucking her instead of listening to her, but he apologises healthily in the end and keeps being all "fuck, I misssed you" during sex, cuddles and kisses and praise for aftercare hihi

Wordcount: 5.6k

a/n: this is based on this post and all of you guys' wishes ohoho. it's definitely less on the soft Dom!Tae side because a bitch (me) wrote this during full ovulation bloom and i quite frankly felt like a bitch (dog) in heat ajjajsjs have fun besties 🤎

Taehyung was working late. He is at home for a change and you thought that it would mean you could see him more, but that wasn’t the case. You haven’t seen him at all today, not even in the morning because he locked himself in his office before you woke and during lunch time, he asked one of his men to bring the food to his office. You can’t stand it when he is like this. 

You know that Taehyung was a busy man. If he wasn’t gone, tending to missions or assassinating his targets, he was holed up in his office, allowing no one to come in. No one. Not even you, his woman. 

You normally don’t mind that he is absent, having your own things to do. But it has been days since you last saw him and you are getting needy. Not only for his attention, but also for his touch. You noticed it starting when you woke up all alone – like always these past few days – with thick, warm slick between your legs and a deep pit in your stomach only his cock could fill. You tried to get rid of it, but no matter how you touched yourself, it wasn’t enough. You missed Taehyung. You missed his touch and how he can turn you into puddy between his fingers. He gets off on the power. Taehyung is twisted like that, giving it to you with a taunting smirk on his lips which so very often makes you shudder. Sometimes he also looks at you as if you were his prey, as if you were one of the many fuckers he tortures on a daily. And you get off to it, craving exactly this look tonight.

Taehyung’s world wasn’t normal or on the bright side of the law. Taehyung’s world was as twisted as him, it was filled with drugs, murder and betrayal and reeked of dirty money and expensive alcohol. 

You slithered into it eight years ago with no chance of escaping. It all began when you came home to your younger siblings slaughtered and your belongings missing. Your parents had died years before and as the eldest of four, you took on the role of mother and father for your younger siblings. They were three, six and eleven when they were murdered. You were only twenty. The law didn’t help you. They dismissed it because of too little evidence, called it a case unsolvable and told you to leave when you begged them to continue the search. You met Taehyung in front of the police station. It rained that day and the air smelled of messy endings – or new beginnings, however one might interpret the meeting. He called you to the dark alleyway he was hiding in and offered you a drag of the cigarette he was smoking, which you declined while he took it for you with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“I can find the killers of your family”, he had told you.

“How do you know what happened to them?” you had asked him.

He pointed at the police station, “I know a lot of things in this city. Things these bastards up there could only dream of knowing. I know your name and that someone killed your three siblings. I also know that your parents died two years ago and that their deaths are connected to these murders.”

“Who are you?” you asked him.

“You can call me Vante, my real name isn’t important”, he told you, not knowing that one day he will have you screaming his real name for him each night as he made the messiest love to you.

“Why are you helping me?”

Taehyung took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled it through his nose. He stepped closer, drawing you in with his eyes. Something sick and twisted glimmered in them and you had found yourself gazing at it in awe. 

“Are you taking my help or not? My cigarette is running out and I’m not about to light another one”, he stressed back then, unaware that one day the only drug he will need in his lungs was your air.

Many years have passed since then. The world darkened in these years. Taehyung lost the playful spark he had back then, while you lost the innocence a normal person without criminal ties possessed. You know how a stranger’s blood feels on your hands these days, know how disgusting humans are once they die and their muscles give up and you know the bitter taste of lonely nights when Taehyung stays out longer than planned. 

You can’t take the taste anymore. You crave the sweetness of his kiss, the saccharine traces of his touch and the honey timbre of his voice.

Taehyung is locked up in his office and doesn’t let anyone in, but you can’t take it anymore. You have to see him. 

Two of his men are guarding the door. Their eyes flit to your cleavage but shoot away instantly, their bodies tense as they try not to look again. Looking at you in the wrong way will cost them their eyes. Taehyung would make sure of that. Just as he made sure that the killer of your family got the ending they deserved. You knew that you were twisted when you felt joy and desire as you watched him slaughter them instead of horror and disgust. You remember fucking him, bloodied and dirty, just beside the bodies of your family’s killer while Taehyung moaned into your mouth, drugged out and high on slaughtering. You haven’t been separated since. Except for these last few days. Fuck, you miss him.

“Master Vante wishes not to be distracted”, his guards try to stop you.

“I want to see him.”

“He told us not to let anyone in. Not even you, Mistress.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Vante!” you call out. 

Moments later the door opens. Taehyung looks at you, then your skimpy outfit, then his guards. 

“You told them to keep me outside?” you ask him, cocking a brow at him.

Taehyung glares at his guards. They avoid eye contact, gawking at the front with pearls of anxious sweat on their foreheads.

“Come in”, Taehyung tells you darkly, stepping out of the doorframe.

With a triumphant bounce in your step, you enter his office. The main lights were off, only his green table lamp was on, tinting the room a mixture of orange and green. 

Taehyung closes the door and locks it, turning to you quickly to grab your wrist.

“What are you thinking?” he hisses.

“I miss you.”

“And that gives you the right to walk around like this in front of my men?” 

You are wearing lingerie and a see-through, short rope. Both blood red in colour. They hug your curves at the best parts and match with the colour of your lipstick. 

“Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?” you act oblivious on purpose, craving the fire in his eyes only you can ignite.

Taehyung furrows his brows. The fire burns deep. You, quite frankly, almost moan because of it. This is exactly the warmth you missed these past cold nights.

“I miss you, Tae. I go to bed alone and wake up just as alone. I miss you so fucking much.”

Taehyung clenches his jaw. He slides his hand from your wrist and steps back.

“I have a lot to do”, he says, retreating back to his desk. 

The distance is cold. Yes, the years took his playfulness, but they never took his affection for you. His distance is cold because it was never there before.

“Did I do something?” you ask him quietly.

Taehyung lifts his eyes from his papers. 

“What makes you think that?”

“You aren’t coming to bed with me anymore.”

“I am. You’re just always sleeping already.”

“You don’t hold me in the morning.”

“I do. You’re just always sleeping still.”

“You lock me out of your office.”

“There’s stuff in here I don’t want you to see.”

“You don’t want to fuck me in this outfit.”

Taehyung purses his lips. 

“You normally always do.”

“I want to do the most sinful things to you, don’t mistake my indifference with lack of desire. If I didn’t have so much shit to do, I’d bend you over this desk and fuck days worth of cum into you.”

You moan with your knees buckling. Taehyung watches it happen, allowing you to know it affects him by loosening his tie a little.

“Did you like that?” he asks – rasps. 

You nod your head, giving him pleading puppy eyes.

“Come here.”

You obey his orders instantly, hurrying to his desk so you could stand in front of him.

Taehyung spreads his legs, leaning back in his chair. It creaks as he does. He runs his hand over his chin, taking you in with fiery eyes. 

“What do you really want?”

“Your touch.”

“Don’t keep stuff from me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want.” You gasp for air. “Oh god, Tae. Don’t make me.”

He darkens his eyes, chewing imaginary gum.

“If you want me to help you, you gotta tell me. You know how deals with me work.”

How could you forget. Making a deal with Taehyung is what brought you here. Letting him find your family’s killer is what made you into the obsessed woman you are today. 

You didn’t have to accept his deal back then, but you did. You took the cigarette and finished it in one inhale, sealing not only your deal with him, but also your fate. 

“I want you to touch me. I’ve been wet since the morning and I can’t stop it.”

His eyes skim over your crotch. His chest rises and sinks in one deep, affected breath.

“Did you try stopping it?”

“Yeah.”

“How?” 

You shy away. Taehyung sits up, hovering his hand over your waist without touching you. It aches not to be touched by him. 

“Don’t be shy now. Tell me how you took care of it.”

“I touched myself”, you whisper.

Taehyung purrs, “you touched yourself. What a bad girl. I can’t remember giving you permission.”

“You haven’t been there for me for days.”

He smiles. The first of the day. It makes your knees weak.

“So it’s my fault?”

“Yes.”

His smile grows. He follows his hand with his eyes as he travels it along your curves. The touch never comes. It drives you insane to have him so close but still be denied the honey warmth of his hands.

“If I knew how fucking needy you were, I’d have fucked you in your sleep.”

You whimper. 

He looks up, meets your eyes in fiery desire.

“I’d have infiltrated your dreams and made you cream my cock before you could even wake up.”

“Please touch me, please”, you beg because you have already reached your breaking point.

He chuckles, chewing gum again.

“I can touch you in lots of ways. Be more specific.”

“Cock. I want cock.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach nonchalantly. You gawk at them. You crave their touch. Fuck, please.

“Alright”, he says coolly. 

“Really?” you gasp, stumbling because your knees actually gave up on you. Taehyung is on his feet instantly, lifting you onto his desk and holding you between his strong hands. 

“Careful. Are you okay?” he asks, studying your features worriedly.

Despite all the killing he is doing, all the fighting and rough work, his palms are soft. Feeling them on your skin makes you moan. Finally. His touch heals you.

“I want to be fucked so bad”, you beg.

Taehyung chuckles, “shit, you’re gone for.”

“Please”, you open your legs, showing him your wet panties. 

Taehyung licks his lips, gulping heavily. You are soaking the documents under you. Fuck, you haven’t been that wet in ages. Taehyung wants to pump his digits into you, fuck your slickened cunt hard and fast, get his cock creamed. But he holds back. He still has work to do and he knows exactly how to take care of you in a way which still allows him to do what he needs to do. 

“Wrists out.”

You obey his orders.

“From now on, your safeword is Red and your life line is humming our song. Understood?” he tells you as he opens his red tie.

“Yes, Sir”, you whimper, leaking all over his desk.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl when you listen so well.” He pulls your wrists closer, wrapping the tie around them a few times. 

You are heaving. You can’t handle how much all of this excites you. 

“Too tight?” he makes sure, rubbing your knuckles gently. Each touch he places makes you want to scream. You missed it so much. 

“No, just right.”

“That’s good”, he says and lifts your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Each of them. Without breaking eye contact. You are truly puddy in his hands. “You know why I have to do this, don’t you?”

“I touched myself without your permission.”

“Exactly, bad girl”, he says with a playful spark in his eyes. 

You have to giggle because of it, writhing on his desk. Off of said desk he lifts you moments later. 

He sits back down on his chair and begins unbuckling his slacks. 

“Tae”, you moan, pressing your legs together. Finally. Finally. Finally. 

He opens his belt, his button, his zipper. He slides his hand inside. Seconds later, it reappears with his cock between his fingers. He’s already hard and throbbing, sitting heavy in his touch.

You ogle him, drooling all over yourself.

“What do you want to do to it?” Taehyung orders you.

“Sit on it.”

“What a naughty girl, mhhhm”, he rolls his head back, arches his back as he puts on a show of jerking himself off.

This is to rile you up, to show you what you currently don’t have.

“Please, can I have it?” you beg, fighting your restrains. 

“Mhm, take it.”

“Oh god, oh god.”

You fail to climb on his lap on your own and so Taehyung helps you with a guiding touch. He even pulls your panties aside for you, holding his cock in place as you sink down on him. It squelches wetly. 

Taehyung tenses his thighs for just a second, biting down on his lower lip as a deep purr rumbles in his chest.

You totally lose it, falling against his chest with your tied up hands trying to grab his shirt. Your lips press against his neck. He smells masculine and clean. 

“Taehyung”, your moan is filled with relief and ecstasy. 

“You weren’t lying. You’re so fucking wet.”

You move instantly. Messily and needily. You move. Move. Get stopped. 

With both hands dimpling your hips, Taehyung is keeping you still. He ignores your pleading whimpers and your distressed gasps. Instead he rolls closer to his desk and straightens up, picking up his pen.

“That’s perfect. Keep my cock warm like this”, he says nonchalantly.

“Wh-what?” you are out of breath, close to tears. You want cock so bad and you finally have it, but he is denying you to move? Does he want to make you cry? You can’t get any more desperate and yet he wants to prove you wrong. 

You lift your head from his neck. Taehyung glances at you.  

“You didn’t think that I’d allow you to move after the stunt you pulled, did you?” he taunts, chewing gum again.

“What stunt?”

He stops chewing, lowering his eyes darkly.

“When you showed yourself like this in front of my men. When you touched yourself without my permission. When you barged into my office and accused me of neglecting you.”

“You have been neglecting me.”

“Careful”, he warns, bucking his hips up.

You moan, rolling your eyes back as your body wobbles in defeat.

Taehyung pulls you closer, keeping you steady that way. He fucks into you again, gritting his teeth while you whimper like a happy slut. Your cunt is so fucking puffy, sucking in his cock greedily. Every voice in his head is telling Taehyung to drop his work and fuck you senseless. But he can’t. He has a point to prove.

“I’m allowing you to be in my office and to sit on my cock, but anymore backtalk and I’ll gag you”, he warns even if talking is hard.

You spill tears.

“Please more.”

He wipes your tears, caressing your chin afterwards.

“Patience, I still have to work”, he tells you and looks back at the papers.

“Oh god, please”, you plead, hiding back in his neck. You want to move, but you can’t because he is keeping an iron grip on your hips. All you can do is sit on his lap with his girthy cock deep inside you. And you can’t even run your hands over him. You wiggle them in their restraints, begging against his neck.

“Please Tae, please.”

“Patience. It’s only been half a minute.”

It felt like three hours. You need him pumping into you. Warming his cock isn’t enough. 

Time passes. You don’t know how much, but it’s too much for you. All you can concentrate on is his cock. He is so hard inside you. So big and girthy. You were never so aware of being filled than you are currently. You can feel every inch sitting inside you and how he is stretching you out. The pit in your stomach is shrinking but it’s still there because you aren’t allowed to move. You clench your pelvic muscles. Electricity runs through you. This helped. When you tense up, you can feel him press against your sensitive spots. 

Dumb in desperation, you start chasing the sensation. You clench, relax, clench, relax. Over and over. It feels so good. You finally have what you had craved for days. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung soon breaks the silence, reminding you that he could feel as well. 

You tense up, feeling dizzy. You forgot that it’s noticeable to him when you clench down. 

“Mhm? What are you doing?” he stresses, digging his thumb into your softness. 

“It hurts.” His touch loosens, but tightens again when you continue whining. “It’s not enough, please let me move.” 

Taehyung takes a deep breath, keeps it in for a moment and exhales it in time with his big hand sliding to the small of your back. 

He gives it a small push, moving you like this. You shudder instantly, leaking on his cock. He moves you again and you pick up on it instantly, meeting his movements needily. 

“Nuh-uh.” He slows you down with just one touch. “Like this. Understood?”

“Yeah”, you whimper, obeying his orders.

“Good girl, such a good girl”, he praises and shifts his attention back to work.

So now he’s got you grinding down on his cock. He is glad that he is sitting because it turns his legs weak. He missed your warmth like nothing else. Concentrating on his work is definitely becoming difficult but he is stubborn. He needs to keep cool a little longer. 

You are in a state of ecstasy, panting and drooling against his neck as you finally have what you craved. You have his cock moving inside you. Now granted, the movements are just small grinds back and forth, but it’s like a drug to you. He shifts deep inside you, prods at your puffy walls and swollen good spots and the folds of his slacks are rubbing against your clit. You have his big hand on your back, rubbing circles into your thinly dressed skin. Everything is just perfect. Taehyung might think he is giving you a punishment with such little movements, but you are in fucking heaven. This is exactly what you needed. 

Taehyung doesn’t realise the gravity of his mistake up until the point you suddenly tense up and squeak his name. But by then it is already too late. He has you throbbing around him seconds later as you orgasm as if you never had before.

You whimper, trying so hard not to shake and tremble, but Taehyung can feel it nonetheless. It’s squeezing his cock. 

“You fucking-”, Taehyung growls, throwing his pen aside. His composure is broken. He stands up with you and swipes his desk clean just so he can lie you down on it. He takes your hands and pins then above your head, staring down at you with crazed eyes and gritted teeth. “You’re such a fucking temptress. How dare you cum like that.”

You are barely present after your high, writhing and twitching on the desk. He thrusts his hips. Consciousness returns. The sensitive, fucked state of you is obvious again. 

You squeak his name and arch your back as your eyes finally meet his’. His pupils are blown out, he has a sense of craze in his face. 

“I should tie a vibrator to you and leave you shaking by my feet for what you’re doing to me”, he spits as he finally drills his cock into you. Hard and rough. The desk shakes because of it. Your body does as well. “I have work to do and you’re messing with my schedule. I should punish you, but fuck”, he buries himself as deep as possible and write his name against your walls, “you fucked me up. Just wanna pound into you”, he laughs lazily, following it up with a lulled “fuuck.”

“Harder please”, you beg, riding on the high with your head turning. 

Taehyung fulfills your wish with a growl. His fingers dig into the softness of your thighs so he can keep you in place as he fucks you into a state of senseless on his desk. You answer his guttural growls with high pitched wails of gratefulness. You finally have what you needed. You have his entire attention. And it feels so fucking good. 

It is finally obvious to you how much Taehyung missed you too. He only fucks like that when he hasn’t been with you for a while. He only grips you with such strength when his fingers hadn’t felt your softness in ages. He is only so out of breath when your air hasn’t filled his addicted lungs for some time. 

“I missed you”, he gets out. 

You meet his eyes. Tears escape you easily. He slows down and leans over you to wipe them gently. A moment of tenderness in the passion. A moment to remind you that he loves no person as much and as deeply as he loves you.

“I missed you so fucking much”, he rasps and slides his hand to your neck to rest on it. No pressure. Just contact. His hips pick up speed, claiming you as his’ in more ways than one. 

And you roll your eyes back without closing them, melting into the desk as he rearranges your insides. The pit is finally being filled. The fire is finally burning you again. You are so happy, moaning his name as loudly as possible. 

“Yes baby, moan for me. It turns me on. Moan for me.”

His guards just right outside the door are non-existent to you and him right now. The fact that they most definitely can hear you, hasn’t sunk in yet. You and Taehyung are lost in passion. You have to pick up on days of absence, you have to fuck until the desperation is finally gone from your systems. Fuck, you need each other so fucking bad. 

“You feel so good, my good girl. Love filling you with my cock. So good, fuck so good. You’re taking me like such a good girl”, Taehyung is babbling. He always gets like this when the sex just hits right. He loses control over his tongue and begins spitting whatever dirty thoughts run through his foggy mind. “My good girl, my fucking slut. Look at you. Fuck.”

His right hand cups your tits, playing with them roughly. The touch is heaven. Even through the material of your lingerie you can feel it.

“Taehyung”, you wail, arching into his touch.

“I hate that you thought I don’t wanna fuck you in this. Shit, I want you like fucking crazy”, he moans and gives your tits a gentle spank. Just hard enough that they jiggle for a moment, but still gentle enough that no pain shoots over your skin. 

You still sob and mewl for him, writhing on the desk like a woman brought to her limits. And you are. He is bringing you to your limits, pushing you right past them because he is twisted like that.

“Fuck, you’re cumming again?” he slows down.

“Don’t stop please. Faster!”

And you enjoy every second of it because you are just as twisted. It burns so deep when he is rough during your orgasm and you need it to continue burning.

“Urgh fine”, he is tensing his jaw, furrowing his brows, “you’re so tight. Your pussy’s sucking me off. Shit, ah- babygirl ahm mhh urgh.”

Taehyung wants to crumble on the floor. Every inch of his body is electric. You have him so high. And it doesn’t stop. His cock is throbbing. He swears he hasn’t been that hard in ages. He might actually pass out from how much blood is shooting to his dick. But he’s got a deal to fulfil. He promised you relief and Taehyung isn’t going to disappoint. He isn’t the type to break deals. No matter how much they ruin him. And you are ruining him like nothing else. 

You are so tight after your high, so wet that it is difficult for his cock not to slip out. It’s squelching out of you, messing up not only your connected bodies but his desk as well.

“You’ll be the death of me”, he gets out.

“More.”

“More?” he squeaks out, following it up with a disbelieved laugh, “how much hotter do you wanna be burn?”

“Until I’m reduced to piles of ash”, you croak and grab his wrist with your tied hands. You guide it to your middle. 

Taehyung picks up on your silent message instantly, rubbing circles into your puffy clit. 

“No”, you mewl, “stick them in, please.”

Taehyung growls needily. He gets a little dumb in pleasure when you reach the point where you beg for what you want without shame. He is so obsessed with you it’s crazy. 

Taehyung slows down to make it easier and slips one of his fingers into your cunt. The tightness makes both of you gasp.

“I’m going insane, fuck”, Taehyung croaks, staring at the pretty view obsessively. His huge cock inside you, his finger right beside it, your puffy lips moving around him and your red lace panties stretching against his shaft. “You’re so stuffed with me. Does it feel good to you?” 

“Another.”

“Shit, you’re actually killing me.”

His second digit fills you just as easily, pressing against your swollen g-spot. You whimper and squirm, tensing around him. He glances at your face. It is scrunched up, skin glistening in a layer of sweat and pleasurable tears.

“Too much?” he makes sure.

“No, perfect. Please move”, you squeak out.

Taehyung huffs out air, giving you exactly what you ask of him. The friction is unbearable, the pressure around his cock is making his knees shake but he keeps moving. You are moaning so prettily for him, stretching your tied up arms above your head as if you wanted to reach for the stars he is making you see. 

“My perfect woman. Urgh my…pretty….slut….my princess, urgh…is this what you…wanted?” 

“Yes, yes, yes”, you squeal and keen, glowing in happiness.

“So beautiful, I’m going insane”, he moans and wraps his unoccupied hand around your neck again. No pressure, just warmth. He doesn’t have to squeeze down to let you know that you belong to him. Not that you need a reminder. You belong to him willingly. 

It was over for you the moment your eyes locked. You had been his’ ever since you shared this fateful cigarette in the dark alleyway while the rain poured down on you. You are his’. No amount of distance will ever change this. 

His hand around your throat is nothing but a warm reminder that he feels the same. His palms are soft, his heavy rings are hard and warmed up from his body heat. The touch is so tender, contradicting to what his other hand was currently doing to you. He is curling his long fingers as best as your tight walls allow him to, matching the rhythm with that of his eager hips. You stopped moaning because you lost the connection to your voice. Breathe. You have to concentrate on breathing otherwise you might pass out. 

“Fuck, I can feel you clenching again. My good girl, taking me so well and looking so pretty doing it. Shit, my slut, fuck sorry I meant my pretty girl. Urgh baby, are you cumming again?”

You give him a small, fragile squeak then break on his digits and cock. You squirt all over him within seconds, screaming his name because it is all you can do. 

“Yes fuck.” He abandons your neck and presses down on your stomach to the point where you can’t tell whether he is still making you squirt or you are already pissing yourself. You don’t mind, riding the feeling with messy tears and a snotty nose. His documents and clothes are ruined, but you can’t stop. 

“Give me everything, that’s my good babygirl. I love it when you fucking wet yourself like that. Shit, I can’t do this for long anymore. Getting sensitive, mh-hm.”

“Please cum inside.”

His hips falter.

“Please, please, ah! Please!” you beg him, making up for the loss of movement by wiggling your hips until he finally picks up his rough pace again.

Taehyung leans down, pinning you against the desk with his bigger frame. He slips his fingers free from your tight cunt, so he can wrap his arm around you. His left hand closes around your throat, his lips are pressed to your ear as he talks dirty to you.

“I’m gonna cum so good for you, doll. I saved up so much for you. Gonna fill you up with all of it until you’re dripping.”

“Please, please, please”, you beg with tears in your eyes.

“Yeah? You want this cum?”

“Yes please, yes please.”

“Shit babygirl, urgh”, Taehyung growls through gritted teeth, squeezing down on your neck as he empties his heavy balls into your cunt. 

You can feel it shoot out of him and cover your walls to the point where you can’t keep it inside anymore. It drips onto the floor, messing up his cock and balls.

“Take my cum. Fuck, such a good girl. You’re made for my cum, urgh fuck”, Taehyung talks himself through it, holding you against him in his strong, protective arm. And you wail his name, wishing for his sticky cum to stay inside forever. 

He slacks against you after his high, dropping with a whimper of your name. 

“What the fuck, woah”, he gets out, trembling in the aftershocks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes”, you get out weakly.

“I kid you not. Fuck”, he exhales deeply. “Put your arms around me.” 

You obey his orders, mewling weakly when he lifts you off the desk and sits you down on him as he sinks into the chair in defeat. His cum oozes out and squelches everywhere, but it’s only a little amount compared to how much was still inside you.

He slacks against the chair, gazing up at you with half lidded eyes. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. He unties your hands.

“Do they hurt?”

“No”, you assure him, touching him instantly. He feels so strong and warm under your hands. His heart is racing so much. You needed this reminder. The reminder that you can still raise his pulse.

Taehyung closes his eyes halfway. “I love you”, he lulls, following it up with a smile.

“I love you too”, you whisper, lowering your eyes just sadly enough that he worries.

He furrows his brows, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin.

“What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head.

“Talk to me.”

“Can I be kissed?”

His features soften.

“You’re so cute. Of course you can. Come here, babydoll”, he says and slides his big hand to the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss. 

You melt into it with a fluttering heart and no thought in your brain except the repeated cheers about how much you love him. You roll your hips down into him. He tenses up, breaking the kiss with a whiney chuckle.

“What are you doing?” 

“Please don’t go back to working, please I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“I won’t work, just…” He arches his back. “Give me time to recover, ah too sensitive.”

“Please Tae”, you beg, grinding down on him despite his begs.

“Fuck, did I really neglect you that much that you can’t be satisfied no matter what I do?” he groans.

“Yes”, you get out and pull him into a kiss.

“I’m sorry. Shit, gotta make it up to you then”, he mumbles between kisses, hugging you against him as you giggle into the kisses. “Come here you adorable temptress you.”

“Ah Tae. Wait. That tickles”, you squeak in laughter as you and he lose yourselves in a tingly, passionate dance of grinding, kisses and love bites.

[visenyaism]

jaehaerys administration dashboard simulator

🫧maidenpooled Follow

listen i know all kingsguard are bastards but jonquil darke put a cigarette out on me. i think i huave shivers

♟️redwhine

ok bootlicker. you know what she did

🫧maidenpooled Follow

boots not the only thing id lick

🌸queencrowned Follow

this could literally be me and my brother if it weren't for my bitch mom trying to send me to the other side of the fucking continent

🍒saerious

GIRL STAND UP

🤎bowlofbrown

doctrine of exceptionalism meatriders when someone asks them why 75% of dragonstone is blonde and me and half of flea bottom have gleaming amethyst eyes and/or beautiful delicate cheekbones

🥀maegorwife Follow

that's different...targaryens are literally divinely ordained by the seven to rule because they're stronger and better than us...that's why they have the dragons it is in their sanctified valyrian blood

🩸knifeinthedark

SO TRUE...THEY WANT TO ABOLISH THE RIGHT TO FIRST NIGHT BECAUSE OF WOKE. AND YET THEY STILL DO IT. BUT NO ONE CAN SAY ANYTHING ANYMORE OR THOSE GENDER-NEUTRAL DRAGONS WILL BURN YOUR KEEP DOWN

🤎bowlofbrown

cannot stand this fucking website. spending my last silver stag on tyroshi blue hair dye im not going to be associated with you people.

🍒saerious

oh so when maegor has seven wives he’s “aegon’s true son” and “cool” but when i have three boyfriends suddenly im a “whore”

🫀lustywench Follow

op i support you but they did call him “the cruel” for that it was a very important part of the story that he was in fact maegor “the cruel”

🌟sevenpointedstar

🌗maidensgrace

doing all of this with a FAITH OF THE SEVEN URL...girl you better pick a hell and start hoping

#bring back the faith militant

❄️theythemderly

hey isn’t it weird that so many of the king’s children have suddenly and mysteriously died lately. under the care of the maesters. what if they’re planning something…,

🕯️glasscandled

ugh i wish🙄 speed that shit up fr

🥵ullerscorpion

likes charge reblog cast

😈themarcherrrrrr-deactivated5699

me when im in a being dead combination and my opponents are jaehaerys' whole army of childraeyn of the corn

🙌fleabottomtop

yoooooooo theyre quarrelling again.

🙌fleabottomtop

alysanne targaryen if you're reading this i could change your life just give me one chance let me hit

🙌fleabottomtop

there are gold cloaks outside of my house

⚔️errantmaid Follow

kingsguard dick is good as fuck when you don't have a motherfucker in your ear saying it violates a sacred vow made in the eyes of the king and the seven😜

⚔️errantmaid Follow

the king chopped it off and sent him to the wall i fucking hate this place can't have SHIT in king's landing

🏵️floriansjonquil

hey has anyone seen princess gael. it's been literal months and she seems to have up and disappeared with no official announcement from the palace? would be the third female relative to go missing in the king's custody after aerea and saera....

🐝beeeeeeeeeeeeesbury Follow

damn that's crazy. im sure shes fine though anyways i'm a big fan of this new road the king built theres a lot of nice new roads does anyone else like the roads

🐦‍⬛cloakedinfeathers Follow

day 18262 of not fighting the brackens. this is boring as fuckkkkk what am i supposed to do. pretend to care about the triarchy?

🐎brackennation

kill yourself

🐦‍⬛cloakedinfeathers Follow

192.158.1.38. doxxed. get your dumbfuck horse breeder knights ready because our strongest and noblest raven warriors are on the way to your nasty ass keep right now bitch