#this is a very surface level summary of my thoughts okay

[going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi]

everyone has the right to complain about their body and feel insecure about their appearance because everyone gets shit on in one way or another BUT there's a difference between getting bullied for something and living in a world that's literally not designed to accommodate your body

[lovingelegance]

Sugar Mommy/Daddy AU (🎊Event)

Headcannons + Short Scenarios!

Summary of this event : basically an AU where you’re a sugar mommy/daddy for genshin men, scenarios and some of my personal headcannons! (Be prepared because I’m not including everything that’s in here…)

Characters, Albedo, Ayato, Capitano, Childe, Diluc, Dottore, Gorou, Itto, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Xiao, and Zhongli. || Sorry if I didn’t include your fav here!! I couldn’t think of anything for them :(

Side note : I kind of wanted to do this for like so long but never had any excuse too, but in celebration for getting unshadow-banned (finally) I’m making this an event? Cheers to getting unshadow-banned!🥂

Before we start, sorry for my grammar mistakes! (If I have any) 🫶🫶

❕Albedo

Your his sugar mommy/daddy because he needs new books with spells, potions, expensive and hard to obtain items/materials just you know the typical stuff Albedo would need to do his research..

I don’t know what to call this but he’s really into you experimenting on him and stuff, overstimulate him or edge him he’ll be so turned on. He wants you to test his limits, put a vibrator in him that reaches deep inside him and he would just be in utter bliss?! Oh and maybe gag him and look him in the eyes with no expression.

His thighs and nipples would be very very sensitive, touch his thighs while you tug on the nipple clamps you bought him. Maybe throw in some degrading and it’ll have him cumming in a second.

❗️ Scenario beneath

“Let’s test out this new “gadget” I bought.” You said while holding Albedo’s chin. The “gadget” you were referring to was a vibrator, it had up to 6 vibrations. From the lowest to the highest, you decide to go with the 3rd vibration. You quickly shoved it into Albedo and his reaction was amusing. “AH-! O-Oh my-” though you thought you chose the middle vibration level. Seems like Albedo is still sensitive after all. His breathing became hitched, “Let’s move up a level, shall we?” You say with a smirk on your face.

As his moans became louder you started to touch his nipples. “Fuck-!.. mm~!!” you rubbed them slowly, as they began to get harder. “Do you like that?~” you teasingly said. Albedo could only whimper out in response, his head thrown back as you turn it the the next level once again. His thighs started to tremble, “Gonna- C-Cum~!.. Ple-Please let me—!” You suddenly turn down the vibration to the first level. Albedo looks at you in disbelief, with those eyes. Begging silently.. “Don’t worry, you can take at least one more right? For me?” You whisper, he nodded his head in response and bit his lip. Oh you were going to have a fun time with him.

~ ⭐️

❕Ayato

Okay,, where do I start? This man probably would have you as a sugar mommy/daddy just for fun, or either expenses he doesn’t want to pay for, but he does enjoy being a sugar baby that’s for sure. He loves being pampered in gifts and affection.

He would totally wear the sluttiest lingerie for you, just imagine you coming home from a long day of work or whatever you were doing just to be greeted by your beloved ayato welcoming you home with the pretty lingerie you bought for him on himself. He would even tease you about staring at him, I mean you can’t help it he just looks gorgeous right now.

Not very disobedient but will act up once in a while. When he does, fuck him till he breaks. I’m telling you right now he will totally enjoy it. Make him scream out your name and only your name. Fuck him at a fast pace and roughly, he would be instantly on cloud nine! Treat him like a cheap whore.

❗️ Scenario beneath

“Welcome home dear..” you hear a familiar voice throughout the hallway. “Ah, Ayato-” you were cut off guard when you saw Ayato. You had recently bought him lingerie, though you weren’t expecting him to wear it today. “Such a surprise, you look absolutely beautiful.” You say while you walk towards him. Putting your coat on the nearest surface of a object. The lingerie suited him well and showed off his body in the ways you always liked. You knew once you saw that pair of lingerie you had to get it for Ayato. Your hand were placed on his waist while the other on his chest. “Something catch your eye?” He says while slightly grinning. “Of course, you.” Ayato unbuttoned your shirt while maintaining eye contact with you.

Ayato’s lingerie was slowly falling off as you fingered and made out with him. Earlier you ordered for him to keep the lingerie on and for it to not get dirty, but it felt impossible the way you made him loose his mind. The pleasure clouded his head, soon he couldn’t get a word out of his mouth. “I should buy more lingerie for you, yeah?” You suggested, though he could only moan out in response. Taking another good look at his state, you were purely astonished.

~🧋

❕Capitano

I feel like he’s not the type to go look for a sugar mommy/daddy, personally I would like to think that you knew each other before this whole thing happened.. you would also be the one suggesting it. He would agree just because why not or for the experience, (Literally this is all I could think of for this part😭

Man in the streets whore in the sheets,, I just had too.. but anyways… I also think he’s the type to try to be quiet because he’s embarrassed about the sounds he makes, comfort him and maybe say something along the lines of, “Don’t be so quiet, I hear your gorgeous moans.” He would be so red after you said that, maybe just tie, hold, or grab his hands so he wouldn’t have a chance to cover his moans :)

Oral with Capitano.. oh my god. You or him receiving he would be a moaning whimpering mess. He just can’t help it, it feels too good to not act like the way he is at the moment. Looking up/down on him with that dominating look gets him turned on ever more..

❗️ Scenario Beneath

You place a kiss to his thighs, nibbling on them almost. Capitano covered his mouth with his hand, he was trying to not seem desperate. Looking at him then his thighs you decided to spread them apart further. “Why so shy today?..” you ask, he just looked down. You figured he just was, no particular reason. Though, when you thought about it maybe.. just maybe he would tell you. “If you don’t tell me I’ll stop,” you stood. Now you were looking down on him. “Ah,- well, I.. I’m a bit embarrassed doing lewd things like this.. It’s not like I don’t like it or anything-” you grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye, giving the look he always loved. “No need to be embarrassed around me sweetheart.”

“Uh-! S-Shit..” his breathing started to become faster. You licked his tip, then put his cock in your mouth. He had remembered when you said “Your noises are breathtaking.” and got turned on even further. He cursed under his breath, he wasn’t going to last if he kept on remembering. That’s when you said something, “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” Then he came on the spot. He was flustered, that was for sure. He shivered a bit.. You smirked at him after that, he was so sensitive you thought to yourself. Hungrily, you went for more.

~🌒

❕Childe

Although he has plenty of mora, he would do it for the fun of it as well. Or just a why the hell not? He would also probably ask you to buy him training gear, new weapons, stuff like that.. just nice stuff he doesn’t need to buy but stuff you can buy for him.

I think we can all agree that he would be a masochist. Whip him, step on him, humiliate him, slap him, just do anything you please to him. Hell, even spit on him?! He wants to be of use to you, a toy for you. A slut for you and only you. Though, mix in some praise. “Your such a good slut for me.” Something like that and it’ll have him lusting for more. (Give him good aftercare after that though, reassure him just saying,,)

This man thrives off of attention, keep your eyes on him it will make him feel great. Though.. if he acts like a brat ignore him. It will humble him realll quick. That’s one way to tame him. Although the other way is to simply break him. What I mean by that, fuck him till he can’t get a word out. That requires more work, but which ever one you would prefer.

❗️ Scenario Beneath

“Whoops!~ looks like I’ve dropped something..” Childe said while bending over to get whatever he dropped. Showing his ass off. That was of course, for your attention. You weren’t looking at him, you were looking at your phone. Texting a friend and simply catching up. Mean while Childe got somewhat pissed off. He wanted your attention, and he wasn’t getting it. Childe wanted to use another method, he than sat on your lap and proceeded to whisper dirty things in your ear. He still wasn’t getting the reaction and attention he wanted. His other attempts failed, but he was determined. Soon, you murmured “I can’t hear you.” You wanted to make him say the things out loud, proving he meant it. Every, single, word.

“I want you to fuck me, use me, humiliate me, praise me, do whatever you want with me.. I’ll be a good slut for you..” he drags a finger down your chest and places it just a bit above your hips. Looking up at you, with alluring eyes. “And.., only for you.” You finally turned off your phone and put it aside. A sadistic smile appeared on your face, grabbing his waist with one hand and another holding his chin. Pulling his face to yours, passionately making out. He pulled away, letting out a slutty moan of his. “I’ll make sure to use you well tonight.” tossing his clothes aside aggressively. He got the reaction he wanted, finally. Childe won’t be able to get off easy as this time.

~🐳

❕Diluc

He personally, wouldn’t call you a sugar daddy/mommy. Though, your relationship with him is what most people would call it. You tend to his needs, and give him what he wants. Whether sexually or buying something for him. Or maybe just spending time with him intimately. There are times where he personally needs his own space and you have to respect that!

Would be into hair pulling. But, lowkey. The way he found out he was into was that one night where he was giving you a blow job/eating you out. You were close and pulled his hair slightly, he didn’t know at first but he was turned on by it. At first, he tried to bring it up to you but was too shy, but when it was the right time he mentioned it and you had many ideas in your head after that..

I’m telling you guys right now.. Be gentle with him and also be patient with him. Babe needs it. Some people might not agree with this but this is what needs to be said, he’s been through it and I strongly believe this man is touch starved. (very if I have to mention) Fulfill what he wants and you’ll get the best out of him. Oh and I personally believe he has veins!!

❗️ Scenario Beneath

“Do you like that?” You cooed. Looking him in the eyes lovingly, rubbing his nipples slowly. “m..mhm,”he tries to bite back a moan. His hair scattered out, not in the usual pony tail he would wear. He looked beautiful with his hair down, you’d have to admit. “You’re getting very hard, just from a little touching here..” you playfully tease. He breaks eye contact, a bit embarrassed. You move the strands of hair that cover his face, you observed his face for a bit and saw blush covering his cheeks. “C-Can you please go a bit.. faster..?-” he was cut off with sudden movement and almost cried out. “Would you like me to touch you down there?” almost whispering, “Yes.. P, Please..~” Diluc pleaded. Stroking his cock, just the way he liked it. He threw his head back and held your hand tightly.

Tears falling from his eyes from the pleasure, it’s not like he hasn’t experienced this before but with you it’s different to him. He felt safe, he could trust you with making him feel indescribable things. “I think I’m g-going too—!” He whimpered, as he came all over his stomach. His eyes rolled back as he lost control. You place a kiss to his forehead, then to his lips. “You did great Diluc.” The way you said his name made him feel butterflies in his stomach, as if he was experiencing this for the first time. “Thank.., you.” he whispered, just enough so you could hear him.

~🌹

❕Dottore

Jeez where do I start? Well, he knows that he can get his own mora, but why make that when you can get someone else to give you mora? Literally, this is how I think he thinks if that makes sense?? Anyway, when you purchase stuff for him sometimes you do not know what you’re getting yourself into.. LMAO

Would probably make stuff (cough cough aphrodisiacs..) for both of you to try out. Probably would get him horny thinking about it. (Also stuff to boost stamina so you guys can go at it longer..) Definitely the one who would have suggested it. He always has some of those just in case. Iykyk!

Definitely into the testing stuff, the thing I mentioned in Albedos. If you didn’t read it basically experimenting on him, though.. he wants pain to be involved with it. He wants to see bruises, hickeys, scratches, stuff like that on his body. Just because he wants to be reminded of whatever happened between you and him that night.

❗️ Scenario Beneath

The aphrodisiacs were supposed to kick in a few minutes ago, you thought. You looked at Dottore and he gave you that look, to be patient. It kicked in the moment he gave you that look. Shit. It was the first time you tried this and you felt passion burn inside of you. You could tell Dottore was feeling the same thing, the moment you locked eyes the tension rose. It’s as if you are loosing control. As you prepared for this all he did was give a nod and you hurried your way to him. Taking both of your clothes off as fast as you ever could, you didn’t care you were in the kitchen as this happened. You picked him off his feet then to the kitchen counter. “Fuck- give it to me.” You quickly grabbed the bottle of lube that was next to you and prepped Dottore. Sticking two fingers instantly earned a rasped moan from him. Dottore shivered. As you quickly thrusted your fingers, he let out shaky gasps.

Finally, you slammed your cock/strap in him. “MMN—! More—.. Give-me more~!!” He leaves a high pitched moan after you pound him over and over again. You were both drunk on the feeling. Sloppily kissing him as salvia drips down his chin. Dottore was close, you decided to speed up and go rougher. He loved the feeling, soon he was seeing stars. “AH- t-think ‘m gonna cum..~!!” You thrusted into him once more as he came all over his stomach. Though, you both weren’t satisfied there. The insatiable lust felt endless, though you kept going until the effect wore off.

~🧪

❕Gorou

He would totally buy stuff for his troops and gifts as well. Especially for Kokomi. Whenever people ask him how he has all these gifts to give he just gets very flustered and changes the topic or just shrugs it off and walks away while being very red. He won’t ever admit he had a sugar daddy/mommy around people he isn’t close with. Though Kokomi has her curiosities she doesn’t want to dig in his business.

I think you guys already know the drill. Pet play, and I will elaborate! Leashes, collars, (a bit of bondage) you know.. the goood stuff. Please praise this boy. You’d be doing him a favor. Call him a good pup/puppy, or good boy. Nothing wrong with that route! Also, give him head pats!!

Breeding kink.. 100%. Cannot convince me otherwise unless you have a better idea. Fill him with your semen and place a butt plug to keep it in. He would love the idea. Belly bulge, seeing it makes him turned on. I think that’s pretty explainable.

❗️ Scenario Beneath

“Who’s my good boy?” You cooed. Tugging on the leash to his collar. His tail wagged happily. “I am!” He jumped up on you and snuggled up to you. You smile, patting his head then stroking his hair. You feel something poke at you. Looking down, it was Gorou’s cock. He was hard. “Mm, would you like me to help out with that?” teasing him, you put a finger on his tip.. feeling mischievous. He nodded eagerly, so needy. Taking his hand and placing it on his cock you then say, “First.. I want you to do it yourself, do you think you could do that?”

“Master.. it-, it doesn’t feel the same!! When you do it, it feels so different—” he whines. “Cute.” You thought to yourself. “Baby, just try it.. if you ever need help I’m here.” You say reassuringly. “But..” He stopped. “I will do it for you.. master.” Stopping his protest. You felt yourself getting more hornier, getting harder/wetter from his actions. You make him sit on your thigh as he jerks off. His facial expressions were priceless. The way he whimpered out, and how he was trying to get himself cum.. He’s was working so hard, you should reward him with something… sweet.

~🐶

❕ Itto

You met up with Shinobu and she introduced you to Itto. You either thought he was adorable or just the opposite, no in between. You started getting more closer with him somehow and you found yourself buying stuff for him. (Some unnecessary things he’d probably use for like a day??)

Man. Corruption kink with Itto.. MAKE THIS MAN INTO A WHORE. Anyways! He would probably say the most sluttiest thing and wouldn’t even know what he said because of how fucked out he would be. In the beginning though… he would probably say something like “This is so lewd..” and blush hard.

Training him to take your cock/strap. Oh my god. Put two fingers in his mouth, and for a challenge three. Make him suck them and lick them how he would with your cock/strap. Damn, imagining it sounds amazing ngl.

❗️Scenario Beneath

“That’s good sweetheart, keep doing that.” You coo. Looking at Itto sadistically. He was sucking eagerly on two of your fingers so nicely. You wanted to reward him, but after he gets used to your third finger in his mouth. “Mm, I think you deserve another.. don’t you?” You say getting closer to him. He nodded in a needy way, you chuckled and shoved another finger in his mouth. He gagged and a smug looked appeared on your face. Thrusting the fingers, tears almost falling down his face. You couldn’t help but have something spark in you.

You and Itto went at this for a good ten minutes. You were bored and pulled out your cock/strap. Itto drooled at the sight. Taking out the wet fingers and stroked your cock/strap with them, “Pl-Please..?” He quietly whined. You tilt your head, acting confused. “Please what sweetheart? Say it.” You asked. “I want your cock/strap in my mouth..” he whispered, you pretended that you couldn’t hear him. “Huh? Speak up, I can’t hear you.” he looked at you with puppy like eyes, but that won’t work this time. You waited for a response and he finally delivered one. “I need your cock/strap in me.” He said more confidently. A smug look appeared on your face again, then you shoved him down on your cock/strap. This was a reward for him being a good whore for you.

~💥

❕Kazuha

You guys crossed paths during your travels and now you travel with him coincidentally. You take him to nice places, places he’s never seen before. Writing poetry about the places you take him makes him happy. He never really bothers asking you for stuff but when he does it’s just small favors or items.

Bondage with Kazuha, he would be so pretty in red ropes I just know it. He would love being tied up, just being restricted in sex just turns something on in him. He would trust you 100% to do what you do best. (Up to you to decide what you want to do to him!!)

Edging. End of conversation. Jkjk, “You can do it baby.” Just reassuring him he can do it and survive getting edged another time. For my people who like overstimulation, you can also do that with Kazuha. He is open with anything, but I personally would like to focus on Edging with him. (Cause I literally haven’t written anything with edging yet.. I think. I also think he would be into that.)

❗️Scenario Beneath

Kazuha squirms beneath you as you stroke his cock slowly. Gasping at the sensation, Kazuha wasn’t typically the person to get impatient but he felt like he’s been here for hours. On and on. “Aww baby.. would you like me to go faster?” You say looking at him. “Yesyesyes!” He said quickly as a moan escaped from his mouth once you stroked his cock faster. His cock was so.. sensitive. He was going to cum by the way his body was reacting, “Ngh-! Gonna- cum~!” You stopped. He cried out, “Wh, Why’d you stop?” He asked, inhaling sharply. “Well, we wanna build a good orgasm right? The relief of getting to cum after getting edged..” you placed your pointer finger to his bottom lip.

“I- I guess so..” He soon groaned out as you started to pump his cock again. Pre-cum leaking out of his cock, you made sure to go extra slower this time. Kazuha shut his eyes, hoping for time to go faster so he could get his release. “Be a good boy for me, you’ll get what you want soon.” You reassured him and went faster. His breathing started to hitch. “Please—!” He cried out. You stopped once again. His face was red, Kazuha couldn’t wait till he came. The thought of it turned him on even more.

~🍂

❕Scaramouche

Well he has to find some source of mora once he left the Fatui. You just popped out of no where mysteriously and offered him a deal. You get time with him and mora will be handed over, he could have rejected but something in him didn’t.

Make him your maid he would secretly love it. He would always tell you he hated it but his reactions from your hand under his skirt say otherwise! Though.. he’s not very good at his job you still keep him in check. Also feminization with him.. oh my lord….. buying skirts and dresses for him.

Would be a brat but if you fucked him hard enough he would shut right up. But sometimes, you shouldn’t give him what you want and just deal with his brat act. He secretly wants you to bend him over and fuck him roughly or just shove your cock/pussy in his mouth.

❗️Scenario Beneath

“W-Why is this skirt so.. so short?!” Scaramouche complained. You signaled for him to turn around, “It’s not short, you’re just being dramatic.” saying while shrugging. He went to go on try out the other outfits you bought him and looked at all of them in disbelief. “C’mon, you can’t take all day. Have you forgotten I’ve got places I need to be?” You say while having your hand on your forehead. He comes out with another outfit, a particular one that catches your eye. He complained once again, although you ignored. “HEY! Are you even listening to me?!” Scaramouche exclaimed. You roll your eyes and focus onto the outfit once again, “Bend over for me.”

“Huh-?!” He says, you shoot him a glare then he turns around and bends over. “Let’s make this quick,” you say while removing the clothing parts that covered his ass and cock. “Ugh, fine.” Scaramouche didn’t want to argue this time so he complied. You noticed he kept a butt plug in. How interesting, you thought to yourself. Removing that and replacing them with your fingers. He covered his mouth although you still heard his moans. You quickly thrusted them, soon after you pumped his cock. His legs started to shake, and before you knew it.. You could tell this was going to be longer than expected.

~⚡️

❕ Thoma

Wouldn’t even know that you were his sugar daddy/mommy, when Ayato first told him that you were he was shocked. He just thought you were very generous and.. gave him a lot more stuff that just the usual. If you know what I mean.. Though, he didn’t complain. He liked that as well.

This man is so flexible with anything. I’m not even sure what to write for him at this point.. he would enjoy it if you called him a whore or a good boy. But that depends on what state he’s in, of course. Whether he’s the top or bottom he’ll always find pleasure in it! Overstimulation or getting edged. Personally I am a person who believes in good boy Thoma supremacy!! Well.. more. But on those days where I think he’s a absolute whore, they’re for another day.

Doggy Thoma lives in my mind rent free I’m not even going to lie. Fucking him in doggy style while tugging on his leash. Sensitive Thoma who can cum with his nipples being played with only.. I mean hell, he’d be asking you to breed him sometimes. Fill him full of your cum and watch him be on cloud nine.

❗️ Scenario Beneath

Rubbing his nipples, you also stroke his cock. “I love that desperate look of yours.” You said in the tone he always loved. He shivered and whined out. “Please- fuck me already, I-I’ll be a good boy!!” He says. You chuckle, shaking your head. He decided to cum without your permission, so you decided to give him a small amount of punishment. He usually doesn’t act up but when he does, you let it slide occasionally. But now, you were feeling a bit more.. sadistic. The tears running down his face awakened something in you. Maybe, it was time to explore this new side with Thoma.

You were edging him for long, you decide to fuck him and give him what he wants. Until he came with his nipples being touched. You also wanted to experiment that with him. Stopping your actions, you played with his nipples, “W-What are you doing?..” he asks timidly. “Mmph—!” He threw his head back in utter bliss. Soon sucked the other nipple, Thoma was a moaning mess. He felt his orgasm building up and was afraid he was going to get edged again, though that wasn’t the case this time. With a tingly feeling in his stomach he came. “I’m sososo sorry!!” He said worriedly. Now you had to choose whether to punish him again or give him what he wants this time!

~🧹

❕Xiao

Buy him almond tofu and he’ll be good to go, he wouldn’t ask for anything else honestly. Maybe if you cooked it for him he would feel more great. Though being a sugar daddy/mommy for him.. Spoil him. Even though he might say he doesn’t need all these items.. he would secretly like it. Maybe even spoil him with affection, and yknow. Other things..

Kitty Xiao….. look. I said I was into puppy Xiao but right now that’s not the case. Man just get him little cute outfits and get him to put cat ears on.. oh my. Anyways,, treat him gently. Show him you care for him, kiss him, touch him, fuck him. Xiao with a mini skirt is on my mind and it won’t leave anytime soon.

Going on with Xiao in a mini skirt, buy him pretty panties. His tip leaking pre-cum and staining the panties. Oh and bonus if there pink and has frills with flowers, I should stop right there before I go crazy with this topic.. Put makeup on him just to ruin it the other second.

❗️ Scenario Beneath

“How long are you going to take doing my makeup?” Xiao said while groaning, you roll your eyes and grabbed the eyeliner. “Just as long as I’m about to fuck you.” You say, shit. You didn’t even realize what you said and now Xiao was all red. “Oh- I see..” when you did his makeup you made sure almost every part of it was perfect. You loved the satisfaction of ruining his makeup by the end of rounds with him. “Well.. hurry up. I want to …. Already.” He said. You couldn’t hear the word before already. But you could make out what it was.

“FUCK!-” he whimpered out as you rammed into him. His face was dug in the pillow. “You look so better like this.” Glancing at him, seeing his makeup all ruined. You kept on ramming into him and made him see the stars. He felt so good, better than before. He didn’t even care about the makeup on his face, in fact he probably forgot about it. Xiao only focused on the pleasure and how good you were fucking him.

~🌌

❕ Zhongli

Y’all already know the drill with him. I think we all know what he would buy if you actually played the game or saw any memes about his spending. Though, as a sugar daddy/mommy in this world.. you never run out of money so he can buy the most useless thing in the world and still try to use it.

Semi Public sex with him?! Just imagine him working and you were under the desk doing something, (up to you to decide what you were doing) someone could’ve walked in at any moment.. but that made it more fun for you and Zhongli. Then again.. That person would probably be traumatized if they knew what was going on down the desk.

Roleplay with him, I know this might sound weird but you’re already here. So just please, head me out! Boss and secretary, whether you are boss or secretary he would always enjoy it. I there are more ideas but I can’t list all of them.

❗️Scenario Beneath

You were underneath him, sucking his cock. Zhongli tried his best not to make any noise at all but he just couldn’t. The pleasure was too overwhelming for him and thinking about the people that could come in at any moment excited him even more. You look up at him with those teasing and sly eyes. You and Zhongli “Forgot” to lock the door so now he’s “Worried” you run his thigh and occasionally reassure him. Hu Tao could walk in, even Childe for all he knows. He tried to compose himself but as you can tell. It didn’t work at all.

“C-Cumming~” He moaned out, he came in your mouth and you swallowed single last drop of cum. Licking your lips, you had an idea what if you were to ride him right here and right now. You thought to yourself. “Hey Zhongli, can I?” You say whispering, as he felt your breath against his skin. He nodded and gulped as you prepped yourself up for him. Now he was really nervous because people could see you now.

~🐉

Mmm, I loved writing this! This was fun. Anyway, girl version next?

(If you have another suggestion or have something to say.. shoot me a request or ask!)

[sterlingsilver-starlight]

Talk Too Much 💘

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female Reader

Genres: Hurt/comfort, angst, drama, fluff, romance

Content Warnings: flashbacks of emotional abuse (reader has emotionally abusive mother), self-harm (briefly graphic), implied suicidal thoughts, brief strong language (mild throughout), intimate moments (very steamy makeout session, but nothing further)

Word Count: 3195 words

Summary: When Reader excuses herself to the bathroom, Seonghwa begins to grow suspicious as minutes turn into an unusually long absence. Can he unravel the truth behind her melancholy, and perhaps something deeper?

Inspirations: During the sadder parts, “Kamihitoe” by Uru and this slowed/reverbed version of Lolo Zouaï’s “Desert Rose” were my comfort. And then for the cute parts, BLACKSWAN’s “Cat & Mouse” :)

(I love the title GIF for this 🤭 but I also am still recovering from the Arriba one…I swear, I will not be the same when the full song drops in a week 😩🥵) I had something like an epiphany while writing this…the comforting words resonate on many levels, and I had to remind myself that people like that do exist out there. Even if there is someone in your life who throws harsh words or vibes your way, that’s not to say someone who does the exact opposite might not cross paths with you, too ✨🫶🏼

Also please note: This is in no way supposed to represent or depict the actual Park Seonghwa; this is just created for storytelling/entertainment purposes only :D

A hard swallow, followed by the relentless jab of another burgeoning stomachache. You set your fork down again, barely scraping the potatoes at the edge of your plate. 

“Hwa, I…I don’t feel too good. I can’t eat this right now.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up from your seat. “It’s alright. Just…let me know if you need something. Okay?”

You offered a small smile, biting your lip. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

The bite dug deep enough to draw blood, but you tasted nothing like iron on your tongue. It was a flavor you had become all too accustomed to, one too bittersweet to fully enjoy or shy away from.

As soon as you were out of your friend’s line of sight, you bolted down the hall for the bathroom, only slowing down once you’d gone inside and shut the door. 

A click at the knob. A snap of the fingers, idiosyncratically, to distract yourself from the sudden echo the lock gave. Did he hear that?

You hoped to God not. 

Seonghwa was your most trusted confidant, but even the strongest of bonds could harbor skeletons in the closet, so as far as you were concerned, it would need to stay that way until you were able to get over this on your own.

Slumping against the door, you let yourself slide down to the ground, hugging your knees as they bunched up against your chest. 

You didn’t know what you would ever do if he found out. About the thoughts, about the self-hatred…

Heck, let alone the self-harm.

Seonghwa was the twinkling star in your life, lighting up any room he entered, constantly finding ways to make you crack a smile from absolutely nothing. He was too precious for this world, you were sure of it.

Which is why, on this otherwise fine and calm evening, you found yourself yet again questioning why in the hell he put up with you as much as he did.

What if you were just fooling yourself? What if this persona you felt from your very core was nothing more than an act, masquerading from the demon that had hidden inside you from years long past?

A silent cry threatened to surface. You took a sharp breath and reached in your pocket, fumbling around until you felt what you had been looking for: a rusted metal nail file.

The lump in your throat made you feel guiltier. It’d been mere days since you’d promised yourself that this wasn’t going to be an option…

Again.

But though time could heal wounds, it could only erase so many still embedded within your subconscious, still playing like a broken record during your moments of uncertainty and vulnerability.

“Do you ever shut up?! I swear, one more word and I’ll rip your tongue off!”

You bit your lip harder, genuinely wanting to taste the pain. What did it matter anymore?

“Sure, keep doing that shit. So we can all feel sorry for you and tiptoe around your stupid feelings? I don’t think so!”

You gasped with every memory, tears blinding and blurring your bearings, the file now slashing oh-so elegantly through your flesh like a knife through butter. 

“Slam your door again and I’ll make sure your head is the next thing that slams against the wall!”

You almost didn’t notice the crimson streaming down your arm, or the way it cascaded onto your other hand, dyeing the creases of your palm in a heartbeat, while numbness continued feeding your indifference.

Maybe there is no purpose to my life. Maybe I’m just meant to be a casualty and —

“Y/n?” You jolted, the three knocks on the door vibrating through your skull.

But you said nothing, afraid even a single syllable would give away your current state of mind.

“Y/n?” Seonghwa repeated, the worry carrying in his voice.

Panic kicked in and you started hyperventilating. Much to your chagrin, however, that only alerted him more.

“Okay, I-I’m coming in.” You heard the twists and click of the knob — darn it, I forgot he has keys for the place — and hastily shuffled over to the adjacent wall as he squeezed his way into the bathroom. 

A sharp gasp hushed within the small room. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene before him: the rusted nail file still in your hand, the blood-stained arm, the haunted look on your face — it broke your heart, to have him see you like this.

What you didn’t realize, though, was just how much his heart was breaking.

“Hwa, I…I’m sorry.” You hugged yourself tighter, wanting nothing more than to be a turtle hidden inside its shell. 

“Y/n…what happened?” His voice was laced with worry as he carefully approached you.

You tried to conceal the evidence, quickly slipping the file back into your pocket and attempting to wipe away the blood with the hem of your sleeve. But the damage had already been done. “I…I just had a little accident, is all. N-no big deal,” you stammered, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked away. 

He crouched down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. “Y/n, don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a moment, you debated whether to spill your darkest secrets or to continue this facade. But when you saw the hurt in his eyes, you knew what your answer must be.

“I…I’ve been struggling, Hwa. There’s this darkness inside of me that just won’t go away,” you whispered finally, trying not to cry mid-sentence.

His expression softened, and he pulled you into an embrace. “You don’t have to face it alone, Y/n. I’m right here for you, always.”

The warmth of his hug felt like a lifeline, a tether grounding you in this moment of many that felt overwhelmingly chaotic. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him tightly, slowly but surely releasing the weight that you had been carrying alone for far too long.

Seonghwa pulled away slowly, his hands holding yours gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? And then we can talk about this, together.”

You nodded, rubbing your thumbs against his in return. “Okay.”

He helped you to a standing position, and from there you both walked over to the medicine cabinet: you leaning slightly on the sink countertop, him removing a roll of gauze, bandages, and a few creams. Grabbing a nearby cloth to run it under warm water, you inhaled nervously. As he began tending to the wounds on your arm, still streaked in raw red, you hesitated, grappling with the storm of emotions brewing deep down. The bathroom felt like a fragile sanctuary, and you were on the verge of shattering its peace with the weight of your confessions.

“Hwa,” you began hesitantly, “I’ve…heard things. About myself. Terrible things that echo in my mind every day.”

He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a warm understanding. “It’s okay. Tell me as much or as little as you need to.”

With a shaky breath, you started to unravel the web of painful words that had been haunting you, from the cruel insults and relentless belittlement at home to the internalized hatred that had since taken root in your heart.

“I’m a failure. That’s what she says. My own blood mother.” You shuddered. “That I’m a disappointment, a burden…that her life would have been better if not for the presence of such an ungrateful bitch like me…t-that I ruin everything around me.” Your voice wavered as you stopped to catch a breath.

Seonghwa’s expression tightened with anger. “Y/n, believe me when I say you are none, and I mean absolutely none, of those things. You are strong, kind, and worthy of love. Don’t believe those lies. Please.”

You just shook your head. “I can’t accept your kind pity, though, Hwa.” Tears welled and clouded your vision as you continued. “She said I should be grateful that anyone tolerates me at all, that I’m lucky to have friends because I don’t deserve them…that I’m not good enough for anyone out there.”

His eyes softened with empathy. “Y/n, you’re more than good enough. You’re fucking incredible, and I…I care about you deeply.”

Your eyes widened at his choice of words, confusion and hope written all over your face. “Why, Hwa? Why would you care about someone like me?”

He sighed, setting aside the cloth, and cupped your face with his hands. “Because you’re not just someone, Y/n. You’re a remarkable person. Your strength, your kindness — it shines through even in your darkest moments. And…” He chuckled slightly. “I like you. More than just as a friend.”

A gasp caught in your throat, and time became still within the room as his confession hung in the air. Seonghwa’s eyes searched yours for a response, but you remained silent, the weight of his words sinking in. 

A spark of worry flickered across his face. “I-I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said —”

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “No, Hwa. I’m honestly really glad you did. I just…I need a moment to process everything. It’s a lot, but I really appreciate your courage to tell me that.”

His shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile breaking through. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

He resumed cleaning your cuts, all the while as you couldn’t shake the startling but exciting realization that maybe, just maybe, someone as wonderful as Hwa could see past these insecurities, could see you for you.

An almost eerie silence hung between you two, broken only by the sound of running water as you rinsed off spots of leftover blood. Hwa glanced at you, debating whether or not to break the ice.

“To be honest,” you admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt good enough for someone like you.”

He scoffed lightly, covering your hand with his. “Y/n, you’re more than enough. You’re perfect just the way you are.” 

His words lingered in the air, a poignant moment of vulnerability shared in the dimly lit bathroom.

And then something shifted.

With a playful smirk, you couldn’t help but bring up your insecurities, caught in a suddenly desperate vying to test the waters and see how he would take it. “Come on, don’t be silly, Hwa. I mean, look at me!” You raised an eyebrow at him, the hint of a smile teasing at your lips.

He took the bait. “Okay, and? What about it?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You gotta be kidding. I mean, for starters, I’m not even skinny, my face is rounder than the boba in that milk tea you were swirling around the other day” — he broke into a fit of laughter at this, prompting you to punch him gently on the arm (“Hwa, I’m being serious!”) before resuming your, he thought, rather dramatic speech — “and my body is far from what’s considered attractive these days.” You sighed, clenching and unclenching your fists before inspecting yourself through the bathroom mirror. “Especially with these…” You gestured vaguely to your rounded backside and thick thighs.

Hwa’s low, throaty chuckle reverberated in the bathroom, his eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n, you really think any of that matters to me?” He shook his head, his gaze intense. “You’re focusing on things that turn me on more than you could possibly know.”

To say you were surprised — curious, even — was an understatement. “W-what do you mean?” you dared to ask.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Your curves, the roundness of your face, that body you seem to underestimate so much — they’re all things I fantasize about more when I’m around you.” His words sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“But why?” you managed to stutter out, genuinely baffled.

Hwa pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you up and down. “Because, Y/n, it’s those very things that make you uniquely you. There’s…an allure throughout, if I’m being honest…and your body is nothing short of perfection in my eyes.”

He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And let me tell you,” he continued, snaking his fingers across one of your thighs, massaging it with his thumb, “these parts of you aren’t just attractive. They’re downright irresistible.”

Your breath caught in your throat, desire rushing through your veins as he leaned in again, his fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. “I think about you in ways that would make you blush,” he admitted, his voice a low murmur. “You’re beautiful, Y/n. In every way imaginable.”

With that, he closed the distance between your lips, initiating a kiss that held the weight of his confession. The bathroom seemed to vanish into the distance as Hwa’s lips kept meeting yours in a slow, tantalizing dance, each kiss a revelation of shared desire. His hands, warm and possessive, explored the curves of your body with a deliberate sensuality. Fingers traced the contours of your back, leaving a trail of trickling sensations in their wake. As the kiss deepened, his touch became more fervent, a silent promise of passion yet to unfold.

Your hands found their way into his soft, tousled hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pulled him closer. His tongue prodded your bottom lip playfully until you indulged him, allowing the sensation of his tongue to slide against and around yours, igniting a fervor that sent electrical currents through every nerve ending.

The room seemed to get hotter and hotter, but nothing could have curbed the chill in your spine by this point. Hwa’s touch was both gentle and confident, a melody of desire that crescendoed as his kisses lingered longer and he began sucking your tongue slowly, making you moan ever so softly into his mouth.

Your own hands mirrored his movements, traveling across the edges and ridges of his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your touch. The bathroom echoed with intertwined breaths and whispered promises.

As the intensity built, you couldn’t help but straddle his lap, your bodies pressing together with an urgency that mirrored the passion between you. Hwa’s lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. Moans continued escaping your lips as you felt his teeth grazing gently down the side of your neck. You clung to him, lost in the intoxication of the moment.

Your heartbeats all but synchronized as his lips found their way to your collarbone, his whispers of passion mingling with your soft gasps. He pulled back slightly, eyes looking deep into yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in to place gentle kisses on your earlobe, his breath sending a flutter of anticipation through you. “I want you to feel cherished, desired, and free from any doubt about your body,” he whispered finally, his tone laced with sensual liberation.

His hands, like flames against your skin, caressed the small of your back. The room was filled with the harmony of your shared desire, moans and breaths alike embellishing the melody sounding strong.

As sweat dripped down your foreheads, the intensity reached its peak, and with a shared understanding, you both began to ease out of the fervent exchange. Hwa’s lips lingered on yours for a moment, a final note in the passionate composition.

His arms wrapped around you, nestling you within the sweet scent of his aroma, heaving heavily, slowly, as you both took a moment to catch your breath. You could spot the glimpse of a tender smile dancing on his lips. “See, Y/n, you talk too much,” he teased, his eyes alight with affection.

You chuckled finally, feeling a warmth enveloping you. “Maybe I do,” you agreed, “but I think I like it that way.”

Hwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he smirked at you playfully. “Well, you better, because I enjoy every word,” he smiled, leaning in to peck you briefly on the lips.

As you both settled into a cuddle, an air of contentment permeated within your space. Hwa’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back as he spoke. “You know…I think we should have a date tomorrow. I want to take you out. Just the two of us.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the idea. “A date, huh? Where are we going?”

Hwa’s playful grin widened. “Somewhere nice, but you better promise me you won’t just order a small appetizer. I want you to enjoy the food, Y/n.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Alright, alright. No small appetizers. Got it. But you’ll have to deal with me talking your ear off about how delicious everything is.”

Hwa leaned in, stealing another quick kiss. “I can’t wait. And besides, I enjoy every word, remember?”

The banter continued as you both playfully argued about your plans. Hwa grinned mischievously, glad that you were cutting loose for a change and genuinely enjoying yourself now. “And promise me, no salads as the main course. We’re going for the good stuff if this is a date.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Salads are healthy and delicious.”

He chuckled. “Healthy? Yes. Delicious? Debatable. We’re going for flavor explosions, Y/n, not the world’s best landscape on a plate.”

You countered with a smirk. “Okay, first of all, tabbouleh is to die for. And maybe I like my explosions with a side of greens.”

Hwa pretended to gasp, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart. And here I thought we had a connection.”

You burst into laughter, eyes watering within seconds. “Oh, we have a connection, alright, but my connection with tasty salads might just outdo it this time.”

He pouted. “Fine, have it your way. But if that’s how it’s gonna be, I’m ordering the biggest, heartiest dish on the menu just to torture you.”

You grinned. “Challenge dutifully accepted. I’ll enjoy my dish while you tackle your food mountain. We’ll see who’s satisfied in the end.”

Hwa leaned in, whispering. “Well, just so you know, if you end up trying a bite of mine, you might never go back to salads again.”

You smirked at him. “We’ll see about that. You can’t deprive me of my greens forever, you know.” You pretended to think hard for a moment. “I know, I’ll revolt! I’ll revolt and you won’t know what’s coming to —”

He pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, actually sweet kiss. When he finally pulled back, he was grinning slyly from ear to ear.

“You were saying?” he teased.

You snorted. “Well, I was going to say that no matter how tempting your ‘food mountain’ may be, my love for salads will endure. Just like my love for you, even if you try to sabotage it with impeccably irresistible dishes.”

He tried and failed to suppress another laugh. “You talk too much.” You grinned in satisfaction.

“Maybe I do, but you love it.”

[redheadspark]

Trinity Lovers

Summary: Your relationship was unique and could be taboo, but having Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson love you equally was more than enough for you.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only on this piece! THIS IS A SMUT ONE SHOT, NOT MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

W/C: 2,927

A/N: My first attempt at a Steve and Eddie and Reader paring. I had a thought about it while flying home from visiting family and I want t throw it out there and see if it sticks! It's not a long piece, very short and sweet! I hope you like it :)

Sequel: Gotta Stay High

"Oh….oh God…"

"Nuh uh…try again."

"E-Eddie…fuck!"

"Much better, baby."

The room was filled with a haze. A mixture of pleasure and love, lust no doubt was evident as gasps and moans were heard and filled the small space of your bedroom. Thankfully, your parents were gone for the weekend, and it took them some convincing that you were going to be okay without them watching over you. Because of the recent events of Hawkins almost collapsing in on itself and the Upside Down coming to the real world. Hawkins was safe and sound, still repairing itself from the damage, but nothing else was going to bring pain or misery.

You made that night worthwhile, with the two boys that held your heart.

Eddie came first, the pair of you meeting your freshman year at Hawkins High School and clicking together because of your unique energy. You liked that he was quirky and went to the beat of his own drum. He loved metal music, blaring it on his cassette tape and over his mop of hair with his headphones. You didn't mind, not with him smirking at you and making you laugh and snort milk out of your nose. As you two got older and hung together day after day, the romantic feelings came to the surface and you were like magnets. He kissed you under the stars at his trailer park, the two of you star gazing after taking a few hits from his weed and feeling so giddy about being close to one another.

Once you kissed, it was game over for you.

He loved you with all of him, bringing out new sides of you that you never thought you had. He was kind and gentle with you in public and at school holding hands from class to class and carrying your books while doing so. You went to his band rehearsals and attended a few Dungeons and Dragon campaigns, seeing the raw organic side of Eddie that was purely happy and joyful. In return, he would come to the dance recitals that you were part of with your ballet company. It was a stereotypical coupling pair: the ballerina with the metalhead. But you two didn't care at all. He was proud to sit in the seats and see you dance, giving you flowers after your show and scooping you in his arms. You met his Uncle, who was very to you and a big gruff. He met your parents, both were skeptical of his appearance but were floored with his chivalrous behavior with you.

You both evolved from kissing into heavy petting, which felt like a natural wave that you both were riding. You loved the feeling of his calloused and guitar-playing fingers against your legs and arms, how he kissed the air out of your lungs with every push of his lips against yours, and most of all, how you could both be a puddle and a powerful being at the same time under him as you both made out on your bed. He was like the purest and strongest drug in the world, you never wished to let him go or away from your hands. At first, you wondered if he felt the same way and if he felt that same level of love you did for him when you two had sex for the first time.

In that split second, feeling him enter you and hover about you with such a look of genuine affection and euphoria in his eyes and on his lips, you knew it was true. He stared at you as if you were the only person ever on the planet, not just in his bed at his trailer in the middle of the night, but throughout the planet. You felt it all within your veins, under your skin, and simmering in your blood, that bond you two had was thickened and amplified. You knew sex shouldn't be a big deal, not in the way your friends talked about it and how it was both a regular topic and also taboo at Hawkins High.

But to you, sex was beyond everything for you and Eddie.

So there, at that moment when you were covered in a thin sheet of sweat and Eddie thrusting in and out of you with his hands all against your breasts, you felt that high again. It was singing under your skin and your skull, it hummed against your heart and blood, and it made you feel both dizzy and alert at the same time. He knew how to push those buttons within you to make you speechless, to make your eyes roll back, or to simply scream out in pure pleasure. It was the very same the night, and the way he was fucking you would make you fall to the bed limply and take it.

But there was a body behind you, his hands on your hips to hold you still as every thrust was making you moan.

"Oh…please. P-please Eddie! It feels so good!" You moaned loudly as Eddie was still hitting that spot inside of you, deep and hard and making your own tits bounce as you were leaning back on the shoulder of the man behind you, finding nowhere else to go or lean on as your eyes went to Eddie. Seeing him covered in sweat and his hair splattered to his shoulders and neck was just arousing from how hard and deep he was fucking you. You saw the lust in his eyes, his tongue sticking out and the grunts coming out of his crimson lips.

"Goddamn….do you see her, Harrington?" Eddie grunted out as he was going a bit deeper inside of you now and moaning loudly and crudely in the process, "She looks so good, doesn't she? Can you see it?"

"No, but I can feel it, Munson!"

Steve Harrington, the last person you two thought you would ever fall in love with, behind you just as bare as you and holding your hips in place.

He came out of nowhere for you two. You two never thought he would look your way, not to mention talk to the pair of you since you both were a pair since your sophomore year. He was a popular kid, Steve always was with his charming smile and the smooth fashion sense he had too. Sure he was decent around certain students and teachers, but there was never a probability of him looking your way. Neither you nor with Eddie, and you were fine with it. He was cordial with you two, and his charm was always upfront even after he graduated.

But the Upside Down and Vecna brought you all together.

Eddie being framed for the death and murder of Chrissy Cunningham was the main tether that snapped in place. Eddie called you and explained all that happened, you rushing to him and seeing that he wasn't alone. One freshman from Hellfire Club named Dustin Henderson, some of Dustin's other friends, and Steve Harrington in tow with Robin Buckley, a mutual friend of yours. Steve was a bit floored to see you embrace him, sighing in relief and not letting him go anytime soon in that boathouse.

You didn't know when it happened, or how it happened, but Steve snuck into the back of your mind. You didn't mean for it to occur, even with you all running for your lives to fight against some demon named Vecna that's been murdering kids and trying to snare more in his mind games, or seeing a new world called the Upside Down that looked like a demonic version of Hawkins. But Steve knew this place and what was at stake, as well as Dustin's friends. It was only you and Eddie who never knew and never once encountered it, but you were willing to help fight this Vecna being just to protect Eddie. Steve was willing to protect you both, which surprised you because of how natural it was for him to protect you and keep you safe.

Even during the last final moments in The Upside Down, seeing Eddie taking on demon bats and almost dying in your arms made your heart break into a thousand pieces. You thought he was gone, passing out for a brief moment with blood on his lips and a small smile there on his face as you felt Steve walk up behind you to place a hand on your shoulder. You moved, gasping for air and falling into his arms. Steve hugged you tight, not saying a word since he knew you were grieving. But only a few seconds later, Eddie opened his eyes and groaned. You smiled widely, still in Steve's arms and moving back to Eddie with a millisecond.

You never realized how Steve was watching you two embrace each other, a hint of love there.

"I can't…I don't think I can make it last….," you moaned, almost like a whimper as Eddie was getting you so close to cumming, your hands move back to cling onto Steve's biceps as he held your hips both gently and possessively. Your mind was in a haze, almost going blank as the thrusts were getting a bit sloppier and intense, a sure sign that Eddie was about to orgasm himself. Your legs were intertwined with Steve's own thighs, his way of bracketing you and keeping you in one place while one of his fingers was threatening to go close to your pussy, you moaning with every push Eddie was giving you and you whimpering into Steve's neck. His lips were against your cheek and jaw, almost trying to breathe like you and feel that pleasure you were getting through his hold on your hips. His own cock, snugged against your ass, was rock hard and nearly dripping.

"Oh, I think we both know you can, babe," Steve hummed against your jaw, licking a hint of sweat as you both were watching Eddie fucking you and almost teetering into the orgasm that was under his skin and near his mouth. You hung on for dear life, feeling every thrust and letting grunt be heard out loud with no sense of hiding it. Eddie's hands were clutching your thighs, his rings were almost denting into the softness of your legs but you didn't care. Your own fingers were sporting Eddie and Steve's class rings, a gift they both gave you when you all decided to be in a relationship together. They both decided on their rings, thinking it was best. It warmed our heart to see them both pale their rings in your fingers a small step in the direction of where your relationship was going.

On one hand Eddie's ring stayed, and Steve's ring was on the other. It was meant to be. A trinity of lovers.

Seeing Eddie move in front of you, riding that high of being in the pleasure with you, and Steve almost emotionally there too was raw and so massive. You considered yourself so lucky in how these two were in love with you, the three of you together in this unique but loving tether that felt no end.

You loved Eddie, far more than anything. But now with Steve, that love amplified.

It happened so easily right after Hawkins was saved. You three are leaning on each other in the gym and seeing the citizens of Hawkins come to heal and help one another. You were in the middle of course, Eddie on one side and Steve on the other. Eddie clutched your hand in a death grip, not wanting to let you go since he nearly died in the Upside Down, and your head was on his shoulder to find some peace. Steve was sitting next to you, saying nothing but watching the people moving around to embrace one another. Within a few moments, his fingers slipped into yours. it felt natural, his palm against yours like it was meant to be there. Neither of you thought it was unusual, nor did either one of you pull away from the touch.

From there, it was history.

"I'm about to cum." You gasped in a broken tone, Eddie grinning widely as he was snapping his hips and you were arching against Steve into Eddie. You felt hands everywhere, Steve's breath against your jawline and his hair melting into yours as his fingers were dangerously close to your pussy, right where Eddie's cock was going in and out of you sloppily but sinfully. The sound alone was orgasmic, and the slapping of skin and his balls against your ass was enticing as Steve's fingers were tempting you. You wanted to tell him to move them, to touch your pussy and get you off. But the way Eddie was railing you and making you lose your concentration made it hard to talk or form a single word.

"You can do it, baby," Steve cooed at you, his hand was now hovering over where you and Eddie were connected as Eddie was going harder and harder and your own breath was lost with every push, "You know how beautiful you look when you cum? When Eddie makes you cum? God….it's amazing. I can watch you let go every day if I could., you're Goddamn gorgeous!"

You moaned loudly from hearing Steve's words being pushed into your skin. You briefly looked at Eddie, your glazed eyes were seeing how Eddie too was affected by what Steve was saying. Steve had a way with words, knowing how to make a girl melt or swoon with his silver tongue. it was the same way when you three got into a relationship with one another, saying the right phrase and confessing his affections for you like it was second nature. When you three were interacting with one another, alone from any other prying eyes, Steve loved talking dirty to the pair of you and riling you both up within seconds.

Even after the Upside Down and saving the world, Steve never lead you astray with his words. It was almost a profession, the three of you needed to be together in such an intimate way to remember how much you love one another. Now that Hawkins High was long behind the three of you, and a bright future was near your fingertips, you all made a vow to go together. Steve almost lost you both in the Upside Down, and he wasn't going to lose you again.

"Please let me cum!" you whimpered, Steve's hand finally touching your clit and rolling it slowly with his finger, "I wanna cum….fuck please….please….please please please!"

"Fuck!" Eddie grunted as he was still going at it with you, his face was etched so close to orgasming himself as Steve was now rubbing reverent circles against your clit as he moved one hand to touch and massage a breast. You keened, your eyes closing and your hands released from Steve's arms to hover and grip onto nothing. That edge was right there, about to teeter off and you wanted it so bad.

"Go on, Munson. Make our girl cum," Steve demanded against your neck as you knew he was staring lustful eyes at Eddie. You barely opened your eyes, seeing Eddie look back at Steve as he was fucking you. They were having a moment, Steve watched while Eddie was making you cum and you were right in the middle of their love and dedication to you. You saw it in his eyes, in the brown eyes that you loved since the start, looking at Steve with so much lust and euphoria.

That alone made you cum. Hard.

You howled, Steve wrapping an arm around your waist to you hold against him as Eddie moved three more times before he too was cumming loudly. Your body was shaking from the plateau you were on, feeling the pleasure from the time of your head to your fingertips as Eddie was filling you and coating your walls. Steve's fingers were still on your clit, not stopping for a moment as you and Eddie were orgasming together. It felt like your energies, all three of them, were melting into one and it felt like the cosmos above you were exploding and expanding at the same time.

Sharing this with Steve and Eddie, it felt like an honor to have them love you and love each other equally.

Eddie collapsed against you, his own moans were vibrating against your chest and neck as you two were calming down from that high that hit you hard. You were going limp, all that pent-up energy was now lost as you felt Steve caressing your shaking and sweaty skin. You mewled, Eddie melting into you as your hand moved to massage Eddie'a bareback while he clung to you and Steve in desperation. The three of you, morphing together as one in your love and the devotion you had together held no bounds and had no need to be explained to others.

"Jesus H. Christ." Eddie gasped against your shoulder, moving his lips to kiss you whoever he could as your head into his hair. You felt Steve move to place his own hands along Eddie's arms, almost wishing to soothe him as you were between them. No matter the sweat, the scent of sex that was lingering in the air, and the soft feel of the autumn air coming into the room, you three were in the moment. You never wanted it to end, and deep down you knew it wouldn't.

Eddie moved up to kiss your lips, the shaking lips on yours makes you calm down and moan slightly as your fingers in one hand move to be in his hair. The other, slowly and carefully, moved down along Stave's rib from behind you to be between his own legs. You touched his cock, holding it softly as Steve gasped hotly against your hair. Pulling away from Eddie, you watched his reaction to Steve's slight moan.

Eddie cocked a grin, you mirroring him as Eddie gestured his head to Steve behind you.

"Up for a round, big boy?"

The End.

Tagged: @basicrese @a-lumos-in-the-nox @ftrmrs-ally-keofield @botanicalbarnes @heartofwritiing @steve-harringtons-slut

[suffersinfandom]

A Summary of The OFMD Meta

Sooooo... this is part one of an incomplete summary of A Meta-Discussion Of The Subtext by meratrishoslee (Mera) on AO3 (linked to, as the author requests). I hope it’s helpful to the folks who’ve been curious about it -- heyooo @fahbee and @pushbuttonkitty -- but maybe not quite 90K-words curious! I’m not going to comment on anything; this is meant to be an impartial -as-possible summary.

It's massively long, so this is just the first eight chapters.  

“There’s every possibility you are still in your feelings as you read this, even weeks after the finale. You are in your autonomous knee-jerk reaction, adrenaline-spike, slapped across the face, feeling-so-betrayed-right-now moment. You’re valid. That’s absolutely what’s happened… on the surface. But as you take a deep breath and begin to examine logically what’s in the show and engage with the material both in its text and subtext, you will see a new concept begin to take shape.” (Mera)

Chapter 1: Overview

Some background: Mera was involved with The Johnlock Conspiracy and believes that TJLCers weren’t wrong. (If you want a fun watch, I recommend Sarah Z’s YouTube video.) Essentially, TJLCers believe that Sherlock and Watson of BBC’s Sherlock were supposed to be endgame, and this can be proved with careful analysis. This is often paired with the idea that there is a missing fourth episode to the show’s fourth season that will eventually air and confirm all theories.

Mera defines ‘text’ and ‘subtext.’ Text is “dialogue lines / Shot choices and directions / Visible actions, describable as stage directions.” Subtext is “every single other thing, as well as what is suggested by or can be inferred from the text above.”

“Whenever something doesn’t make sense in the text, it is a BEACON (or maybe even a LIGHTHOUSE) to look at the subtext. Your subconscious mind recognizes subtext long before your conscious mind parses it -- assuming it ever does.”

The rest of the chapter is devoted to short descriptions of Mera’s key assertions with links to relevant chapters and their convention experiences. They cite talking to Con O’Neill at Florida Supercon 2023 as one of their reasons for believing so strongly that Izzy Hands is alive:

I asked him for advice in a specific time of trouble, and he gave me something real that had worked for him. I asked for a hug and he gave that also. 

As I was pulling away I said "I’m glad that I gleaned one absolutely true thing from your portrayal of Izzy." 

“What’s that?” 

I said: "The character (in my original work) that Izzy inspired – when he’s out of pain at last, it’s impossible not to love him." 

That seemed to hit him on an emotional level; he couldn’t hold my gaze after that.  He said “That’s what I’ll be taking with me today.” 

This was July 1st 2023, after completion of the filming of Season 2.  I've thought about it often as the season went on, and how it must have affected him. 

We have to love Izzy so that he'll live.

Mera spoke to Con again at NYCC:

The last thing I managed to get to say to him was: "They gave Izzy Hands a Passion Play." 

"They did?" he asked. 

"Yes, they did!" I replied. 

And I watched that brilliantly swift mind again at work, because he considered it for the briefest beat -- and said in a tone of joy: "They did; yeah, you're right!" 

I remember for the minutes and hours after I was amazed: did he not know, somehow? Did the writers not tell him (and he didn't realize at any time since) that in first quarter of the series they'd given him Gethsemane, a betrayal, a crucifixion (okay, getting shot in the leg and head, but don't get stuck on the details), a burial, and then a full on canonical resurrection?

Con then said another very important thing:

"But I got over it." 

[...]

If Izzy's dead (for real and forever dead) and he knew it, then what he said to me was on a level of cruelty that I could never countenance from him. If Izzy lives, then those words are yet another piece of proof to me that Con was clever enough to be right both for someone who'd only seen five episodes, and someone who would eventually see all eight. 

Chapter 2: The Cup and Ball Trick

The chapter is an extended “game” of cup and ball (where a ball is hidden under a cup and the guesser needs to determine which cup it’s under) interspersed with pictures from OFMD at various points in season two. It ends on a shot of Izzy’s grave where his body definitely isn’t.

The important takeaway: Izzy returns from the dead once to shoot Ed during Ed’s final suicide attempt. Ed returns from the dead after the near-fatal mutiny. Why would you think Izzy’s actually dead and in his grave at the end of the show?

“I didn't cry at the finale -- I was too filled with joy and excitement. I was Mary Magdalene at the grave; I was one of the first to know the truth of the resurrection, whether or not anyone believed me!” 

Chapter 3: OUR LOVE MEANT DEATH

"..because if [Izzy] doesn't [live], with what I know now, his death is a cruelty struck at every queer individual alive or dead since 1981.”

Mera observes that almost no one touches Izzy’s bare skin and Izzy bleeds more than any other recurring character.

There are two times someone touches Izzy’s bare skin: first when his screams are being muffled when he yells at Jim and Archie to kill him, second when Ed puts the gun in Izzy’s ungloved hand during his first go at suicide.

Conclusion: "Izzy is coded with AIDS.”

Ed holding his bloody hand up to the rest of the crew away when Izzy is dying is a “warding-off gesture.” 

Izzy is pale and sickly-looking as he’s dying. “My gorge rises. In the year of our Lord Shiva 2023 -- THEY GAVE THE MOST QUEER CODED CHARACTER ON THE SHOW A FUCKING AIDS DEATH.”

Izzy touches someone else’s bare skin twice in the show, and both instances are Ed. The first is in S1E10 “where he puts his left Death-marked hand on Edward's wrist as he's choking him.” The second is in S2E8 as he’s dying “in his ex-lover’s arms” (notably, this is the same hand with the spade tattoo).

“If Izzy's well and truly dead, for real and stays dead... He is in media both the first historically and the most recent chronologically to receive a full on AIDS death.”

“Until they prove to me and all of us that only Izzy's grief and the specter of AIDS remains in the grave -- and the rest of our beloved boy, our new unicorn (oh hey do you know what Problematic Modern Culture says about unicorn blood?), our pure-hearted risen being, our self-sacrificing queer man, will get his chance to be touched, held, kissed, and LOVED in Season 3.”

Chapter 4: “The Third Was For Death”

“Season 1 was Pinocchio: a wooden puppet wants to become a real boy -- and does!  Hip hip hooray; that was pretty easy.  Wow, the cute tall young guy of the crew lost a finger and the mean nasty short grouch that some people hate and some people like (because they understand him on a visceral, subconscious, subtextual level) lost a toe -- but if that's the worst that happens, we came out okay!”

Season two is “The Monkey’s Paw.” Mera tells the story with pictures from OFMD to emphasize the connections. Importantly, there’s an instance of a couple’s son coming back wrong after a wish (Lucius). The final wish returns the son to his previously-dead state and Mera ends on a picture of Izzy’s grave.

The cast’s and crews’ interviews might not support the real narrative because they’re not allowed to say what they want to (“Ever had to develop code language to hide your queerness from your parents, your teachers, the state?”) They’re all “in distress” and trying to tell us without telling us. 

“Why does the new (old broken down) house smell like death? Why does everything we wished for that we got feel bad? Why does everything we're supposed to be happy about feel sad? How long would it take YOU to spot someone blinking out the word T-O-R-T-U-R-E?”

Mera hopes that the next season won’t tell us certain a new story: George Orwell’s 1984.

Chapter 5: Where Were We? Oh Yes, In The Pit Of Despair

This chapter is about The Princess Bride as it relates to Izzy’s story in seasons two and three of OFMD. It’s a comparison based mostly on costumes and lines; there are no one-for-one character comparisons. Vitally, the plot of TPB is used to predict the next season of OFMD. 

Season two of OFMD ends at the part of TPB when Westley is thought to be dead (Izzy in his grave). Westley is revived, soooo…

“At what point does a preponderance of evidence flip over into fact? At what point does a handful of chance coincidences become planning and architecture? At what point do you go beyond a reasonable doubt into conviction?”

Chapter 6: Birdman and Blackbeard: Or, How To Watch Media

This chapter is about analyzing media. Once you learn how, you stop being a passive watcher.

“Instead you read its rhymes and rhythms like a sonnet. You go to the media in return – you meet it halfway, like a lover. You engage with it. You find themes embedded in the subtext that, once unearthed and examined, continue to inform and expand your experience of the text.”

“The people that like things nice and easy are the ones that watched the finale of Season 2, got angry and upset and – instead of examining those feelings and sitting with them and figuring out why everything felt weird and fucky – wrote it off as bad writing and cruel showrunners, and are already onto the next piece of media to pour into their open eyes and ears.”

And that’s fine! But if you like to think, you interrogate the media and see what else it’s saying.

Mera summarizes The Hero’s Journey through the lens of Orpheus’ story.

Season two mirrors season one almost too well. “...Why are they recreating their first season almost beat by beat? Why is this “second verse, same as the first – only a little bit louder and (in many cases) worse? Then Episode 8 hit… and I realized. They wanted to make sure that, in every conceivable way, the fans had a subtextual map of the meaning of Episode 8. So the mirrors between seasons had to line up almost exactly.”

Now we go into the three-act structure and how the hero’s journey maps onto it. Mera then uses Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance) and to show how they personally analyze meta, but I don’t care nearly enough about what they’ve gleaned from Birdman to go into it here. You’ll have to go read it yourself if you want their methods.

“Remember: Everything on screen in the finished and published movie is a choice. If something doesn’t make sense on a textual level, it is often a signpost (or LIGHTHOUSE) to look at it on a subtextual level.”

Mera points to an article about three-act structure and notes that “fun and games” is both part of that author’s second act and the title of an OFMD episode. 

“Are we being fucked with? Or are we being instructed?”

Chapter 7: If You Strip Away The Myth From The Man

It’s the Jesus Christ Superstar chapter and it’s massive. I’m only including the most substantial comparisons and points.

Mera starts by linking to a gifset of Con talking about Taika saying that Izzy and Blackbeard are comparable to Judas and Jesus (and then Taika and Con sang songs from JCS while getting their makeup done). Notably, Con didn’t specify which character was which.

Blackbeard is a myth created by (of) two men, Ed and Izzy. “there's always two male bodies involved: Jesus and Judas, and both sacrifice themselves to the cause.”

It’s easy to say that Izzy is Judas, but wait -- there’s a better and deeper interpretation! Look at this picture from S1 that resembles the Last Supper and frames Izzy as Jesus! “Now I finally understood. Sure: Izzy is Judas-coded. That's plain for anyone to see. But Izzy is also Jesus-coded… from the under/reverse side.”

Izzy is Jesus-coded for all of season one (even more than Ed), and the comparison is solidified by the end of S2E3: “Izzy Hands is almost fully and directly Jesus-coded, and after Ed's own resurrection (not as an agape-love self-sacrifice for the saving of others, but through selfish personal/eros love alone) Edward is now obviously the betrayer of the whole crew who is permitted to stay aboard only on terms of sackcloth clothing and uneasy tolerance.”

Judas died by hanging himself according to the Gospel of Matthew. The only characters we see hanging are Ed and Stede, which clearly aligns them with Judas. 

Izzy is a good person. He cares about the crew; Ed never does. When Izzy’s wrong, he fesses up to it and apologies; Ed does not (or when he does, the apologies are bad). “Does he lie?  Yes, ostensibly to protect his captain and crew. Is he fairly mean to the Revenge crew until they [...] become his crew? Pretty much, although I could argue otherwise in places -- especially the fact that while Ed throws Lucius violently and bodily off the ship without any warning, Izzy carefully puts the crew on a safe island with a minor fuckery of his own to keep them calm and happy until he leaves. (It's obviously not Edward's idea, although he does permit Izzy to put himself between the deadly Kraken and the Revenge's crew in order to accomplish it.) Is he selfish? Yes, and who of us aren’t sometimes selfish about the people we love?”

Jesus and Judas have massive amounts of sexual tension (yeah, can confirm). Izzy is Jesus-coded because, while he doesn’t initiate contact like Jesus does in JCS, he’s always looking directly at Ed. Ed is Judas-coded because he has a hard time looking at Izzy and finds it difficult to touch him.

“...If Izzy Hands is a queer man who is Jesus-coded, who we see go through not one but TWO passion plays during Season 2... [near-death after having his leg removed, end-of-season death] he is conquering the death of HIV/AIDS and queer grief. He has to die so that he can vanquish that very real death, and arise again triumphant over it.”

“One direct correspondence with Jesus is that Izzy is convinced of one right way to be (whether or not it actually is), and everything outside of that offends him viscerally at this point in the series.” Izzy is convinced that there’s one right way to be a pirate, and Stede’s fucking that up.

And back to AIDS/reverse-Jesus Izzy: “Now among the lepers we're back to the reversal: no one touches Izzy. He’s desperate for it yet can never allow it. Jesus’s touch, kiss, love cures – and everyone seeks it and craves it. They demand it, they swamp and overwhelm him. Jesus's naked touch/kiss/love cures disease -- Izzy's carries and spreads it.”

“Judas/Edward makes his deal with the priesthood/King George to betray Jesus/Izzy – his price is 30 pieces of silver/Stede’s life.” That is, Ed is the one doing the betraying in season one. 

But the real betrayal happens when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him while he’s vulnerable. Important note for the AIDS stuff: “...Edward puts on leather gauntlets immediately prior to this assault -- he ‘gloves up.’ He doesn't have direct naked contact with Izzy's blood or flesh during this scene.” The toe-feeding scene is absolutely framed as sexual assault.

And the toe thing continues into season two. “Sit with that also for a moment: the faux consent of making Izzy remove his own clothing to bare his body parts for this violation. Is it too far a stretch to think that Ed also made him eat each one, in their own private, gristly sacrament? He did threaten to ‘feed him the rest’ after all.”

Here is the outline of Izzy’s first “passion play”:

Izzy's Last Supper: all the toes eaten before as well as the one threatened now. 

Izzy's Gethsemane, wherein he begs his God for the cup to be removed: he tries to bargain his and the crew's way out with his conversation with Blackbeard, to find an alternative to the self-destructive violence. 

Izzy is betrayed by his Judas (again): shot in the leg for the 'crime' of mentioning Stede Bonnet's name, or Blackbeard's affection toward him. 

Izzy descends into the grave: lays in a secret tunnel in what we can believe is the lowest part of the ship, while rotting enough to be smelled throughout.

 Izzy dies: he shoots himself in the head and both we and Blackbeard believe him to be dead.

Izzy is risen: he hauls himself up out of his own grave without assistance from anyone else, crawls to the main deck, reloads his pistol somewhere along the way -- and shows himself to his followers crew at last, in order to bring about their salvation.

Con himself said that this is a passion play, and it takes up a massive chunk of the first part of the season. You don’t throw something massive like that into a show unless you’ve got something bigger coming.

But Judas dies before OFMD ends (mapping OFMD onto JCS), so now who is Ed? He’s Pontius Pilate. There’s the whipping of Jesus (Izzy’s back scars), then Pilate kneels down to hold the bleeding Jesus in his arms. It’s this specific Pieta statue.

“Izzy has to die to conquer his own living death, to end the curse that has kept him untouchable and unable to be loved as he so desperately desires.” There’s the crucifixion for you. Izzy dies and is buried, and we’re still waiting on the resurrection. 

The last shot in JCS is of the empty cross; the last shot of OFMD S2 is Izzy’s grave. “If the cross in the last and arguably the most significant shot of JCS symbolizes the triumph of resurrection and rebirth... the one in OFMD S2 must also.”

Alex Sherman liked one of Mera’s Izzy Lives tweets that he was tagged in. 

Chapter 8: The Dual Substance Of Christ

Now we’re looking at The Last Temptation of Christ. This is another long and involved one, so I’m cutting a lot of minor things that don’t serve the overall meta. (I also know fuck-all about this movie, oops.)

“An argument can be made (and I will attempt it) that Judas in this instance is not only the show creators/writers room of OFMD who had to put their much beloved boy Izzy Hands through all this agony... but also we the Unseen Crew who adore him, who have suffered alongside him through all he's endured, and who want nothing more than to have him back and whole in resurrected triumph.”

TLTC presents another reason to identify Lucius with Mary Magdalene (and notably, Jesus can’t touch Mary -- because Izzy is AIDS-coded). Once again, there’s an immense amount of sexual tension between Jesus and Judas.

This Jesus is angry and this God is fearsome. Judas does a lot of slamming-Jesus-into-walls, much like Ed and Izzy in S1E10. 

Jesus confirms that he is a heart and he loves, which solidifies Izzy’s position as the heart of Blackbeard. 

In his final trial in the desert, Jesus’ final tempter appears as flames. Izzy and Ed both play with flames when they lie.

“Izzy is pretty much Jesus-coded as I explained in the JCS meta… but here also due to the timing and content of this scene, Izzy’s also Lazarus-coded.He dies, he goes into the pit of the grave, he smells of rot, then he is raised from the dead.” Lazarus and Izzy both have a rough time of being alive again and drink about it. 

Jesus says “I have to die on the cross, and I have to die willingly.” This parallels Izzy saying that he wants to go when he’s dying. Judas doesn’t want Jesus to die, which puts him more in line with Jenkins and company than any characters.

“But Izzy has to die, in order to conquer death. He’s lived with the specter of HIV/AIDS that has separated him from loving touch and the sharing of physical intimacy. He has to go into the grave to leave his disease and his queer grief behind, and to be reborn to love.”

On the cross, Jesus says, “Father, stay with me. Don’t leave me.” As he’s dying, Izzy tells Ed, “Sit with me, Eddie.” 

“I feel sick, and I think I’m supposed to. It’s supposed to hurt. Both Izzy's death and Jesus's crucifixion are supposed to be two of the realest and most awful and most beautiful things I’ve ever seen on television.”

In TLTJ, there’s an extended part of the movie where Jesus is in a kind of gravy basket. The events are all kind of odd. They involve Jesus sleeping with Mary (the reborn unicorn, free of AIDS and safe to touch). Jesus returns to his body, suffers, and dies.

TLTJ doesn’t cover Jesus’ resurrection. “We have to trust what we know of the story: that Jesus is risen, and only death itself remains in his grave.”

--

On to the next!

[chicgeekgirl89]

Glitter and Be Gay

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Lexi Mitchell

Rating: K

Summary: When Carlos gets called to an incident at a Valentine's themed drag brunch the fallout is much worse than he could have anticipated.

Read on AO3

Of all the things Carlos had imagined doing today, getting called to a drag brunch was not one of them. And so far, it was not going well.

“Ma’am, I promise we are just here to help,” Carlos says for the third time holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner. They still haven’t even made it past the doorway, but he can hear some kind of ruckus going on inside.

“And I am telling you that if you keep calling me ‘ma’am’ we’re going to have words honey,” the queen tells him, her rhinestoned top glittering under the lights. “The name is Peaches.”

“Look, someone in here called 911,” Lexi says. “We are obligated to at least check it out.”

“My girls can handle it,” Peaches says, brushing them off. “We don’t need police in here and we don’t want police in here.”

“Peaches,” Carlos tries again, “if someone in there needs help and you don’t let us do our jobs, there’s a good chance you’ll be held liable. Please let us through.”

There’s a massive crash and several people cry out, startling Peaches. “Oh my god!”

“Okay, we’re coming in,” Carlos says, pushing past her.

The space is crowded, a long runway cutting through the middle of the tables and leading to a stage at the far end of the room. Every surface is covered in pink and red, feathers, confetti, and flowers making the space look like the inside of Cupid’s bedroom. But the most notable feature is the queen onstage who is in a wrestling match with what appears to be a very drunk woman over a bow and arrow. “Doll I don’t know who you think you are, but nobody touches my props!” the queen says sharply.

“I gotta fall in loooooooooove!” the woman shouts back, tightening her hold.

“Get it Loretta!” someone else whoops and Carlos follows the sound to a table right next to the runway full of other inebriated women, clearly Tracy’s entourage.

“What in the hell…” Lexi says and Carlos has to agree. Just when you think you’ve seen everything, Austin surprises you with chaos at a Valentine’s themed drag brunch. Perfect.

“Okay, ma’am, we’re going to need you to come down,” Carlos calls over the din of voices and music. He strides closer and holds out a hand. “Come on, off the stage please.”

“But I need to fall in love!” the woman, Loretta, yells and Carlos wonders if she’s high as well as drunk.

“Babydoll, ain’t nobody gonna want you like this,” the drag queen says, looking like she’s starting to break a sweat. 

Loretta practically growls at her. “You are the rudest Cupid I’ve ever met.”

“Okay, you know what? Fine. All yours sweetcheeks.” The queen lets go and Loretta stumbles back a few steps, holding up her prize triumphantly as her friends scream and cheer her success.

“Great, you got what you wanted, let’s come down and let the professionals finish the show,” Carlos coaxes.

But Loretta isn’t persuaded. Instead she starts parading back and forth, the bow and arrow being leveled at random audience members.

“I think we’re going to need paramedics on this one,” Carlos says and Lexi nods, turning away to call into dispatch on her radio. “Ma’am! Please get down before you hurt yourself or someone else!”

“Are you going to get her off the stage or what?” Peaches says as she pushes her way into the room, hands on her hips.

“I thought you didn’t want us here,” Lexi says.

“I don’t. But since you claim you keep the peace, go right ahead. Get us some peace.” Peaches gestures toward the stage where Loretta has now found a feather boa and is using it to put on quite a show.

Carlos and Lexi exchange looks. “I don’t do stages,” she says.

He squint at her. “What do you mean you ‘don’t do stages’?”

“My mom tried to put me in pageants when I was five. Didn’t end well.”

“Oh my—-fine,” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes. He walks toward the stage and uses one hand to hoist himself up. “Okay, ma’am, let’s go. You need to come with me right now.”

“Hey!” she says. “You’re ruining my show.”

“It’s not your show,” Carlos says patiently. “So you need to come down. Let’s get you off this stage, maybe have some water and we’ll see how you feel.”

Loretta flips her boa around her neck and sends him a menacing look. “You’re stealing my spotlight.”

“Loretta,” Carlos says. “This is the last time I’m going to ask. Please come down off the stage with me.”

“No!” she yells, throwing the bow and arrow at him and then taking off through the curtains into the backstage.

Carlos ducks under the projectile, then follows her into a narrow, dimly lit back area. There are clothing racks full of dresses and props, along with random furniture pieces, lighting, and sound equipment. He trips over a cord on the floor and when he regains his balance, he’s lost sight of his quarry. “Loretta!” he calls. “I just want to make sure you’re okay! Please come out and let’s talk.”

There’s no response other than the sounds of the crowd on the other side of the curtain. Lexi still hasn’t made an appearance, god only knows where she’s gotten to, so Carlos slowly starts to move down the hall to his left. “Loretta?” he calls again.

He opens the first door to find a small utility closet. He’s closing it back up again when there’s a creak further down the hallway. He begins to move toward it and then the next thing he knows he’s being shoved from behind into an open dressing room where he goes crashing face first into a vanity. 

The world explodes in a cloud of white and Carlos sucks in a breath only to begin immediately coughing and choking. He rolls over and blinks and for a moment he thinks he’s gone blind, because he can’t see anything but a silvery haze all around him.

There’s a scuffle happening nearby and when his vision finally clears he sees Loretta on the ground, Lexi working cuffs onto her wrists from behind. “You are under arrest for assaulting an officer,” Lexi is telling her.

“I just want to fall in love,” Loretta says pathetically as Lexi pulls her upright.

“Where the hell were you?” Carlos gasps, struggling to sit up in the debris from the smashed table.

“I ran out to the stage door,” Lexi says. “Thought I’d cut her off.”

“Yeah well, next time, maybe get over your stage fright and stick with me,” Carlos grouses, trying to asses whether he’s broken anything.

“You okay?” Lexi asks as he gets to his feet.

“Yeah I think so—“ That’s when he catches sight of her face. “What?” he asks. “What’s wrong.”

“Oh. Oh Reyes…”

XXX

T.K. is putting the finishing touches on dinner when his phone rings, one of his favorite pictures of Carlos lighting up the screen. “Hey baby,” he says, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he adds a little more seasoning to the pot. “You almost here? Dinner’s just about done.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. He pulls it away and checks to make sure the call is still connected. “Helloooo, Carlos, can you hear me?”

T.K. hears a sigh. “Can you open the door please?”

“Open the door? Open…open our door? The loft door?”

Another sigh. “Yes.”

T.K. turns off the stove with a frown. “Did you break both your arms today? Why do you need me to open the door?”

“T.K. just, please. Open the door.”

Confused as anything, T.K. hangs up, crosses the loft, and undoes the lock. “Okay, I’m opening the door, what the heck—“ the question on T.K.’s lips dies immediately as he catches sight of his fiancé. “Oh my…”

“Please don’t,” Carlos says between gritted teeth.

T.K. sucks in a breath and tries to hold back the giggle bubbling up inside him. “Okay um, I, hi, how are you? How was your day?”

“Not great.”

“Is it…Carlos…why are you covered in glitter?”

It’s everywhere. Scattered into his curls, across his face, down his neck and arms. T.K. can’t see his legs, but he has a feeling they’re as equally spangled as the rest of his husband. He looks like he was attacked by a Joann’s Fabrics.  

“There was an incident at a drag show,” Carlos tells him, looking like it is costing him everything just to get the words out.

“An incident. Like you were…hugged for too long by a queen?”

“Like I was shoved into a brand new shipment of body glitter,” Carlos says shortly.

T.K. takes a long moment to process that. “Mhmm. Yeah. Okay. That um, that must have been, upsetting.”

“It wasn’t great,” Carlos huffs.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No,” he says shortly, then thinks for a second. “A couple bruises maybe. I’m fine.”

“Well that’s what’s most important,” T.K. says. “So, are you going to come inside or…?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t.” This is the most bizarre conversation they’ve ever had.

Carlos looks almost like he’s in pain. “If I come inside then there will be glitter everywhere. Forever.”

“I don’t think it will be that bad,” T.K. tells him.

“T.K.” His name is ground out, meaning Carlos has reached his maximum level of frustration. “Glitter is a menace. Once it gets somewhere you can’t get it off.”

“And that’s what I had to open the door. Because you don’t want to touch it.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re going to what? Stand out here in the hallway forever?”

“I…don’t know.”

There’s a long moment of silence. “Did you try taking a shower?”

“Of course I tried taking a shower!” Carlos snaps. “I took three showers at the station!”

T.K. grimaces. If this is what he looks like after three showers…he might have a point. “We could take you to a car wash?”

This gets him a withering glare. “T.K. be serious.”

“Babe, I genuinely don’t know what you expect me to do right now,” T.K. says, once again fighting a laugh. “I think you’re just going to have to come inside and deal with the sparkly consequences.”

Carlos hesitates, so T.K. slowly reaches out and takes his work bag from his fingertips. “Come on. It will be okay. I promise.”

“You’ll help me vacuum?”

“Absolutely,” T.K. says, taking a step backward into the loft. “I will help you vacuum and scrub and soak whatever you need me to.” That makes him think of something. “How’s your uniform?”

“DOA,” Carlos says in response. He sighs another heavy sigh and takes a step inside, shoulders hunching up like he’s trying to stay as small as possible.

“Well that’s a bummer. You don’t think it could be a new, softer, more approachable look for the APD?” T.K. catches the menacing look on Carlos’ face and immediately backtracks. “Sorry, sorry. Not a time for jokes. I’ll stop.”

He’s definitely calling Lexi later to see if he can get the body cam footage.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Birthday

Pairing: Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader Part of the Grumpy Sunshine Series Summary: You're rubber, he's glue. You're oil, he's water. He doesn't know when to stop being an asshole, and you're just trying to make sure he has a great birthday.

You had been working together with Bucky and Sam for weeks now and despite Sam's many warnings to Bucky to be nice to you, every day Bucky got progressively more curt and agitated with you.

Sometimes he was downright mean, though you always deflected it- excused his behavior.

You'd say something about how you admired his honesty, his brashness.

Or you'd try to validate his feelings.

Then the next day, you'd do something nice for Bucky to apologize for upsetting him. It only made him even angrier.

Bucky honestly couldn't even remember what offhand comment set this argument in motion. All he knew was that he'd finally - finally done something to set you off.

"You're a pushover," he antagonizes.

"I'm not a pushover. I'm nice - there's a difference."

You're about to walk out of the room when he speaks again, "You're annoying. And you're bugging me! God, why don't you just go home? We don't need your help anymore. Seriously, don't you have a family or someone else to go annoy?"

"You don't have to be an ass," you grit, trying to calm yourself.

"Oh, so now you know a word besides awesome," he mocks you, throwing up his arms. "Maybe eventually you'll get a clue and realize that not everything in this world is awesome and sunshine and - and whatever other deluded fantasy you're trying to fool yourself into believing."

You turn sharply, feeling the painful stab of his words. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't know how much shit is in this world. How bad people can be? I know- I know it very well. I've seen it with my own two eyes. And everyday I wake up and put a smile on my face anyway. I wake up and I choose to be happy, to smile, and to be nice to people even when they don't deserve it. Because if I don't- if the world really is all shit and evil then what's the point?"

"The point?" he asks. He's completely thrown off by our outburst, if he could call it that knowing he'd provoked you. You never talked about your past or family or anything that wasn't a very surface-level topic. You didn't talk about your story or background- or lack thereof. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know anything about you.

"Yeah. Then what's the point? Why would I even bother with the world? Why would I even get out of bed in the morning? Why would I keep moving forward? I don't have anything. I don't have a family or a home or really anything. I have me- and that's it. There's no one I can call, no one I look to, I don't have a Steve- I've never had a Steve! I don't have a friend or family or anyone that even fucking vaguely knows me, so if that's the case then what's the point?"

"I-"

"You know what? No. I'm done. You don't want me to play nice? Fine. One more loss can't possibly hurt more than the rest, can it? Just let me do what I need to do. And you do what you need to do."

You take your wallet and you storm out. You're not even sure where you're going, you just can't breathe. So you walk, and walk, and walk, until everything else is just background noise.

When Sam finally comes back, he immediately notices your absence. There's no music playing, you're not in the kitchen, there's a lack of the spirit that you bring and it's all gone. As cliche as it sounds, it's quiet- too quiet. "Hey, where'd she go?"

"I dunno," Bucky mumbles after taking a long pull from his beer bottle.

"She just left?"

"Yup," he remarks, trying to make it seem like he's completely uninterested in your disappearance, when in reality he's been waiting for you to come back since he ran you out. Even by just looking at Bucky's flat expression, Sam knows that he's not getting the full story, so he calls you. "Hey, where'd you go? Everything okay?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah! I'm okay. Thank you for asking. I just need to take a break- I won't be far, just call if you need anything."

Your voice is off. Sam can hear the strain in your vocal chords, how your typical optimism and excitement sound forced, fake. "You're sure?"

"Yeah! I'm great! I have to go, but I'll be back," you promise.

When he hangs up the phone, he stares holes into the side of Bucky's head. Just by the way he's avoiding looking at him tells Sam who's the guilty party. "What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?" Bucky responds, taking a large swig from his glass.

"Because you're the only person on this Earth that seems determined to drive away the sweetest, nicest person I've ever met. You're the only one that wants to make her miserable. Care to explain what you said to make her cry?"

"She was crying?" he winces.

"She sure sounded like it."

"Shit," Bucky mumbles. He really hates how guilty he feels for making you cry, but the smallest part of him wants to know what exactly it was that made you so mad. He wants to know what makes you tick, though he can't figure why he wants to know.

"You took it way too far, man. You don't have to like her- though I can't for the life of me figure out why you don't- but she does deserve your respect. After everything she's done she deserves that much. You know, I don't even want to know what you said, but when she comes back, you're going to apologize. You're going to make this right."

"Wait, what do you mean 'when she comes back'?"

"She left. She said she needed a break- from you I assume- which means I don't get my cinnamon rolls," he realizes. "Damn it, Bucky!"

"She left a plate for you on the table," Bucky says, nudging his head to the kitchen table.

Sam gestures to the plate of pastries. "How could you not like her? She make us cinnamon rolls- just to be nice!"

"So, she's really gone? Why don't we go after her?" Bucky asks, though he's not sure why he's even bothering in trying to get you back. The entire time he's been trying to get rid of you and now that you're gone, he's not sure he likes it.

"She said that she'd be close if we needed her," he says, shoving one of your pastries in his mouth. "Look I know that she's a little..."

"Soft?"

"I would not use that word," Sam scoffs. "I know she seems like 'fluff', but she's not. I don't know how she keeps a smile on her face, but she's tough. She's smart- smarter than you. And if she's gone- if she doesn't want to be found, she's not going to be."

Bucky looks at him in disbelief. "You don't think we could find her?"

"No, I don't," Sam deadpans. "She's more than what she seems, man. If you could just stop judging her for a minute, you'd see that. It's why I wanted her to come help us."

Another surprise for Bucky, his head twists in confusion. "You asked for her help?"

"What you think she just came with the safe house? Yes, I asked her to come and help us. She's an Avenger too, whether you can see that or not."

Only a a week and a half has passed, you've yet to make an reappearance yet. With each passing day, Bucky feels worse. Sam refuses to drag you back unless they really need you. You take this time to do research, to figure out your next move. You send any new information you have to Sam, and lately you're working overtime to distract yourself from the sting of Bucky's words. You weren't lying to Bucky when you said you'd seen a lot of ugly in this word, you'd seen some of the most depraved parts of humanity, and yet you refused to be a part of it. Being kind, adding kindness that the world desperately needed made life worth living for you.

There were very few things that really, truly phased you anymore, but Bucky touched a real soft spot for you. And since Bucky said those things, you couldn't bring yourself to be that person.

It wasn't until the day before Bucky's birthday that you were even considering coming back. You knew you could miss it, nobody would blame you. But after a lot of deliberation you decided that you'd hidden away long enough.

Despite his cruel words, you still make him a cake for his birthday. You do this for everyone, you reconciled. And the smallest part of you realized that if you didn't- Bucky would think that his words affected you more than they did.

So you bake the damned cake. You do the intricate frosting, the lettering, and everything else knowing that he'll probably get mad about it.

You debate leaving the cake on the kitchen table, then you think otherwise because you're worried Sam will eat it before Bucky even gets a chance to see it.

It's late when he gets back. He looks more upset than normal- then you wonder if anyone else remembered his birthday. You never said anything, but you knew better than anyone else how much a forgotten birthday stung.

"I didn't know you were back," Bucky mumbles.

"Yeah, I just got back. Last night, actually."

"It's okay, you don't have to be here if you don't want to. Sam'll probably be out until tomorrow."

You nod, but say nothing. You can feel Bucky's eyes on you as you silently walk over to the fridge and pull out the cake. Bucky freezes, he's not sure what to do with himself so he doesn't even move an inch. You place the cake in front of him. "Well, not even you deserve to be left alone on your birthday. Besides, who doesn't like birthdays?" You cringe at your own excitement, knowing how much it set Bucky off. And it makes Bucky feel even worse. He didn't want you to change, not because of him and the terrible things he'd said. "Sorry."

He shakes his head. He's not sure if it was Sam's very long and multiple lectures or your very noticeable absence, but he feels bad about the things he said. And a part of him, a part that's much bigger than he'd like to admit, missed you. "Don't be. I was being a grumpy old man. I'd blame the old age, but it was me being an ass."

"Was that a joke?" you smile.

"It was. They did exist back in my day."

"Did they?" He nods with a small smirk on his face. You pull out some candles and light them for him. "Well go ahead, blow out your candles before you ruin your cake."

It's quiet by the time you and Bucky cut the cake and you've served yourself and him a piece. "You know, this is the real reason I love birthdays," you laugh, pointing down at the cake.

"I gotta hand it to you, this is really good."

"Well, today must be a special day if Bucky Barnes is complimenting me."

"I think your birthday spirit is rubbing off on me," he chuckles. "I think I'd celebrate everyone's birthdays if I got a cake like this."

"I think Sam's is still a few months away."

"Well, what about yours?"

Your smile drops a little bit and you can't meet Bucky's eyes anymore. "I don't- uh, I don't have a birthday."

"What? Come on, everyone has a birthday!"

"I mean, I have one. Probably? I just don't know it," you shrug.

"You don't even have a guess?"

You shake your head, mouth pressed into a thin line. "No, there's no records of me. Trust me, I've looked. When I got to the Avengers, Tony and Vision could tell me how old they think I am, but..." you shrug. "God, that was depressing," you dramatically shake your head. "Definitely not birthday appropriate discussion."

Bucky's not convinced. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"No, it's- it's fine. You know, no birthday means I don't technically age which is pretty awesome, so... Yeah. It's great," you nod.

Bucky doesn't buy it for one second. He kind of feels some sort of indignation for you, he's only gotten some small pieces of the puzzle, but from what he's learned there's absolutely no reason that you should be happy or kind. He's not- he's gone through hell, he only repays to those he owes and nothing more. But you, you're not like that. It makes him feel like an even bigger asshole. "I really am sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"Ah," you wave him off. "It's alright."

"It's really not."

"Well, it's your birthday. Plus, I'm not inclined to hold grudges."

"You're better than most then." You don't respond to Bucky's compliment, instead you pick at the last few bites of the cake on your plate.

You're both sitting in silence when Sam barges through the door. "Hey, look who's back! And with cake!"

You gently nudge him in the ribs. "It's Bucky's birthday, Sam. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course I remember! Happy birthday," Sam says unconvincingly.

"I'm going to head to bed, but happy birthday, James," you say, lightly resting your hand on his shoulder.

Sam doesn't miss the way Bucky's looking at you - the smile that just barely cracks on Bucky's face is so slight that anyone else would have missed it, but not Sam.

"Interesting," Sam murmurs low enough that neither you nor Bucky hear.

Grumpy Sunshine Series Grumpy Sunshine One Shots

[mishwanders]

Chapter Twenty {Heisenberg}: Lips As Cold As Diamond

Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x GN!Disabled Reader

Summary: Heisenberg felt the clatter of your cane. Something was wrong and he had to find out.

Warnings: Heisenberg’s powers get used against him, body horror, semi-death, choking (not the sexy kind), knife slitting palms, blood, abusive Mother Miranda.

Read On AO3 { X }

Heisenberg waited in the small chapel outside of the cave, feeling for each movement of your cane through the depths of the darkness. Things seemed like they had been going okay for a while, that was until he felt the crash of the metal against the stone. The ice grip of fear took hold of his heart, the heat of anxiety over his mind. Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong.

He stood up from his place on the pew and made his way to the iron gates connected to the mausoleum, forcing them open. He descended down the steps quickly through the darkness before any rational thought could stop him. He had to know if you were safe or not, and if it was the latter? He wasn’t just going to leave you down here to your demise with that witch of a mother.

When he finally came to the level surface of the cave, he stopped in his tracks, waiting for his eyes to adjust momentarily as he looked around. He slowly walked towards where the megamycete clung to the ceiling. That’s when he heard the subtle movement of a shoe against the stone, the crunch of a pebble underneath. He turned his head to his right, following the sound. That’s when he caught sight of you in the darkness.

A smile crossed his face momentarily, but it quickly faded when he realized just how odd this was, that something wasn’t right about this. You didn’t greet him, you didn’t come towards him, you were completely silent. His eyes trailed down your body, looking for any marks, but you were relatively clear of any. But he did notice something else, something that made him cease.

You weren’t holding your cane.

“Saint?” He whispered

Heisenberg felt a sharp sting of pain radiate throughout his entire body, beginning with his heart. The cadou was making it move underneath, forcing his body to morph and stretch against his own will. The only other time this had ever happened in his was when -

Fuck.

He knew Mother Miranda was behind all of this and the panic began to set in when he realized he was caught in a trap, in her web. Heisenberg attempted to fight it, attempting to wrest himself out of her grasp, but it was no use. His skin grew heavier as it continued to morph, forcing him to crumble to the ground as it continued to ooze off of the bone.

“Ah, Heisenberg. I knew you’d been joining us.”

His eyes gazed up to look at the woman, all of the anger and hatred evident in his glare. Mother Miranda was standing beside you now, staring down at him with an evil smile. He grunted in an attempt to move again, but it was no use, he was stuck. She let out a chuckle, reveling in his weakness, his vulnerability.

“Stop the struggling dear, this won’t take long.”

“Let them go.” He barked at her, surrendering to his own fate.

“I can’t do that. You see, our dear Saint here has told me they completed the manuscript. It’s such wonderful news to hear that I thought they should get what they have so desperately wanted for years. They’ve rightfully deserved it.”

He watched as she reached for your cheek, seeing you lean into her touch with no emotion whatsoever.

“Isn’t that right my dear Saint?” She asked

“Yes, Mother Miranda.”

Your voice was monotonous and distant. You looked forward away from both of them, your eyes glazed over as if you were dead already. Heisenberg knew that look - having seen it on others that he was forced to lure here. You were under that witch’s spell, being manipulated by her, forced to see an illusion that prevented you from seeing the reality your body was in. Heisenberg knew Mother Miranda did not give people this kindness often, did not dull their pain and suffering. But her kindness was always a double edged sword and it always cut deep, no matter which way it hit.

“Miranda - stop!” Heisenberg grunted, “Don’t do this to them, please!”

“Why? You and I both know this is what they’ve always wanted - I’m only giving them their hearts desire.” She replied

He couldn’t argue with her, he knew she was right. The one thing you had always prayed for was not a healing, was not a miracle, but to be the perfect servant to the black god. One that could make a difference here in this village.

“P-please.” He begged, “Don’t.”

“My mind is already made up, my son.” She replied, turning her attention to you.

She took your hand in hers, pulling out a knife from her sleeve. She slit both of your palms, dropping your hands back to your sides. The two of them watched as the blood began to run, dripping down the mold that surrounded you. The black god was hungry for a new offering, starving for a blood sacrifice. Its roots began to search for you, crawling down the lengths of the wall, wrapping around your feet, your legs, wrapping around your neck as it worked its way up to your hands. You smiled in the midst of it, completely unaware of what was to come next.

The mold found the opening in your hands, worming its way in, crawling along the lengths of your muscles, attaching itself to your bones, sliding in through your veins. The mold was making its way through you like a fish in water, snaking its way to your heart and your mind, where it could forever embed itself and become one with you. Heisenberg yelled out for you to wake up, with no avail as the roots continued to take over your body. Mother Miranda cupped your cheeks in her hands.

“It’s time to wake up.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she kissed your forehead. That was the last time you ever felt peace and safety.

The first thing to break through your illusion was the pain - bright white, blinding, and burning you from the inside out as if it were the flames of hell. The roots were digging into you, as if it had claws, tearing through you from the inside out. You let out a guttural scream that rang throughout the cave, echoing off of the walls. Heisenberg was forced to watch you in your panicked state as you continued to cry out in fear.

“I can’t see! I can’t see!”

You attempted to fight it, trying to break free of the hold the roots had on you, but it was no use. It had already wormed its way through your body, growing, creeping through you, taking control. You reached your hand out for anyone who was there, anyone who would help you. But that’s when you finally froze in place, like a marble sculpture, feeling the life drain from your body, lips as cold as diamond. You stood there like a petrified tree as the roots continued to intertwine around and within you.

You were one with the mold, and the mold was one with you. You were a perfect sacrifice.

It’s dear Saint.

Chapter Nineteen: Conflict of Interest

Chapter Twenty One: Do They Dream

[crymeariveronceagain]

I’m going to put this here under the assumption that you’re okay with receiving vents. If not, I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding and please ignore this ask. I hope you’re doing well either way.

(Very heavy vent below, once again do not read if you’re not comfortable. Put yourself first, please!)

Vent start: I don’t know what to do. That’s the summary of it. I just don’t know. I want to be okay and normal and healthy so much, but I just can’t. So often I hear “you’re not alone!” And “There are so many other people like you out there!” And I believe it but I just can’t seem to find them. Every person I’ve spoken to cannot relate to me, and if they can relate to me at all it’s with one of my most surface-level issues, and it just makes me feel more alone than before. I’ve been suicidal for years and years now. I have ocd, autism, adhd, sensory processing disorder, insomnia, and severe general and social anxiety along with severe depression. (These are professionally diagnosed.) I am 16 years old. I feel like I’ve been alive for centuries. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a kid, even when I was a small child. I can’t even imagine what it feels like to be joyful because my entire life has been this endless cycle of stress and misery and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I’m not good at anything, I can barely even exist in the moment without dissociating. None of the doctors I’ve spoken to care about me, I am tearing my family apart because of what a bad state I’m in. I just want the people I care about to be happy, but I cannot even achieve that because the biggest obstacle in the way of their happiness is me.

Vent’s over now.

In other news, you are very good at writing and I admire your work, and how you are able to release it so quickly. Please take care of yourself, and I wish you well (whether or not you chose to read the vent.) <3

hoooooooooo boy that's a vent, but love, I'm glad you went somewhere with it. That's a lot. It sounds horrible to deal with. Like, every bit of what you described I would collapse instantly under. Pass out and die immediately. Just, sheer emotional crunch.

You are infinitely stronger than I am. You are far more powerful, more impressive, and amazing than i could ever be.

I'm so sorry no one can relate to you. That is one of the worst feelings. Ever. Human beings want to be recognized, seen, noticed, and understood. I believe it is also the human condition that as much as we want to be understood, no one ever perfectly does. It burns, hurts, stings. Aches.

And you're right, I can't relate to your struggles either. I wish I could. Honestly. Like, I know it's selfish, but I really wish I had more mental problems just so I could relate to people who go through this kind of thing.

As far as the suicidal thoughts go, what my advice there is: I love you. Hang on for me. The world is so much better with you in it. You might not be able to see how, but I see it. Someone's gonna read this post and think, stars, there's someone out there like me. And you, in this moment, are the hope for another person. You are hope, beloved. Keep being hope. Keep going.

Everything else, I'm sure you've heard every advice on the planet, there's not going to be much I can add to it. Like, everything you're going through? It's awful. It's hard. Nothing I say can make it better, because it... it's out of the reach of words.

Words can't make it better.

There are things words can't change. This is one of them.

But, all I can offer is that you are far stronger than I've ever been, or ever will be. You are the hope for every person dealing with what feels overwhelming. You are the strength people need to see in the world.

Because it takes a lot of strength, keeping going. It takes so much work. I know it has to.

Also, honestly, doctors piss me off <3. I hope you find better ones. You deserve better ones. People should care about you. I care about you.

And. For the record.

You are not an obstacle to anyone's happiness. That's a lie your brain is desperately trying to convince you of. But it isn't true.

People's happiness does not depend on you. You are outside of them. They control their own emotions. They are responsible for themselves. They are in charge of their own wellbeing. Joy is a choice. Happiness is an emotion, chemicals in the brain. Joy is a conscious choice. Like, seriously. There are things that people get wrong in this world, and one of them is that every emotion is just feeling. Like, Love is willing the good of the other. That's not a feeling, that's a choice. Joy is a choice to focus on what's good, to strive to just keep going.

So, darling, dearest, beloved anon.

You, my dear, are hope. You are strength. You are power. You may not feel like it. In fact, you probably feel like the opposite, most of the time.

But you give me hope. Because if you can do it, I can too.

If you are brave enough to keep on going.

Stars, the rest of us can only keep going on in awe of you.

[undeadorion-archive]

Did I ever share the being accused of soulbonding my own OC thing here? If I did, I've forgotten. So it's time to tell it.

So, everyone who knows me knows about Crawford. He's an OC that I've had since like 2003. The story that is now River City slowly grew around him. Everything else morphed around him but he's been roughly the same most of the time. But where he really took root as like my Main Guy was when I started RPing with him on LJ, around 2009. Back when I was relatively oblivious to all the ways a person can hate you. Though I still have a lot of fond memories from that time, there was a lot of questionable shit that happened.

A most of the people in charge of the game I was in were local friends. Or rather, I thought they were my friends. I'd known one of them through a different mutual friend, then re-met them again through this whole RP thing. And they were all friends with my roommate at the time and some of them ended up moving in to our apartment complex. Then others that were involved in the game would come hang out. And I was mostly oblivious to a lot of the stuff that was simmering under the surface.

One of the members of the group who lived an hour or two away resented me for reasons that I still don't know to this day. They just flat out didn't like me from day 1 and gave me the stink eye every time I was around when they were. This is R, we'll need their name for later.

For an example of what these people were like, because I couldn't possibly get into even a summary of everything without this turning into a novel. The game required you to apply to join. The page for applications said they were processed on a weekly basis and they often posted the responses on Saturdays. Well, they almost never did that and sometimes would take weeks to process apps. All of which were public. They would then annoyed when people would ask about app status. And they did this, to me, while I'd had my own application sitting there for them to review for like 2 weeks. They wouldn't take "have you considered communicating with people if you're having trouble reviewing the scant few applications you get?" for an answer.

That's how A worked. Everything had to go their way. No, they wouldn't tell you what their way was until you broke one of their super secret rules. Like they absolutely hated chewing noises. I could understand that, chewing noises are gross. But if your chewing was in any way audible, such as eating something crunchy, they would scold you or glare at you. You weren't even allowed to say "nom nom" around them because they counted that as eating noises. They also scolded me for burping like I'd let out a big nasty beer belch right in their face. When it was one of those barely audible closed mouth throat rumble types. That's the level of control that A demanded.

I eventually left that game and that apartment complex. And thought I'd never cross paths with them again.

Then came the incident that killed RP for me.

I was in a pretty rough emotional state for a long time and just wanted to indulge in one of my favorite hobbies. So I joined a game with a fandom character I enjoyed playing (Thor). Things were going pretty okay for a while, if a bit awkward with some cast mates. I got in a bit over my head, and overwhelmed with everything. A lot of people really wanted to play with Thor but necessarily my version of Thor. They wanted their own personal version they'd imagined from canon. So I got fed up and said fine. You get an OC instead.

Now, Crawford is intentionally a very abrasive character. The only emotions he's comfortable showing are indifference or anger. He solves all of his problems with violence. Until someone can crack through his tough exterior and see what a hot mess he is on the inside. It takes a lot, but he's made friends and even adopted a teenager or two in a way.

So I dropped this angry man full of rage into a town where he was trapped and couldn't return home. And I made it clear that if you wanted to play with Thor you had to play with the angry redhead, first. The catalyst had been people treating Thor crashing hard after some pretty serious events and calling him "smelly" and "lazy" when I said he was basically just sleeping for days on end so I could take a damn break.

Things were going moderately well. Crawford got a fair bit of traction. Rubbed elbows with demons and witches. You know how it goes. Then shit just hit the fan.

While I'd seen that A was in the game, they weren't active at all so easy enough to avoid. What I'd missed was that R was in the game, too. I didn't even clock their name as familiar, because I'd forgotten about their strange hatred of me. Well, I made the grave and heinous error of.................interacting with their character. I know. I'm just such a monster. It wasn't even anything major. They never responded and I forgot I'd commented on their post. So I was really confused when a friend popped up saying "Hey, people are shit talking you on the wankgate." Wankgate being an anonymous community where people rant about the most petty shit.

You can't tell me shit like that and expect me to leave it alone. It would eat me alive. So of course I looked. And they were just eviscerating me and my character. Over the stupidest stuff, too. Literally my OC was bad because they didn't like him. That's it.

They said he was "all edge and no substance." And that he was a self insert and swore to much and that being an angry self insert was "on brand" for me. The sort of comments that showed they just wanted to hate him and me without showing they knew nothing about either.

And then there was this comment.

"omg you're not talking about the crawford oc by colin are you? could never fucking stand that character, and the player soulbonds hardcore with him. he's so boring to play off of despite the edgy tryhardness because he's one-note and it feels like interacting with a brick wall."

Obviously I can't prove who posted these things. For all I know it was all just the "friend" who told me about all this nonsense. But I have a strong suspicion R started it, because this started very shortly after I responded to them. And I'm fairly sure the comment above was from A.

A and R were the only two who knew me from far enough back to remember me that well. And the only thing I can even possibly think of that could be seen as "soul bonding" was that for Halloween and conventions Crawford was my go-to cosplay/costume when I didn't have any other ideas. Because it was comfortable. And easy. And it was the first steps in discovering I was trans, because trying to look like a man made me so much more confident in myself.

I was utterly devastated after these comments. I felt hollow and raw and like I couldn't trust anyone. It was made worse by the fact that a friend was being really insensitive that night. The next day she got super mad at me when I said "hey, you know I don't like jokes like that." So I just unfriended her and her friend/roommate who I also followed. I didn't want to deal with any of it. And within the hour the friend popped up yelling at me, accusing me of unfriending her because I suspected her of being involved with the anon stuff. I hadn't mentioned it to either of them. And I haven't spoken to either of them since.

I tried to keep going with RP. A different character in a different game, but I just couldn't do it anymore. I left for a long time. I've tried going back, but it's like scratching at a wound that still hasn't fully healed.

Perhaps, someday, I'll feel comfortable in one of my favorite hobbies again. But I don't think it's going to happen any time soon. At least not in such a public manner.

[hear-the-ocean]

The Memory Police book review

Slightly spoiler-y review of The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa translated by Stephen Snyder

this is the second time I'm writing this review because Tumblr decided to crash and I lost my fully edited copy of the review. At least I had my rough copy so I didn't have to start all over again. @ tumblr please adopt the google docs way of saving every few seconds, thanks

Summary (pulled from goodreads) :

On an unnamed island off an unnamed coast, objects are disappearing: first hats, then ribbons, birds, roses—until things become much more serious. Most of the island's inhabitants are oblivious to these changes, while those few imbued with the power to recall the lost objects live in fear of the draconian Memory Police, who are committed to ensuring that what has disappeared remains forgotten.

When a young woman who is struggling to maintain her career as a novelist discovers that her editor is in danger from the Memory Police, she concocts a plan to hide him beneath her floorboards. As fear and loss close in around them, they cling to her writing as the last way of preserving the past.

A surreal, provocative fable about the power of memory and the trauma of loss, The Memory Police is a stunning new work from one of the most exciting contemporary authors writing in any language.

Review:

This should have been a short story. It was very dull and draining to read almost 300 pages for an ending like that and metaphors that feel too convoluted to figure out. There were some moments that had me tense only to abruptly end with a "what a coincidence they got thru okay somehow!" It felt cheap.

The characters felt dull and annoying which I guess was the point considering it's about people who lose their memories and what are we without memories? There was basically no plot and whatever there was, moved so slow I wanted to jump in and just shake everyone to do something.

I felt cheated forcing myself to read only to get an ending like that with the book AND the story within the story. I'm usually a fast reader and the way I read, I no longer see the words, I fly through them and an entire movie starts playing in my head. But I was struggling with this one. I felt myself consciously reading the words in my head which is a very weird feeling.

I understand this is more of a "metaphors, themes, commentary!" type of book but come on, if you're gonna give us the start of a plot, at least finish it? If we peel back that "themes" layer, the plot is as non existent as everyone on the island

Anyways, if we get past ALL that, those themes and commentary are actually interesting; maybe?. I had made a list of themes that I thought we were exploring and I think only like 2 actually ended up being relevant. I thought we would explore things like: authority, power and the misuse of it by police and the elite. We were given a small throwaway line by R saying that he thinks there's a small minority of elite powerful people who chose what they don't like and make them disappear. That is taken nowhere despite it being a terrific, horrific, and realistic topic to explore.

I thought we would explore control, with the police controlling the islanders and the typists' abuser controlling her. With both, things disappear from the victims until nothing is left. I thought we would discuss how it's a man who steals a woman's voice, wants complete control over her and makes her entirely dependent on him. How ironic it is that in the story, the typist is locked away becoming a shell slowly forgetting everything in the attic, while R is locked away becoming a shell but remembers everything in the basement.

But nope, not really.

What WAS discussed, was how memory is an identity. How losing even the smallest most inconsequential things still leave an impact that grows overtime. How if you can control someone's voice or memory, you can control them. Which was pretty interesting and cool, if only it was explored better and deeper. It felt too surface level, as if the author was planting the beginning of that topic/idea and we as the reader needed to do the work of developing and putting it together. Usually that works well but here, it felt like I was in a group project and I was the only one doing the work, didn't see the payoff and now feel cheated.

As most have pointed out, the memory police reminded me strongly of the Holocaust as well, and those were some of the most terrifying parts to read.

The typist story illustrates abusive relationships and how people can get trapped in them and the psychological effect it has on the victim. Both these parts were incredibly written. The emotions I felt were so strong, I had to remind myself it isn't actually happening to me. This shows the author can write well. These parts had topics that were introduced and developed and seen through. Why everything else wasn't the same, I have no idea.

I think it was also interesting how grief was tackled. When things disappeared, there was no feeling of course because it's gone, but when that thing that was gone was special to you? You couldn't even process that grief because nothing was there. Would it be easier to remember the things lost and grieve them or to forget them and have no grief or even the ability to properly grieve? Does it matter? The memory and the feelings associated with it are gone anyways. But the memories (the good, the bad, and the good that causes bad in the future) are a part of what makes you. What happens when they're gone? Are you dead? Or is the very fact that you can make more memories mean you're alive? But these citizens lose everything, they can't make memories anymore. They're dead and gone and not even a ghost remains, after all, what are ghosts if not memories adrift, stuck while the person is gone.

Moving on, I will forever be annoyed by the weird and frankly uncomfortable "romance" between R and the MC. Because like what was that ew. How ya'll going to cheat when his wife just gave birth to their son? Raising a child is difficult and made even more difficult when it's just 1 parent and they're healing from giving birth! Have some respect! And I can maybe understand why R is so obsessed, he only is exposed to her and the old man but, she has no excuse?? Like why are u so obsessed with him girl?? And why were they always talking in metaphors?? It felt really pretentious because people don't usually talk like that but maybe I'm being rude and it's like a genre thing of another culture?

Anyways, this was long, hopefully it made sense. The story did almost nothing for me and I'm probably gonna forget it (how ironic).

[bump1nthen1ght]

Sex on the Rocks (Merman x Reader)

Pairing: Male!Reader/Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Relationship

Warnings: 18+ content under the cut!, Size Kink, Breeding Kink

Word Count: 2578 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend discover some new things about yourselves.

Request: May I request a Merman x Male Reader? With a size kink, and breeding kink if you're open to that. Thank you! ❤️

“Can you see it?”

“Nope! This rock’s a bit too slippery-” An unflattering yelp leaves you as your hand loses its grip on the stone, your wet feet lacking any grip as you slide off the boulder and back into the cold ocean water. Your head goes under for only a second before Juno grabs you by the armpits, yanking you back up.

You sputter and cough, collapsing back onto Juno’s chest as you shake water out of your hair. Juno cranes his neck forward, barely hiding a laugh.

“You good?”

“Y-yeah, just...lost my grip for a second.” You shrug off Juno’s hands. He quirks an eyebrow up, like he doesn’t believe you, and you roll your eyes. “The water’s like, five feet deep, I’ll survive.”

“I don’t know.” Juno teases, playing with your messy hair, “I know you humans aren’t the best at swimming. But don’t worry,” Juno throws his large arm around your shoulder, “I can be your Orca in shining armor.” Juno winks, a strand of his long, black hair falling over his shoulder. He looks like he belongs on a romance novel cover.

You push yourself off of  Juno’s chest, giving him a playful slap.“Okay, Romeo, whatever you say. But we should find a place to chill out if we want to catch the sunset.”

Juno laughs, pushing his hair out of his face before he nods.

The two of you usually come to this cove on your date nights, finding a nice spot on the beach to laze around and talk before watching the sun descend together. But some teenagers had decided to throw a huge bonfire this very night and the beach was way too crowded for any alone time. Juno’s idea had been to swim farther out into the sea and chill on some rocks, but so far none had been both comfortable and able to view the horizon.

The two of you look around, trying to find a rock safe enough for you to climb, before Juno hums.

“I got an idea.”

You barely have time to get out a ‘What” before Juno’s arms are wrapping around your knees and hoisting you up into the air, your hands scrambling to find purchase in his hair  as your legs wrap around his chest. Juno shows no sign of exertion as he presses up even higher, shifting his forearm to support your thighs and pointing you towards the sea. “How about that? Can you see it now?”

The wheeze that leaves you is a terrible impersonation of a ‘yes’, your face locked onto the ocean  as you feel your chest begin to burn with embarrassment.

Your ankles dig into Juno’s shoulder muscles, barely wrapping around his large torso as  his tree-trunk arms carry you like a bag of flour.

You knew Juno was strong; He’s a goddamn Killer Whale Merman with an upper body the size of a small table, of course he’s strong.

But wow, did the way he easily throw you around turn you on way more than you thought it would.

You nod your head, taking a deep breath as you try and focus on other things, not about  rock hard your boyfriend just got you.

Unfortunately for you, the position you're in has your crotch pressed right up against Juno’s chest, in between his strong pectoral muscles.

Juno’s eyes drop to your navel, clearly noticing your growing bulge. His expression doesn’t even shift;  His arms just loosen and let your body drop down, until you and him are face to face.

“Are you hard right now?”

You nod, trying to play it cool. It wasn’t as  if this was  weird, you two were dating, but  something about getting a boner from something so simple had you a little embarrassed. Like you were 13 years old again, sneaking peeks at porno magazines and Monster Manuals under your covers late at night.

“Was it because I picked you up?”

You pause, nodding slower this time as you avert your gaze. But a claw comes under your chin, tilting it towards Juno with a slow, controlled push.

Juno had always been a huge teddy bear. You wouldn’t think it, what with the rows of sharp teeth, his long claws, and the myriad of scars that decorate his back and shoulders. But he was as sweet and docile as an Orca Merman could be.

But the look in his eyes at this moment sends a shiver down your spine; They’re so intense and focussed, if you didn’t know better you would think you were about to become his next meal. He rolls his gaze up and down your body, noting how your breath catches when he moves his hand down your neck. He runs his hand downward, thumb brushing against your collarbone and his claws tickling your pulse point. He licks his lips and the smirk he gives you might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, you like that? Then how about,” In a quick movement, he presses his body up against yours, forcing you against a nearby rock, “This?”

Water drips from his chest and onto your face as he pins one of his hands right next to your face, looking down at you with a sultry look. You suck in a harried breath as an overwhelming heat resonates in your belly. The end of his tail curls around your ankles under the water and his other hand wraps around your neck. His grip is light, but it serves as a reminder of how easily he can pin you down, how vulnerable you are in his large, very large hands.

‘Thats, uh,” You suck up the excess saliva building in your mouth, “That’s...r-really good.”

“Hmm?” Juno chuckles, playfully squeezing your neck before his hand drops down to your chest. He pushes his palm into your skin and flexes out his fingers, covering a good portion of your upper half. “You like being pinned, my little mate?”

Words have fully departed from your mind, so you just nod your head, breathless.

Juno leans down and places a gentle kiss on your jaw. It’s light and delicate, like the Juno you know, but the heat it spreads across your body is anything but.

“Naughty boy.” He whispers in your ear, before licking a stripe up your neck. You lean and curve your neck into his mouth, desperate for his affectionate kisses and nips. His teeth just barely meet your skin, enough to leave little bruises and send shocks across skin. “I can’t wait to fill you up.” Juno wraps his atoms under your thighs, yanking them around his hips and forcing you upward. Your crotch presses against his navel as he shifts you both toward a flatbed of stone. “You’ll look so good, dripping with my seed.” Juno hoists your body up onto the rock, his large hand pressing against your stomach and pushing you onto your back. You do so easily, the cold surface feeling especially icy against your flushed skin. Juno pulls himself over you, his triceps bulging as he lays his massive form on top of you. As he rests on his forearms, careful not to crush you under his weight, water drips from his soaked hair and onto your face. “My pretty boy. My beautiful, fuckable, mate.” Juno purrs, claws stroking the side of your face.

You weave your hands around his neck, pulling him down for a searing kiss. His tongue easily overwhelms yours as his large chest presses down into you. Your hands travel to his back and clench around his shoulder muscles, craving the feeling of his skin on yours. He’s so much taller than you that you barely reach his lower abdomen, but you fumble your hand downwards to his slit, eyes still clenched shut as you make out.

The hardness of his exposed shaft finds your fingers, dripping with his pre-cum and hot against your palm. You squeeze, clumsily and fervently, and Juno chuckles.

“So eager.” He pulls away, a long strand of saliva connecting you two. “Don’t worry, it’ll be deep,” Juno thrusts into your hand with a grunt, “deep inside you soon.”

With a soft pat on your cheek, Juno scoots himself down your body until his face is level with your crotch. He grabs the tent in your swim shorts, giving it a playful squeeze before grabbing the bottom of your thighs and lifting you up. You shimmy your hips to get the article of clothing off, but before it can even go past your ankles, Juno presses your lower half upwards and folds you in two.

You crane your neck forward, trying to see Juno’s next move, before the feeling of his hot tongue on your ass sends your head back against the rock. You let out a groan as Juno’s tongue begins to prod the ring of muscle, his large fingers leaving indents on your legs as he voraciously digs in.

Jun has always been quite dexterous with his long tongue; On your first date he showed off how easily he could tie a cherry stem into a knot, which had done things to your body not exactly appropriate for a first meeting. It’s also slightly ribbed at the sides, teasing your insides at just the right spots and adding an extra hint of friction as he reaches far inside you. You pant and claw at the rock below you, before finding purchase in Juno’s hair. Your climax grows steadier and steadier. It strains your shoulders and neck, but you try and peer up and look at how perfectly he eats your ass out.

Knife sharp, baby blue eyes meet yours, and it’s like a gallon of ice-water has just washed over you, goosebumps rising all over your skin as Juno sends you a wink.

You’ve never seen this playful, dominating side of him before. You can’t help but thank your improper boner for awakening it inside him. Especially when he hits that part- that part-ooooh.

Juno detaches with a pop, his tongue sliding out of your ass as he licks his lips. With one hand still firmly gripped around your thigh, he pushes himself up so you’re face to face. His long fingers splay out next to your neck, his palm easily matching the size of your head, as you give him a dazed and pleasured look.

“You ready?”

You nod, drool pooling in your mouth as your eyes wander up and down his body, your lower half seizing as he playfully squeezes your thigh. He removes it to grab his shaft, spitting into his palm as he strokes and places his tip at your entrance.

“Tell me if the stretch is too much, okay?” Juno whispers, that familiar sweetness back in his voice. You nod, but all you’re focused on is that little bit of pressure, teasing what's to come.

Juno slowly inserts himself and  he both of you throw your heads back with a groan. He worries his  bottom lip as he sinks farther and farther into you, pressing your thighs up to your chest. The harsh scrape of stone rings in your ears as his claws dig into the rock, small pebbles flying outward as he leaves long, white marks below him.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Juno finally reaches his base, comfortably seating himself inside you with a small roll of his hips. His chuckle is stuttered, peppered with a moan as he gives another tiny thrust.

“Hm, good job, taking me all the way in. For a second I thought I might be too-” Juno humps with a little more vigor, forcing the air out of your lungs, “Big for you.”

You shake your head. “N-No. You’re just-Ah!-right.”

Juno laughs again, giving you a small peck on the cheek.

“Good.”

With that, Juno slowly amps his pace, adding more thrusts with a lot more power. His jutting  hip bones dig into your  ass cheeks as he punctuates each thrust; Grinding deliciously against your prostate before pulling out until only the tip is left. He moves the hand by your head up to your other thigh, clutching tight as he lays his weight against your lower body. Your knees have been pressed into your collarbone, the stretch a little uncomfortable for your lower back, but the shockwaves of ecstasy do everything to relieve it.

“Don’t think-” Ungh “I’ve ever been this deep in you before.” Ah “Can’t wait to f-fill you, it will be so delicious.”

Your tongue has started to fall out of your mouth as your brain grows fuzzy, your only responses being slurred “Yes” and “Uh-huh.”

“You’re going to look so good, dripping with my cum. I’ll pump you so full, my beautiful little mate.” Juno’s claws dig into your skin, leaving small, white half-moons in the meat of your thigh. “Perfect little breeder. You’ll take it all, huh? Don’t want to waste-” Juno gives a harsh thrust, “a-” and then another, “-drop.”

You nod, movement uncoordinated as  your climax begins to reach its peak. The burning in your gut feels red-hot, and you wrap your ankles around Juno’s lower bag, urging him to go deeper, hit even harder. Juno lets out a delicious moan.

“You want it? Say it, beg for my cum.”

Juno slows down his thrusts, getting tantalizing close to your deepest spot before pulling out. You whimper.

“Please, please! Give me your cum, give me it, all of it!”

Juno leans down and gives you a long, passionate kiss, before resuming his pace. Your lower half begins to  jerk as you get closer, closer, closer-”

“Ungh, cumming!” Juno roars as the two of you climax together, his dick pouring thick load after load into your ass. You can feel it seep into your skin, dripping out of your ass as Juno rides out his own orgasm with tiny humps. The shiny substance coats his navel and crotch, catching the setting sun as he finally pulls out.

Your legs scream with relief as they uncurl, relaxing your legs onto the cool stone below. Juno unfurls his claws and collapses next to you, chest heaving and his skin flushed pink. The sound of your breath and the crashing waves is all that lingers, both of you too tired to even form a thought.

A shaky claw pets the side of your face, pushing some unruly hair out of the way. You turn your neck to  the side, enjoying Juno’s content and debauched face.

“We should,” He sighs, “Do that position more often.”

All you can do is nod, leaning just close enough to give your boyfriend a bunny kiss.

“Yeah, definitely.”

As the two of you catch your breath,you notice the blend of purples and pink hues off the sky above. You crane your neck upward a tiny bit and catch the slightest bit  of yellow, hinting a trail to the sunset, still out of your view.

You cuddle up to Juno’s chest, resting your head on his pecks, and point upwards.

“Do you see the colors?”

“Yeah,” Juno whispers, a claw playing with your hair, “It’s beautiful.”

The sun falls far away, the night sky darkening into a pitch black, with few spots free of light pollution. The wind brings a chill and you know the swim back is going to be a bitch on your muscles.

But in the arms of your boyfriend, everything feels perfect.

[ahundredtimesover]

Please Love Me (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: arranged marriage, childhood friends, CEO kids; angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (please stay safe!); some pain, spoilers on the movie Tangled hehe (18+)

Word count: 16.6k

Series summary: As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

A/N: Thank you for your interest in this story; my small account heart is very grateful. I hope you enjoy this next part, too! 

ALSO please check out this moodboard made by @jeonwiixard who’s been so sweet about her appreciation for this story :)

Series Masterlist

#

“You’re getting married in 7 months?” Jimin shouts at Jungkook over the noise that Taeuhyung is making as the latter plays a VR game. “I thought you guys weren’t in a rush,” he says, approaching Jungkook who’s engrossed in his own computer game. 

“There's no rush but we thought better to get it over with soon,” he responds after a smash on the key. “Less chance to back out and stuff,” he shrugs.

“But you still can, right? I mean, it’s still just an engagement…” Teahyung says, the two other men surprised that he’s listening and could even hear them talking over his own shrieks. 

“Give it up, Tae. You’ll never have a chance with her,” Jimin laughs.

This prompts Jungkook to pause his game and turn to his friend. “You like ___?” This is clearly news to him.

“I admire her with all my heart,” Taehyung says, still immersed in his own world. 

Jungkook pulls the headset off of his friend, earning him a loud groan. “What does that mean? I didn’t even know you know her well. Don’t tell me you’re some crazy and delusional guy who thinks you have a chance with her?”

Taehyung crosses his arms. “Okay first of all, rude. Just because you get to marry the Kim ___, doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole. Secondly, we are friends! The art world isn’t that big, Jungkook. She’s just so….” he trails, eyes sparkling at the thought of you, and this oddly worries Jungkook.

“Yah! I’m not gonna steal her away from you,” he laughs, slightly comforting Jungkook after he sees the scowl forming on his friend’s face. “Like we told you, she’s smart and talented and like, really nice. Plus, she’s so easy and warm to be around.” 

Jungkook crinkles his eyebrows at how much his friends know about you.

“And you have functional eyes, right? You see how beautiful she is, right?” Jungkook purses his lips, of course he does. “But really, she’s just my art crush,” Taehyung finishes and takes the headset back from his friend.

“It’s harmless, don’t worry. And ___ knows. We all laugh about it,” Jimin clarifies, seeing the uneasy look on Jungkook’s face. “We’d hang out during that time Nari and I were fooling around,” Jimin adds. “Don’t know why you never liked ___.”

“Exactly!” Taehyung says, pulling the headset off himself this time. “You were always so petty around her.” 

Jungkook smacks his friend’s head. “Yah! I wasn’t petty.”

His friends laugh at him as they reminisce about their elementary and high school days when they all studied in the same school. Your respective friends never really hung out together, too focused on your surface-level  differences to even strike a conversation. But Jungkook always rolled his eyes when you were around, always had a snide remark when the topic of conversation involved you, always compared you to the other girls whom he thought were way cooler and prettier. 

You were always smiling even when some of them were mocking your softness and saying you felt you were too superior to hang out with other people outside your circle of friends (the guys claim, though, that those girls were only jealous of you because of how much time you and Jungkook spent together outside of school).

Jungkook knows there’s truth to all this even if he disagrees. He didn’t like that you were so happy all the time, like nothing bad ever happens to you. Aside from those mean girls, everyone else adored you, even those who barely knew you. You never let other people get to you. You knew your worth and what you had to offer to the world. He’d realized later on that he was jealous of that, too. 

**

It feels weird to be sitting on the couch in one of your parents’ mansion’s many living rooms, with you and Jungkook surrounded by both your parents, having a meeting with the wedding planners who had been sworn to secrecy about your nuptials. 

Your parents had informed them of your desire for a simple and intimate wedding, but clearly they’d underestimated you and Jungkook. Mostly you. From the number of guests you want, to the simplicity of the décor, to the request for locally-sourced items as party favors, and to your rejection of the high-fashion designers they were suggesting. “My best friend will do my dress,” you say. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is more excited about the food and booze, stating that those were the two things you’d both rather spend money on. “And desserts!” you excitedly say, earning a laugh from your parents. “A dessert bar would be lovely,” you muse, a twinkle in your eyes. 

The wedding planners, who had also organized the other Jeon and Kim weddings, look at both of you and your parents in shock, not expecting your requests to be that simple - by your families’ standards, at least. But you and Jungkook surprisingly agree on everything though, from the venue and theme, down to the menu, cake flavor, and centerpieces, which makes their job easier. 

After a few hours of laying out the plan and timeline for the next couple of months, the meeting finally ends. 

“It’s either you both are really compatible, or you care for each other so much that whatever the other wants makes you happy too,” one of them says, smiling. “Thank you for letting us do your wedding. We’re truly excited for this.”

You and Jungkook smile until they leave. An air of awkwardness suddenly surrounds the both of you, much to the delight of your parents who try to act like they didn’t hear what the planners just said. That team is sworn to secrecy about the wedding, but are unaware of the nature of your relationship. If strangers not privy to the truth could see something in the both of you, maybe that could convince you and Jungkook that there could be something more to this arranged marriage, something more genuine that could blossom to real love. 

**

Jungkook, to your surprise, holds his end of the deal. Not that you thought he wouldn’t - you suppose he’d just do the bare minimum - but he truly is trying. You both decide on seeing each other at least once a week for dinner, aside from the mandatory Sundays of wedding planning, which is really just you and Jungkook agreeing to the least fancy thing of all the options presented to you. 

You’d chosen a floor-to-ceiling window-filled venue overlooking a lake an hour away from the city. On your visit, you’d dragged Seokjin and his wife, Mina to join you and Jungkook, which was filled with a battle of jokes, constant munching of chips, and debates on who was the better soccer player, better singer, and who really earned the title of the most desirable bachelor of Seoul. 

You’re used to your brother’s antics and much like in the past several months, you’ve been enjoying this side of Jungkook, too - the side that’s not hostile, distant, and uninterested. You grew up almost like a spectator to his life, a mere observer who’d picked up his likes and dislikes and his mannerisms and quirks along the way, but he rarely engaged you. You played side-by-side but never together; you grew up together but not with each other. 

He’s learning more things about you, too, like the fact that you’re actually good at playing Street Fighter but he never knew because you were always shy to play when he was around, knowing how competitive and emotional he gets. You’re not the type to cry in drama and romance movies but you’d sob over an eliminated contestant on a cooking show. You and Yeji got lost one time on a train ride in Belgium and ended up sleeping in one of the parks, your parents panicking at your laughter over the phone when you’d told them what happened. You also had a partying phase in college, something you’re not proud of, but that “yes, Jungkook, I did have a normal college life.”

You’re not a couple, though; the line is drawn there. While he invites you to dinner and drinks with his friends (which you’d gone to about 1 out of 4 times) and texts you when he’s going on a business trip for a few days, you don’t spend time alone outside of your once-a-week dinners and you don’t text everyday, sometimes going on days without hearing from the other. 

You accompany him to some work-related events, with some nights seeing you two end up in either a fast food joint or a convenience store, but you never invite him to yours. He’d brought you home but you never asked him in. Touches are limited to his hand lightly pressing on your back to guide you amongst a crowd or fingertips gently brushing each other when you walk, or gentle smacks on his arm when he teases you or a slight nudge from him when you bring up something embarrassing from his childhood. 

Almost three months engaged and things are going well - Jungkook’s warmed up to the idea, as he doesn’t seem to dislike you anymore, and no one outside of your families and closest friends have had a whiff of the impending wedding. But leave it to your parents to throw another bomb at you because of course they would.

** 

“Live together?” You both ask in unison. 

“But why?” You ask.

“We’re not even - “ Jungkook says the same time as you.

It’s one of those mandatory Sundays and the morning had been spent finalizing the guest list and choosing suppliers for the party favors. Over late lunch, your parents bring up the topic of moving in together before the wedding, preferably in a few weeks’ time (you reckon both your parents did a coin-toss on which side will be delivering the news, knowing there will be pushback on this one).

“Do our grandparents know?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, they do. They were excited at the idea. Seokjin did it, too” his dad says.

This rubs Jungkook the wrong way. “That desperate to make this work, huh? We’re already getting married in 4 months. Unless it’s a test to see if we can stand each other so we can avoid the messy divorce in case we can’t?” he couldn’t help but ask, anger laced in his voice. This earns him a glare from his mother and a “watch it” from his brother that you definitely hear.

“What he means is,” you start, turning to Jungkook with a soft smile, “what’s the rush in moving in together if we’re getting married soon, anyway? Shouldn’t we be focusing our attention on the wedding planning?”

“It’s just a suggestion, darling,” your father says, “but one that we think is quite practical. You’re getting married towards the end of the year, which is already a busy time for Jungkook, but much more during the first few months of next year, what with the expansion of their Japan office and the acquisition of Park Industries,” he continues. “We’re worried it might be too busy for him and also for you to handle the moving in and turning the house into a home after the wedding.”

“Yeah, but we could wait after things settle down, then” Jungkook starts, his voice slowly cracking at the very displeased look of his father upon his suggestion of waiting it out before you two move in together. Clearly that doesn’t seem like a good choice, even if it was an option in the first place.

It doesn’t help that his brother pipes in. “Well you weren’t here anymore when Yeri and I had to move in only after the wedding. It was pure chaos at home; I think our stuff were in boxes for months because we rushed it. Life went on right after so there was really no time to properly settle down.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, irritation blooming at his brother who once again isn’t taking his side. 

“It was his advice to me that’s why Mina and I got our place early and moved in before the big day,” your brother now joins. “We knew we’d be too tired and too busy; we wanted to spend the free days we could have on our honeymoon instead of moving in.”

“Well we can because we’re not having a honeymoon,” Jungkook says, more to himself but he doesn’t care anymore if you hear it. He’s clearly not too happy with this arrangement. He’s already committing the rest of his life with you, someone he’s not in love with, and the next few months will be his last few months of freedom and independence, months he’s now being coerced to spend with you.  

Amidst the agreement from your sister and the recalling of the stress that she had to go through with moving in after the wedding, Jungkook turns to you, that calm smile plastered on your face again. You laugh along to what your sister is saying, seemingly unbothered. And this pisses him off too. How can you just take all this? How can you act normal? He’s worn his heart on his sleeve once more, expressing his hesitation towards the proposal, and you sit there like the good girl that you are and now he’s the bad guy again. 

You avoid looking at Jungkook for the rest of the afternoon, although you feel the displeased looks he gives you all day. You’re not sure if it’s the best idea, but the practicality appeals to you - you won’t feel pressured to find a place immediately, you won’t have to rush moving your entire apartment to a new one, and you’ll have time to buy the right furniture and appliances to match the feel of the home. Like always, the uncertainty is really rooted in Jungkook, clearly unwelcoming of the idea.

A few days later, you find yourself in your brother’s office after having lunch, a Kim siblings rendezvous taking place. They asked you over because they had time, which is rare, and should’ve been the giveaway that something was up, because not long after you’ve settled on the couch, the door opens to reveal Junghyun and Jungkook, the latter’s face falling slightly at the sight of you.

You shrug this off, not minding as well that he hasn’t spoken to you since last Sunday, but give him a smile anyway.

“Sibling intervention?” He asks, brow quirking up. 

“Yes, something we should’ve done years ago,” Seokjin says, patting the younger man on the back. “Isn’t it obvious just how much I want you to be my brother?” he continues, smiling sweetly. 

“Were you in on this plan this whole time?” Jungkook asks, irritation laced in his voice.

Seoyeon shrugs. “We just always thought it was a given, that you and ___ would eventually get together.  It took a while, but here we are,” she says matter-of-factly. 

Jungkook bites the insides of his mouth to keep himself from blurting a very loud WHY would you think it was a given and he’s glad he was able to keep that in .  

“Anyway, the real reason why you’re both here is for us to convince you to consider the move. It’s really practical and less stressful, trust me,” your sister continues. “The wedding prep is lots of work and the wedding itself is tiring and it’s just better to get this over with.” She turns to Jungkook, knowing full well how hard-headed he can get. 

He’s heard this too many times the past couple of days, what with his brother constantly barging in his office to come up with various reasons why it won’t be so bad, Seokjin messaging him about it daily, and even his own friends spamming the group chat about it. 

They’re banking on the practicality of it and the avoidance of his parents’ constant nagging if he delays the inevitable. For Jungkook, it’s about the other possibility - you could not be compatible, you could not work well together, it could come back and bite everyone’s ass if it doesn’t work out. At least there’s that tiny bit of chance he could avoid the wedding altogether if it does become a disaster, a thought that makes him guilty for even thinking, hence why he doesn’t share it with anyone else.     

With a deep breath and an exasperated tone, he finally gives in. “Yeah, fine whatever,” he says. 

With eyes focused on the floor, Jungkook misses the triumphant looks on his and your siblings' faces, as well as the hopeful one on yours. “Get us a good agent, and we can check out places when I get back,” he says.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” you ask.

“Yeah, Japan with the guys this coming weekend. It’s my last birthday as a single man, better make the most out of it,” he responds. He doesn’t miss the slightly nervous look you have on, your face expressing the words that you can’t say, as you think about the bar incident that you convinced him didn’t bother you. 

“Don’t worry,” is what he says to you to ease whatever doubts you have, which he understands is warranted. 

You trust him, you really do. “Okay,” you genuinely smile. 

Jungkook bids everyone goodbye to head back to his office for a meeting, proceeding to send a message to his group chat with Jimin and Taehyung: Let’s book later for Japan this weekend for my birthday, on me, which is received by a barrage of messages from the two of the list of things they’ll eat, shop, and do.  

Not long after, you leave to head back to work as well and make a call on the way: “Hi, this is Kim ___. I’d like to cancel my dinner reservation for 2 on September 1st.” 

**

“Okay, what is it this time?” 

You turn to Hoseok with a shy smile and teeth biting onto your lower lips. “It feels stuffy,” you answer him.

“Stuffy? ___, this place is huge!” He says, pinching his nose, wondering if you even know the meaning of the word. 

“Exactly! You know how you can feel claustrophobic in a big space? It happens!” You argue, not missing the exasperated look on Hoseok’s face and the chuckle from Jungkook who’s watching all this unfold. 

“You know what? Fine. Seokjin didn’t give me a heads up about this but it’s you so you get a pass,” he winks, softness now evident on his face, and proceeds to make a few calls. 

Hoseok’s years-long friendship with your brother means he’s seen you grow up and naturally has a soft spot for you, and it’s the sibling-like fondness, not one that had ulterior motives, unlike the case with your brother’s other friends. Hoseok was excited to learn of your engagement and your decision to house hunt early on, confirming what your siblings’ have said about the stress that comes with doing it after the wedding.

It’s a Saturday and you’d spent the whole morning looking at different penthouses and apartments, with you and Jungkook opting not to go for a house because of maintenance and the practicality of it. Neither of you would admit that you think a house gives off a family-like vibe and feels too intimate. 

You’d started off with properties of the Kims’ affiliate companies. You think it was a generally good first day of house hunting, but Hoseok would probably disagree. He’d shown you the best ones but you always had something to say. It’s not that you’re picky; you just want something cozy and homey enough. If you won’t be able to feel that with your future husband, might as well make your house feel like it. 

But the places had been too shiny, too high, too elegant, too large; they looked like the apartments made for lifestyle magazines, not like the place you’d be comfortable in. Jungkook merely laughs throughout the entire ordeal, claiming all he needs are a comfy couch, a space where he can work-slash-play, and one with amenities such as a pool and a gym.

“You lived in an estate, ___. Your clothes and your princess castles had their own rooms. How can a penthouse with 5 rooms make you feel stuffy?” Jungkook asks, eyebrow shooting up.

“What do we need 5 rooms for?” You reply. “And that’s exactly why I got my own place with the girls when I went to college; I needed a place that didn’t make me feel so small.” 

Jungkook weighs your words, trying to decipher what you mean. 

He’s already learned that you’re not like what he’d imagined you to be yet he still gets surprised when you do or say or choose something he thinks someone like you wouldn’t normally do, say, or choose and vice versa. When he brings up such instances to his brother, Junghyun waves him off and says, “yeah, I know.” Why does he know? “___ isn’t that much of a mystery, contrary to what you think. You just never paid attention.”

His brother’s right.

“Alright,” Hoseok turns back to the both of you. “I’ve got a few places lined up. I can send you the listings and you can narrow them down. Let’s visit those you shortlist next week.”    

**

“Hmm, this is the one,” you say, eyes wide as they travel along the large windows, hardwood floors, and exposed bricks. Of course you’d choose the simplest option, Jungkook thinks. Hoseok had given choices that weekend that were less shiny, in mid-rise buildings, had less rooms, didn’t have those classy and impractical chandeliers, but still in the relatively high-end areas of Seoul. 

The loft has that rustic-homey vibe with two large 1st floor guest rooms and a 2nd floor master’s bedroom, an open concept, and a large balcony that overlooks the city. It still has that exclusive feel (and address) and ticks Jungkook’s boxes when it comes to required spaces and amenities. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face as Hoseok tours you around. The fact that you could see what plants would go where, what type of paintings you can hang on which walls, and what throw pillows and rug you’d place on the living room, means that you can imagine this as your home. Your home with Jungkook, you’ll try, but so far you could feel it as your home and that’s enough for you. 

After looking at the 2nd floor, you check out the guest rooms, admiring the natural light coming from the large windows and the space that could house your shelves and some of your paintings.

“I can take this room” Jungkook tells you when he’s sure that Hoseok is out of earshot. “This can work for me, I don’t need much space,” he continues.

You’d expected this arrangement; clearly you weren't going to sleep next to each other up until the time you need to (would you need to?), but you want this room. “I can take it,” you say. 

“___ come on, I’m offering you the bigger space. It has a large closet that can house all your dresses. Plus, the bed upstairs looks really comfy.”

Jungkook’s trying, you think. But you really want this.

“I’ll get a nice daybed here since I’m a stiff sleeper. Plus, it’ll be easier to transport my canvasses and other materials from here. I have enough space to set up a tiny studio,” you explain, smiling around the room. You can totally imagine it. 

“Please? Plus, you’re already insisting that you’ll pay for this place, although that’s still up for negotiation. But still, get the room upstairs. There’s an office and game space there for you,” you say, referring to the study that’s right off the master's bedroom. “This is a more practical space for me.”

Hoeseok returns before Jungkook can respond. “So, guest room?” The older man asks.

“My studio!” You cheerfully claim. 

“Oh that’s perfect, ___! It’s much easier to work on your stuff from here, plus you get a good view of the park outside for inspiration,” Hoseok says, happy that he can finally see you happy, and over the one place he only got wind of was in the market just the day before. It has been completely revamped by its previous owner, hence the different feel of the space despite the building and street it’s situated at, and he’s glad he’s able to help you.

“Yes, exactly. This is just the place for me, for us,” you confirm, leaving Jungkook unable to say anything else.

“Perfect, I’ll work on the papers, then!”

**

The days meld into weeks and before you know it, it’s move-in day. 

Jungkook has been helpful with the move, which Junghyun says is his way to apologize, given how he acted towards you when this idea came to light. Since he got back from his Japan trip and throughout the house hunting process, he’s been very engaging. Nari says it’s because Jimin and Taehyung gave Jungkook shit for being mean to you again - not caring at all that they were on an all-expense paid trip care of their best friend - and that somehow they got through to him. They’d reminded him that you’re the other half of this and he can’t keep antagonizing you; if anything, he has to learn how to work with you. 

And work with you, he has. He was responsive when it came to your questions about the apartment, which you had a lot of. He also helped in choosing the furniture and appliances. You knew what you wanted but you had to make sure he was happy with the choice, too. Jungkook didn’t mind where he’d end up living, and you realized that after all these years, he still doesn’t feel like he needs to live up to his social status as a CEO’s son; he’d been living in a not-too-fancy one-bedroom apartment, after all. 

He’d never tell you though, but the look you had on when you entered the loft you’d eventually choose was something he’d want to keep seeing. He never realized that seeing you happy could make him feel happy, too. Is he really going soft on you now?

Jungkook also helped you pack up all your things. It was the first time he’d ever been to your apartment. When he looked around - light wood flooring, white-brick wall, neutral-colored furniture accented with pastel pillows and rugs, and fresh flowers in hand painted vases - he knew why you chose the loft that you did. There was this snug and welcoming feel in your place, something he’s slowly realizing is what you make people feel when you’re around them. 

The thought that you could make your shared apartment feel like this - like home, something he feels he hasn’t felt in a long time - is making him feel something unfamiliar towards you, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for it.

You’d slowly been bringing your own things to the loft and arranging things as you go. It feels almost complete now, with the bigger furniture having arrived the week before. It’s a mix of grays and wood, accented with lighter and brighter colors against neutral walls. 

You arrive today with the rest of your things, the reality of leaving your old apartment feeling surreal. You’d been living on your own for years and now you have to learn to live with someone who, as far as you know, isn’t too ecstatic to be spending the rest of his life with you. 

Jungkook arrives not long after, surprised you’d come early. You wanted to bask in the thought of being alone before spending your first night here. He brought the rest of his things too and proceeded to his room. 

“Last chance to take it from me,” he says, eyeing you from up the stairs. 

“I’m good, Jungkook. No need to worry,” you smile. 

It suddenly hits him that he’ll now be seeing that smile every single day. 

It’s in the early evening when Jungkook goes down to the living room and sees you clad in leggings and an oversized sweater, legs crossed on the coffee table and reading something on your phone. 

“Hey, what are you up to?” 

“Oh, I was waiting for you, was gonna ask what you want for our first dinner in our new place,” you say, voice suddenly faltering with uncertainty at the last few words. He’d been nice recently but you’re still not sure how he feels about this sudden move. 

“You could’ve gone up and woken me. I fell asleep,” he chuckles, hand scratching the back of his head. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’m good with anything.”

“Me too.”

You stare at each other before you both laugh.

“Okay, we’re gonna have to figure out how to decide on things. I know last week was a serious case, but we can’t bring our siblings in to intervene every single time we don’t agree,” he says, still laughing.

He’s referring to your recent negotiations on finance matters, particularly the division of payment on the apartment, everyday expenses, and other things, which you wouldn’t budge on, hence the call for sibling backup. You eventually came to an agreement, with Jungkook still insisting on paying for the majority of the expenses. “It’s not because I don’t think you can, but just let me do this, please,” he’d said. 

You eventually decide on kimchi jiggae, a favorite of yours during chilly nights, you tell him, and proceed to discuss other things while waiting for the food, like work schedules, how you’ll spend the weekends, when to do groceries, chore division, and the like. 

Over dinner, you talk about your habits and pet peeves - tea before bed, always, and you’re sensitive to chewing sounds; he has to end his day with a warm milk and he’s sensitive to dust and certain smells - among others. It feels anticlimactic learning about your partner like this, but Jungkook thinks you’re living under extraordinary circumstances; better to know things now than later on. 

You don’t tell him that all those things he’d said, you already know. He doesn’t tell you that most of the things you’d said are completely new to him. 

It’s not as exciting, but he thinks it’s better than to be surprised by the little things about you, and have him soften at the discoveries; at least this way, he’s prepared. 

**

It’s a week later when you and Jungkook get to host your siblings and friends with a housewarming party, which is also the first time that some of the most important people in your lives are gathered together, but somehow it feels like it’s been years. 

Your siblings have always treated your friends like family and the same goes with Jungkook. It feels so natural having all of them here and engaging in such a familial way. Your heart warms at the thought, seeing Seokjin and Minhyuk take over the kitchen while Nari and Jimin bicker and watch, with Jungkook refereeing the two; Yeji and Taehyung are one-upping each other on their knowledge of classical music, with Seoyeon and Yeri confirming their answers on their phones. Junghyun and Min-jun are talking about daddy things, and you’re plopped on one side of the sofa chatting with Mina.

“I was looking for the bathroom earlier and opened your room instead,” she chews on her lips. “So you and Jungkook aren’t sleeping together?” 

“Nope, and I don’t see why we should. We’re not together, Mina,” you remind her of the truth.

“Well, you two could fool anyone,” she says, earning her a raised eyebrow. 

“Just saying that I observe some tenderness between you two,” she continues, turning behind her to see Jungkook laughing at something Jin says. Right on cue, Jungkook calls out to you to say that your beer is now chilled enough and asks if you want him to serve it to you. You say yes and he approaches you, Corona-filled glass in hand. You mumble a thanks and he walks back to the kitchen, announcing shortly after that dinner should be ready in 10 minutes. 

“I guess we just needed time,” you say, feeling the coldness and bitterness of the drink. “It’s so much pressure though. It means so much to our families and it worries me that we’ll disappoint them.”

Mina smiles at you, knowing the alcohol is what’s prompting you to be honest. She and your brother have been friends since high school and in a way, she’s seen you grow up as well. She doesn’t remember seeing you so worried, so unsure. Behind that calm and put-together exterior is a woman suddenly unsure of herself and her choices in life. 

“You think you could ever love each other?” 

It’s a question that haunts you everyday. Does it matter? You’d told him it didn’t, that trust and respect matter just as much and those two could easily compensate for the other thing that’s missing. But recently, it’s been so tempting to fall into that hope of completing that three-piece puzzle of what you know would make you truly and completely happy, and it’s only been a week of living together. 

“I meant it when I told him I could try,” you tell her. “The thing is, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”

**

You and Jungkook find a rhythm. Since your Mondays and Wednesdays are your most stable days, he takes you to work and picks you up and you rock-paper-scissors on who gets to choose dinner (the loser does the choosing, seeing as both of you don’t seem to like being the decision-maker). Some days he stays late at work, prompting you to drop by with dinner or getting food delivered to his office. 

Sundays are still reserved for family and wedding planning. Your friends and his have made your apartment their home as well, inviting themselves over for movie or game nights on Fridays or Saturdays. 

After the first dinner you hosted for your parents, they would drop by unannounced, not so much to “spot check,” as what Jungkook calls their visits to be, but to just revel in the fact that this is really happening - their babies are living together and are soon to be married. 

It’s a Thursday night when Jungkook picks you up to attend one of those events he’s required to go to, and now living together, you’ve been accompanying him as his date, giving ambiguous answers to questions about the nature of your relationship. 

Tonight is a social event, as one of their business affiliates is throwing a Gala, which will be attended by key personalities in the business and entertainment industries. Jungkook expects you to look good, as always, seeing as you’ve been showing up in your beautiful gowns and reminding him exactly why his friends have been giving him shit for saying you’re not his type.

You exit your office building in a strapless magenta corset tulle dress, hair in a low messy bun, and stiletto heels not affecting you one bit as you walk down the stairs with such grace. It doesn’t register to him that you’re right outside the car until you’re softly knocking on the window. You look absolutely breathtaking and it takes all of him not to stare at you the entire car ride to the party venue. 

“Is everything okay, Jungkook?” You ask, noticing his fidgety hands and constant glances at you. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he responds, half a laugh escaping his lips. 

He does a 180 as you enter the hotel. His arm lightly wraps around your waist as you both navigate the crowd, and you nod as he asks you if it’s okay. He keeps it there for most of the night, pulling you closer to whisper to your ear whatever it is he wants to tell you, and constantly glances at you when you’re pulled apart. 

You’re not used to this Jungkook, but you can’t deny it’s causing your palms to sweat and your heart to beat a little faster, the butterflies in your stomach now making their presence known. It doesn’t help that he looks gorgeous in his textured charcoal-colored suit and his parted hair, too. 

It’s in the middle of the night when you finally catch up with your sister, seeing as she’s being constantly pulled left and right by different people, knowing full well she’s the next in line to take over your family’s company. It’s never too early to make connections, your dad had always said.

You comment on her looking exhausted and flying solo tonight. 

“Min-jun’s home with the kids since our caretaker is sick and you know them, they’re too picky with who babysits them,” Seoyeon says. 

“At least he gets to play with the twins,” you say.

“Or he’s being bullied,” Jungkook chuckles and your sister agrees, acknowledging that the twins got their demanding attitude from her. 

“Yeah but now we have to push back our spa date again on Saturday since the caretaker won’t be well by then,” she says, disappointed. 

“Is this still to celebrate your engagement anniversary?" She nods. "But it’s been months!” You say, knowing they celebrate their engagement instead of their wedding anniversary since “it’s the first yes that matters,” as what your brother-in-law says. 

“Yeah, sadly. But it’s okay, we can always reschedule.” She turns to look at you and Jungkook, not missing the non-existent distance between you two. “Unless…”

“We can take care of them,” Jungkook finishes for her, causing your eyes to widen at his initiative. You love the twins and so does he; you’d just never taken care of them together.

“Oh, perfect!” Seoyeon says, not even hesitating. 

You can tell she’s happy with more than the spa date she finally gets to enjoy with her husband, if her smug face is anything to go by. “It’s the whole shebang so it’ll be an entire day. You guys can come over for breakfast and we’ll be back after dinner,” she continues. 

After hugs and a wink your way, she carries on her duties, leaving you to wonder what will be in store for you and your weekend. 

**

You wake up early that Saturday to get some yoga done before you leave, knowing that a full day with the twins would require some physical activities on your part. Jungkook seems to have the same idea, as he’d gone for a run early in the morning as well. 

You arrive at your sister’s house in an affluent neighborhood, which boasts of a massive lawn and a spacious and modern design. Seoyeon and Min-jun are having breakfast with the twins who woke up early as well when they found out that Uncle Jungkook and Auntie ___ will be spending the day with them. 

They don’t even let you eat properly, as they’re already giving you a rundown of the schedule for the day - watch Tangled after breakfast, paint after that, make homemade pizza for lunch, play ‘rescue the princess,’ assemble and play with their new train set, have dinner, and watch Brave before bed. 

A laugh escapes your lips at the ambition of these kids when it comes to fitting all those activities in at most 12 hours, only to find Jungkook smiling so widely, as if he’d telepathically told them what he wanted to do as well. 

You do as the twins instruct and get to work not long after Seoyeon and Min-jun leave, excited that they finally get a day-off just for themselves. The schedule is followed, for the most part. Jungkook ends up being immersed in Tangled since it’s the first time he’s ever watched it and you’d never seen him so focused on a scene in all the years you’d watched movies together than when Eugene had to cut Rapunzel's hair. The twins get bored with painting and take to molding clay instead, and you end up having sweet pizzas of nutella with gummy worms as toppings for lunch. 

Sunghoon complains that he always plays the prince-to-be-rescued so he convinces Jungkook to be the one this time and the kids take too long to dress and tie him to the tree. Eventually you’re the one they want to rescue, Jungkook now the dragon they’re supposed to save you from (you blush at how adorable he looks with his pointed hair that the kids did by rubbing strands together with their hands). That takes up a lot of time so you end up playing with dolls instead of the train set and get food delivered for dinner.

You know the activities of the day will catch up to the kids, seeing as they skipped their afternoon nap, so you give both of them a bath and dress them for bed early while Jungkook cleans the mess in the kitchen and living room. You plop down on the sofa next to Jungkook with the twins lying down on both of your sides, ready to watch Brave. Midway through the movie, Soojin crawls on your lap and asks you to hug her, with Sunghoon doing the same with Jungkook.

“Where’s mommy and daddy? What’s taking them so long?” Soojin turns to you after a while, little fingers playing with your earlobe. “I can’t sleep until they’ve kissed me goodnight.”

“They went on a date, Soo. Your mommy and daddy have been very busy and wanted to spend time together,” you say, fixing her hair that’s gotten messy from her tossing and turning on your lap. 

“Why didn’t they take us with them?” Sunghoon asks, Jungkook now half paying attention to the movie. 

“Well, it’s important for parents to spend alone-time together, that way they get to strengthen their love so they can love you two little angels much better,” you say, reaching out to both of them to caress their cheeks, hoping that it’s simple enough for 4-year olds to understand. 

Soojin looks as if she’s thinking deeply.

“Mommy and daddy do love each other. They’re always smiling and laughing when they’re together, just like you and Uncle Jungkook!” she says happily. 

You wish it was that simple though, but all you can do is nod and smile at her, glad you’re sitting next to Jungkook so he doesn’t see the blush that forms on your face. 

“They’ll be home soon,” is all you reply, hugging her tighter, and you miss the softness of the look that Jungkook gives you.

Pretty soon they fall asleep, movie now forgotten, and not long after, you and Jungkook succumb to sleep as well. The tiredness from the laughter and running around and adhering to the demands of the twins creep up on you, causing you to slide deeper into the comforts of the sofa. You’re under comfy blankets, your arms wrapped around Soojin, with Jungkook and Sunghoon mirroring your position, and you’re exhausted but content.

Seoyeon and Min-jun find you like that with your head resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. It takes so much of your sister not to take a picture and capture such a heartwarming sight for her to treasure, although she softens at the scene before her and prays to the heavens that you and Jungkook finally see what they’ve been seeing all this time.          

**

Between the wedding planning, all the meals you and Jungkook have shared, the work and social events you’ve attended, the grocery trips and household chores days, the wine-and-cheese over movie nights, and the many conversations and comfortable silences tucked in between, you feel that the wall separating you and Jungkook that has been built over time is slowly crumbling.

He’s comfortable with you now - he makes jokes and teases you, always enjoying the blush that creeps on your face whenever he does. He talks about work, the good and bad bits of it, and even asks for help sometimes on how to deal with certain people or what approach to take when he feels stuck on a project. He takes your advice on what outfit screams classy but fun, sophisticated but casual, and which look screams ‘don’t you fucking dare mess with me.’ He sings when he does the dishes or when it’s his turn to cook, and doesn’t miss complimenting your dishes, even if it's just omelette and toast. 

He’s a little more affectionate too; arm still usually wrapped around your waist when you’re out at an event and a few times had taken your hand in his, although briefly and never intertwining your fingers. He gets closer to you too, definitely not like before where he seemed to have an aversion to your presence, as he often peeks over your shoulder to see what you’re cooking or painting. 

At times you’d subconsciously lean on his shoulder too when you’re both sitting on the couch, minding your own business on a lazy Saturday afternoon; he’d absent-mindedly play with your hair during the times that you do. 

You like this newfound comfort between the two of you, something you didn’t think he’d ever reciprocate. Growing up, you always felt a sense of security around him despite the distance. He always had a demanding presence, even when he was still a lanky, coconut-haired boy, but one that wasn’t intimidating; somehow he lets the people around him feel safe. You like that despite everything, that hasn’t changed, except this time, he’s making you feel welcome, too, and wanted in some way.

You told him you could try to love him. You said it then to comfort yourself, thinking that by saying it, you can will yourself to actually do it. As he lays his head on the pillow that’s on your lap, with you stealing glances and gushing over his freckles and the nose you’ve always wanted to boop, it excites and worries you at the same time thinking you’re right there, at the cusp of actually falling in love with him.

**

You’re marrying Jeon Jungkook in a few weeks, and this is something you’re being reminded of by your friends a lot more than usual recently. Nari’s excited for the wedding dress that she’d always dreamed of making for you; Minhyuk can’t hold his excitement over about the food and booze since you’d told him the menu; and Yeji is the only one sound enough to ask how you’re doing and if you’re 100% sure about this. If they notice the way you more confidently say that yes, you are, they don’t say anything. They’re just glad that you seem a lot happier now and Jungkook isn’t giving you a hard time anymore. 

With one of your long-term projects finally completed and Jungkook spearheading a successful product launch, both of your friends convince you to go to a club to celebrate. Coincidentally, Yoongi, one of your brother’s close friends, is also DJ-ing tonight, hence why the place is filled with many people you and your friends know (except for Seokjin who’s currently out of town). Jungkook arrives before you do, as you got held up at a work dinner. 

You enter the club and look for your friends, with Taehyung waving about and catching your attention. You see Jungkook laugh at something Yeji says, meet your eye, and choke on his drink. You’re momentarily distracted by Yoongi tapping your shoulder and pulling you in for a hug that you don’t see Jungkook ogle you, taking in your form in a loose white halter top paired with a black sequined skirt and red pump heels, your wavy locks flowing over your bare shoulders. 

He’s thankful that you’re chatting it up with Yoongi because you don’t see the way he’s blatantly staring at you from halfway across the room, mouth watering at how sexy you look right now. He isn’t too happy with the soft touches from the older man, though, pulling you a little closer so you can hear what he’s saying over the loud music. Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends.

“Looks like someone finds his fiancé attractive,” Jimin teases. “Finally got your head out of your ass, huh? So much for disagreeing with us that ___ isn’t a looker.”

Jungkook snaps out of his trance and turns to his friends who are all giving him smug looks. “I never said she wasn’t, okay? I just never said it out loud.” 

Why he never did, he knows is out of spite. It’s enough you have to be a smart, sweet, and kind girl who is happy with life and liked by everyone; you have to be incredibly gorgeous, too, really nothing like his ex-girlfriends, he now admits. 

This is the first time he’s seen you like this, though. Not that you never go for daring outfits - and you did say you had a partying phase in college - but there’s just something about you tonight that captures him, a certain aura oozing out of you that’s almost hypnotic, even from far away.

He’s quickly reminded that the effect you have isn’t exclusive to him, as he doesn’t miss the looks that other men are giving you, as you continue talking with Yoongi. Within that conversation, 3 men have approached you both, coaxing your friend to introduce them to you, which Yoongi does before he quickly waves them off. The conversation eventually ends and you walk towards the table, either oblivious to or uncaring of the gawks of the other patrons.

“Hey, you” you greet him with a smile reaching your eyes. You’ve had a long day and you were looking forward to spending tonight with your friends, and seeing Jungkook, of course. He’s dressed in a dark blue silk polo, hair parted at the side and slicked back. You force your heart to steady its beating and will your pussy to behave, as he greets you with a “hey, you” back and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him and whispering “you look really pretty tonight.”    

You lift your head only a little to reach his ear, your heels giving you much needed elevation, and reply to him, “you cleaned up pretty nicely, too.”

He giggles and pulls you in even closer, his chin resting on your head, prompting you to wrap your arms around his torso. You quickly ask each other how your day went, arms still staying where they are. What a way to send a message to those men, Jungkook thinks.

Your friends look at the scene in awe. True to form, Taehyung shouts, “Oh my god are you two flirting?!” 

Your little bubble with Jungkook bursts and you turn to your friends and their parted mouths, as if asking since when you two had been this affectionate with each other. You try to hide your flushed look, which you fail at, but you wave them off. 

You’d told your friends things were going well but you hadn’t mentioned that you and Jungkook have been a lot more comfortable with each other in a physical sense. His waist-touching is constant, so is your arm-gripping, but you’re being honest when you say that even you’re surprised with how you’re flirting with each other tonight. 

Perhaps it has something to do with the two glasses of wine you’d had over dinner, or the fact that it’s been a long week and you’d barely spent time with him at home, or it’s the fact that he looks breathtaking right now and your sexy ensemble is giving you a bit of confidence. 

The night proves to be a good escape from the craziness of work and you’re thoroughly enjoying yourself; you feel like you haven’t let loose like this in a long time. You’re fairly good at holding your liquor so you keep drinking, and dancing in between, which gives Jungkook an excuse to hold you steady, which you don’t mind. Your whispers of “hold me, please” as you navigate your way towards the bar amidst the raving bodies sends shivers down Jungkook’s spine, and his dick. 

You’re sitting at your table’s bar stool, swaying to the music and sipping your whiskey sour. Jong-in, someone you’d met through common friends and briefly flirted with once upon a time, approaches your group and greets Minhyuk, who introduces him to the rest of your friends. He turns to you with a cocked eyebrow, eyeing you from head to toe. You know that look; that’s what got you dancing with him in the first place. 

“Hey, ___. Nice to see you again. Remember how we were supposed to go on a date that one time after we made out at this very club?” He says, shame out the window. 

“No, and to answer whatever your follow up question is, no,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes. 

“I’m not your type anymore?” he asks, with a pout on his face.

“I’m engaged,” you reply with a smile. 

It doesn’t register at first, and then he laughs as if not believing you. He clearly remembers you saying at one point that you don’t want to get married early. He’s about to call you out on your bullshit when Jungkook wraps his arms around you and says, “sorry babe, the line in the washroom was long.” He turns to the man, “hey, I’m Jungkook, ___’s fiancé,” and holds out his hand. 

Jong-in takes it then eyes Jungkook from head to toe. “Hey, man. Congrats to you two. I was just catching up with an old fling - I mean, friend,” he says. 

“Great,” is all Jungkook replies, prompting the man to excuse himself.

“Fling?” Jungkook whispers to your ear.

“Hmm, a while back. It wasn’t much,” you nonchalantly say. Jungkook’s grip around you tightens. “Hmm, okay,” he says. 

A sudden burst of confidence is what causes you to tease, “Jealous?” You caress the hands wrapping up your front. “No need to be, Kook.”

“Can’t help it when my fiancé’s so fucking gorgeous,” he says, nuzzling his head onto your hair. You revel in this, and snug your back closer to his chest, a dizzying smile forming on your face, partly from the alcohol and partly from Jungkook. 

It seems that the more alcohol you both consume, the more shameless you get, as you and Jungkook can’t seem to get your hands off each other. Pretty soon, he’s standing next to your sitting form, hand drawing circles on your knee then sliding it to caress your inner thigh. You respond by leaning on his shoulder and mumbling incoherent words on his ear, causing gooseflesh to form with your hot breath on his skin. 

A few more shots later and you’re saying goodbye to your friends, scrambling to get in your chauffeur-driven car, mumbling more flirty things until you get to your apartment, thankful for the biometrics that shortens the time you need to open your door. 

As soon as you do, Jungkook turns you towards him and cages you against the wall, forehead pressing onto yours, heavy breaths against your lips. His jaw is clenched and you know he’s trying to control himself, so you make the first move.

With your hand on the back of his neck, you pull him to hungrily meet your lips with his for a kiss, and it takes all of him not to swallow you whole right then and there. He presses harder and pushes his tongue, seeking entrance, which you grant. You both sigh deeply onto the kiss and continue your mouths’ motions, tongues entangling with each other, the sour and bitter tastes of alcohol mixing together. His hands that were once on the sides of your head are now roaming your clothed body while yours find themselves pulling on his polo’s collar, desperate to get it off. 

“You can remove it,” he whispers to your mouth, and your hands quickly, but sloppily, undo his buttons while he pulls you off the wall to unzip your skirt from the back and proceeds to push it down. He situates his thigh between your legs, and his cock twitches at the slick he immediately feels oozing out of your cunt. He moans at the thought that he’s done this to you, and he grips onto your waist tighter from beneath your top before he caresses your sides, then your breast. 

It’s your turn to moan his name into the kiss, and he takes this as permission to go further. His fingers play with your pert nipples, which are peeking out of the bra he’s slightly pulled down, causing you to buck continuously on his thigh for friction. He smiles into the kiss at how needy you are for him, something he never imagined you’d be. 

Polo now unbuttoned, you’re too excited to explore him to even push off his clothing so you leave it on him and map out the expanse of his chest and toned abs with your hands, slender fingers ghosting his nipples. You knew that hiding underneath his form-fitting polos and see-through white shirts, and even those oversized hoodies, is a body so taut and painfully beautiful that even just feeling him - and not even seeing him because you two hadn’t even thought to turn on the foyer lights - is causing your stomach to tighten. 

He growls when your fingers brush through his clothed dick, and you giggle onto the kiss that hasn’t stopped. You know what you’re doing, he thinks. He suddenly imagines how those soft hands would feel around his cock, and he growls even louder. You laugh again and he proceeds to make open-mouthed kisses on your jaw down to your neck, his left hand following his mouth’s motions down south, his right arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. He plays around your thighs, unsure if he should proceed.

He gets his answer when you say, “Jungkook, touch me please.” Paired with your desperate and sensual tone of voice, it’s all he needs to continue and your heart rate shoots up once you feel his lean fingers curl inside your pussy, trying to go as far as they can. You keel at the intrusion and he soothes this by repeatedly rubbing his thumb on your clit. He watches as you sink your head on his shoulder, whimpering on his skin, your labored breaths against him adding to the fire coursing through his body at the feel of you. 

He continues his motions, right hand now finding its way on your breast, which he squeezes as if his life depends on it. He continues his motions until he feels your insides clench, knowing you’re close. You bite his chest to keep yourself from screaming. Your stomach tightens and you feel this intense sensation rush through you. 

With his hands attacking your pussy and your breast and his mouth claiming every inch of skin available, you’re left reeling at the forcefulness of it all. He’s deliberate, as if he’s on a mission to leave you completely ruined with just his hands. 

Your orgasm builds and then you feel it all too sudden. You muffle your cries with your mouth on his chest, proceeding to kiss and lick it after. Jungkook curses at this, loving the way your tongue traces his skin, electrifying him and making him feel like he’s on fire.

He caresses you as you go through your high and with bated breaths, you look up to Jungkook who has his eyes closed, reveling in the feel of you on his half naked body. Your hands fall from his chest and with a light touch, you feel his strained member aching to be set free. You eye him lustfully and nod, as if to tell him it’s okay and you want this. 

With your top and underwear still on, he pulls on your thighs and you wrap your legs around him, mouths reuniting and attacking each other again, your hands now finding purchase on his hair and pulling the strands as if to control your ever growing need for him. 

He carries you to the couch, thankful that you’ve chosen something big enough to house the both of you. He’s desperate for relief, you can tell, as he hurriedly pulls your underwear off you, strokes himself a few times before he thrusts himself inside you, hands gripping on your hips, which he guides to match the rhythm of his movement in and out of you. By now, your vision is blurry, all thanks to the orgasm you’d just experienced and to the one that’s fast approaching. You brace yourself for what’s to come, knowing that Jungkook’s dick can do twice the damage that his fingers just did on your seeping cunt. 

It’s all skin slapping against skin, moans and pants, and words being caught in each other’s throats that you can hear. With Jungkook continuing to push himself in and out of you while his elbow is propped against the backrest so he can continue his ministrations on your breast and your clit, you feel the similar wave of pleasure hit you again. 

You settle with this, and you have half a mind to know that this is the alcohol talking. The fact that it’s all grunts and whispered curses coming out of your mouths is proof that this is all carnal; you’re both acting on a natural desire to appease your libido and you’re thankful for the unlit room for making everything dark and hazy. 

At the moan from your release that you don’t hold back, he comes, too. Feeling like he’d run a marathon, he falls next to you on the couch, trying to catch his breath.

You won’t get to commit this to your memory, you think, and somehow you’re thankful for that. Jungkook being more comfortable, friendlier, and open to you doesn’t necessarily mean he’s in love, or on the road to it, or that this means anything more. You remind yourself of this because it’s easier that way. 

You’ll wake up from this dream soon enough.   

**

And wake up you do. Except you’re both completely naked, your legs tangled with Jungkook’s, your arms wrapped around his bare torso and his wrapped around you. You don’t know when your tops came off, or which round it did. You try to remove his arms around you and when your legs find the ground, you feel a soreness on your limbs you’ve never felt before. How many rounds did you have for that to happen? 

You’re too light headed to find your clothes and you’re desperate for a glass of water so you grab the first thing you see, which is Jungkook’s polo thrown on the floor. You dress yourself with this and tiptoe to the kitchen for a drink, a million thoughts running through your mind. 

You remember the flirting at the bar. You also know you made out with Jungkook because your lips feel beat up and swollen. With your naked forms tangled on the couch and your aching limbs begging for relief, you can only surmise what exactly happened last night. But you don’t really remember.

Before you could even fully process everything, you hear a thud on the floor followed by a groan. You give Jungkook time before you approach him with a glass of water and aspirin. He meets your face with a sleepy smile, his body now fully revealed to you in all its glory, his boxers not hiding the tent behind it. He doesn’t seem bothered and you will yourself to focus on his face instead. 

He takes you in, messy hair, body being swallowed by his polo, those legs that blinded him last night still having their effect on him… God, he wishes he remembers how good you felt last night.    

You give him the water and medicine, a shy smile finally mirroring his. You look around the mess you’d made in the living room.

“Last night was uhm…” you start. 

“It was, yeah…” he responds. You both laugh at the awkwardness, but it’s not a bad one. “We did it, right?” he asks, feeling ashamed to even say what it is because he doesn’t remember much.

“Yeah, I guess. My body’s sore” you say.

He nods. This doesn’t seem to bother him, until he remembers something.

“Did we use a condom?” He asks, eyes wide.

“Oh, uhm. I don’t think so? I’m on the pill though. Funny how that’s one of the things I remember saying,” you awkwardly laugh. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Oh, right. Okay, good. I’m clean so no need to worry, too,” he says with a smile. He’s definitely worried, but he tries not to let it show.  

You mirror his smile and you both stand there, looking awkwardly at each other, the persons from last night nowhere to be found. 

**

“You fuck your gorgeous fiancé for the first time and you don’t remember?” Jimin says, as he takes the weights off Jungkook’s hands. “You’re really an idiot.”

“What! You saw how drunk we were last night,” he argues.

His friend, whom he’d invited for an afternoon at the gym (“to shake the hangover off,” Jungkook had told you), rolls his eyes. “So you mean the flirting last night and those public displays of affection were all due to the alcohol?”

“Yes. Sort of,” Jungkook responds, but the question causes him to think deeper. 

You two had been more affectionate with each other the past weeks, that’s for sure. He’s often tempted to wrap his arms around you from behind when he sees you cooking or painting; some days he just wants to hold your hand when you’re laying on the sofa or when he’s driving with you on the passenger seat. You have this mannerism of scrunching your nose when you find something cute and he just wants to squish your cheeks when you do. But kissing? Having sex? Cuddling? Too intimate, but they’re apparently what you’d done last night.

He doesn’t remember much after the car ride. It’s all hazy, like snapshots of events, and it seems the case is the same with you. But with clothes all over the foyer and living room floors, the bite marks on his chest and your sore limbs, you both conclude that it was a pretty rough night; he’s just not sure if he’s glad he doesn’t remember it or not.

“Still not sleeping on the same bed?” Jimin breaks him out of his reverie. 

“Nope, too intimate. Plus, we’re not married yet and we’re not even together,” Jungkook replies, moving now to another weight equipment.

“I think everything you’ve been doing trumps not being together, Jungkook. This is someone you’re going to marry, and don’t give me some bullshit that you’re not attracted to her because even before you got drunk, you were already ogling her,” Jimin says as he spots his friend. “And don’t think we didn’t notice your jealous looks whenever someone approached her.”     

“I wasn’t going to deny that,” he says, earning him a cocked eyebrow from Jimin. “It’s just, we’re not there yet.”

“Where’s there? ”

“There! Like, that place where inhibitions are gone, vulnerabilities are bared, walls are inexistent, dreams are shared...”

“Wow, what a hopeless romantic. You could’ve just said you’re not in love yet.”

It’s true, he isn’t yet . But what he thought before was not likely to happen suddenly feels possible. There’s just that stubborn part of him that doesn’t want to give in. Perhaps it’s the feeling that things didn’t happen as naturally as he wanted, or it’s the idea that being in love with you would play into what his parents had wanted for him all this time; or maybe it’s that unyielding side of him that doesn’t want to admit that everyone had been right about both of you this whole time.    

**

That Friday night still plays In Jungkook’s head, as he tries to remember how it felt like having sex with you. You don’t seem too bothered, as you’d gone back to normal like nothing happened. He was the one feeling a little awkward but you, as always, were composed and unfazed about the whole thing. This time, he’s thankful; maybe it didn’t mean as much to you as well.

It’s a Thursday and Jungkook isn’t having a good day. He’s been troubleshooting all morning, dealing with clients with too many demands, and their staff handling the expansion in the Japan office have been slacking off, causing unexpected delays and a domino effect on all their deadlines. His dad makes the call and assigns Jungkook to travel to Japan the next day to fix the mess, something he’s not too fond of doing. His head hurts and he just wants to go home. His soothing of his head is interrupted by a ring of his phone.

“Mr. Jeon?”

The call ends and Jungkook sees red. It was someone from the bank asking if he and his fiancé already want to open your joint bank account so the funds that both your parents collected all these years can finally be transferred. He’d never heard of such funds before, prompting him to call their lawyer who’d confirmed that and more. 

Apparently, both your parents had set up a fund years ago to be transferred to your joint account once you’re married. There’s also another fund to be transferred to your future children. Both your grandparents had likewise jointly purchased a vacation home not long ago under both of your names. The thought of all this happening before even the proposition was made, before even you both agreed to be married, hits Jungkook in all the wrong ways. 

He knew that your families had been wanting this ever since you were kids; what he didn’t realize was the extent that such union had been planned. The fact that funds and property had been set up years before shows that they were going to do everything to make sure this happens, and he’d been tricked into thinking that he had a choice in the matter, and he feels like a fool more than anything for falling into the trap; he should’ve known better.

Jungkook drives to his parents’ house upon finding out that his brother is there. He’s furious and he wants answers. He needs a release of his frustrations, and as much as he feels he should confide in you, a part of him says it’s not a good idea.

He heads to the study where he knows Junghyun will be. He angrily opens the door and approaches his brother, Jungkook’s clenched jaw and eyes dripped with spite showing exactly how furious he is. “Did you know about the funds and the property?” Jungkook shouts. 

“The one for you and ___?” Junghyun asks.

“So you knew?”

“We all had one - me, Seokjin, Seoyeon. Our parents planned it all out. Obviously you’d both have, too.”

“Yes, but they’re under our names, set up and purchased years ago.”        

His brother lowers his head, a worried look plastered on his face. He knew. Your siblings probably did, too. Now there’s a chance that so did you. 

“Fuck! They really had this all planned out, huh? They wanted this, made sure it’ll happen. Is that why they never approved any of my ex-girlfriends? Why they shipped me back here when I was doing so well in New York? Did Grandfather even really get a stroke?” Jungkook yells, hands pulling on his hair from frustration that’s been building up since this morning.

“Hey! I know you’re angry but you shouldn’t make such assumptions. No one lied to you,” he says, facing his brother. “It was obvious all those years that they were trying to get you two together. They didn’t want to force it, they wanted it to happen naturally, but you were always so cold and disinterested when it came to her; you never gave her a chance.”

“Because we’re nothing alike!” 

“You still really think that? I’ve seen how you two are, living together and all. You two are similar in so many ways; you work together really well, too. Now you’re just making excuses.”

“How sure am I then that that’s who she really is? What if she was in on the plan the whole time?”

“What are you going on about, Jungkook?” 

“She knew about this whole proposition. I’ve seen how our grandparents are so close and affectionate towards her. So are our parents. They probably got her to agree on something and convince me to marry her.”     

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Junghyun says. He knows how Jungkook is when he’s emotional and confused; he tends to jump to conclusions because things need to make sense to him, and this is how he does it. He forces pieces together, sees something that isn’t there. It doesn’t help that he’d always harbored negative feelings towards you and now they’re being magnified, as if the progress from the past months suddenly means nothing. 

Junghyun hates this. Things were going so well, that much you’d told him. He checks on you often and you’d said that Jungkook has started opening up. 

Sure, your families wanted this, and they tried to be subtle. But they know you two best and have always seen something there. There was a reason why they wanted this, not just because of the bond and what a union would mean but because they know that Jungkook’s fearless and spirited nature easily complements your warmth and tenderness. You two make people around you feel good and welcome, albeit in different ways. You both have a passion for life and a desire for good and beautiful things. They always knew that if you both let it, you two could genuinely and truly love and take care of each other.

“Like I said,” Junghyun starts again, kneeling on the floor and holding onto Jungkook’s shoulders, who’s now seated on the couch, a million things running through his mind, “all three of us were given the same accounts and property. They could easily add or change the co-owner, depending on who we’re seeing at that time, and they could easily gauge if it would end in marriage. Don’t read too much on things, you don’t know the whole story yet.”

Jungkook suddenly remembers something, and it hits him like a ton of bricks. “The lawyer said there’s another account for our future children.”

“Yeah, again, so did we. It’s no secret they want all of us to have kids.”

Jungkook goes back to that night. “We had sex the other night, hyung.”

“Oh.” That’s not what he expected. “Well… that’s a step towards the right direction, right? I mean, you’d eventually need to do it anyway to consummate the marriage.”

“We were drunk and we didn’t use protection,” he says almost mechanically. “She said she told me she’s on the pill. She said she was drunk and doesn’t remember much.” His nose is flaring, jaws clenched much tighter this time. Junghyun doesn’t like where this is going.

“What if she wasn’t really drunk and made me believe she was on the pill so she could get pregnant and there’s no way out for me,” he says, turning to his brother, voice gradually getting louder. “What if this was the plan all along to get me to stay?”

At this, it takes all of Junghyun not to punch his brother, something he’d never ever considered in all the years of growing up when he was getting into trouble. This is below the belt and uncalled for.

“Jungkook, you’re my brother and I love you but you’re being incredibly stupid right now and I’ve never been so disappointed in you than right this moment.” 

Junghyun stands up, feeling lightheaded due to the mixture of anger and shame he’s feeling towards Jungkook’s statements. He knows the truth, and this is far from it. The fact that Jungkook, in his fit of rage, could reach such relationship-breaking conclusions about your families and you, suddenly makes him unsure if continuing with the marriage is a good idea, a thought that he lets his brother know.

At this, Jungkook feels an overwhelming feeling of guilt hit him all at once. He’s angry at the situation, not at you. He’s confused and defeated and he feels alone, and it’s not because of you. He made claims that are uncalled for and unfair, and he hates himself right now just as much as his brother does. 

He doesn’t say anything though. He just turns to Junghyun with a sorry look on his face, tears threatening to fall from his eyes, and opens the door and walks out. 

Junghyun wants to follow his brother and comfort him. He’s familiar with that look; it’s the one Jungkook has when he knows he made a mistake and he’ll beat himself up over it. Somehow, it comforts him that Jungkook knows he’s in the wrong. That feeling is cut short, though, when he turns around on the hallway and finds you there, with a stunned look and tears flowing down your face.

**

Jungkook’s mother called you that morning and asked you to visit their home. She’d seen your wedding eve dinner dress and wanted to give you some jewelry to match your outfit, knowing that your mother had already handed over her own jewelry for you to wear on your wedding day. You knew that Junghyun was there too, as he had matters to discuss with his mother as well, and you headed towards the study where you knew he was waiting.

You didn’t expect Jungkook to be there, which you’d learned was him by the hysterical voice echoing outside the door, which was slightly open. You shouldn’t have stayed to listen but you couldn’t help it. If your fiancé was angry, you wanted to know what it was about so you could help him. It was a moment of weakness, one you’re ashamed of. It’s also one you regret more than anything. 

You’ve put the pieces together. You got a call earlier about funds and a property under your and Jungkook’s names. Both your siblings had those set up years before their wedding and you figured it would be the same with you. You didn’t think much of it; your grandparents and parents always said they’d make sure you both didn’t have to worry about starting your married life on your own. They were gifts that you know you’d eventually pass down to your future children. 

You should’ve known that Jungkook would take this the wrong way, like he had with all of the things your families had proposed. What you didn’t expect were the assumptions he made about you, especially regarding that fateful night when you both had sex. You really were drunk and you really are on the pill, have been for years. You always use protection with your partners but you didn’t mind much with Jungkook knowing that you’re soon to be married anyway. It never crossed your mind to trick him into having sex with you, get pregnant, and use the child as leverage for him to stay. You trust Jungkook with your life but at that moment, during his own moment of weakness, you wanted nothing more than to back out.

Junghyun finds your crying form, panic immediately painting his face at the sight of you looking utterly defeated. He hugs you and it makes you cry even more but you need it, you need his comfort, you need something to ease your heart that is now broken. Jungkook still doesn’t trust you, that much he’s shown. You’ve been nothing but patient and understanding, nothing out of the ordinary with you, but now you don’t know what else to do. 

“He’s very sorry, ___,” Junghyun says, hands running circles around your back to soothe you. “He didn’t say it but he’s very sorry. He’s an idiot but you know him, I know him. He regrets it, trust me.”

All you can do is nod, as Junghyun proceeds to wipe the tears from your eyes, something he’d done multiple times before. Your closeness with him is one you treasure dearly. Seokjin is your older brother and he’s incredibly protective to the point of irrationality. Junghyun is the same, just more calm and measured. He’s able to handle seeing you sad and broken; your brother can’t. But this kind of hurt is one that Junghyun never wants to see on your face ever again.

You leave the Jeon estate and head home. Fortunately, Jungkook sends a message that he has to stay late in the office to handle some matters and that he’ll be leaving early the next day for a business trip to Japan. You’re glad that you won’t get to see him and that he won’t get to see you. Hopefully when he gets back, things are better.

**

Things do get better. Junghyun was right in saying that Jungkook is sorry and that he regrets the things he said; he just never said them to you. 

You had a hard time sleeping that night after leaving the Jeon estate and you hear your bedroom door softly open early in the morning the next day. Jungkook probably wanted to see you before he leaves for a few days. 

He messages you when he lands in Tokyo and again every night before he goes to bed. You respond every time, a smile forming on your lips whenever you do. Junghyun had helped you process things. He didn’t try to make excuses, but he did say at some point you’re both gonna have to talk about what happened. 

You planned on doing so that Monday over dinner after he arrives, but he gets home late and finds you asleep on the couch. You were waiting for him and his heart aches at the sight, especially after seeing the dinner you’d prepared. He hates himself for what he’s doing to you, especially with the guilt he’s been carrying since Thursday about all the things he said about you. He feels at some point he has to raise it with you. It’s bad enough that he made such unjust conclusions and judged you horribly again like he had all these years; now he has to break it to you what he’d done.

He kneels down beside your sleeping form, a gentleness on his face as he watches soft snores escape you. It’s the first time he’s really seen you sleep and you look so peaceful and still so beautiful, you almost don’t seem real. All you have is your silk robe over your satin nightgown, something you’d felt comfortable enough to wear around him these past few weeks. 

He tucks a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and proceeds to carry you to your bed. You briefly wake up but it doesn’t seem to register to you that he has you in his arms because all you do is mumble and sleepily say, “you’re home,” with your eyes still closed. 

“I’m sorry I was late. You made dinner,” he whispers back.

“Hmm, it’s okay. Get something to eat,” you say, and he places you on your bed and tucks you under the covers. You’re back to sleeping soundly immediately after and he smiles at you, a mix of regret and contentment on his face. 

He feels terrible, and he has half a mind to apologize to you right then and there. But he knows better; he needs to do it when you’re conscious. He needs you to see his face, needs you to see how sorry he really is.

**

You’re supposed to eat out with Jungkook the next evening but Yeji calls for an impromptu dinner to celebrate her recent promotion. She’s been waiting for this for a while and you know how much it means to her for you to be there, so you and Jungkook indulge your friend and separately think that there’s always another day. 

Yet even before either of you could clear the air about the recent incident, with Jungkook still unaware that you know, another thing comes up.

“We have that year-end briefing of one of our affiliates tomorrow night. It’s also a social event and really boring. Can you come with me?” He says in the car on the way back home. 

“Oh, uhm,” you mumble, teeth biting your lips. “We have a client event tomorrow,” you say apologetically. “I wish I could skip it but I can’t.”

“Oh okay. Sure, no worries,” Jungkook half smiles. You see right through him and you know he’s disappointed. You try to convince yourself it’s more of him wanting to spend time with you and not so much because he’ll be bored during the event.

“I could try, though,” you say, admitting that you do want to spend time with him, too. The bitter feelings from last week have slowly faded; when he was away, you missed him terribly. There’s still some sadness you’re feeling but you know that spending time with him is what you need to feel better. 

**

You clutch your purse as you make your way towards the hotel where Jungkook’s event is taking place. Seokjin had said that the briefing really is one of the boring ones, filled with old people who aren’t impressed with young people holding high positions in their respective companies. They always treat these types of events as an initiation because you need to be able to survive them to get used to them. 

You didn’t want to think of Jungkook being bored out of his mind so you made an excuse to leave your event early enough to still make it to Jungkook’s in time. You texted him when you were on the way but he didn’t reply; you think he probably got caught up in an unwanted conversation.

You find him in one of the cocktail tables towards the back speaking to a woman, a smile gracing his face. Looks like it wasn’t an unwanted conversation after all. 

They look like they’re enjoying themselves. Jungkook is immersed in what the woman is saying and you can’t help but eye her from head to toe, dressed in a body-hugging black dress, hair repeatedly being tucked behind her ear, and teeth constantly biting and licking her red-stained lips. You know that look and it’s not good.

You walk towards them and stand some distance away, waiting to be noticed, but Jungkook doesn’t. It’s when the woman walks closer to him with a lustful gaze in her eyes that you finally make your presence known. 

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say softly. 

He’s broken out of his little bubble with his companion and he turns to you, shocked that you’re here. 

“___, hi! You came,” he says. 

“Yeah, I was able to leave the event early,” you say, and turn to the woman.

“This is Mia,” Jungkook says. “We were classmates in college. She’s home visiting family and one of her friends dragged her here because it’s boring,” he laughs. “Mia, this is ___.”

“Oh, Kookie. We were more than just classmates,” she says, her tone flirty. 

You swallow hard, knowing what she means. You miss the flustered look on Jungkook’s face, though. This is new territory to you. You’d never had to prove your worth to another woman who’s clearly trying to flirt with your fiancé.

“Hi, Mia. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jungkook’s fiancé, actually,” you say, your measured smile on.

“Oh, really? The Jeon Jungkook is getting married?!” She asks, not masking the surprised and mocking tone of her voice.    

Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah. Is it that surprising though?” He cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Well duh! Remember how we never did anything more than hook up because you said you don’t wanna get into serious relationships? And now you’re actually getting married?” she laughs. 

Jungkook, again, just laughs at her statement.

Mia eyes you up and down, taking in your form dressed in a short-sleeved lace midi dress, hair slicked back, posture straight, and smile not yielding. She laughs to herself and turns to Jungkook. “Must be an arranged marriage, huh? I know your type, Jeon. This isn’t it,” she shamelessly says.

“What can I say? People change,” he starts, eyes nervously shifting to you then back to Mia. “Plus we’ve known each other our whole lives; things are stable. You know I need that.”

Mia laughs, almost exaggeratedly, like she wants to show that she knows something you don’t, that she gets Jungkook and you don’t. “Oh yes, you definitely do,” she laughs again. 

You know what she’s doing; you’ve seen this in other people before, just never in the context of someone trying to prove they’re a better match for your fiancé than you.

Jungkook doesn’t move from his position, not like in past events where he wraps his arm around you and keeps you close. He’s barely looked at you since you’ve arrived, too. But he can see from his periphery how tightly you’re clutching your purse, how your smile isn’t fading. It’s that look you have when you’re trying to control your emotions.    

He feels frozen and he doesn’t really know what to do. He was surprised to see Mia here but happy to see a familiar face from his fun years of college, a time when he felt somewhat free because of how far he was from his parents. It’s a welcome reprieve from all the crazy things that’s been happening since he settled back home. 

Mia brings up this college party that causes Jungkook to laugh and cringe at the memory. She tells you the story to make it seem like she’s involving you but in reality is just trying to illustrate how much fun Jungkook had back in the U.S., which she assumes he isn’t having here, especially after finding out he’s engaged with you. 

You nod politely but don’t say much, keeping instead your smile that starts to annoy Jungkook because he knows you’re upset, he just doesn’t know exactly why . 

Fortunately, Mia’s friend shows up and before he could take her with him, he takes his time to greet the both of you. “Mr. Jeon, Ms. Kim,” he says and bows. “It’s so nice to see you both here.”

Mia isn’t too fond - or used to - this kind of respect and rolls her eyes. His friend says they could leave and Mia doesn’t miss the chance to give Jungkook a kiss on the cheek and says, “call me when you get bored,” and then winks at him.

She turns to you and pretentiously waves goodbye, which you return with a bow, smile not leaving your face. 

You catch the attention of a server and drink the champagne in one gulp, eyes avoiding Jungkook.

He finally turns to you and says, “I didn’t think you’d come,” eyes wandering on the floor, a little embarrassed at what transpired. It caught him off-guard and he didn’t expect you to show up.

You finally face him. “Seokjin said this event is boring and I just thought I’d accompany you.” You could easily make a remark about Mia accompanying him, but you don’t. You could ask about her or comment on her flirty antics, but you don’t.

Something is bothering you and when Jungkook asks if everything’s okay, you flash him your signature smile and say things are fine. This bothers him because you’re being the bigger person and he’s the bad guy, again. It’s always the case when something happens; he lets his feelings known and you remain calm, emotions always in check, composure never wavering. 

A few more people approach the both of you and you continue on with your greetings and measured answers. You nod, shake hands, and bow to guests, while Jungkook is getting antsy and frustrated as time goes on. Eventually he thinks he’s had enough. He has an idea of what’s bothering you but he needs you to tell him. He keeps asking and you keep answering the same thing, not wanting to discuss it and make a scene. 

He gets fed up and grabs your wrist, telling you that it’s time to go home. 

The car ride is tense. You could feel the emotions that Jungkook wants to let out and yours that you’re trying to stabilize. He’s seething, if his clenched jaw and the way he’s gripping the steering wheel is anything to go by. He honks a little more aggressively than usual, curses at the driver who cuts him off, and gets irritated every time the traffic light turns yellow. He sees you from his periphery, eyes focused on the road, hands clasped on your lap, looking absolutely normal.

He pushes open your apartment door too harshly and you brace yourself for what’s to come. 

“Why are you like this?” Jungkook says with a raised voice. “Why are you always acting like nothing bothers you?”

“Is that really why you’re angry?” You turn to him after placing your purse on the dining table. “You’re angry that I��m not reacting the way you want me to?”

Jungkook runs his hands through his hair, the familiar feeling of frustration filling him up again. “I can tell you were bothered with Mia, okay? But you keep saying you’re fine. If you’re upset then you could at least tell me so I can clarify things.”

“Of course I’m upset! Some woman was shamelessly flirting with my fiancé right in front of me, you think I won’t be bothered?” You almost shout.

Your usual calm demeanor is crumbling. With the thought of him taking home that woman from the bar months ago, and his recent allegations about you still plaguing you, you can’t help but feel angry and hurt. “And you stood there and did nothing.”

“I wasn’t flirting with her, okay? She’s naturally like that. We hooked up in college, so? Doesn’t mean I wanna do it again.”

“She told you to call her when you get bored, Jungkook!” 

“And I didn’t react!”

“Exactly!” you say, and you hate yourself for breaking, as you feel the tears start to sting your eyes. 

“Doesn’t mean I’d do it! Fuck it if you think I would!” Jungkook, in his frustration, ends up saying something he knows he’ll regret again, which he does right as the words exit his mouth. “But does it matter anyway? When I almost hooked up with that girl from the bar, you said it was fine and that I could do anything I wanted even when we got married! Clearly you think I’m the type to do shit like that so I’m not surprised if you think I’ll take up her offer. But you know what, if that’s what you really think, then maybe I might!” 

“I wasn’t even implying that!”

“Then what are you implying? The problem with you is that you don’t say anything! You always act like you’re fine and I always end up being the bad guy!”

You stand there with tears running down your face and it’s the first time he’s seen you in so much pain. “I never asked for much, Jungkook,” you start. 

You take a long breath and know there’s no going back from this. “I knew asking you to love me was too much so I never did but the least you could do is respect me because clearly, you don’t trust me either.”

Before Jungkook could decipher what you mean by the last part, you continue. “You stood there while some woman shamelessly flirted with you to spite me. You said nothing when she implied I’m not your type and that I’m boring and that you were forced into this and…” you take a breath and rest your hand on the table for support with all your insecurities coming to light, “she’s right, about all of it. You standing there and saying nothing confirmed what I’ve known all this time. You couldn’t even stand up for me, Jungkook,” you turn to look at him, wanting him to see how much he’s hurting you. 

You cup your mouth with your hands, willing yourself to not release your cries as the tears fall heavily on your cheeks with your eyes shut closed. You’re trying to keep yourself together, to hold onto the last bit of dignity you have left. You don’t want to break in front of him like this, but with what happened at his parents’ house and tonight, you don’t know how much more you can take. 

You forgave him for things he never apologized for, you tried to understand the things he never bothered to explain, you kept going for the both of you, hoping that he would do the same. But he would always hold something against you, he would always find a fault in all this even he agreed just as you did. There will always be something missing, and you will never be enough.

Jungkook looks at you, unable to move. He’s filled with regret and anger towards himself for what he’s done, for something he can’t take back, as he sees for the first time the look of tiredness on your face, the look of defeat. 

He wants to hold you and apologize and comfort you but he feels stuck, he feels inadequate, like all those aren’t enough to soothe your aching heart. He feels the tears form in his eyes as well, and at the first sound of your cries after holding them back, the tears fall from his eyes.

You know you can’t stay here any longer. You wipe the tears that continue to fall and with all the emotions from the past week, you look at him and say, “just so you know, you don’t ever have to worry about me getting pregnant. There’s no way in hell will I raise a child in a loveless marriage.”      

You turn towards your room and Jungkook finally feels his feet again and walks towards you. “___,” he says.

“Don’t, Jungkook. Please don’t.’ You turn away and close your door.

**

It’s been hours and Jungkook can’t sleep. 

He replays the night over and over again in his head. He was uncalled for, he admits to himself. You were right about everything; you always are, that much he’s learned. As he recalls your crestfallen look, your muffled cries, and your puffy eyes, he starts to think that he’s never known heartbreak until tonight. 

It’s the unfamiliar tightening of his chest and the kind of emptiness he feels that’s telling him that he doesn’t ever want to feel this again; he doesn’t ever want to see you hurt and sad again; he doesn’t ever want to make you feel like you’re not enough. You deserve the world and more and he wants to give you that, he wants a chance to do that for you.

He tosses and turns a few more times and checks his phone. It’s 4:30 AM. He wants to make it right with you and it can’t wait any longer. It’s too early but he at least wants to hold you if you’re still crying or even if you’re asleep. He wants you to wake up in his arms, as if to tell you that you won’t ever be alone again. He wants you to know that he’s sorry and that when things get bad, he’ll hold you until they get better, that he’s with you and he’ll do his best to work it out with you.

He gets off the bed and walks down the stairs, aching to hold you, to wipe your tears, to tell you he’ll be there when you wake up. He approaches your room and sees the door is slightly ajar. When he enters the room, his face falls at the sight of an empty bed.

You’re gone.

**

Series Masterlist

masterlist

taglist: @apollukee @kookachuwu @koremis @daydreambrliever @moonchild1 @waves-and-woods @loolylily @topanga27 @ppeachyttae @eviardashian

[beth-march]

Hi! Can I do a gif request for Lexi and Fezco? I’d really love to see them have a talk about Lexi’s sexual insecurities, like how many women he’s been with before. If this isn’t your thing that’s no problem but I thought I’d ask 🤍

Summary:

“You trippin’, Lex,” Fez says, his voice quiet. “It’s gonna be a whole nother thing with you. No comparison, I swear, I ain’t gonna be thinking of no one else but you.”

A/N:

Hi! Thank you so much for your prompt. I don't think I could write smut to save my life but I don't mind talking about themes like this. I hope that this is what you had in mind!

Read under the cut, or on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36758059

It probably reflects poorly on Lexi, that she can be made to feel out of place in her own bedroom. Instances like these embarrass her, because she knows she should be past the stage of cowering in her pillows and trying to take up as little space as possible.

But Cassie has Maddy over, and conversation has spiralled into the lewd tones it so often seems to with their group. The girls are squawking about sex, with a level of cavalierness Lexi might use when discussing the weather. Sex, on the other hand, is a subject that sets her teeth on edge.

The tension builds, and then breaks.

Lexi hears one detail too many about Nate Jacobs’s physique, and she slams her laptop shut. She uses enough force to make a loud noise, and the girls on the other side of the room pause, turning as one to regard the intrusion with looks of curiosity.

“Have you guys ever had a conversation that passes the Bechdel test?” Lexi demands.

It’s an outburst she hopes will humble them, but she knows this hope is in vain. Cassie looks amused by her little sister’s indignation, and Maddy is utterly unbothered.

“Oh, don’t play so innocent, little Howard,” Maddy says, rolling her eyes. “It would’ve been cute a year ago, but you can’t be acting up now you’re getting it on the regular.”

“Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Cassie adds.

“It just means you’re classy,” Maddy says, and any other time, Lexi would be very pleased to receive such a compliment from such a girl, accompanied by such a smile.

But she can’t accept a compliment that is so misinformed.

Warmth floods her cheeks. She can imagine the flush of pink and tries to tilt her face away so that neither girl will call her out on it, but she isn’t quick enough.

“Seriously, Lex?” Maddy groans. “You’re blushing? How fucking old are you?”

“Way too old for this,” Lexi agrees, rising from her bed, laptop in her arms. “I’m just going to go study in the kitchen - ”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Maddy says, darting from the bed to block the doorway. She grabs hold of Lexi’s computer, placing it on the nearest surface, then steers Lexi by the shoulders, shoving her onto the bed to sit alongside Cassie. “We gotta sort this out.”

“Sort what out?” Lexi asks, startled.

“Why you can’t even deal with a little sex talk around girlfriends!”

“I’m sorry, but why the fuck are you suddenly so interested in my life?”

The boldness startles them both, but Lexi holds her resolve, and Maddy seems impressed. She rewards her with candour, which had been the goal in mind.

“Okay, fine, you got me,” Maddy sighs. “I don’t care if you’re a prude forever, that’s your deal, not mine. But I’m kind of dying to know about Fezco.”

There’s a chance that Maddy is right, and Lexi is a prude. The outrage that unfurls following this proclamation about her boyfriend is likely disproportionate. Mouth ajar in anger, she whirls on Cassie, expecting her sister to stick up for her, but all the blonde offers is a look of unguarded curiosity, tinged with concern.

“It’s none of your business,” Lexi splutters, looking between them.

“You don’t have to give details! Just tell us if it’s good,” Maddy says.

“Does he, like, take care of you?” Cassie asks. “Is he sweet about it?”

“Does he get you off? I don’t know what it is, I get the vibe he’d be, like, good.”

“Maddy!” Lexi scolds, burying her face in her hands. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Lexi, this is so boring,” Maddy huffs. “Weren’t you just coming at us for not being feminist enough? Look in the mirror, bitch, you’ve gotta work on your sex positivity - ”

It’s amidst this ramble that the truth comes bursting out. It builds at the seams of her and presses until the stitches of secrecy yield. This private worry that Lexi has been keeping distant and shelved finally unravels, and her words begin to tumble.

“We haven’t had sex!” Lexi blurts.

The room is quiet for a long, drawn out moment.

Then, Cassie pipes up, “Wait, what? But you guys have been together for ages!”

“No, we haven’t, we’ve only been together for a month.”

“You’ve been together for an entire month and you haven’t fucked yet?” Maddy demands, jabbing an acrylic nail Lexi’s way. “What do you guys even do?!”

Whatever urge she has to answer is lost in the whirlwind of her worry. She looks at the clear amazement of her friends and knows that they won’t be assuaged by her accounts of what their relationship consists of - long talks and soft kisses and making efforts to tuck as close together as possible whenever they’re in proximity.

It seems painfully innocent, when Lexi thinks it back over.

“Lexi,” Cassie says, quietly. “I know you really like him. If I were you, I’d do something sooner rather than later. You don’t want him to lose interest, you know?”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Maddy says, but she’s wrapped her arms around Lexi’s shoulders, and she’s nuzzling the top of her head. “It’s just sex.”

“It only really hurts the first couple of times,” Cassie says. “It’s better, after that.”

The thing is that Lexi knows not to listen to Cassie and Maddy - they’re the last people on earth who should be doling out advice on men. Their track records speak for themselves. But she also knows that, however distorted, they have a lot more insight than she does on the subject. They know what it’s like to have boyfriends, to keep them, to please them, and Lexi has only got four weeks of experience.

Experience that now seems very tentative. Fez has been going easy on her.

She bites her lip. In a way, it seems absurd to be turning to Cassie, but in another, it feels very natural, because she knows that her sister will try to take care of her.

“What do you think I should do?” Lexi asks, and already, she doesn’t like the answer.

-

For Lexi, sex has always been a sticky wicket.

It was not a secret kept from her. It couldn’t be, not when her parents were always screaming at each other, adamant with accusations of infidelity. Lexi remembers overhearing the conversations when she was tiny, and asking Cassie about what fucking meant, and her sister explaining in a whisper behind their bedroom door.

Lexi imagines that there are better introductions to the subject. Especially now that her father is gone, his only traces lingering in that sad, earnest look that Cassie always seems to be sporting. He is long gone, but the phantom of him looms over her sister, yanks her about as though by the strings of a puppet.

Cassie does not overshare with Lexi. But still, Lexi knows. She sees, and she hears, and she cares. The way that her sister has been treated by boys inspires an ugly sort of anger inside her. A vitriol, because the idea of her sister being reduced to a body, to be used for pleasure and then discarded upon boredom’s arrival, is disgusting.

So she knows what it is to be disgusted by sex. She knows what it is to be terrified of it.

When she thinks about opening up her body like that, letting someone inside, the closeness associated with such an act… Lexi shudders. The vulnerability unnerves her.

It seems silly to worry, now that she has Fez, and she knows how it will go. Lexi knows that he will be gentle and patient with her, that he’ll do everything he can to make it good for her. She knows that he would never laugh at her over something so sensitive.

She knows this, and yet she can’t seem to make it sink in. This seems to happen to her often, a loose thread between logic and resonance. She knows that there is no need to worry, but she is still worrying.

Worry is always conspicuous, on Lexi. As she waits for Fez to pick her up, she tries to school her features into a look of neutrality, because the happy anticipation she usually dwells in before she sees him feels out of her depth. She lingers by the curtains in the living room, ankle shaking with nerves, and the moment that she sees his car pull up on the curb, she is out the door.

“You ain’t even give me a chance to knock,” Fez scolds her. He’s made a decent distance, though, already halfway to the door. “Want me to say hi to your mom?”

Lexi shakes her head. “She’s taking a nap.”

“Shit, I could use with one of those,” he says, smiling a sleepy smile at her. “What you say, Lex, wanna come home and go to fuckin’ bed?”

On any other day, Lexi thinks she would laugh. Only Fez would invite her over to his house so that they could sleep.

Today, she stiffens. He’s suggesting that they go to bed together.

“Um, yeah, maybe…” she says, scratching at her neck.

There’s immediate concern in his eyes. Fez has read her skittishness, and he moves forwards, intending to offer her a comforting touch, but when he closes his hand over her shoulder, Lexi flinches.

“Lexi?” Fez asks. His worry has worsened, she can read the detriment on his face. He takes away his hand, and it makes Lexi realise how ridiculous she’s being, so she stands on her tiptoes and throws her arms around him, latching her arms around his neck.

“You all tense,” he murmurs, fingers running up her knotted back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally,” Lexi assures him with a wooden smile. “Let’s go.”

With that, Lexi bolts for the car, and Fez trails after her, clearly bewildered. He’s slower than she is, slipping into the car, his gaze careful as it sweeps over her. He doesn’t make any movement towards his seatbelt, he only sits and stares.

After a while, Lexi speaks up, paints on a smile, tries to frame it like a joke. “So, are we just going to sit outside my house indefinitely, or are we going to go?”

“Not ‘til you cut the shit. The fuck’s going on?”

It amazes her, that he can make such coarse words come out so softly, that she can hear how concerned he is. But the tenderness is of a severe variety, and she can recognise that there will be no weaselling out of his questions.

“I was going to talk to you about it later,” Lexi sighs.

“What the fuck difference does it make, when we talk about it?” Fez asks.

“It’s just… It’s kind of a delicate subject. It’s not a conversation I want to have in front of my house,” she says quietly. She can’t believe how embarrassed she is.

“Is it a conversation you wanna have anywhere?” he asks, doubtfully.

Truthfully, it is. At the very least, it will be. It’s not that Lexi hasn’t thought about Fez in that way, that she doesn’t want it. She thinks she wants it a little bit too much. But the idea of it is so very different from the reality of it, and she’s unsure if she’s ready to close the gap, if she’s ready for him to see her in such a vulnerable state.

“Well, eventually…” Lexi answers.

“’Kay then, why don’t you wait to tell me when it don’t get you so anxious?” Fez suggests, and he’s nodding as he speaks, looking relieved, like he’s found a solution.

“But Cassie thinks I need to do something about it as soon as possible!” she exclaims, the confession out before she knows it.

“What has Cassie got to do with anything?” Fez demands, but the way that his eyes have darkened, the blaze of cerulean anger, makes Lexi know that he’s figuring it out.

She winds her arms around her ribs, squeezing herself. She means to look at him, but when she begins to turn, her eyes stay glued to the ground, on her chunky loafers.

Fez sighs, and the sound echoes through the car, between them, rampant with sympathy, with concern. “Look, Lex, I know that’s your family, but it ain’t none of her fuckin’ business, what we do or don’t do. Whatever she told you is bullshit.”

“She said if I didn’t… if we didn’t…”

“Lexi, if you ain’t ready, you ain’t ready,” he speaks firmly, but gently.

This response concerns her, because she doesn’t think she’s going to be able to fake being ready, like Cassie suggested. He knows her too well.

“She said you might lose interest,” Lexi admits, in a stilted voice.

A rush of breath escapes Fez, and she can hear the grumble behind it, she can see his anger in the flex of his hand. “See? Bullshit,” he proclaims. “Complete bullshit. You know I like Cassie, but what the fuck?”

“I don’t think she was trying to be mean. She was worried about this ending, because it’s already been a month and I haven’t… you know… put out.”

“Yeah, that ain’t makin’ me feel better about you talking to her about this,” Fez scoffs. “It’s bullshit, Lex, you put that shit so far outta your head, then you go find some other girl to talk to, someone who don’t got so many fuckin’ issues.”

Lexi can see the point in that. Still, she murmurs, “I know Cassie’s got a lot of issues, but she does know a lot more than me, when it comes to all that.”

“You really buying into that?” Fez sounds dubious. “I don’t think she knows shit.”

Somehow, that only flusters Lexi all the more. If Cassie doesn’t understand how to navigate that part of life - and of course she doesn’t, she’s been completely destroyed by her relationships to men and sex - then Lexi certainly doesn’t feel like she has a hope of it. Not when she’s lacking in so many ways that her sister is equipped.

It all feels very overwhelming.

“I’m really nervous to have sex,” Lexi says, in a breathless rush.

She’s amazed at herself, for being so forthright, and she knows that she’s probably blushing again, but she forces herself to hold her ground. When she glances over at Fez, she is relieved to see that he still isn’t laughing at her.

There’s only reverence in his expression.

“I know you are,” he says, his voice soft. “That's why we’re waitin’, right? I promise I’m not going nowhere. I’m chill, I can wait however long you need.”

“You’re not going to - ?”

“Hell the fuck no. Get that bitch ass voice out your head, Lex, I mean it.”

“It’d be understandable, if you were pissed,” Lexi mumbles.

“The only thing pissin’ me off right now is that you think I’d ever pull some shit like that on you,” Fez says. He won’t look at her; he stares at something out the window.

Shame ripples through her. Lexi hasn’t considered how hurtful her worries might seem to him. She realises that she’s not putting very much faith in him.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s just that I’ve been watching my sister and my friends getting fucked over by the guys they’re with since I was in middle school. So maybe it’s made me a little paranoid. But I don’t really think you’d do anything like that.”

“I get it. That’s why you gotta find someone else to talk to,” Fez says.

It remains a good idea. Except, she has to admit, “I don’t have anyone else.”

Fez takes her by surprise when he leans over the centre console and clasps both of her hands, pulling them up close, bundling them tenderly between his fingers.

“Then talk to me,” he says. He makes it sound so simple.

Lexi is floored. It is all she can do but watch, as he sweeps his thumbs over her hands, inspecting her knuckles, her fingers, soothing her in the quiet ways he has devised to be most effective. The terror does wear away; she feels herself sagging, her hands perched limply in his, and his touch is so gentle that speaking comes easily.

“I don’t think I’ll be very good at it,” she says, her voice hushed. “I don’t think I’ll measure up to what you’ve had in the past, and that freaks me out.”

“You trippin’, Lex,” Fez says, his voice just as quiet. “It’s gonna be a whole nother thing with you. No comparison, I swear, I ain’t gonna be thinking of no one else but you.”

“But what if it isn’t as good as before, from an objective standpoint?” she whispers.

“I’m telling you, baby, it don’t fuckin’ matter. Look, a hookup and nothing else, it’s basically a transaction. With you, it’ll be a whole lot more. It ain’t even happened yet and I already know you the best I ever had,” Fez says. He’s still holding her hands; one of them has drifted to shroud her thin wrist, digging into the bone.

“How many… how many girls is that out of?” Lexi whispers.

If Fez is annoyed by this question, he doesn’t let it show.

“Not that many.”

“No?”

“When you think I had the fuckin’ time? I been running a business since I was twelve years old, I ain’t had time for shit.”

Lexi manages a laugh, realising he’s trying to elicit one. But she can’t let go of the question, persisting to ask, “So, like, how many?”

“Less than ten.”

“Less than - what the fuck?” Lexi’s voice comes out harried. “That’s not a number!”

“Yeah, I dunno for sure,” Fez says, shrugging. “I’m pretty sure it’s seven.”

“How can you not know for sure?”

“I don’t keep count. It’s not like that shit ever mattered before now.”

Another laugh slips from Lexi, this one much more startled. She doubts she’ll ever understand how casual all of the people in her life can be about this.

“That’s just amazing to me,” she says, clenching his hands tighter. “Like I freak out every time I imagine getting naked in front of the person I trust the most in the world, and you don’t even know for sure how many times you’ve had sex.”

“At least you know none of them girls from before were all that memorable,” Fez says. “I mean, they were fine, no disrespect, but I don’t think about them no more.”

“Fine as in okay or fine as in hot?” Lexi asks quietly.

“Lexi,” Fez sighs, tipping his head back. “Why you only listenin’ to half of everything I say? I’m telling you I don’t think about them. I only ever think about you.”

The first show of proper frustration from him makes Lexi reconsider. She takes a deep breath, trying to clear out her questions, to discard them once and for all.

“You’re right,” she says, nodding, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m being silly.”

“I meant fine like okay, like it was okay with them, it was good,” Fez continues. “None of them were as hot as you. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Fez!” Lexi says, startled.

“I mean it,” Fez says sternly. He frames her face in her hands, nudges the apples of her rosy cheeks with his thumbs. “I don’t say shit for the sake of it. You’re perfect, Lex.”

It’s difficult to believe what he’s saying. It goes against everything that Lexi has ever believed of herself, in the perpetual shadow of her beautiful sister. She has contented herself with finding her value in other avenues - she is sensible, she is smart, she is going to make something of herself. But she rarely thinks of herself as beautiful.

Let alone the most beautiful. But the sincerity in his eyes is vivid. For Fez, this is simply the truth - for Fez, Lexi is the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Thank you,” she says, softly. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

“You’re lucky? I’m fuckin’ lucky. I dunno how the hell I ended up here,” Fez shakes his head in amazement, leans over to bestow her forehead with a kiss.

Lexi melts under his touch. It’s as though she can feel a sense of calm dribbling from the place where his mouth is pressed, as though his softness is seeping through her skin.

Later that night, Lexi is the first to wake from their shared nap. Remaining burrowed in Fez’s hold, she fishes her phone out of her pocket, and notices a text message from Cassie, sent hours earlier.

What the hell were you and Fezco doing outside the front for so long??!!

She smiles to herself. She doesn’t want to disturb Fez, so she lays her phone flat on the bed, and types out with one finger, Just talking some things out. He reminded me that he doesn’t mind waiting.

Then, she twists around, burying her face in his neck, and flutters back to sleep.

[scuttling]

Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

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[phoenixesse]

The Gyjo brainrot ‘essay’ perhaps no one needed but I’m writing anyway

Just to get this out of the way, a lot of my ideas for this are obviously subjective, so they were entirely thought of based on how I interpreted these scenes.

So as I’m sure many people know, JoJo part 6 is now animated! It slaps, it’s great, I can’t wait for the rest of it. But now that it’s out, it kickstarted my love of Jojo again, and I had previously read up to Golden Wind and like 10 chapters of Stone Ocean before I lost interest. Needless to say, I picked it back up and read the entirety part 6 in 2 weeks lmao

Here’s a quick summary of me starting Steel Ball Run: I speedread through Stone Ocean with the previous knowledge of how it ended because it was 2am and I had school the next day, I got to the end and cried my eyes out and had to sit there for 30 minutes because that shit HURT, and I started SBR the next day (against my better judgement concerning my emotions) because was trying to leave behind the pain of SO by reading the ‘best Jojo part’.

So let me start by saying: GYRO AND JOHNNY ARE SO PAINFULLY IN LOVE. I’m sure you could’ve gathered that from the post but I had to state it.

OKAY okay I’m finally going to get to what I wanted to talk about. So you see this picture below? Yeah, I read these panels last night. I have not been the same since. This scene, (obviously among the many) is one of the biggest reasons why Gyjo seems so painfully canon, or pining at the very least.

So lets break this down to the bare essentials. Gyro and Johnny, at a loss because of their surroundings, don’t know how to attack an enemy because they both use the ‘perfect’ golden ratio/rectangle that allows their attacks to spin infinitely to create a better use and damage output. We know this already, obviously.

Surface level: here’s where things get interesting. Gyro looks to Johnny’s eyes and Johnny looks to Gyro’s hand for a reference point. That’s awesome! Ship potential in itself right there! It’s really nice how they look to each other for when they have problems! But here’s where the introspection comes in. 

Gyro looks at Johnny’s eyes for what reason exactly? I know a lot of scenes are cut (because it’s manga) but automatically looking to his eyes as a point? Either Gyro has stared at Johnny’s eyes lots (in detail too. I can’t imagine it’s easy to analyze someone while riding a horse for most of the day) or he noticed the golden rectangle in his eyes because of their qualities. What are these qualities exactly? These are Gyro’s exact words about what the golden rectangle means in SBR chapter 43:

GYRO CANONICALLY SAID THAT JOHNNY’S EYES ARE ‘BEAUTIFUL’ AND ‘PERFECT’ BASED ON THE FACT THAT THEY MEASURE UP TO THE GOLDEN RECTANGLE. He could never mistake it either! 

And another thing following Johnny and Gyro’s previous interaction, why would Gyro just... not tell Johnny how he’s doing it? For two characters who are incredibly close and know they’re in a life or death situation, you’d think Gyro would’ve told him? Or even given him some vague hint like when he was telling Johnny how to use the golden ratio spin in the first place? 

That brings me to Johnny. This one has a little less evidence, but to start, I think Johnny was looking at Gyro too. This one I think is less physical attraction in the moment and more trust and faith. By looking at the previous panels up to that scene, Johnny is looking at Gyro the whole way, and Gyro at Johnny. So Johnny must’ve taken note Gyro’s hand, even if he didn’t register that it was the golden rectangle. 

They’re always looking for each other, I love it. Also, the heart in Johnny’s left eye? 10/10 addition. Araki didn’t have to draw it like that, and it definitely looks like a heart, but he left it in. 

In conclusion, they are canon, and this scene proves it. Thank you for reading if you stuck around this long lmao :D