#one of my fews talents is that i can cry on cue

[greenslime69]

I have really dry eyes bc the oil glands are blocked or smth but the problem is it keeps making my brain think I'm tired bc rn it's more comfortable to have my eyes closed than open so my brain is like okay sleepy time ur going to beddy byes nighty night little baby sweet dreeeaams <3<3😴

[goteique]

TWILIGHT -> female!reader x sakusa kiyoomi : : [ sakusa wants you to perform the special ritual before his match day like he generally does. ] fluff, soft smut, kissing, established relationship, endearment terms, love confessions but make it poetic, mention of pregnancy, wrote this to get hubby!kiyo from my head for a while; word count - 1k. part of summer olympics collab by @tetzoro | redirect to blog navigation.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is awake, so is the night sky: full of twinkling stars and whispering to each other. The weather app displayed the sunrise at 6:30 A.M. He walks out of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his torso and another in the grab of his palm lightly dabbing his wet hair. He takes slower steps than his usual pace making sure it is soundless. Standing in front of the mirror he looks at himself for a few seconds thinking what exactly he is supposed to do now. He then picks up the bottle of your moisturizer and then looks at you. You’re sleeping. Perfect. He is about to flip the moisturizer bottle open but it is your sleep-induced whine that makes all his movement pause. 

Your eyes are still closed. As you yawn, Sakusa’s jaw drops to the floor. The towel that was in his hand had already made itself comfortable around his nape. The bottle lands on the dressing table with a thud. He whispers, “Babe, why are you awake?”

Rubbling your eyes you exclaim with a dragging tone, “Why’re you whispering? We’re in a hotel. There is no one else in the house.”

Right. But you were sleeping so he did not want to wake you up. You finally open your eyes and see your husband standing five feet apart. Kiyoomi’s curls are sticking to his forehead making the moles barely visible. He takes two steps towards you saying in a soft gentle carcass, “Today is the day we part. . .” His morning voice hits you awake. 

There is a chair near the end of the bed. You smilingly exclaim, “why're you talking like that? It's as if we’re never gonna see each other again,” as he tugs at your nightgown. You understand the cue of his gesture. So, you take a step closer to him. 

In a swift moment, he pulls up your dress shoving his head underneath it. You feel his lips move against your ever-so-slightly baby bump followed by a grumble of words saying something. . .  God! . . you are always so warm. . . . something! He has been whiny about it since the day he found out how your body temperature is always a little warmer than usual. The reasoning never made it to his head whenever you tried to explain. He always ends up complaining about how God is unfair in his choices. But he is grateful that he has your warmth now, for the rest of his life and perhaps thereafter. . .

Letting out a giggle you ask, “Babe, what’re you doing?”

If you were not pregnant, he would have pulled you into his lap but he has been extremely cautious and protective ever since you conceived, always being wary of you. 

“I asked the coach if you can stay with me or not, especially in this condition. They rejected my proposal” You sit on his lap and adjust yourself to get comfortable as he continues. “It was Miya who objected first. That fucking miya,” You take the towel from his nape, his head involuntarily tips down a little to ease the process.

“Heyyyyy.” You immediately protest. At first, his eyebrow grows closer in confusion and then when the realization hits him, one of his limbs coils up to cover up his mouth but there is no hint of remorse on his face rather you can say he is hiding his toothy grin. Your eyebrows relax as you start to rub the towel upon his wet hair, drying it. It has always been a ritual since you started living with him: helping him to get ready before his matches. He says you are his lucky charm but has it ever occurred to your deat husband that he doesn’t need one? Once you asked him why he says that even if he is oozing with sportsmanship, talent, and stamina to which he said, “Because you would cry for me when I’m in defeat.”

Sakusa’s face vision is limited to your chest and lap as you dry his hair veiling his hair with the white towel. Of course, there is a hair drier but Kiyoomi prefers it this way. A low perpetual grunt escapes from him suggesting how pleasuring it is for him. 

“It's funny how you trust the other miya,” you quip biting your bottom lip in zeal.

“Nu-uh” Sakusa tips up his head raking away his vision from your chest to your face putting his index finger up, “I don’t. You trust him.” You grab his index finger and put it down on your lap. He realizes he is getting agitated for trifle reasons. Osamu will be coming soon to visit you. Sakusa does not want you to leave you unsupervised. Yeah! He worries too much. He does not need to know that you will be helping Osamu with his onigiri business. No! For now, he doesn’t. All he needs to do is to focus on his match. He will leave one week before the date on which the official match has been set to meet up with his team. He specifically chose to stay with you in a hotel rather than the Olympic Village.

You remove the towel from his head. There is a crease amongst his eyebrows. He mumbles, “I don’t trust the Miyas,” You snort out a laugh.

Sakusa’s limb latches onto the armrest so that you do not fall as you warp your waist to throw the towel onto the nearby basket that is kept beside the dressing table. Bingo! It’s a goal.

When you look back Sakusa is smirking. It is the kind of smirk that declares pride but not about himself. “It's not every day Osamu compliments someone.” He divulges pulling the strings of your night dress and getting a peek of your cleavage.

“I know right? I’m good with my hands.”He smirks seeing you garnish yourself once again being reminded of such a fond memory.

“Yeah tell me about it!” he whispers against your lips before kissing you. It's soft, tender, and fiery. Sakusa’s hand slips under your dress. He dips his index finger enough to pull the elastic of your underwear and run across his finger.

“We can’t.” you insist trying to swat his hand away but that hand had long ago sought a heaven in your body.

“Of course we can baby,” He pecks your nose. “The bus is going to be here after my lunch.”

[gucciwins]

a talk show and a surprise 

word count: 1827

a/n: okay, don’t know if you’ve seen haley lu richardson being surprised by nick jonas on FaceTime during an interview and it gave me this idea, and it’s something short and sweet i hope you enjoy, mis amores 

_____

Talk shows were not your specialty, in your opinion. It felt weird talking to a host and having a live audience told to react at different cues. After appearing in the second season of The White Lotus, there was promo to do as expected. Still, there was a new population of fans following your Instagram tripling your following weeks since the show premiered. Your content was being shared as fans deemed you “real” for posting after-running selfies, photos of you cuddling your parent’s corgi they got after all their children left home. Their favorite was a video of you crying on your living room floor to “fine line” as it played on your record player.

It’s a video that managed to be shared thousands of times. To top it off, your best friend decided to offer them a new treat by posting a video of you at Harry’s Wembley show, happily dancing in the rain. The video ended with you pointing to the stage, screaming that you loved Harry Styles. You were obviously a fan, but your paths never crossed, not that you were surprised you still felt like you were getting your footing on what stardom meant. While Harry literally had the entire world charmed.

Bee assured you it would be fine; a few questions, a few stories, and it would be over. She prepared you for the mention of Harry because hosts loved the views and a good clickbait. It wasn’t your first time and would definitely not be your last. Jimmy Fallon was an angel, and you would be fine.

“Welcome our guest for the night, Y/N Y/LN.”

You walk out dressed in a beautiful black velvet mini dress. It features a lace bib with scalloped trim, diamonte piping, and satin bows. It had a flowing mini-length skirt with romantic blouson sleeves. You loved it from the moment you put it on and knew the crowd would eat it up as well.

Jimmy welcomed you with a hug and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. “It’s great to have you here, Y/N.”

“Well, thanks for having me.”

Jimmy laughs going on to share about your past works and how you are a well-loved guest on the show.

“White Lotus is just amazing. You’re an absolute stand-out.”

You laugh, trying not to get too flustered as the audience cheers loudly for you. “Thank you. I have had the absolute best time. There’s nothing better than getting to film with Aubrey Plaza and Jennifer Coolidge.”

“While in Italy,” Jimmy adds on.

“The cherry on top.”

Jimmy leans closer, “now tell me, were you even a little bit nervous.”

“Oh, I was a mess. I was sure they cast the wrong person, but Bee, my manager, assured me that they thought I was the perfect fit.” You shared thinking back to when you first heard you got the role.

“Heard Aubrey Plaza got you a gift.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he brings out a photo of you with a signed headshot of Aubrey. “A little birdy told her I was a fan. There was a note that said: Now you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s framed in my house.” You share. Not at all lying. “The cast was so welcoming. There was not one bad day. Aubrey really took me under her wing, and yeah, one of my best experiences ever.”

Jimmy holds a hand over his heart, “that’s amazing to hear. It can be seen through the show, so if you haven’t watched it, you can head over to HBO Max and watch the talented Miss Y/N Y/N and the rest of the cast. We’ll be right back.”

After a short break you spent with Jimmy laughing and having your lipstick touched up, the cameras were ready to roll.

“Now, Y/N, I was told you love concerts.”

You nod, “I live and breathe them, Jimmy.”

“Who have you seen recently?”

“Oh too many, my good friend Phoebe Bridgers, Haim, oh Wolf Alice was wonderful recently in Los Angeles. My social media is a surface level of the few I’ve gone to this year. I drag my friends to different shows all the time. They love it. It’s the easiest place to fall undetected. At least I don’t think I’m famous enough to be recognized,” you joke, knowing it’s relatively easy to blend in a crowd when you are not the main star.

“Come on now, all these fans in the audience would say otherwise.”

The chant for you is loud, and you take a moment to take it all in. You’re quick to undermine your talent, but it’s clear that you have an audience that loves you.

“Now, what do you have to say about that?” Jimmy smiles, sensing how the cheers made you tuck into yourself for a moment before you began to blow kisses to the fans, thanking them endlessly.

“It’s surreal. Something I definitely don’t take for granted.”

The interview has been moving on smoothly, Jimmy asking you questions about the show and a few about your childhood. You're thankful he doesn’t have new childhood pictures of you to show. Your mother does that proudly on her Instagram.

“Now, you know we have to talk about this viral video of you.”

“Oh no,” you gasp.

Jimmy and you turn to look at a screen playing the video of you standing in one of Wembley’s boxes, dancing to Harry Styles as he sings to a sold-out stadium. It was a special day because your best friend surprised you with tickets that Bee helped her get. You had been working when tickets went on sale and were heartbroken to hear they were sold out nights. Thankfully, Bee has enough connections that she managed to get you tickets

“That is you at a Harry Styles show.”

You feel your face warm, hoping this interview will never reach him. “Looks like me.”

Jimmy shakes his head, “was that your first time?”

“Nope! It definitely won’t be my last,” you share honestly.

He shakes his head, “I’ve been to my fair share, and boy does he put on a hell of a show.”

“He really does. He’s created such a wonderful environment for many I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Jimmy grins mischievously, “I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “is it a mug with his face on it?”

The audience and Jimmy laugh. You’re too distracted and don’t notice Jimmy’s hand going under his desk until he calls your name. You’re met with a phone, and the shock quickly sets in.

“Hi, love.” A familiar accent you recognize instantly.

You look away from the phone pointed at you, instead bury your face in your hands as the audience's laugh rings loud. Harry’s laugh is the only one that stands out for you.

“That’s–hi,” you manage to breathe out, not believing that Harry was on a facetime call to you. You look around and manage to find Bee on the side. “Is this real?” You ask her, pointing to the phone.

She gives you a big grin and thumbs up. You can’t believe it.

“Are you surprised?” Jimmy questions, clearly knowing the answer.

“A bit,” you express breathlessly.

All the cameras are pointed your way, and you have to face him. Harry’s smiling, and you feel yourself melting in your seat as you can see his dimples clearly. This is not real. Your celebrity crush is not staring at you through what seems like your phone the close you look at it.

“Hi Harry,” you give him a small wave.

“How you doing, love?”

“Good, good. A tad bit embarrassed. Trying to remember how to breathe.”  

Harry laughs at your response.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy cuts in, knowing you’d probably stare at the phone all day, not wanting to hang up on Harry. “Harry has something he wanted to say.”

His green eyes shine bright, and you know he’s enjoying this conversation with you. “I just finished White Lotus.”

“Shut up! You did not!”

Harry nods, “absolutely did. My band and I would get together to watch it every Sunday. Gave us something to relax over during the tour. You were my favorite,” he confesses.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “This is not real.”

“I hope you can come to a show next year. I would love to meet you?”

“I’m there,” you promise him without a second thought.

Harry nods, “good, we’ll be in touch.”

“Can I tell you something before you go?” You look at Jimmy, then back at Harry.

“This is your call, Y/N. Go ahead.” Jimmy grins, urging you on.

“Harry, thank you. I know I can say that you are an absolutely amazing person. Thank you for creating such a welcoming and safe environment at your concerts. It, in some ways, feels like coming home. I mean, you surely didn’t have to do this, but you did, and I’m so thankful. You’ve always shared your kindness with the world from when you were just a teen to now, and it just goes to show how true and honest your character is. Send my love to your Mom. She truly raised a wonderful human being.”

The crowd awes, not having expected such an emotional confession, and neither were you, but you weren’t sure at the next opportunity you would have to tell him. Harry stares at you for a few seconds with flushed cheeks and a timid smile.

“Thank you, Y/N. That is so kind of you to say. I do hope we get to meet soon. I know we’d get on fabulously. All the best to you. Good night, Jimmy. Good night, Y/N.”

Harry hangs up the facetime, and you bring your hands to your face, not believing what just happened. That did not feel real. You hoped, looking back at it, you wouldn’t cringe with embarrassment.

“That happened,” Jimmy jokes.

You reach forward and grasp Jimmy’s hand tightly. “You are my favorite person.”

“After Harry Styles, right?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Obviously.”

____

After the surprise of a lifetime, you ended the interview and walked to your dressing room, where you tried to process what in the hell happened in the last half hour. Bee walks in with the proudest smile handing you back your phone.

“We’ll head out at twenty.”

You take the time to slip off your heels and rest on the couch, unlocking your phone and seeing you have three new messages. It’s all from a new contact that you know you did not have before today.

Harry S.

It was lovely chatting with you.

Heard you’re going to be in London in a few days, would love to get dinner with you.

This is Harry, by the way.

Yeah, it seemed your life was about to get very interesting.

[godneuteredmeforbeingtoopowerful]

CW: fakeclaiming discussion, light discussion of autistic trauma

I love my fellow systems. I do. I really do.

But I’m so tired of seeing so many posts that are simply “you’re valid if this happens, ignore the fakeclaimers!” And then listing tons of aspects of simply existing as plural.

Maybe I’m just talented at avoiding the fake claiming content. But not once in the several years of me interacting with system content as a system, have I seen fakeclaiming content. I’m absolutely aware that it’s out there, this isn’t a “well it hasn’t happened to me so it obviously doesn’t happen” situation. What I have seen? Fakeclaiming bingo sheets made by systems, lists of reasons you might get fakeclaimed, and other content like that. I get that they’re fun, especially as a fuck you to fakeclaimers, but we need content warnings for these posts. Even if they’re positive.

Because I haven’t had baby systems come crying to me because they’re having massive breakdowns over fakeclaimers. But I have had them come because of these posts. Even as one of the few people with the privilege of a diagnosis and having had said diagnosis for 5 years, they leave me shaken and distressed.

A lot of systems are autistic, including me. (This is related, I promise.) an experience at one point or another a lot of us can relate to is watching for social cues for what will get us bullied, what will get us hurt, what will get us punished, and avoiding them. Often, those things were behaviors we couldn’t control; symptoms of our autism. It’s triggering to be thrown right back in that same situation: looking for advice and support, and instead being told that a group of people we may never interact with because they occupy a small corner of the internet will hate us no matter what we do because of our plurality- something we can’t just stop doing to avoid punishment.

It’s not that the posts themselves are bad. It’s not that they need to stop. I just wish our community would get better at having content warnings, *and* including said content warnings in the tags so they can be filtered. I wish that more of the system discourse was about how to function in life, and less about battling hate. Because it’s exhausting, both for the people posting and the people consuming. It’s hard to have community and solidarity when we’re immediately thrown into this battle. Not to mention sysmed vs endos. It. Is. Exhausting. People come to the online community looking for solidarity. For friendship. People leave because fakeclaiming outside and inside of the community permeates everything like a disease.

If there are any system accounts out there who don’t do this, please @ me or smth. People come here to have their spoon reserves bolstered, not stripped away before they can finally find a helpful tip.

TL;DR use content warnings. And put them in the tags. Make whatever content you want, just make it filterable. Please.

Love,

A very, very tired system with like 30 baby systems under their wings.

[blithesharem]

@starry-miki tagged me in a 15 questions game so here it is! I ended up making a new post because the thread was giving me trouble with copying and pasting 😭

Thank you for the tag love ;v;

01 - Are you named after anyone?

Nope! My name is Hebrew that my parents thought was pretty.

02 - When was the last time you cried?

Tbh I kind of struggle with crying aksk like even when I know I need a good cry I can’t make it happen. I think the last time I cried was when I got the medical bill for a procedure I had done in January LOL love being an American.

03 - Do you have kids?

Not yet but I hope to have one in the near future.

04 - What sports do you play/have you played?

I did exactly one day of Cross Country Running in high school and immediately quit. I’ve always been bad at sports. Just not my strong suit. I was a big theater kid which still gave me plenty of a work out!

05 - Do you use sarcasm?

Yes though I have a habit of saying things as dry and straight as possible so people have to pause to understand if I’m joking because it tickles me.

But also I mean who doesn’t use sarcasm every once in a while.

06 - What is the first thing you notice about people?

Hmm you know reflecting on it I think I notice peoples clothes first. I think an outfit can tell you a lot about someone and I like to compliment people I don’t know so that’s usually a good place to start.

After that it would probably be their posture: are they relaxed? Nervous? Aggressive? I take my cues from that as to how I need to behave.

07 - What's your eye color?

Just a plain boring brown ;v; I’ve always been envious of other eye colors

08 - Scary movies or happy endings?

I mean I love a good happy ending but I have to go Scary Movies. I am the resident Spooky Girl in my community.

09 - Any talents?

This is such an interesting question because to me the word ‘talent’ implies something inate rather than learned as a skill would be. I don’t think I have any proper talents in that sense.

But I did memorize pi to 17 digits for a play a few years ago and I still whip that out at parties: 3.14159265358979323

10 - Where were you born?

In the Bay Area of California!

11 - What are your hobbies?

I collect hobbies as my hobby lol. Besides the staples like reading, cooking and video games, I also enjoy crochet, cross stitch, painting, print making…starting to play around a bit with felting too!

12 - Do you have any pets?

Two girl kitties, Coven and Cricket! Coven is wily and clever as a whip and Cricket is my big love bug. They’re both good girls and I love being home with them ;v;

13 - How tall are you?

5’3 I’m a shorty

14 - Favourite subject in school?

In High School it was English, and in college it was my anthropology classes. I was deeply considering becoming an anthropologist for a bit!

15 - Dream job?

I LOVE my current job as a historical art gallery manager. But if I had to pick a dream job it would be a food writer of some kind. I’d love to be paid to travel and write about the food and history of different places.

Thanks again for the tag! No pressure tags for those interested: @cyanide-latte @alpine-forget-me-nots @tixdixl @ramshacklerumble

[cutestkilla]

15 Questions | 15 People

Rules: Answer these 15 Questions, then Tag 15 People 

Thanks for tagging me @theearlgreymage @johnwgrey @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @shrekgogurt @raenestee @you-remind-me-of-the-babe and @yellobb! Man, I love learning all these things about you all!

Are you named after anyone? Nope. All I know about my naming is that my dad wanted to call me Brooke but my mom kiboshed it for the association with “babbling”.

When was the last time you cried? I was going to say last week when I had to tell my kiddos that their auntie had to put her sweet 14yo dog down. (RIP Rufus, you were a good boy and we all miss you. ☹ ) BUT then Raen mentioned crying at the premiere episode of The Last of Us and I think maybe I did too!

Do you have kids? I do indeed, a pair of boyos, 4 and 7.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh god, so much. Cue me having to explain to my kids why I keep saying "great" when the thing I'm talking about most certainly is NOT great.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?  I truly don’t know how to answer this… Probably just their general vibe and whether I vibe with it?

What’s your eye color? Blue.

Scary movies or happy ending? Happy ending, but man I love a scary movie too. But if I’m just by myself picking whatever I want I would go happy ending.

Any special talents? Define special… Um, I am able to touch the tip of my nose with my tongue. I’m a really good Googler. I can type at 72 WPM. I’m super fucking good at Excel. (Somehow, I turned this into a job application to be someone’s secretary...)

Where were you born?  Northern Ontario, Canada.

What are your hobbies? Apart from fandom stuff, which is currently my biggest hobby right now, maybe home improvement/DIY and gardening. I’m pretty good at plumbing and electrical, though I used to do that stuff a lot more before having kids. For several years I ran a fashion line with a couple friends, which I’m classifying as a hobby because we never made any real money at it, but it was fun and now I have a closet full of clothes I helped design. I also take ballet lessons once a week and play in a few sports leagues in the summers.

 Do you have any pets?  Nope, none. I used to have hamsters and fish growing up. My entire family have become dog people, so I have lots of pets in my extended family (5 – now 4 – dogs, and 4 cats).

 What sports do you play/have you played? The only sport I still play with any regularity is beach volleyball, but up until a few years ago I played fastpitch (softball) which I started playing as a tween. Going all the way back, I’ve played basketball, court volleyball, badminton, field hockey and I’ve run track as well.

 How tall are you? 5'4"

 Favorite subject at school? I think the answer would have to be music for this, because I went to a performing arts high school and took music with a specialization in vocal all the way through. For the general subjects, probably Physics and Math? But I also really liked English and History.  My favourite subject in university was Astrophysics (specifically cosmology), which was one of the things I majored in.

 Dream job? I think my dream would be to live in a society where we don’t need to have “dream jobs” and just having a fair and equitable balance of doing the things we need to do to survive and the things we love to do is the goal. In this dream we all work together to achieve this goal and nobody has to feel like they've failed somehow if they aren't doing what they love to earn a living... That said, I’m really fortunate in my career to have a great work-life balance and to work with great people, so I think I am sort of living the dream in a way. My ACTUAL dream when I was younger was to be a successful musician, a performing vocalist or even a songwriter. I did try a bit, in my early twenties, but in the end took the practical path. Then for a while I dreamed of being a scientific journalist. Most recently, I considered a career switch into AI/ML and got myself certified in machine learning but in the end, I decided not to give up the sweet gig I have.

Tags for: @technetiumai @larkral @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @creepyspice @bookish-bogwitch @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @captain-aralias @moodandmist @fatalfangirl @palimpsessed @ileadacharmedlife @skee3000 @facewithoutheart @onepintobean (Sorry to harass you if you've already done this!)

[yorshie]

Me skipping unto your inbox for the ask game thing ⛷️

B H I N R T U

Stuck it under a read more line cuz it got LONG lol. thank you for asking, nonnie!

B- hmm... while none of my fics are directly inspired by personal experiences, the emotions behind a few of them are. I like using writing as therapy sometimes, a safe place to get out an emotion so i can process it appropriately

H- i would call it just shy of a run on sentence lol, with a lot of emphasis on using faces and hands as vehicles to cue the correct emotions in readers. I know i was really inspired by ET Hoffman's short stories when i got into college and really started to play with writing stories. I wanted something that flowed like water, something close to emotional poetry. Every now and then i have a fic that i tilt my head at and go "oooo yea i barfed all over that" lol, but i do enjoy the process of seeing how much scenery or description i can shove into a scene before it gets tedious to read.

I - Me? A guilty pleasure in fic? hahahaha noooooooo. *sweats* ....... i mean, the list is a little long.... but if i was going to admit to anything in a general sense, I might admit to a fondness for soulmate fics.....

N - hm.... no? I mean, i'm comfortable with my current wips and my plans for them, and i know exactly how i want them handled. As for fics I wish other's would write, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say i start vibrating with excitement anytime my friends float a new fic (or art)idea. They are all so talented, and while there is a list I'm eyeing at the dinner table like a starving raccoon, i know how much work going into creating a fic. I am patient lol, but I'm always ready to pounce on new story or cheer them on.

R - Oh gosh.... hm.... shootybangbang (not tagging because i technically don't talk to them) really inspired me in my red dead time because we were covering some similar subject matter at the same time. @desceros infected me with hand appreciation and I've noticed sometimes i word things in a manner they might, definitely feel a little more prone to poetry after i read their work. ET Hoffman for sure, his short stories were a big influence, probably because i read The Golden Pot while having the Flu. If we go back to my werewolf boyfriend days probably Lora Leigh. And just general inspiration and influence that helps me get my stories out i have to add the whole turtle fam. Best people to have in your corner.

T - Hm.... one sided fights. I don't really like it when one character does Everything wrong and the "reader" just sits there and takes it or cries. I think everyone has a natural breaking point, where you turn around and bite back, and sense i have a pretty big bite back tendency, lol, i end up doing that meme 'when Y/N does something i would never do'. Cuz I'd even take Big Blue down a peg or two if he decided to be a little shit. And I don't really like the connotation that someone might actually "care" for someone and do that, yell at them while they cry. I don't like yelling, i don't like fighting really, but I really don't like just taking it. So that bleeds over i guess.

U - 3? Just 3??? I am sorry nonnie but there are so many. I cannot play favorites and risk leaving someone out. just to name a few of tmnt writers whose stories i read: @desceros @gbao3 @justalotoffanfiction @fuckedupcleric @friggysblog @thejudiciousneurotic @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @oozedninjas @tinkabelle24 @damniteggs @avery73 and so much more but I feel strange tagging them because i don't technically speak to them. As to why I like them so much, it's because they're telling stories! that in itself is wonderful! I can't stress how much I just love wonderful storytelling! Adding @khayalli and @hitwiththetmnt because even though they are artists primarily, they are telling stories with their art! *looking around* gosh there's so many people. And I'm sure I've forgotten someone. I'm gonna feel horrible about that. Just know if I've ever commented/kudos/reblogged, etc, I loved your stories and art.

[sohmiya]

I’m on my uni commute and the Miko x Ev brainrot is brainrotting so I have more hcs!

So, bc Miko loves social media I imagine her doing live unboxing videos of clothes & fashion etc. and Evren walks in on one of them all curious like “what are you doinggg?” and she smiles and says “a live unboxing” and then he nods and kisses her cheek. cue the fans in the comments going mad and enjoying their interactions.

^ I see Ev going into another room, getting the live up on his phone and seeing Miko talking about a dress that she’s just unboxed all like “I love all the detailing and the colour—“ and Evren would smirk and text her ‘it’ll look great on you… it’ll also look great on our bedroom floor :)’ just to see her reaction.

Alsoo Evren being on tour whilst Inter City are playing and after performing one of his songs, he takes his earpiece out and says to the crowd “can some of you be lovely and tell me what the Inter City score is at the moment?” and there’s a whole load of cheering which he laughs at until he gets the gist that they’re winning “they’re winning? yeah? yeah, okay, what’s the score?” and then he finds out they’re winning by 2 goals and he’d smile and say into the mic “well isn’t my girlfriend fucking talented”

Angsty: but I imagine Cypress sending Evren a ‘1 to 5’ text during a time when he knows Evren’s been rather anxious for a few days, and he’d reply back with a ‘1’ and Cy would call almost instantly and their conversation would be like “are you okay? are you home??” “yeah, I’m fine!” “you replied back with a 1” “I was in a different headspace then, I’m good now” “…I sent you that text two minutes ago”

^ and the whole point of these texts is so that they’re honest to each other so, I imagine Ev just feeling low and anxious and having to say what’s wrong, and at the end of his explanation he’s like “you can’t tell my dad…or Miko” and Cy knows that Ev usually asks him not to say anything to Javier but Miko would be different “Evren, she’s your girlfriend. She cares about you” “and we’re not saying anything because I care about her. She’s abroad, probably asleep, and has a huge game tomorrow. I can’t worry her. Please.”

After his call with Ev, Cy would definitely call or drop Miko a text.

Alsooo, I’d like to think that Cy and Miko get closer considering she’s dating his best friend. And at some point meets the mini de Veras and Cairo goes “so you’re the famous Miko…what do you think of Evren’s music?” and she’s all cool like “I don’t think it’s all that” and Cairo would smile and say “I like her”

Miko meeting Rosalie!! Evren would drive and pick her up from the airport and they’d be talking about it and Rosa would ask Ev how he’s feeling about it “nervous” “really?” “yeah, I mean, you’ve only met one of my partners before” and Rosalie would snort and say “yep, and I didn’t like them. but I like Miko” “she got excited when you called her gorgeous. you really like her?” “of course, she obviously makes you happy. you’re happy right?” and Evren would smile and nod and say “very.”

When Miko meets her, I’d assume that she’d compliment her eyes because it’s usually the first thing people notice about her. Miko would be all “you have really pretty eyes” and Rosalie would thank her and go “so I’ve been told, it’s where he gets them from” and then point over at Evren.

I also hc that the two of them have the best vacations together! Like those trips where you don’t look at your phone at all, you explore, eat nice food, enjoy each other’s company, stay in a nice private villa and they just have the most amazing few weeks together (<- I also imagine Ev proposing whilst they’re on one of these types of holidays).

MILA IM GONNA START CRYING FR

the way that whole live unboxing hc got me blushing giggling kicking my feet…… no cause evren giving miko a kiss on camera is so fucking cute and i imagine at least half of miko’s fans are from evren’s fanbase too so she would definitely be a tease like “not in front of your fans” then evren would do some more cute shit like winking before blowing a kiss to the camera 😩

I see Ev going into another room, getting the live up on his phone and seeing Miko talking about a dress that she’s just unboxed all like “I love all the detailing and the colour—“ and Evren would smirk and text her ‘it’ll look great on you… it’ll also look great on our bedroom floor :)’ just to see her reaction.

THE SMILEY FACE PLEAAENWHEJA NO CAUSE I CAN VERY VIVIDLY IMAGINE MIKO STUTTERING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LIVE LMAOOO like she’s rambling about the quality of the material and how it’s chic but also comfy then her phone pings and her reaction to the text is soooo obvious on the live because her eyes widen then she clears her throat and forces out a chuckle then go “anyway…” skfjskdks and like she’s lowkey turned on atp and she’ll try to push away the feeling but she can’t so she’ll cut the live short and be like “i hate to end this so soon but i promise we’ll do this again next time” then as soon as the live’s over she’ll rush over to evren all pent up like she’ll straddle his lap then go “are you insane?” before kissing him 🫣 and i just know evren would feel sooo proud of himself LMAO

also the concert headcanon….. evren pausing his show to ask about the game………. the category is boyfriend and evren is the winner

that is probably one of the SICKEST headcanons i have ever read. like no amount of romantic fantasies and scenarios at night could’ve ever prepared me for something like that

he takes his earpiece out and says to the crowd “can some of you be lovely and tell me what the Inter City score is at the moment?”

IM LITERALLY SOOOO UNWELL LIKE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY I NEED HIM

“they’re winning? yeah? yeah, okay, what’s the score?” and then he finds out they’re winning by 2 goals and he’d smile and say into the mic “well isn’t my girlfriend fucking talented”

GOD I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

also the whole 1 to 5 thing and cy still telling miko about ev’s situation even when ev specifically told him not to. AS HE SHOULD

i always hc’d evren hating it when miko tries to keep shit from him to prevent him from worrying so if he does the same miko wouldn’t be happy either. like it depends on what ev is going through and miko would never force him to open up when he’s not ready to talk about it but if it’s clearly weighing him down miko would want him to tell her literally Anything like “evren what’s going on” “nothing i’m fine” “cypress told me you’re not” “he did?” and idk if ev would be pissed at cy but miko would most likely assume he would so she’d immediately be on cy’s side like “yeah and i’m glad he did because apparently you don’t plan on telling me” and miko would be frustrated and upset now so she’d continue like “you hate it when i don’t tell you anything but you’re doing Exactly that” “i just don’t want you getting worried” “i get worried because i care about you. i love you” and regardless if evren replies to that or not, miko would repeat “ily” anyway

“so you’re the famous Miko…what do you think of Evren’s music?” and she’s all cool like “I don’t think it’s all that” and Cairo would smile and say “I like her”

plsjdhajssksjsj and evren’s probably looking at miko like “you did NOT just agree with this brat” while cy’s trying not to crack a smile 😭😭😭

“yep, and I didn’t like them. but I like Miko”

SAY IT LOUDER MOTHER IN LAW!!!!!!!!!

when miko finds out rosa actually likes her, she’ll be so determined to learn french and beg evren “please teach me please baby pleaseeee 🥺” and i imagine evren finding it funny like “why do you wanna learn so badly all of a sudden?” “i wanna impress your mom” “you already know she likes you” “yeah but STILL”

also rosa pointing out that evren got his eyes from her shsjsksk pls that’s so cute i can imagine ev feeling kinda self-conscious like “mom…” with a slight eye roll but he’s smiling shsbsjsjsj cutie pie <3333

AND EVREN PROPOSING 😭😭😭😭 please idk why but i can imagine him doing that thing where he would purposely kneel in a way that would get miko thinking “oh my god is he….” just for him to tie his shoelace then he’d do it again and miko would once again think “this is it isn’t it” but it’s still not then evren does it again and miko’s just like “haha very funny evr-” then she instantly shuts up because evren holding out a ring this time and proposes for real 😭😭😭

[txxfiles]

hello today’s post is on being the uncreative youngest sibling and i am writing it on my phone straight into the app because if i put too many barriers to entry on doing this blog i will simply never post again.

this might not be surprising but i am the youngest of the xx files posting team by a not huge but not insignificant margin. i am also the only one with no real level of artistic or creative skill. i am not saying this for pity i am saying it because it is True - it’s not something that i’m necessarily mad or bitter about, just something that i have come to realise.

i’ve tried multiple creative endeavours: writing, graphic design, painting, sketching, fiber arts, baking - and i’m at the unfortunate intersection of youngest and unskilled that makes everything i do seem like a poor ersatz imitation of everything my amazing talented friends can do.

i’m not someone who is comfortable being bad at things. i grew up as a Gifted and Talented Child (cue the groans from the audience - yes i know you’re tired of people on the internet talking about being a former gifted kid, i don’t care, shut up and let me talk), which means that if i am not immediately perfect at something i will toss it gently away onto the scrapheap of failed endeavours, never to be touched again. this is Bad, and I know it is Bad, and it’s something i’m actively trying to combat by being aggressively, cheerfully mediocre at creative things i like.

i’m setting a goal for myself over the next couple of weeks to commit to trying to be creative, even if it is bad. i’m going to bake something to take to a friend’s for a movie night on friday, i’m going to finish the switch sleeve i’ve been crocheting to practise crocheting in lines rather than granny squares, and i am going to tentatively try and journal again. all of these things will be terrible and ugly and i am going to grab them by the horns and look them in the eyes and tell them they are beautiful and worthy and a product of love (is this to avoid saying these things to myself? who can say).

also i have been away in the countryside with my parents for a few days and i have not touched an email or a computer and barely my phone and it has been cleansing in a way i didnt think was possible. today i ran 15km in the hills and listened to lizzy mcalpine’s new album and had a cathartic cry while looking at some sheep. i have added a photo of the sheep as a visual aid.

i am choosing joy. i am choosing to forefeit my spot in the pity olympics. i am eschewing misery because life is short and the days are long and i am too young to die just because i have decided living is too much effort. i am surrounding myself with colour and beauty and the act of creation because that is what being alive is for, god damn it!

lots of love and one singular kiss on the cheek,

magnolia

edit: i did not add the picture of the sheep! one thousand apologies, here they are

[outofcontexturi]

Sun 27th Nov 2022 journal 11:04am

I’m in a weird mood. I don’t exactly know how I feel today. to be fair I just woke up so I mean I don’t know if it’s because of that or not but yeah. I’ve dyed my hair. I misplaced one of my edibles in one of the dressing rooms kmt. Life is moving fast again. It’s gonna be fast all week until the 8th. I’m in a bit of a weird limbo in life I keep saying it but like it just feels too weird right now. 23 you’ve been a disgusting bitch to me. I might need to give the boots to Ibraheem today but idk if travel is even running the same today or if there’s strikes still. I’m also meant to be going on a walk with my mum this morning. I’ll probably go in the next 45 mins. Do i love life? Does life love me? Am I really here? Angie just arrived home. It’s 11:10am. During rehearsals on Friday I took a moment to deep that this acting life isn’t exactly what I thought it would be. I thought I’d be happy doing a big(ger) production but it’s a lot more stress than I thought. I learnt very quickly the harsh realities of being an actor. A professional one at that. It’s not an easy thing to do. theatre is hard. especially when you’re having to change in and out of costume and run around a building to get a spot before the light gets on hit your cue and then run back around the building to a different spot in less than 45 seconds. Now imagine doing that same thing 4 or 5 times repetitively. Breaks aren’t always true to the time they’ve scheduled. By breaks i mean smaller breaks. Sometimes a 10 min break is really a 3 min break. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you cannot make yourself bigger than the thing you’re doing cause you’ll quickly realise no one gives a fuck about your whining more than you and if anything you’re stressing everyone out more by caring about it like that. I saw it in myself and a few of my peers. But I think that’s because we’re still novices to this whole industry. There’s just things you don’t do. That people don’t tell you all the time but you see it in others. Body language really does speak volumes on set and although people are smiling in your face they’re actually telling themselves “I’m not working with this guy again” a lot of the time. Professionalism gets you a long way in this industry; more than talent. talent without professionalism is just amateur work at best and that’s all it will ever be, amateur work. Professionalism kinda says fuck your feelings you have a job to do so do it. Cry about whatever later but don’t fucking ruin the bigger picture. When you’re too busy worrying over small things (big things in your real life) you’ll soon realise the industry will ALWAYS SAY “THE SHOW MUST GO ON” and they’re right. It must go on. Are you capable of handling the stress attached to that? can you not break when you’re having a very very shit day and your director is being very blunt and not exactly clear with their direction? can you not crack under pressure when the lights are on you? can you handle being spoken to like shit (sometimes)? can you do it? this whole acting ting is an illusion. A great one at that. I had a moment backstage on Thursday where I couldn’t get my first costume off and I had probably 15-30 seconds to take off the first one a put on the second one in dark blue lighting by myself without making noise and get back on stage. My costume lady saw me struggling and I asked her if I could get a costume that’s easier to put on and she told me that I’m going to need someone here to help me (quite bluntly) and it was at that moment I thought “fuck this shit”. But In hindsight I realise I wasn’t playing the game properly. After the rehearsals Vilberg came up to me and said he’s not doing nothing in a lot of the first half of the play and that he’s willing to help out and it was then I realised “OH !!!! WHEN INDUSTRY MOMENTS LIKE THIS HAPPEN YOU’VE GOT TO LEAN ON EACH OTHER OR ELSE YOU’LL CRACK.” like there are solutions to problems but when you’re young and new to such a profession it’s so easy to take things you perceive as rude or disrespectful to heart and have it affect your mood. Con-

[honey-milk-depresso]

Hello! When I saw your request section open I couldn't help, but I want to ask you, if you could write a Komi-san like reader for the first years! I really want to request this for a long time now and I took this opportunity to do it! Komi-san from Komi-san can't communicate.

I LOVE KOMIIIIII DJGHDGDGJGDJFDGH- BUT- FCKKK I ONLY DID ADEUCE, EPEL

TT o TT

AND IM SO SORRY TO ALL MY REQUESTS- DEAR GOD SCHOOL HAS THROWN ME INTO A LOT OF HELL RECENTLY-

You're incapable of socializing with others to such a level that it can be called a communication disorder, unable to utter a word nor sound in your daily life due to your crippling anxiety and fear of rejection by your peers.

People all around you say you're amazing, talented and beautiful, but it doesn't seem to always get to your head, and you're rather timid.

Perhaps your close peers could help out?

TWST the anxious, beautiful but self-conscious (and REALLY QUIET) s/o (Komi Shouko)

Ace Trappola

He finds you really weird at first.

Like-

You always keep to yourself, stare at him for like a few minutes before you sharply turn your head away. Not to mention that ominous glare you have sometimes.

But he gotta say you look really pretty, and he can't help but stare at you too sometimes, which unintentionally made you freak out hard internally, thinking he's judging your severely.

To at what point, you jittered softly out of fear when he glanced at your direction, making him a little concern.

"W-Woah! W-what happened??"

You looked had him dead in the eye with bubbling anxiousness, but obviously he didn't see it since HE started freaking out.

"H-hey! What gives?!" you gasps, before you took out a notebook and jotted furiously onto a page. He blinked in confusion.

"Do you hate me?" what was written on the notebook made him surprised, as Ace saw you cower behind your notebook, hiding your flustered and nervous expression away from him.

"I... of course not.... I don't have a reason to.." he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, blushing a little. He glanced back at you, to which you let out the faintest and tiniest squeak. This was gonna be the start of a relationship soaring high from the most awkward meet, wasn't it? <3

Deuce Spade

Deuce was always intimidated by your beauty and seemingly flawless attributes of yourself. He can't help but glance at you halfway in class before snapping back to reality or with the "help" of his professors-, before mentally scolding himself and focusing on the lesson.

But the thought about you still lingered in his mind. Deuce seemed to notice later on that you also steal slight glances of him, making him blink all the time. Why were they looking at me? Was I looking weird?? Did I stare at them?? DID I MAKE THEM UNCOMFORTABLE???? OH SHI-

Deuce one day muster up the best of his courage to say one "hi". It's clear that you two can... acknowledge one another's presence, in a sense, so why not make the first move, he thought. Ace kept teasing him about it, and he wants his annoying friend to shut up- so he did-

"Um.. Hey, s/o-!" You yelped softly but sharply, making him jump as well. "U-UM!!" You quivered intensely, making him even more shaken up as ever.

"H-hello?! D-did I scare you?! I'm sorry!!" he shouted out of impulse. It didn't seem to ease the awkward tension as you blinked in confusion, all still while quivering in fear. You then took out a note book and scribble something on it.

"Hi. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have scared you..." you hid behind your book, looking as if you were about to cry. "N-no it's fine really!!" Deuce waved his hands frantically, to which you peered timidly behind your notebook. You bowed down awkwardly, on cue with Deuce as you both softly had your foreheads collide. Holding the area where both of you knocked into each other, you both blushed in embarrassment. Ah... such klutzs. <3

Epel Felmier

Epel has always thought you were so cool. And pretty!

Epel usually tries to wave hello to you, but you always blink at him for awhile, before quietly waving back, then look away.

It wasn't anything bad, but sometimes he had the thought that you couldn't be bothered by him, which ticked him off a little, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions

And hey- better than Vil, right?

The young man looks at you a bit before turning back around, but sometimes he feels this burning hole at the back of his head when he turns away from you, and with the slightest and sneakiest glance back, he realizes you've been secretly looking at him too.

One time, he catches you glancing at him again as per usual after he looks away, but I guess he forget to cover himself as you saw him catching you staring at him, to which you quivered, flustered and flush like a hot boiling kettle over its limit, as you stared at him with wide eyes.

Epel was caught off guard, your usual calm demeanor being replaced by this... I don't know- not calm self??

Startled, Epel tries to ease you. "H-hey! Its fine!!"

You stopped quivering abruptly, which relieved him a little, and then saw you writing away with a notepad you took out of your bag.

"I'm really sorry..." you hid your face behind the notepad, bowing your head down in shame. "Its fine don't worry about it!" Epel smiles a little.

You slowly uncovered your face, looking at him slightly flustered. It made him blush a little too, cuz god you look so cute-

Wonder where you two may lead. Something lovely perhaps~ <3

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I���m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[ceruleanchillin]

Honeymoon Headcanons: Mayans Edition

Characters: Angel, Coco, EZ x F!Reader

Miami (Angel)

It wasn’t difficult at all to decide where the two of you would take your honeymoon. When you weren’t gonna be naked, Angel wanted you in sundresses and bikinis. You wanted him in linen shirts, and to feel him up in a club. Couple that with you both wanting a tropical environment, and Miami it is.

Angel letting you handle the accommodations, because you seem to know more about what you wanna see/where you wanna go than he does. He only cares about a bed and shower for when he’s not taking you in the inappropriate places. He just hands over the cash, though he complains about his hurt wallet.

Angel hard as a rock when he sees your new name on your plane ticket.

The two of you nearly missing your flight because your husband needs to “show his wife he loves her”.

You babying him on the flight, because Angel has never flown anywhere before.

“Mami, it’s perfectly valid to feel like a flying toaster can’t safely get you anywhere but a casket. Which they can’t even put you in, because you’ll be everywhere!”

Cue you distracting him with kisses and dirty words in his ear, which gets you initiated into the Mile High Club

Barely making it into the cute little condo before the two of you are at it again, collapsing in the late hours to jet lag and mutual satisfaction.

Your first official day is spent dragging Angel around the humid streets. Knowing he stresses easily if you plan things too tightly, and wanting to wing it yourself. It’s surprising how well you to fit in, it almost feels like home.

Angel switching from being jealous, because your tiny cotton sundress is attracting more than just his attention, to him kissing all over your dewy skin because so much of it is visible.

You getting as jealous as Angel, because it seems like each place you drag him to has openly interested ladies. It’s the white linen shirt that he won’t fully button no matter how many times you try to make him.

Angel basking in the attention, and even playing it up to force you to be the one to initiate inappropriate public sex.

Smirking when you break after a woman pays for his (and unintentionally yours) order at a small cafe you stepped into and you snap and drag him to a hidden place.

“I only love you querida, mi alma.” he whispers in your ear when he bottoms out inside you.

You two are a beautiful couple. Photogenic as all hell. Alone, neither of you have a problem attracting interest, but together, you make people want to be seen around you. That’s why you have no problem club hopping to all the exclusive places.

Angel taking photos and videos of you dancing because he’s so enthralled. He can’t wait to show your kids one day when they ask why he fell for you, and he explains how full of life you are.

Getting enough liquor in Angel to get him dance somewhere away from the club, especially since he (lies) and says he can’t.

You and Angel competing to see who can get the most people to buy your drinks + the two of you losing track because you both get drunk.

A quickie in the coatroom is the prize, Angel fucking you to the hypnotic beat.

Spending a few hours apart the following day, only to still keep texting and FaceTiming each other until you met up, touch starved, at a small restaurant.

Deciding to spend the rest of the day at your Airbnb laid up under each other after Angel scores weed. Teasing Angel about his monetary complaints when you spend all night enjoying the small backyard pool.

Angel thanking God for getting an adventure loving woman as his soulmate when you wake him up the next afternoon to inform him you rented jet skis for the day.

You being impressed when, while jet skiing, Angel silver tongues your way into an invitation to a nearby yacht party out of the host.

FaceTiming Gilly to make him jealous that you two are doing Hookah and drinking Casamigos in a hot tub.

Angel ramping up the mockery when EZ and Coco appear on screen, attracted by Gilly’s whining. Everyone looking overworked and salty, while you and Angel are living your best non-sober lives.

Slipping away from the party to one of the rooms on the boat, because once again, you and Angel never know when to stop teasing each other before it ends up in sex.

Feeling bold enough to suggest that since Angel’s been documenting so much of the trip, that maybe he should film this too.

The aftermath being a surprisingly sweet series of kisses and confessions where the two of you express how thankful you are to have found each other. How you can’t wait to build a forever together.

Marfa + Roswell (Coco)

No one knew how you got Coco to agree to travel for your honeymoon until you finally revealed where you were going. Splitting a week between Marfa and Roswell.

You and Coco are that “weird” conspiracy, incense, and weed couple, so it makes sense.

Giving Coco an edible before you leave, because like Angel, he doesn’t fuck with air travel like that.

“They got me with that bullshit in the military, but that was out of my control. You askin’ a lot right now, you’re lucky you’re cute mujer.”

Coco getting progressively handsy during the flight as the edible hits. Eventually, you stop fake-fighting his neck kisses and forward touches.

Also like Angel in that he’s unafraid to become a member of the Mile High Club.

The ride from the El Paso airport, to the car rental place, to Marfa takes far longer than Coco would like.

He’s used to long stretches of trip on his bike, and when you notice him becoming antsy, you distract him with interesting facts about Marfa.

The entire time, Coco can’t help but think that you’re the perfect road trip co-pilot, only to realize he actually meant his life in general now.

Coco proud as hell when you fall in love with his accommodations choice like he did. The colorful airstream trailers of the El Cosmico hotel are the two of you through and through.

You both trying to be responsible adults and refresh after travel, but continuing to get lost in each other during the whole process.

Shower sex -> Making out while drying off -> Touching while searching through your bags for something to wear -> bed sex -> repeat

Looking thoroughly mauled when you finally manage to get Coco off of you and into the car in search of food the next afternoon.

Coco being happy you can’t cover up due to the heat, while you wonder what superpower he and his boys have that let them wear flannel and long sleeves in the heat.

Dragging Coco to a cute cafe you saw on instagram, and him knowing, by the hipster design of it, that his wallet is about to cry.

Stealing food from his plate, and laughing at him sucking his teeth and whining when he catches you.

“You’re stuck with me forever now Johnny sooo….get used to this.”

“Small price to pay for that I guess.”

Finding small shops to go to and being Siamese twins in every one. Coco showing he has good taste in a lot of things one might think he wouldn’t. Him opening up his wallet at everything you 'ooh' and 'aww' at. He can’t help it, he likes you happy, and your kisses and adoring looks are addicting.

For almost everything you get, Letty gets something too. Neither of you wants that tantrum when you get back.

You fighting yourself to avoid the art supply store, and Coco not having it.

“I have so many supplies already, it’s an addiction at this point.”

“So? Get some more. It’s our week, we shouldn’t stress about shit.”

Coco bragging on your talents and successes to the art shop cashier when you checkout.

“Cocoooo.” you murmur hiding your face in his shoulder, arms around his waist.

“Don’t be shy ma, you’re fucking amazing. I love your skills.”

Cue the cashier swooning at the two of you.

Finding unique liquor stores and getting tipsy on samples. It becomes twice as fun when locals, and other tourists alike, start discussing the Marfa lights with you, and you and Coco impress everyone with your ideas.

Being invited to a bonfire smoke session with the other El Cosmico guests when you get back.

Sketching Coco by the firelight, because he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in that moment, and now he’s officially yours.

The sex being on another level of intimate that night, because all day you and Coco have been engaging in your respective love languages, and it culminates in mutual need for each other.

The drive to Roswell being more tolerable for Coco, but he still misses his bike. Your excitement about AlienFest is so palpable however, he quickly forgets.

Your hotel being more conventional, but the people you meet making up for it. Finally, you and Coco aren’t the weirdest ones in the room.

Taking the time before the festival starts to check in with friends and family and accumulate odd souvenirs for them. You believe Coco is intentionally getting them stuff they’ll hate.

“Taza won’t wear that baby, he has better taste in jewelry than UFO earrings.”

“Ok, but can he bitch about us not getting him anything? Plus, you can guilt anyone into anything.”

Doing cute edible pastries at the festival.

“You know Aliens are demons right? Jack Parsons and L. Ron Hubbard were doing summoning rituals in the Mojave in 1946, and Roswell was the following year.”

“Word?…Shit. Tell me that again when we’re not rolling. I wanna read about it………you’re so smart mami.”

Coco realizing between every snack stop, every dance he shares with you, every trinket you pick up, and every little conspiracy tidbit you share, that you’re his wife now. That the peace he’s been feeling all week, that he thought he’d never have, is going to be his new normal.

New Orleans (EZ)

You and EZ both enjoy engaging with history and culture, and felt that your honeymoon should be built off of your shared interests. During your meticulous wedding planning, it was decided New Orleans would be the honeymoon destination. It didn’t hurt that you missed your southern roots too, even if you weren’t from New Orleans.

Traveling with EZ is a dream considering you’re both pretty organized, together people. He’s not afraid of flying, but you’re always a little nervous.

EZ being Best Husband™️ and soothing even the most minor of your stresses by turning your attention to the excitement of your trip and your new relationship status.

Teasing EZ in-flight won’t get you Mile High Club initiated, because he finds it much more entertaining to punish you by letting you work the both of you up, and making you stay that way for the duration of the flight. He’s got enough will power to suffer through it, because your soft whines make it worth it.

The airbnb is everything it was promised to be, and you’d appreciate that later, but all you can think of is your husband when you step through the door. That’s the other half of why EZ likes to leave you waiting. Your aggression and exclusive desire for him gets, and keeps, him hard.

It rains the following day, which is just as well, because neither of you are quite ready to stop physically expressing your love for each other. The day consists of ordering food, falling out of your clothes and onto each other, separating to read, falling back on each other, and quick naps.

Angel sending mocking texts in your Reyes group about how you’re trying to turn his brother bamma like you, only to stop when you threaten him with no souvenirs.

EZ and you taking responsibility for your own tour because let’s face it, you both know exactly what you want to see, and can plan a more satisfying tour for the both of you. You take turns deciding where to go next.

When it’s his turn, EZ picks an art museum, and can’t quit smiling about it. You think it’s because he picked a place he really wanted to go to.

“Babe, I have a surprise for you.”

“What?” your excitement always makes EZ’s heart race with his own.

He hands you the guide brochure he picked up at the door, folded to the section he wants you to look at.

“Faith Ringgold exhibit?!”

He hums and nods, grunting when you knock into him with a hug.

“Thank you for thinking of me. I love you.” you look up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears and he just kisses you, afraid he’ll cry if he says anything.

The two of you avoid the tourist trap spots for lunch and find a cute family owned cafe. You order for the both of you based on what you know about southern cuisine and both of your tastes.

You love watching EZ fall in love with the food as he keeps asking “Can you make this?” about everything he eats.

The two of you walking through the Garden District in the evening. Hands swinging between you with no plans but to admire the beautiful homes and foliage.

EZ noting how awestruck you are, and you describing what you love about the historic, towering homes.

He catches that when you describe what your dream home in the area would be, he and your future children are mentioned frequently, and it makes butterflies dance in his stomach. He can picture your family in the yards around him.

The two of you almost make it back to your Airbnb, but give into your baser urges after all the domestic conversation. EZ pulls you into an alley for a quickie, the two of you fighting to silence the other’s vocal expression.

You teasing EZ after that he’s more like his brother than he thinks. Him teasing back the two of you would’ve been caught and arrested if he was like Angel.

The following day is relaxed and less planned. The both of you getting thoughtful gifts for each member of your family, blood and otherwise. EZ scores major points for the gifts he suggests for your mom and dad, and you kind of want to jump him again.

EZ is glad you’re impressed, but it’s nothing to him. It all comes naturally because he loves you so much, and refuses to be anything other than the husband he knows you deserve.

AN:

I didn’t want to add this, cuz I wanted to end on a sweet note, but you just know Angel would accidentally send that vid to one of his boys.

Personally, I lose it for shit like this. Anything domestic in writings is my jam, so I decided to make these headcanons.

- Fun fact: Jet Ski is kind of like Bandaid in that it’s become the generic term for “personal water vehicles”, but it’s actually a specific brand’s name for their PWVs. I learned this while writing this enjoy💀.

[darlingbudsofrae]

Neil Josten Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

Alright, let’s just start this by addressing the big elephant in the room: everyone loves Neil Josten. EVERYONE.

If you don’t, you’re lying. 

Okay, first up- I’m glad this is getting addressed more on AFTG tumblr but Neil is literally so much smarter than the fandom gives him credit for.

Like yes, he’s a little dumdum on the social aspect of things (you could argue he kind of has a low EQ but also not really, I would argue that later)

but that doesn’t dismiss that he is smart af and that he can kill you and make it look natural if he wants.

For example, he literally outrun and hid from the mafia for years. Like, that in itself is an obvious point but we often forget that he did this at a very young age.

Like, he was presumably what? 16?? (when Mary kicked the bucket?) And kid was already playing hide and seek pretty well with a freaking mafia.

He does not get enough credit for this.

The survival skills it takes- the mental strength to survive as a runaway and technically he’s also homeless- at freaking 16, that’s just insane.

Also, let’s not mention the fact that it takes skills to forge official papers and all that.

We also do not talk enough about Neil and how he freaking have to relearn an entirely new position just to play exy.

I don’t think most remember that he’s actually a backliner, but have to play as a striker because it was the only available position in that local high school he attended in Millport, and that was how Kevin saw him so he was recruited as a striker.

We also additionally do not talk enough about how Kevin “literal and figurative Son of Exy” Day found potential for court in Neil “I’m a backliner but I’m playing striker because it’s the only thing available and I’m an exy junkie” Josten who only played it for like a year or less. 

Like yeah, Kevin said he needs more training but it’s not even Neil’s official position. 

The talent on this man- I cannot, he is such an icon. 

Aside from his great survival skills and being literally great at picking things up- he’s also like freaking academically smart.

Like that also doesn’t get enough credit- I mean, he does math for fun.

Frankly, I think if you did Kumon or if you had an awesome teacher you could also do math for fun (I know I did) but this should be noted with the fact that he didn’t have proper schooling.

He went on a run at a really young age so there is no way he received formal education.

Which means he is naturally like really smart.

He’s also a polyglot. And the languages he has under his belt are all freaking difficult to learn- like, no kidding: French, German, and he can assumingly speak intermediate Spanish, and we don’t even have an idea if this is all the languages he can speak.

Also, he and Andrew learns how to speak Russian, right? Like, that’s crazy.

The brain on this man and the power that he has- my son, I am so proud.

I mean, for all we know- there’s more than that and the fact that he’s like 18 at TFC screams supremacy.

This is where I argue about his EQ but Neil is crazy perceptive.

It took him like freaking 3 seconds to figure out the team dynamics the foxes have, and how to work against it.

He later figured out how to make it all mesh together.

Like the way he do things isn’t conventional but reading him analyze his team despite his lack of empathy really makes me shudder.

Like, this kid is so freaking smart. I remember reading his thought process for the very first time and being like, okay- I definitely did not think about that.

The main problem with his EQ though is that he doesn’t know how to process positive stuff when he’s involved, but when he’s the outsider- his perspective is so amazing.

Like again, he kind of lacks empathy but the way he understands things and is just so sharp is just noteworthy.

I’d argue he doesn’t understand social cues and “modern teen things” but he isn’t so completely clueless on the social aspect in general as to not manipulate an entire team of misfits with issues to work together.

He’s literally the key to unity in AFTG. Even Dan says so.

Also, the way he puts things into play- like he’s a master manipulator, and I love that for him.

We do not talk enough about manipulative Neil, like I just really love manipulative characters in general so much- especially if they’re just owning it. 

I mean, he freaking manipulated Andrew and Aaron into therapy. Kind of evil but also wow. (just a sidenote, please don’t force people into therapy lol)

Going completely dark for a second, Neil also has a freaking high pain tolerance.

The amount of horrible things he went through in the books were just so sad and the fact that he just kind of moves on from it? That’s just completely oh my gods.

My poor summer child, even if you can kill me at any given time, let me just hug you for a second with consent.

Everyone also gives shit about Neil’s fashion choices and granted it is said he kind of bags the homeless looks but the fact that he values utility above all else-

Yes, we stan a resourceful king. 

Lowkey though, am I the only one who appreciate Neil’s average style?

Speaking of style- I love the way Neil narrates. Like, the way he doesn’t give much attention to how the character looks- it’s just so realistic?

Because if I’m talking to a person in real life, there is no way I am noting how his blue polo makes him kind of casual but clean-cut and how his brown eyes is as warm as my morning coffee. Like, who even does that?

The thing with Neil’s narration is that it’s just so authentic- like it easily engages the readers and the way he gives importance to every thing the same way, it really makes it easier for the reader to discern things objectively, y’know what I mean?

He just has that quality in a main character and narrator- he’s laidback and sarcastic but not trying too hard, and he’s just really easy to love.

Like, I normally don’t like narrators/main characters in books because I favor a side character more or just because they’re annoying, but Neil Josten is legit lovable. 

At the same time, he’s also a really well-written character. Like, for all the technicalities I point out in AFTG, Neil is an asshole. He’s not perfect and I don’t 100% love everything that he does and I love that.

He’s a flawed character but he gives you something to root for- and I just really want to appreciate his characterization for a second. Most books make their characters’ flaws not even their fault to put a check to the flawed character but at the same time still have that perfect character. Eeww, no- give me real flaws to work with.

He’s one of the realest protagonists I ever read.

Like people give him shit for wanting to hide but also choosing to play a nationwide-discerned sport on an infamous collegiate team but for me it’s kind of realistic.

Because I think we, as human beings, also do things we love too much regardless of logic. I don’t know, like it’s kind of funny the way Neil is written but I honestly didn’t see him joining Palmetto as a loophole.

Like, just think of all those successful people who hid their identities via pseudonym or other necessary means to do things they weren’t expected to do or weren’t allowed to do.

For me, his character was really just looking for excuses to play his favorite sport a second longer and if anything, that’s just kind of sad.

But also, his dedication and love to exy is really admirable- like I never understood it but the way he literally does everything to stay on the court for a second longer just makes me want to root for him.

On a random note, Neil may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew’s but the way he memorize most phone numbers by heart? 

Bruh, I don’t even have my phone number memorized and I freaking have it for two years now. 

He also memorizes every twists and turns at every trip, every exits at a room he enters, and most people’s tics upon the first meeting, and other things and that’s just crazy perceptive but also really crazy on another level.

Also, we don’t get much ace/demi representation and out of the few I’ve consumed, demi Neil Josten validates me. He’s legit my favorite character that belongs in the ace spec in books.

I just really love Neil’s character so much- he’s just so amazing.

One thing I always appreciate about Neil Josten is that while he’s not a total angel (sadly), the way he loves the foxes- like he legit tried to mend the team and make sure everyone is going to be okay before walking straight to his death- like I’m with Andrew on this one, what a fucking martyr. Why are you like this and why am I crying?

Neil Josten is by all means not soft, that much is established, but the way he’s just still as precious and must be protected at all costs-

"You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

I love him, your honor- where can I file this adoption papers and do I have anything else to sign?

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Love You Goodbye

*not my gif*

This is loosely based on "Love You Goodbye" by the lovely boys of One Direction

Warnings: swearing, smut, pure and utter angst and sadness

18+ MINORS DNI

The end was inevitable. You were over 15 years younger than him. He was ready to settle down and start a family and you still wanted to wait a couple more years. He was set on living in Boston and you wanted to explore your options. For three years you guys ignored these things, sweeping them under the rug. But now they had caught up to you. They had reared their ugly head in an argument that ended with tears shed and suitcases packed.

You straightened your shoulders as you took a step into Chris’s house for the last time. You had come over to grab the last of your things; everything else had been either placed in storage or was now sitting in the basement of your sister’s house with the rest of your hopes and dreams. You sucked in a breath as you spotted Chris sitting on one of the barstools, his thumb tracing over your favorite picture of the two of you. It was taken last winter when the two of you had gone ice skating. The picture just exuded pure love and every time you had looked at it, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey.” Your voice caused Chris to look up and straighten up in his seat as he sniffed, quickly running his hands under his eyes.

“Hey. Your things are in the bedroom.” He was short, but you expected nothing less. You didn’t answer, just made the familiar trek to the master bedroom.

He had neatly folded all of your clothes and all of your bathroom supplies were labeled and put into bags or boxes. You looked down at the pile of clothes and your throat tightened as your fingers brushed over the familiar fabric of your favorite of Chris’s shirts. Neatly tucked with the rest of your shirts.

“It seemed only right that you have it. I don’t wear it anymore.” You turned around to see Chris leaning against the door frame. His voice was hard but his eyes were soft as he took inventory of the stuff on the bed.

“Thank you.” You whispered. He gave you a firm nod. You set the suitcase that you had brought with you on the bed and started putting the clothes in. Your vision blurred as you placed the last shirt in. You closed the top and reached for the zipper but were stopped by Chris’s hand. You froze as his body leaned into yours and your body reacted almost instantaneously.

“I don’t want you to go.” He muttered, his voice cracking. “Not like this.”

“I know, but…” you trailed off. You looked up at him, his blue eyes swimming with tears. You wanted to laugh at the fact that even in this heartbreaking moment, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“Don’t leave. Not tonight.” He pleaded. He moved down and attached his lips to your neck and you let out a breathy moan. “Stay with me one more night. Let me love you goodbye.”

His kisses were like fire against your skin as he continued his assault on your neck, nipping and biting at the spot that he knew would garner a reaction from you. Your hands wound around his waist as he cupped your face. You both peered at each other, breathing hard.

“Please.”

You responded by smashing your lips to his. He let out a growl deep in his throat as he pushed your stuff off the bed and laid you down. Hovering over you, his eyes never left yours as he peeled off his shirt. You bit your lip and dragged your fingers across the tattoos that graced his front. His nipples hardened as you scraped your nail over the tightening bud before tracing over his Dodger tattoo.

You diverted your gaze from his chest up to his eyes that were hooded, watching you closely. You leaned up and reconnected your lips. The kiss was slow. Passionate. Savory. It was like you both were taking extra careful notes to remember it forever.

Chris reached and pulled your tank top over your head, a groan escaping as he took notice of the deep red lingerie you had on underneath. You quickly slipped off your shorts as well to show him the whole deal. Red lace panties with tastefully cut out spots to match the poor excuse of a lace bra.

“You’re killing me, baby girl. How are you gonna wear that when you’re leaving me?” Chris moaned as he kissed down your chest. Taking his time and appreciating each of your tender nipples. Sucking them over the lace and twisting them with his fingers. His hands wandered down your body and started toying with the hem of your panties, his mouth still giving attention to your aching buds.

“Chris,” You moaned out as his fingers danced lightly over your covered mound.

“What do you need, baby? Use your words.”

“I need your talented mouth a little lower, please.” You bit your lip as you moaned out the words.

Chris chuckled and shook his head. “Always Miss Manners.”

But he did what you asked. He kissed his way from your breasts, down your stomach and peppered kisses across the waistline of your underwear. You sucked in a breath as his nose bumped over your clit as he pressed a gentle kiss against your panties.

“You always get so fucking wet for me.” Chris growled as he lowered your panties and you quickly kicked them off. His fingers sliding down your folds and gathering your wetness on them. “Your pussy knows who it belongs to.”

You let out a loud moan as his lips attached your clit and he inserted two fingers right away. Your hands gripped his hair as he laid his tongue flat against you before lapping you up and sucking in a sinful way. His fingers inside of you curling at just the right angle to hit that spongy spot inside of you.

“That feels so good, baby.”

Chris just hummed against your clit and you shuttered, your fingers tightening in his hair. Your hips bucked as you felt your orgasm approaching. You arched your back and let out a loud moan as your orgasm crashed over you.

“Fuck, I love how you taste.” Chris growled as he kissed back up your body before crashing his lips to yours. You bucked your hips to meet his.

“I need you.” You begged. Flipping the two of you over so you were on top, you fiddled with his belt before successfully pulling it off and undoing his jeans. You licked your lips as you took in the hard outline of his dick through his briefs.

“It’s yours, honey, take it.” Chris mumbled. He ran his fingers through your hair as you lowered his underwear and took his aching member into your mouth.

“Oh fuck.” Chris moaned, his mouth agape. He watched you through hooded eyes as you expertly swallowed his cock down your throat. Your tongue sinfully teasing the head while your hand stroked the base. He almost lost it when you looked up at him as you gagged around his cock, hot tears streaming down your face.

“Shit, come here.” He pulled you off of him and brought you back up to him so he could kiss you fiercely. Your lips stayed connected as Chris lined himself up with your entrance and entered you slowly. You pulled away slightly as you gasped at the feeling of him fully seated inside of you. For a moment neither of you moved. You could feel your tears once again as you lowered your head into the crook of his neck, your emotions all over the place. How could you feel so good and yet feel like your heart was shattering all at once.

You let out a tiny whine and Chris took that as his cue to start moving. You sucked in a breath as he lowered his hips before snapping them back up against you. Your body started moving on its own accord, grinding against him as your bodies moved in perfect sync.

“I love you.” Chris said through gritted teeth and you could hear the emotion in his voice. His arms wrapped tightly around your center as he fucked up into you. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Chris!” You didn’t know if you were moaning in pleasure or if you were crying out in sadness. Before you could really process your thoughts, Chris flipped the two of you over again. You looked at him with tearful eyes and you felt your heart finally break as his own held their own tears. Leaning over, Chris captured your mouth in a heated kiss. Your lips moved over his, tongues dancing together as your orgasm teetered on the edge.

“I love you.” You whimpered against his mouth. His hips stuttered as his release approached. “Cum for me, baby. Please.” That was enough for him. He let out a loud curse, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You felt your orgasm crash over you, your head thrown back as Chris continued to pound into you; his lips attached to the side of your neck and kissing that spot that had you cumming again.

Slowly Chris rolled off of you, his chest heaving as he laid next to you. You couldn’t look at him. You knew that if you did the dam that you had been building would inevitably break. You laid in silence for a few moments before you finally made the move to stand up from the bed. As you rolled over you paused as Chris’s hand reached out and gripped your wrist.

“Don’t.” His voice was weak and you finally looked at him. Your bottom lip wavered at the sight of the man that you loved. Chris was always beautiful to you, but something about him after the two of you made love had your heart soaring higher. The way his cheeks were flushed and his eyes still slightly blown, his hair disheveled and his lips red, swollen and begging to be kissed again. But now with that beauty was heartache. His lust blown eyes were now a deep blue shade of sadness as they silently begged you not to leave the bed.

“I have to go.” You whispered, looking away once again. “If I stay, I won’t leave.”

“Then don’t leave.” You felt him sit up and gently tug on your wrist. “Don’t leave me.”

You shook your head, pulling your wrist free from his burning grip. You gathered your clothes and started pulling them on. Maybe in another lifetime the two of you would work out.

“I can’t give you what you want, Chris.” You finally said as you looked at him again. “And I would hate myself if I made you give up on what you want. On what you deserve.”

“I can wait, Y/N. I’ll wait until you're ready. I don’t want these things if they aren’t with you.” He stood up, his voice full of conviction. But you knew him. You could see the turmoil behind his eyes. You knew him, sometimes better than he knew himself and vice versa, and you knew that he wanted to start a family sooner rather than later.

Walking over to him, you pressed your hands against the hard muscles of his chest. You could feel his heartbeat increase as you stood there, staring at the light fluttering of chest hair. Tentatively, you moved your hands from his chest to around his neck and brought his mouth down to yours. The kiss was salty as both of your tears mixed between your lips.

“Please.” His final attempt at getting you to stay as you pulled away.

“Promise me that you will find someone.” You laid your head against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. “Promise me, Chris.”

“Don’t make me do that.” He rested his cheek on the top of your head.

“Promise me.” You repeated, tilting your head up to look at him.

His jaw clenched as he looked down at you. “I promise.”

You nodded once before stepping out of his arms and going back over to grab your stuff. You paused at the threshold of his bedroom door, your eyes meeting again. “Goodbye, Chris.”

And before he could say anything else, anything else that would make you stay you walked out of his room and out of his life.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

One man's trash, is another man's treasure.

(3-4)

Short story # 6

2,216 - Words

Fandom - House of Wax (2005)

Pairing - Bo Sinclair X Reader

Summary - The reader finds herself & her 4 month old son stranded in Ambrose. While Bo finds himself enamored with the woman, wanting nothing more than to protect and provide for the two of them.

Warnings - Some dark topics, talk of abusive relationships, eventual blood & death, eventual smut. (I'm not sure what else tbh)

Notes - At this point both Bo and (Y/n) are really feeling that connection between them.

Pt. 1 ~ Pt. 2 ~ Pt. 3 ~ Pt. 4

----

By the end of the day (Y/n)'s jeep was all fixed up, but with as late in the evening as it was she decided to stay another night, with some encouragement from Bo of course. While (Y/n) and Von slept soundly in the guest bedroom, Bo met his brothers down at the garage, discussing what they should do, and if they should do anything in the first place. "I don't know Bo, her ex tried killing her because she was pregnant... She'll be running her whole life from a man like that." Lester sighed, not wanting anything to happen to (Y/n). "So we let her stay here, we can protect her from him easily." Bo shrugged. "What about when she realizes what happened to the people here? Or she finds out about Vincent's projects." Lester argued. "We'll explain it, make her understand." Bo countered. "How?" Lester asked feeling a little concerned. "I don't know yet." Bo admitted with a sigh. "I think we should start by introducing her to Vincent." He continued his thought, glancing to his twin, who made an almost concerned groan. "If she can accept him, I'm sure she'll accept the rest." Bo lit a new cigarette after finishing his statement. "And if she doesn't?" Lester asked. "That's not an option." Bo's smirk made worry spark in Lester's heart. Despite this however he chose to keep his mouth shut, and allowed his older brother to do whatever he had in mind.

When morning came, (Y/n) woke up early and cooked breakfast. "Morning." Bo murmured with a sleepy smile on his face, having been woken from the smell of bacon. "Morning Bo, I hope you don't mind." (Y/n) smiled sheepishly as she looked to what all she had cooked. "Not at all." Bo shook his head, happily accepting the cup of coffee she handed him. "Great." (Y/n) smiled brightly, the pair of them taking a seat beside eachother, eating their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Excluding the occasional hum of approval Bo gave when he bit into something new. And by the time they finished Von began crying from upstairs, cueing (Y/n) to fetch him to begin his morning routine.

"Hey I was going to do those." (Y/n) pouted playfully when she entered the kitchen, finding Bo working on the dishes. "Eh don't worry about it, you cooked I'll clean up." Bo winked making (Y/n) blush as she sat at the counter, adjusting herself to feed a fussy Von. "My brother wants to meet you before you leave." Bo stated casually. "Really?" (Y/n) smiled softly. "Mhm." Bo nodded his head with a hum. "I'd love to meet him." (Y/n)'s grin widened a little, feeling honored that he'd want to meet her. "We'll meet him up at the house of wax in an hour." Bo confirmed as he finished up the last dish. "Sounds fun, I've never been to a house of wax before." She hummed as she propped Von onto her shoulder, burping him. "I'm gonna go take a quick shower, let me know when you're ready." Bo insisted casually as he moved to wipe the spit up off of Von's chin. "Okay will do." (Y/n) smiled with appreciation, hopping up from her seat to get herself and Von dressed.

Once inside of the wax Museum (Y/n)'s attention was drawn to just about everything within sight, making Bo chuckle as he watched her ogle everything. "I take it you like it?" Bo mused with a grin. "I'm a little obsessed, is everything in here really made of wax?" She asked turning to look Bo in the eye. "Just about everything, most of its wax, but some of it isn't." Bo shrugged a little. "The vase?" (Y/n) asked as she pointed to the large decorative vase. "Wax." Bo nodded. "The couch?" She pointed to the couch two wax figures sat upon. "Wax." He chuckled. "How about the...." (Y/n) looked around before realization struck her. "The building?" She turned her attention to Bo, her eyes widening when he nodded his head yes. "Wow that's insane." (Y/n) chuckled with astonishment. "But you like it yeah?" Bo asked. "I love it! I can't imagine how long this must have taken to craft all of this, but it's very impressive." (Y/n) beamed making Bo chuckle softly. "Vincent will be happy to hear that you like his work." Bo mused. "Wait he did all of this?" (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "Not all of it, but a lot of it." Bo explained. "Wow I wish I had that kinda talent." (Y/n) chucked softly, jumping when a statue in the back moved. "Alright no need to scare her." Bo chuckled with a shake of his head, the once statue approaching the pair. "I was not expecting you to move, I really thought you were a statue." (Y/n) chuckled nervously.

"(Y/n) this is my brother Vincent." Bo introduced the two, the masked brother timidity offering (Y/n) his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." (Y/n) smiled looking at his mask with curiosity. "Is your prosthetic made of wax?" She asked without thought, but he only tilted his head to the side. "Your mask." She clarified, smiling when he nodded his head yes. "That's very cool, did you make it yourself?" (Y/n) asked chuckling when he nodded his head again. "You don't talk much huh?" She tilted her own head a little. "He can't." Bo clarified unknowingly making (Y/n) suddenly feel guilty. "Oh I didn't know, I'm sorry." (Y/n) ducked her head down, feeling stupid for opening her mouth. "Vincent do you wanna show her?" Bo asked his brother, who hesitated for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. (Y/n) picked her head up, watching in amazement as Vincent removed his mask. "Wow." She muttered under her breath, taking in the sight of his face, frowning a little when he looked away from her. "What happened?" (Y/n) turned to Bo. "We were born as Siamese twins, and our daddy was an unorthodoxed doctor. He was able to separate us as infants." Bo explained suddenly feeling subconscious himself. "Wow... That's incredible." (Y/n) murmured softly. "You're both incredible." She chuckled softly looking back to Vincent, who smiled back at her before putting his mask back on.

--Later that day--

Having decided on stay one more day (Y/n) sat with Bo in his living room talking about this and that, and joking about nearly everything. "(Y/N)!" A voice yelled from outside, cutting off (Y/n)'s laughter, a look of terror filling her eyes in an instant. "(Y/N)!" The man yelled from outside for a second time. "It's him... It's Trent, he's come for me!" (Y/n) panicked, explaining to Bo why she suddenly got so fearful. "(Y/N) I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!" Trent yelled, sounding a bit closer to Bo's house now. "I'll keep you safe." Bo promised before he rose to his feet, grabbing the shotgun he kept near the front door. "Wait he's dangerous." (Y/n) rushed to follow Bo outside, leaving Von in his crib asleep. "COME OUT COME OUT COME OUT!" Trent taunted from the center of town, his attention turning to a pissed off Bo Sinclair. "Found yourself a gullible local huh?" Trent sneered at (Y/n) who ignored her fear and continued following Bo. "I suggest you get outta here and forget about (Y/n)." Bo warned, resting his shotgun on his shoulder, standing about eight feet from Trent, who only scoffed at his threat. "How about you go fuck your sister, and leave me to my business." Trent hissed, his words only fueling the hatred Bo felt for this man. "Your business best consist of you getting outta my town." Bo glared Trent down, who only chuckled. "Sure I'll get outta your town, once I have her." Trent pointed to (Y/n), but Bo only pushed (Y/n) to stand back a little.

"That ain't gonna happen." Bo shook his head with a mocking grin on his face. "How did you even find me!?" (Y/n) asked the question that had been plaguing her mind. "Remember my buddy Stan? I had him bug your car with a GPS tracker." Trent mocked as he flashed them the receiver of the tracker. "Now get over here." He growled as he pulled a pistol from the back of his belt. As Trent trained the pistol, Bo stepped in front of (Y/n) training his shotgun on Trent. "I'll only warn you one more time." Bo hissed, resisting the urge to just blow the motherfucker away. "Fuck you, you fucking redneck." Trent taunted before he pulled the trigger, but his gun jammed and Bo smirked. "Nah fuck you." Bo retorted before pulling the trigger, blowing open Trent's chest. (Y/n) screamed at the sound, her heart racing in her chest. Almost like everything was moving in slow motion, (Y/n) watched Trent's body hit the ground with a thud, dead as dead gets. Bo was quick to spin on his heel, gently setting the gun on the ground he scooped (Y/n)'s shaking form into his arms. "Sh darling it's alright, I've got you. You're safe now darling, I've got you." He murmured against the crown of her head, carrying her back into his house. "It's okay (Y/n), rest now. I'll take care of everything, I'll take care of you." Bo promised as he laid her down on the couch, lovingly stroking her hair, before he kissed her temple. The events suddenly flipping a highly protective and tender switch within Bo, not that (Y/n) was complaining in the slightest, taking great comfort in his words and actions.

A few hours passed and in that time, (Y/n) had calmed down, and thought about a lot of things. Bo had dealt with the body and come back to (Y/n)'s side within the first hour, allowing her to cuddle into his side and think. "Bo what is this place?" (Y/n) asked with worry laced in her voice. "What?" Bo frowned his brows, a confused smile on his face. "Please don't lie to me anymore, please tell me what this place is. This town its just not right, in all the time I've been here I've only seen you Lester and Vincent." (Y/n) explained, suddenly feeling concerned for her baby's well being. "I want to tell you, I've wanted to tell you for a while now... But I don't want to scare you away." Bo hung his head. "Not telling me is scaring me, Bo please tell me." She insisted. "You know I would never hurt you or Von right?" Bo asked, his eyes the tiniest bit glossy. "Of course I know that." (Y/n) licked her lips, ignoring the worry bubbling at the back of her mind. "The town been abandoned for a decade, me and my brothers took it over a few years ago." Bo began. "Brothers?" (Y/n) asked having caught the plural. "Lester is mine and Vincent's younger brother." Bo explained frowning a little when (Y/n)'s eyes filled with worry.

"Lester convinces people to come to Ambrose, and me and Vincent kill them." Bo revealed, his confession making (Y/n)'s breath hitch in her throat. "Lester called me after he dropped you off at the gas station, and he told me to help you out, he insisted that we spared you." Bo licked his lips nervously. "I wasn't going to listen to him, but when you didn't snoop around town like everyone else, I was curious about you... Then I seen you, and your baby, and any dark thought I had washed away in an instant. The more we talked, the more I was intrigued with you... The more I wanted to protect you, especially when you told me about your ex." Bo admitted, his words surprisingly soothing (Y/n). "I'm sorry..." Bo muttered under his breath. "I forgive you." (Y/n) smiled softly, sitting up she adjusted herself to straddle Bo's lap. "I forgive you." She repeated herself as she took his face between her hands. "You've been better to me than most people in my life, and while the knowledge of what you and Vincent do... Is almost heartbreaking... I forgive you. I know you won't harm me or Von, to proved yourself to me today when you saved me from Trent." (Y/n) leaned in and gently kissed Bo's lips, pulling away all to soon. "I don't want to leave, I want to stay here with you... To love you despite the things you do, to love you despite the monster you can be... I want you for who you are, darkness and all." (Y/n) confessed, making Bo's mind go hazy with adoration. "Please stay." He muttered subconsciously. "I am." (Y/n) rest her forehead against his, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

----

Part three is complete!!!!

Part four will hopefully be posted tomorrow evening.

（＾_＾）