#yesterday i had to listen to him talk about how i eat too much (i eat one meal a day) and they spend too much money on .e

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep #5

you're acting weird. Eddie decides to do something about it.

Chapter 5 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 4 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff & angst, romantic gestures, idiots in love, communication breakthrough, shy babies working out some kinks. No mention of reader's appearance, no use of y/n. Warnings: Discussion of Eddie's past, mentions of poverty, drug use, allusion to violence. Mentions of food & eating. Word Count: 4.5k sometimes I think I make him too soft in this series, but I can't help myself. are you guys tired of lovesick!eddie yet???

Eddie wakes up late on Sunday — it’s well after noon when he rises from bed with a sticky yawn in his throat and sleep in his eyes. In his rumpled t-shirt and boxers, hair a tangled mess, he pads down the hallway and into the kitchen, where Wayne is dropping scoops of pancake batter into a sizzling pan on the stove.

“Mornin’, Ed.”

“G’morning,” Eddie grunts back. He plops into one of the seats at the tiny table, rubbing his eyes.

“Sleep okay?”

“Like a rock.”

Wayne nods approvingly. “Figured as much. I could hear ya from the living room.”

Eddie scrunches his face in annoyance. “You could not.”

His uncle smiles, mirth buried in his whiskers.

“Well, you deserve a good night’s sleep. You’re always out and about these days.”

Wayne flips the last pancake, lets it cook, then adds it to the stack he’s already piled up. He sets the plate of cakes and two cups of coffee onto the table, and takes a seat across from his nephew.

They begin to eat in silence. That’s not unusual, as Eddie has a tendency to inhale his food — the boy’s got a garbage disposal for a stomach — but he’s not scarfing it down the way he normally does. Instead, he pushes his breakfast around his plate in between taking small bites, looking moody.

Wayne pauses in between sips of coffee, #1 Uncle mug hovering halfway to his lips. 

“Everything okay?”

“Uh…I think so. Yeah.”

Wayne raises an eyebrow skeptically at him. “You sound like you’re not sure.”

Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat, frowning at his pancakes.

He doesn’t want to push, lest Eddie shut him down completely, but Wayne’s curious. Sue him.

“Somethin’ happen with your girl last night?”

Eddie blushes and sits back in his seat, voice pained. “Wayne —”

“We don’t have to get all touchy-feely. It’s just a question,” he tells him sternly. “And believe it or not, kiddo, I have known a woman or two in my lifetime. I can give you advice if you need it, y’know. I’m not a eunuch.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Gross, man.”

Wayne laughs, a gruff chuckle that reverberates around the small kitchen. Eddie smiles in spite of himself.

“So what’s the problem?”

Eddie drums a nervous rhythm against the table with his fingers, naked without their bulky rings. “I don’t know, really. She was just kinda weird yesterday.” He pauses for a moment, searching for the right word. “Distant.”

Wayne listens intently, fist tucked under his chin. “Distant how?”

Eddie fills his cheeks with air, and lets it out in a long, slow exhale. “Well, she was fine in the morning, but last night she was really quiet. Especially when we were alone, which I don’t understand.” If you’d been nervous to spend time with his friends, then he’d get it, but you seemed fine at Benny’s. It was before and after, when you were by yourselves, which strikes him as odd.

He gestures helplessly with his hands, words flowing faster now, confusion leaking into every syllable. “She’s usually really excited when she sees me. All happy and stuff, y’know? And we always talk a lot, but she hardly said a word to me. And at first I thought she just had a tough day at work, but then —” Eddie stops abruptly, clamping his mouth shut. I didn’t get hardly any kisses, he finishes miserably in his head.

Rather than verbalize the thought for Wayne, he just throws his arms up, letting his flailing limbs speak for themselves.

Wayne gives him a solemn nod, determined to keep his expression neutral. If he reacts too strongly either way, then Eddie might not feel so inclined to discuss his love life with him again. Ever the sensible one, he asks, “Did she have a tough day at work?”

Eddie looks sheepish. “That’s what she said,” he admits reluctantly. 

“But you don’t believe her?”

Eddie’s bottom lip juts out petulantly. “It just didn’t feel like she wanted to be around me.” His face falls, and his voice becomes softer, the hurt more pronounced. “Like she couldn’t wait to get away.”

Wayne heaves a sigh, and thinks it over. “Personally, I think you’re readin’ too much into it,” he finally responds. “If she tells you she had a hard day, then she probably did.” He rubs his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “Although, you might be onto something there….”

Eddie’s face crinkles in despair, mouth falling open.

“Now, hang on,” Wayne adds hastily, seeing his kicked-puppy look. “I just mean to say, that you’ve been spendin’ an awful lot of time together, right? And you haven’t really known each other that long, but you’ve hardly gone a day this summer without seeing her. Maybe she’s runnin’ out of things to say to you,” he jokes.

Eddie clicks his tongue in distaste. “C’mon,” he complains.

“She might just need a little space, is all I’m sayin’.” The older man shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you, or that she doesn’t wanna be around you. Just give her some breathing room. And then, in a few days, if you still feel like things are off, talk to her about it.”

Eddie squints at him. “Can I just do that?”

Wayne shakes his head in disbelief. “Boy, I swear,” he mumbles.

After breakfast, Eddie mulls over what his uncle told him. Now, he’s the first to admit that he doesn’t really know how to be a boyfriend, but goddamn it, he’s trying.

Is that his problem? Is he trying too hard?

Okay, fine, he’s a bit of a smother. But it’s difficult for him not to be; he’s spent far too long navigating life in this thankless town alone. Now that he’s finally found you, he can scarcely bring himself to let go, even for a second.

“Breathing room,” he mutters to himself. Fine. No biggie. He can deal with that.

For the next few days, Eddie resists the temptation to call you first, or visit you unannounced at work, which is a task that would be much easier to accomplish if you were giving him literally anything in return.

But you haven’t called. Not for an evening chat, which was customary on days he didn’t stop by the library. Not to check up on him, not to find out where he’s been, or why he hasn’t visited…it’s like nothing is out of the ordinary. 

Evidently, you’re not missing him at all.

The phone has only rung twice so far this week. Once it was Henderson, and the other one was a telemarketer that he promptly hung up on. His ego took a huge hit every time he came home and asked, “Any calls for me?” and had to see Wayne shake his head no.

Disappointed, and overwhelmed by a creeping sense of dread, Eddie concludes that your radio silence could mean one of two things: either you just don’t feel the need to be around him as much as he does you, or he did something to upset you. 

He can’t figure out which is worse. The internal debate plagues him morning and night as the days keep rolling by.

Up until now, you haven’t seemed to mind his clinginess. If anything you were nearly always overjoyed to see him — so much so that it startled him, and he often found himself looking back over his shoulder, to see if there was someone else standing behind him that you were smiling at instead. Has the novelty of Eddie Munson worn off so quickly? It didn’t seem like you, so kind and attentive towards him, but who was he to expect you to want to be with him twenty-four/seven?

Unless it was something else entirely, something he had done that didn’t sit right with you, that was causing this. He tries to think of what he could possibly said or did that may have offended you, but he keeps coming up empty. 

And then, in the midst of his warring thoughts, inspiration strikes.

“Uhhh…hey, Wayne?” 

Wayne calls back from his spot on the couch, where he’s immersed in the latest episode of The Joy of Painting. “Yeah?”

Eddie shuffles into the living room, lips pursed. He tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible. “Would it be…ill-advised…to show up unannounced at her house with a grand romantic gesture?”

Wayne stares at him. “You know I said space, right?”

Eddie starts packing up a brown paper grocery bag with everything he thinks he’ll need, while Wayne hovers in the kitchen, watching him with his arms crossed. He’s simultaneously disapproving and amused.

“So you’re just gonna ignore my advice, huh?”

“Wayne,” Eddie sighs, “I appreciate your sage words of wisdom, I really do. But unfortunately, I am not a patient man. I need resolution now, or else I’ll die.” He pulls out another snack from a cupboard and stows it away in the bag, alongside the sandwiches he made and some other morsels scrounged up from the kitchen. He’ll get your favorite drink, too, when he stops for flowers at the gas station —

“You? Impatient? Naw.”

“Ha, ha,” Eddie replies sarcastically.

Wayne shakes his head. “I sure hope this works out for you.”

Eddie hesitates. “I mean….” Suddenly insecure, he looks over at Wayne, anguished expression on his face. “Is it a completely horrible idea?”

Wayne softens immediately, and silently curses himself for discouraging him. “No. No, I don’t mean that. I’m actually…well, I’m mighty proud to see you treatin’ a lady so well.” Eddie turns scarlet, grimacing at the praise, and Wayne continues. “I’m just worried you might overwhelm her, with…how well you’re treatin’ her.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his hair. “I just…don’t like the way things feel right now. And I don’t wanna make the mistake of ignoring it, hoping it’ll go away, and have things get worse.”

There’s a pang in Wayne’s heart. He really is a good kid, isn’t he? “Aw, hell, Ed. If this feels like it’s the right thing for you to do, then I say do it.”

When Eddie finally arrives at your house, the nerves have really kicked in. He understands that this is kind of a gamble, but subtlety has never been his forte. Slinging his acoustic guitar over his back, clutching the grocery bag in one fist and a small bouquet of dyed carnations in the other, he manages to rap lightly on the front door without dropping anything.

Eddie holds his breath as the seconds tick by, heart thumping in his chest.

Finally, the door swings open slowly, revealing your figure and Eddie immediately feels warm, in spite of the cool air that seeps out from the house. You look startled to see him, even more so when your eyes drop down to the flowers in his hand, mouth popping open in surprise.

“Hi,” he greets you nervously. “Uh, I hope it’s okay that I’m here, I-I know I didn’t call you or anything first. But, um, it’s a nice day out, so I thought we could have a picnic?” It comes out like a question. He jostles the grocery bag, and you can hear the contents shift around inside. “If you’re not busy or anything. And these, um, are for you.” He thrusts the flowers forward, palm sweating against their plastic wrapping.

You stand there in silence, not saying or taking anything, just gaping at him. Eddie’s stomach drops. And he’s totally unprepared for what happens next.

Your face crumples, and you burst into tears.

“Oh, Jesus.” Eddie sets everything down onto the ground and lurches forward, arms outstretched to touch you, but he hesitates before making contact, his hands fluttering around your figure uncertainly. “I — sweetheart — what?” he stutters, entirely out of his element. 

“Sorry!” you sob, clapping your hands over your mouth. “I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize,” he says automatically, completely bewildered. His hands finally come down to rest on your shoulders, and he leans closer to you, like maybe proximity will cure whatever this is. “Is something wrong?” He winces, and shakes his head. “Sorry, that’s stupid — what’s wrong?”

You sniffle in response, fat tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

Watching you tremble with emotion breaks his heart, and it’s stronger than his panic at being unexpectedly confronted by a crying woman. “Oh, baby,” he says tenderly, wrapping his arms around you fully and pulling you in close. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“Sorry,” you repeat in a watery voice, slightly muffled by you pressing your face into his shirt. “You’re just…you’re so sweet, Eddie. That’s all.”

“You don’t have to say sorry for crying,” he says, chuckling breathlessly. “Although I was kind of aiming for a smile with all this, not tears.” He pats your back gently, and moves his lips to your ear. “It’s been a while. I was missing you.”

You shudder. “I missed you, too.” You let out a choked laugh, and pull back a little, dabbing at your eyes. You audibly try and swallow the lump in your throat. “This isn’t how I usually greet company, I promise.”

In the small, sunny backyard, Eddie lays out a faded gingham tablecloth onto the grass. It’s tattered at the edges and bears quite a number of stubborn stains, maybe not great for their tiny kitchen anymore, but perfect for an outdoor blanket. While he sets up his little surprise date, doling out food and plates and napkins, he steals glances at you, visible through the kitchen window, where you’re arranging your new flowers in a vase. When you come back outside to join him, he doesn’t miss the way you swipe at your eye one last time, trying to rid yourself of the final remnants of your outburst.

He offers you a soft smile, and pats the spot on the ground next to him.

You sink onto the blanket with a sigh, looking tired but pleased to see him nonetheless. And there’s a trace of something else in your eyes, some unknown emotion that he can’t quite put his finger on. You reach gingerly for the sandwich he packed for you — your favorite, you note right away — but Eddie simply watches, wondering if he has to ask or if he should wait for you to explain.

“So, how’re things?” you ask innocently, and take a small bite.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, but he keeps his tone light. “Well, I’m a little concerned, naturally. We gonna talk about what just happened back there?” 

You chew slowly, stalling. He waits patiently.

“I wasn’t expecting all this,” you finally say, gesturing around at the spread before you. “It’s…it’s really, really nice of you,” your voice breaks again on the last word, but if you’re threatened by another wave of tears, you don’t succumb.

Eddie shrugs modestly, but remains curious. “It’s no big thing. Just wanted to surprise you,” he says, and hesitates before continuing. “I, uh, haven’t heard from you in a while, so I wasn’t sure if…maybe you were upset with me, or something, I dunno. Like, if I did something wrong.”

Abruptly, you fix your gaze on your lap, but not before Eddie sees them widen in alarm.

He peers closer at you. “Were you upset with me?”

Your blanche. “God, I’m such an asshole,” you mumble, throat tightening again.

Eddie’s thoroughly confused now, and he chuckles uncertainly. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m a little lost here. Why are you calling yourself an asshole?” The idea is absurd; it’s hard for him to even fathom.

You wring your hands nervously, unable to make yourself look at him. “Eddie, I — I’m sorry. That I haven’t been reaching out to you lately.” You struggle with what to say, feeling ashamed, but you force yourself to continue. “But…Marissa — from work, y’know? — she…she told me some stuff about you.”

Eddie’s insides turn to ice.

“Stupid, gossipy stuff,” the words come out in a rush now, like you’re desperate to get the truth out and over with, “most of which I didn’t even really believe, anyway, but I guess I couldn’t help feeling…anxious, after it happened? And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I just…didn’t. I’m so sorry.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, frustrated at your own actions. “And then you come here today with an entire picnic, and flowers, and your guitar, and I feel like the biggest jerk on the planet. I can’t believe myself.”

Eddie falls silent for a moment, his dark eyes big and sad. It’s not what he was expecting, though he supposes he should have been anticipating something like this happening eventually. Gossip about him had improved — or affected him less, at least — when he finished school, but there were still whispers about him amongst the townies, he knew.

“What did she tell you?” he asks dully. “That I’m the spawn of Satan?”

A knot twists in your stomach. “Something like that. Of course I know that’s bullshit.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Oh, yeah? What did she tell you that was so impressive, then?” When you flinch at his words, he cringes inwardly at his own snarkiness, and reminds himself who he’s talking to.

You scratch at a dark spot on the blanket, fidgeting under his stare. “She — she said that you were involved with someone named Chrissy, and the way she mentioned it really freaked me out.”

Upon hearing her name, Eddie’s eyes bulge with panic. Oh shit, oh shit. Low blow from Marissa. Because unlike the far-fetched devil worship accusations, there’s some substance to that rumor, no matter how convoluted the truth became. He starts to mentally scramble for a way to explain, but you continue on before he can speak.

“I guess I just couldn’t stand the thought of you having another girlfriend,” you admit guiltily. “I didn’t wanna find out, because I didn’t think I could take it, if I knew you were seeing someone else.”

That catches him off guard. “Oh, you —” Eddie fumbles with his words, “you thought that I was…dating her?”

You frown. “Well, yeah. When someone tells you ‘ask him about so-and-so’ in that kind of tone, that’s generally what comes to mind.”

Eddie blinks, then groans, and flings himself back on the blanket. He drapes one arm over his eyes, hiding the world from view. He heaves a great sigh. “Nothing like that ever happened between Chrissy and I,” he says quietly. “Never dated, never hooked up. Never even so much as kissed.”

“Oh.” You process this, wondering at her significance. “Who is she, then?”

“Just a girl in town,” he mutters. “We went to high school together.” He sighs resignedly again, and pulls his arm up, just enough so he can peek at you. “Listen, Wayne and I, we don’t have a whole lot to our names. In case that wasn’t obvious.” He snorts humorlessly. “I…used to deal, for a bit of extra cash. Help out with the rent and stuff. Did Marissa tell you that, too?”

“She did,” you affirm. “But Eddie, I don’t care about that either, I swear.”

He moves on without acknowledging your remark. “Chrissy was a cheerleader. Queen of Hawkins High, basically. And she was looking to buy one day, so we met up after school. I was just gonna sell her some pot, but she asked me if I had anything, ah, stronger.” He wets his lips with his tongue. “I didn’t usually sell harder shit to other students, but I had some Special K laying around, for my own…personal use.” He doesn’t dare look up again to see your reaction to this tidbit. “And I sold it to her…and then she disappeared.”

You stare at him. “She…disappeared?”

Eddie sits back up and nods, face hardening. “For a few days, anyway. Ran away. Her family’s got a good name, and a lot of money, but that doesn’t always make for a good home life, y’know? I don’t know what was going on with her, exactly, but she wasn’t okay. And when she skipped town, everyone pointed their fingers at me.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate; the implication is clear. Still, you ask, “What, they thought that you…did something to her?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, staring off into the distance. “All but brought out the pitchforks and torches.”

Indignance on his behalf hits you like a truck. “Teenagers run away all the time!”

Eddie rubs his face in distress. “Yeah, they do, but when Hawkins’ golden girl is last seen entering the town freak’s trailer to buy ketamine, people tend to jump to conclusions.”

A wave of sadness washes over you, as you try to picture it in your head: they truly believed that sweet, doting Eddie was capable of hurting a young girl like that? 

Eddie, who played fantasy games with kids six years his junior simply because they asked him to, and fed the strays in the trailer park, and spent many a Sunday making banana bread with his uncle? Who he chose to live with instead of moving out, because he loved him and wanted to be close in case he needed him? Was it even possible, for people to be so blind?

The very thought of it makes you sick. “That’s horrible….”

“S’okay,” he mumbles. “She came back home eventually. A little worse for wear, I heard, but she was fine. Told everyone that I had nothing to do with her leaving, or whatever happened while she was gone. But,” he shrugs, “people will believe what they wanna believe. The Munson reputation precedes me.”

You reach for his warm hand, and clasp it in yours, savoring the feel of his calloused palm against your own.

He casts you a desperate glance. “I swear I never did anything to her,” he whispers. 

Your chest aches for him, and you squeeze his hand. “Of course you didn’t.”

His breathing hitches. “I guess it’s obvious,” he says, voice trembling slightly, “that there’s a lot of stuff I haven’t, um, told you about yet. And to be honest, I don’t think I’m ready to tell you all of it right now, either. But I will, someday.”

There it is. The notion that Eddie wants to be in your life long-term, and that he wants you to be in his, finally spoken.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to,” you reassure him quietly. “It won’t change how I feel about you, anyway. I think you’re really wonderful. I-I like you so much, Eddie.”

A silence falls over the two of you. Eddie watches the bumblebees fly lazily over the white clover dotting the lawn. You try to think of something else to say, something you can tell him that’ll make the pain go away, erase the hurt that this town has caused him. You suspect that this incident with Chrissy is just the tip of the iceberg that is Eddie’s trauma — for how long was he treated like this by those around him, and how harshly?

Before you can come up with the right words to soothe him, Eddie speaks again, his voice a little stronger. “So you, uh…heard that I was a drug-dealing cult leader, but got upset because you thought I was seeing someone else?”

At last, some brevity. You make eye contact across the blanket, and you’re relieved to see the corners of his lips have turned up into a tiny smile.

Heat blooms in your cheeks as you nod. “I did, yeah.”

He attempts husky laugh, though he still looks weary. “Damn. You got it bad, huh?”

You shrug. “What can I say? You’re a catch, Munson. I don’t think I feel like sharing.”

He hums softly, and he relaxes a little, body sagging as he finally releases some of the tension he’s been holding onto all this time. “Sorry for snapping at you,” he offers needlessly, biting at his thumbnail.

You dismiss it immediately. “Don’t apologize —”

“Nah, I get it. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you if the cult rumors or the dealing really did bother you, even. I mean, that’s some pretty jarring intel to hear from your boss about the guy you’re dating. They’re not really things people tend to look for in a partner.”

You shake your head. “I should’ve talked to you about it as soon as it happened. But it just felt so…crass to come right out and start interrogating you.” You scoot closer to him on the blanket. “You have to believe me, Eddie, I don’t care about what anyone else has to say. I feel like I know you,” you pause, and reach out with your free hand to cup his cheek, “even if I’m a little fuzzy on the details right now.”

He sucks in a quick breath, closing his eyes, and rests his face against your palm. “I have to warn you,” he says, “that if we’re together, and people know about it, then this might not be the last time someone tries to talk to you about me. And I’m asking you to — to trust that I’m not what they say I am.”

“I do,” you promise. “I trust you.”

You lean in and press a soft, quick kiss to his lips. He rests his forehead against yours, and chuckles weakly. Although the reassurance was needed, he’s feeling all too vulnerable for his liking, so he changes the subject. “You know, while we’re hashing things out here, can I ask you an unrelated question?”

You smile indulgently. “Shoot.”

“So, I guess we know now that this wasn’t really why, but Wayne told me that the reason you weren’t talking to me is because I’m up your ass all the time, and that I need to give you more space. That’s why I didn’t come sooner. I know I kind of smother you, and I was worried that maybe, maybe you needed a break from me, or something?”

Rubbing your thumb against his cheekbone, you whisper, “Oh, gosh no. You’re like…my favorite person, Eddie.” You nod shyly, as though affirming it to yourself for the first time. “Yeah. You’re the person I want to be around the most, um, at any given moment.”

Eddie blushes, and something inside of him shifts at those words, making him feel impossibly soft. “Me too,” he returns.

Your turn. “And I have a question for you, too.”

“Shoot,” he echoes.

“Were you gonna play me something on that?” You gesture to his guitar, forgotten on the grass behind him. 

Eddie lets out another laugh, the most carefree one he’s uttered today. “I was. Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine you playing acoustic music. I’m intrigued.”

Eddie grasps the neck of the guitar with one hand, and drags the instrument into his lap, situating himself into a playing position. “You’d be shocked, sweetheart. I can make just about anything sound metal.”

Your eyes sparkle wickedly. “Are you gonna play me some Joni Mitchell?”

Eddie purses his lips. “No, I was thinking KISS. It, uh, translates pretty well, actually.”

You cross your legs on the blanket, rest your elbow on your knee and tuck your hand under your chin — giving him your full attention.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let’s hear it!”

thank you for reading!! <3

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever @eds6ngel @sheisahauntedhouse @lokis-tardis-companion19 @teary-eyed-egg @whenshelanded @nanaminswhore @witchwolflea @destinationwanderlust @kores-mun-son-n-more @clairesjointshurt @fishwithtitz @wickedscorpio22 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @lexr86 @cultish-corner

[mxdotpng]

i hate my fucking fatherrr im going INSANE here

[peachypinkygloss]

call me soon — jjk

Jungkook finds himself obsessing over you a bit too much than he'd like to admit, but you two get a chance to see more of each other during a hot summer night where you both are lonely, desperate and horny.

☾ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

☾ genre: strangers to fwb to lovers, summer break au, university au, smut

☾ word count: 5.9k

☾ warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of driving under the influence of alcohol (jk had one beer okay 🙄 no car crash lol), hello tae and oh — jimin?, hurt and comfort 🧐, mentions of masturbation (m), dry humping, clit stimulation, tits play, praising, unprotected sex & oral sex, blowjob, cum eating, cum play, multiple orgasms, brief overstimulation.

a.n.: i tried something and i think i like it 😼 put y'all seatbelts on because this is the best smut i've ever written 🫡 *no taglist!!

Jungkook knits his eyebrows together, deeply lost in his thoughts. At this point, the music blasting through the house doesn't make his body shake anymore, it doesn't make his heart beat faster nor does it make adrenaline rush through his veins.

He feels the vibrations under his feet, though. It's intense, but not enough to distract him. The pad of his index finger mindlessly circles the neck of the beer bottle he's holding, his other hand shoved in the pocket of his baggy jeans.

His friend's elbow sometimes nudges him in the ribs because of how animated he is when talking, but he doesn't make Jungkook turn his head nonetheless. He hears him laugh and curse while he looks away, gaze lost in the crowd of people, eyes shifting between all the faces without a thought about them.

He's too busy thinking about yesterday, that cursed night where he just wanted to fill up his gas tank and unluckily fell upon you at the gas station.

He thinks he never looked at his phone so many times in a day before, never thought a stupid call would turn him crazy, obsessively scrolling through his contact list to find your name.

Every time the day ended, he worried that maybe you had deleted his number, but your name has always been there. A part of him hoped you would have deleted him from your phone. It would have explained why you never called and then perhaps he would have felt less crazy.

But no. You just didn't bother pressing on his name and sticking your cellphone to your ear, waiting for him to pick up as you listened to his ringtone.

And that's quite a bit worse than being erased from your contact list because that means you just didn't think about him. Not once were your thoughts about Jungkook.

He could be wrong, but he prefers to torture himself.

Anyway, it's not like you were much bothered by the fact that you totally ghosted him back at the convenience store. 'I forgot', how horrible that sounds?

But then, all he wanted to do at this moment was to forgive you, tell you that it doesn't matter, that he doesn't really care, that it's no biggie. He can't blame you and that's so fucking stupid because all he did was eat you out.

Yet he finds himself thinking about you more than he'd like to. He even jerked himself off to you, playing back in his head the moment you were whimpering his name and pulling on his hair, clenching your thighs around him. He's not super proud of that — kind of cringes him a little bit when he thinks about it — but he got really hard imagining your pussy leaking down his knuckles.

You were a good hook-up and yes, he thought it could happen again. He hoped you two would do it a second time, maybe a third — how many you'd like to.

He likes sex and his obsession for you started because of that, but he would lie if he said hanging out with you like friends doesn't sound good to him. It sounds so fucking... nice.

In the end, he knows you two as friends wouldn't work. He works for your dad to pay his scholarship that is incredibly expensive even for a public university.

You, you don't need that. You don't need to work, don't have to lift a finger. You're treated like a princess — have the life of a princess — and you might even think of yourself as a princess too. Fuck him for liking it. Fuck him for fantasizing about possibly being your knight.

"This party fucking sucks."

Jungkook's eyes finally focus on something else than the void, laying on his best friend Taehyung. He doesn't know where he comes from, he only remembers him leaving the kitchen area when everyone was in the depth of a conversation.

"Why's that?" He asks instead of agreeing, knowing he can't really complain when he hasn't been in the mood to party at all.

Taehyung leans his back against the counter beside Jungkook, taking a sip of his soon empty beer bottle. "It just fucking sucks," he shrugs, a scowl on his face as if it's a justifiable reason. It might be because Taehyung's not so difficult to entertain.

It might be because of something else, Jungkook believes, though he doesn't have the heart to ask. He'll do it another time when he won't smell like rejection and when his head won't be filled with a woman's giggles who's out of his league.

So he only hums in agreement, silence installing between him and Taehyung.

A couple of minutes pass, Taehyung has opened another bottle and Jungkook is still quiet. Usually, he doesn't mind slipping in conversations, sharing his own perspective of things. He rarely says no to games, bringing his competitive ass over and crushing everyone's chances of winning.

Today isn't usual, that's why it fucking sucks.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Jungkook says to Taehyung and this one nods.

"I'll probably head home soon anyway."

"Be sure to take an Uber."

"Of course, you know me," he chuckles, waving Jungkook goodbye.

His friend does the same, a slight smile painted on his face as he walks to the front door, opening it and stepping out of the house.

His eyes get used to the darkness as he closes the door behind him. He notices someone sitting on the stairs, typing quickly on the keyboard of their cellphone. He approaches the figure, hearing them sniffing as if they've been crying.

They suddenly drop their phone, muttering a 'fuck' as the device lays on the ground. Jungkook decides to go reach for it so he walks down the stairs and bends to catch it, turning around to hand it to the owner.

"Here." He looks at the person's face and his heart jumps in his chest when he recognizes you. He doesn't know where to look for a second, his eyes shifting down to the screen of your phone.

He catches a glimpse of a conversation with a certain 'Jimin' and immediately looks away, feeling guilty for not minding his business.

You thank him in a tired voice, taking back your iPhone. He stands there uselessly as you seemingly give up on your previous message, turning off your phone's screen with a defeated sigh.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, taking a seat beside you on the stairs.

As you wipe your tears away with the tips of your fingers, he wonders who could have hurt a princess like you. Princesses shouldn't cry. They should be covered in diamonds, not have pearls falling down from their eyes.

He wouldn't have let something like this happen as your knight. He knows for a fact that he would have protected you, and he thinks that whomever is pretending to be your knight right now is doing a really bad job.

"Yeah, I just... shouldn't be here," you respond with a shaky voice, eyes strained down on your feet.

"Where else should you be?"

You turn your head toward him, looking at him like a poor hurt puppy. He doesn't want to compare you to something so defenceless as a puppy, but that's what your eyes tell him. It's not like you're weak, it's more like you've given up on being strong.

"I don't know," you scoff, shaking your head. "Somewhere I belong."

Jungkook thinks he understands what you mean by that. He thinks, but he doesn't know if he really does. It's complicated to relate to someone who's so different from you.

But he wants to try. Relating to someone is not mandatory to be friends, anyway. Nor is it to be in love.

He hums, leaning his forearms on his knees and looking in front of him, watching the night butterflies flying under the dim lights of the street lamps. "Wanna get home?" He proposes, thinking that's maybe where you want to be right now. "I can give you a ride."

Your reddened eyes look up at him and he looks back at you. "No, not home..." You mutter, shaking your head from side to side. "Tomorrow will come too fast," you sigh and break eye-contact, tapping on the screen of your phone to check what hour it is. One a.m..

Is it a coincidence that every time you two are alone the clock indicates one? Should he believe in coincidences or only in the ones that concern you?

"We're already tomorrow," you groan.

Jungkook smiles — he can't help it. "You can't stop the time, baby" he laughs lightly, still staring at you, at your side profile. A blessing to the eyes, a downfall to his heart. "It won't wait for your call to finally start."

You scoff again, this time because you know what he's referring to. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just bad at relationships... or whatever this is," you apologize, certainly coming out a bit blunter than intended. Blame it on the alcohol in your system.

"It's already forgotten." It isn't, but it may be forgiven. He'll surely have this one on his heart for quite a while, though it won't make him stay away from you. It possibly can't.

You send him a sad smile, having pity for him — or maybe for you — he doesn't know.

"Wanna come to mine, then?" He offers, sporting an innocent smile on his face even though he has no intentions of sharing a cup of tea with you there. Unless that's what you want.

"Where do you live?" You ask, a bit tempted by the proposition. And anyway, you need a place to sleep.

"Downtown," Jungkook replies. "We'll be there in five minutes if we go now," he smirks, trying his hardest to convince you.

It never takes too much to convince you.

"'Kay, let's go," you smile back, biting down on your lip.

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

When you entered his apartment, you didn't really pay attention to the decoration, you were rather more bothered by his lips on yours. The moment you stepped foot into his place, his lips were already searching for yours and you didn't refuse him.

So now he's hurriedly leading you to his bedroom, messily kissing you and roaming his hands over the curves of your body. His fingers sometimes get caught under the hem of your dress, making the flimsy material roll up over your plushy thighs.

There's no time to think, no time to ask questions. There's only a need to discover and devour your skin, only a huge desire to finally touch what he hopes will be his one day.

"Oh, be careful," he mumbles against your lips, stopping you from entering his room, his arms wrapped around your waist. "There's a step."

He swiftly lifts you up, his hands placed on the back of your thighs. He can't help but knead them, sinking his fingers into the meaty flesh.

He walks in, making you avoid all the annoying steps to his bed, the covers carelessly thrown everywhere from this morning when he got up. You continue to kiss him, your nails gracing the side of his face as you cradle him in your hands.

Soon enough he lets your back hit the soft surface of his mattress, a soft gasp escaping your lips while he crawls to you, his lips never far away from your hungry ones. He nudges your nose, attempting to connect your mouths together. He does it again and you let him have you, exchanging your saliva like it’s a sweet nectar, him a bee and you a sunflower.

Your hands on his cheeks lower to his neck where you pull on his nair, nails scratching his skin. He groans into the kiss, palming your ass very roughly, fingers sneaking under the hem of your dress.

He has the slight impression that not only your tongues are tangled, but also your souls. Bodies colliding, clashing against each other at the pace of your heartbeat. 

His knees dip into the bed on each side of your body, his arms supporting his weight beside your head. He bucks his hips against yours as you quietly moan into his mouth, feeling his growing bulge pressing down on you.

Blood rushes to his cock so fast, it's like his own brain is begging for him to just fuck you. No protection, fucking raw. Make it messy, make it unforgettable, make it so every time you're with a guy other than Jungkook you regret him.

But he takes his time. That's how he learned it; time is what a woman needs, not a prick who wants his dick wet and to get it from behind. As if doggy is a position that can make her cum.

"Fuck, I'm so..." Jungkook breathes out, his forehead laying against yours. His eyelids flutter shut as he swallows to ease his dried throat, opening his eyes again when he begins to speak. "I'm so fucking hard."

"I know," you whisper, glancing down where he grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy. "I feel it."

He groans at that and moves his hips against yours with more insistence, the material of his jeans rubbing against the soft cotton of your panties. You moan at how good it feels to have his hard cock pressing down on your clit, your hands coming down to push on his butt.

"Shit, baby," he hisses, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. He frowns cutely and looks down too, deciding to raise one of your legs up, making more room for himself. "Do you like that?" He asks, continuing to hump you as if you were both deprived horny teenagers — and he won't lie, he may still act like one sometimes.

He notices a wet patch on your panties just over your core, the area has darkened where your pussy gushes arousal out. "Oh, god- yes, Kook," you moan out, the new position creating more friction.

He almost whines at the nickname, his dick literally twitching happily in his boxers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the pace of his heart accelerating, his breath becoming irregular.

He holds your thigh up and he loves how plushy it is, how your skin looks so tender. He'd bite into it, just chew onto it to have a little taste of you.

"You smell so sweet," he states, his hot breath hitting your skin, making goosebumps run all over your skin. He kisses your neck, soft and warm, leaving a wet trail behind.

He rolls his hips against you, his erection now aching, wanting to be inside of you, but he can't seem to think about anything else than your quiet moans gracing his ears and your odour invading his nostrils.

"Jungkook," you whine, scrunching his t-shirt between your fingers, pulling on it desperately as he keeps smooching the skin of your neck.

He understands your silent request and he swiftly gets rid of his t-shirt, throwing it somewhere on his bedroom's floor. Your hands immediately travel his abs and you feel his muscles flexing under your palms.

You then pass your arms around his shoulders, bringing his lips to yours. He moans into the kiss as he keeps rubbing his hard cock against your pussy, but your little pleas make it difficult for him to focus.

He sneaks a hand between your two bodies and you grip on his hair when he reaches your puffy clit, pulsating so hard for him. "Do you want me to touch you there?" He asks in a raspy voice, his big fingers teasing your sensitive bud, his touch familiar at this point. "Hm, princess? Want me to make you feel good?"

He always finds a way to tease you even when his jeans are really tight, his cock so swollen from your dry humping session from seconds ago.

"Yes, please," you breathe out shakily, a moan escaping your mouth when he starts to draw slow, sensual circles on your clit. "Fuck, Kook." You have your mouth agape, letting out sweet moans as his digit presses down on your bud, making the knot in your stomach tighten.

He lowers his fingers to your core, feeling how soaked your panties are. "All wet for me, baby?" He purrs and you nod your head, breathless. "Good girl," he praises, a little smirk crowning his pink lips.

You pull on the hair at the nape of his neck, closing your eyes as you enjoy the pleasure he's giving you. "Faster, please, Jungkook," you beg, his finger stroking your clit sending so many tingles through your body.

So he fastens the pace of his digit, rubbing quick circles on your bud of nerves and he absolutely loves the sight of you bucking your hips against his hand, growing impatient. Your nails sink into his skin, leaving little crescent forms all over his neck. He grits his teeth at the pain, but he'll suffer through it as long as it means you're feeling pleasure.

"Yes, yes," you moan, so close to your high, your mind getting fuzzy. He doesn't stop stimulating your clit, the pad of his finger skillfully circling it over your damp underwear. "I'm gonna cum," you hurriedly say, the muscles of your thighs tensing as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Your orgasm shoots through you and you grab Jungkook's wrist, but he keeps moving his finger to drive you off your high. You tense down, hearing your heart beating in your rib cage, chest heaving rapidly.

You flutter your eyes open and they meet Jungkook's gaze. You look into each other's eyes as you slowly calm down. His hand shifts to hold your waist and you bring him in for another kiss.

You don't wait longer before sliding your panties down your legs, raising your hips up from the mattress and letting the material fall on the ground. He breaks your kiss to see your pussy totally nude, glistening in your juices. He swears it's the sexiest he's ever seen before, so cute and always so fucking wet.

He has the urge to lower down and have a taste. He could never forget your flavour, but he'd pretend to so you let him eat you out for a second time.

Exactly when he's about to devour you, you push on his chest and switch positions with him. He lets you take the top, watching you remove your dress and reveal the most intimate parts of your body to him, naked.

"You're beautiful," he compliments, the most honest he's ever been. His eyes roam over your body, scanning your breasts and your perky nipples pointing at him.

You're a pretty woman, but he wonders if his heart beating faster is really the result of your beauty or perhaps the feelings he might have for you.

"So are you," you smile, giggling when Jungkook's still staring at you with hearts in his eyes.

He's brought back to reality when you place yourself on your stomach between his legs. "What... What are you doing?" He swallows, his big brown eyes settled on you.

"Returning the favour," you respond, passing your finger on his stomach just over the band of his Calvin Klein's that peeks out of his pants. "Would you like that, Kook?"

"Yeah," he mutters under his breath, watching closely the movements of your hands, slowly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You undress him from his pair of jeans and socks, coming back up to his crotch after.

He parts his legs wider for you and you lay a hand over his bulge, feeling how hard he is just for you. "You're so big, Jungkook..." You say in astonishment, visibly really pleased with his girth.

You palm him over his boxers, closing your hand around him, imagining how it'd be without his underwear on.

"Hm-mh." Jungkook passes his fingers through your hair, making you look up at him. "Think you can handle it, baby?"

You squeeze your grip on him, which results in him hissing. He's really sensitive, especially when he's been sporting a boner for quite a while now.

Though nothing will compare to the time you left him just after he made you cum on his tongue. He sucked it up, but fuck, nobody told him before how complicated it was to drive with an erection. It's really distracting. Luckily, his work was done, so he could go straight home, but still.

He had to jack off in the shower, thinking about you and how your pussy would close around him so tightly.

"I'll try," you smile.

You pull down his boxers, leaving them just below his ass, and his cock springs up, the head slapping down on his stomach. He lets out a sigh of relief, finally free from his briefs.

You wrap your fingers around him, looking so small compared to his penis, and bring him up to your lips. His tip is glistening in his pre-cum and it twitches in your hand, just so happy to see you.

Jungkook hasn't shaved, he didn't expect any of this to happen after all. He hopes you don't mind, but you don't seem to, quite the contrary even.

You start to gently and slowly pump him, passing the pad of your thumb over the little slit, spreading his arousal over his length. You leave a kiss on the head and he wonders if you're not getting revenge for all the times he teased you.

You tilt your head to the side and kiss his length all the way up to finally open your mouth and insert the tip in. Jungkook curses under his breath, taking a handful of your hair in his fist, making your scalp itch.

You keep eye-contact with him as you lower down, gradually taking all of him in the warmth of your mouth. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good around me," he moans, looking at you with lustful eyes. He can't take his eyes off of you, he's literally hypnotized by the way your lips slide so smoothly over his hard cock.

You hum, the sound a bit muffled by his dick in your mouth. Tears start to form in your eyes, throat burning as you get used to his size and the stretch of your mouth.

When you've reached his base, nose touching his pelvis, you gag around him, but manage to make the feeling go away. Jungkook believes he's in heaven right now, having his cock nestled deep in your mouth, some strands of hair falling down in front of your eyes.

You blink several times, trying to see clearer, but the water makes your vision fuzzy. "It's okay, princess," he sighs pleasantly, seeing that you struggle, your throat starting to burn badly. You gag another time and he has to concentrate if he doesn't want to cum right now. "Shit... Don't- don't force yourself," he hisses, pulling your head up.

His cock falls back down on his tummy, hearing a wet slap since he's entirely covered in your saliva. You catch your breath and wipe your lips with the back of your hand, immediately taking him back in your hand.

You stroke him, running your palm up and down his girthy length. You swallow to ease your throat and glance up at him with teary eyes. He pouts, cupping your cheeks and swiping his thumbs under your eyes to get the little pearls away.

"You don't have to take everything... I'm already happy to have you with me," he admits and he hopes his words don't scare you away. You don't know each other for that long, but sometimes he just has to be honest about his feelings.

You smile, nodding your head in response. He moans when you take him back into your mouth, flattening your tongue underneath him. He knits his eyebrows together as you bob your head over him, a hand wrapped around his base.

His short nails dig into your scalp, making you wince, but it doesn't make you stop. Jungkook lets out heavy breaths and moans, his hand gripping your hair and guiding you over his wet cock.

His other hand, his tattooed one, scrunches the bedsheets in his fist, the pleasure too good it becomes overwhelming. His eyes are strained down on you and every time your gazes meet, his heart skips a beat.

It feels too good to be true, yet here you are, pleasuring him like nobody else's ever did. You both like to give and he hopes it won't make sex difficult between you two. Well, if it ever happens again, which he really wishes it will.

"Yeah, just like that," he approves when you hollow your cheeks, continuing to bounce your head over his stiff erection. "Such a good girl," he adds on and loosens his grip on your hair, delicately patting you instead.

You almost purr under all the sweet praises he tells you, loving how he makes you feel confident and proud of yourself. Your free hand is laying on his thighs, sensing his muscles tensing and calming down each time he controls himself to last longer.

But even though he tries his best to not shoot his cum into you right now, your mouth does wonders and his orgasm is approaching really fast.

"I'm not gonna last long, baby," he warns you in a breathy voice. "Shit," he curses, sucking air through his teeth and feeling his balls tightening. Your tongue is so warm and wet, he can't resist you any longer.

You pull out and stroke his length, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. It breaks as you lick them, fucking Jungkook with your fist. He groans, gritting his teeth, and his grip on the covers tightens, signs that his high is really close now.

He curls his toes, the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach growing. "Holy fuck," he spits out profanities and his cock twitches, hot cum spilling out from his red, swollen tip.

You moan with him, turned on by the sight of him releasing himself on your hand. He throws his head back and closes his eyes, all of his muscles flexing as you milk him dry.

"Oh, god, Kook," you coo, lazily stroking his cock and caressing his thigh to make him relax. "There's so much," you comment, literally amazed.

Jungkook opens his eyes and looks down at his crotch, seeing your hand still wrapped around him completely covered in his cum. He bites down on his lip at the view, even more aroused when you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick the remains.

"Shit, you fucking minx," he says, but there's no intention to insult you, he's just so down bad for you.

It makes you giggle, encouraging you to do something even nastier. You sit on your knees and spread his cum on your tits, circling your nipples with your fingers.

Jungkook smiles, his affection for you growing, and takes a hold of your jaw, pulling you in for a long, sloppy kiss. You moan into his mouth, his cock brushing against your pussy, still hard and ready to wreck you.

"You have no idea what I want to do to you," he groans, looking into your eyes like they are the whole galaxy, endless so he can lose himself in them.

"Do what you need to do to me," you allow, offering yourself to him and more if he desires to.

When those words leave your mouth, he picks you up and gets up from his bed, your legs locked behind his back. You gasp when he pins you against the nearest wall, placing your arms around his large shoulders, holding onto him tightly.

"You sure? Because we're only done when I say so," he breathes onto your face, his forehead against yours, bangs slightly damp from his sweat.

"One-hundred percent sure," you grin, but lose your smile as soon as he pushes his cock into your pussy, ripping a loud moan out of you.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back to give him some of the pain he's inflicting to you by penetrating you with his big cock. He holds you up against him, his hands on your ass, touching you so sensually and lovingly, appreciating every part of your body.

He sinks his dick into your pussy, sliding in so easily without any restraint, cunt absolutely soaking wet. "God, pussy's so fucking tight," he rasps out, finally bottoming out into you. His balls touch your ass, his pelvis flushed against yours, meaning he's completely in.

You whine, feeling absolutely full, pussy clenching helplessly around him. Jungkook doesn't wait — he can't anymore — and starts pounding into you, his balls slapping against your skin. The room smells like sex, it's strong and quite obvious, but he easily ignores it, he practically can't even smell it.

He slides his cock in and out of your pussy, making you moan sweetly, a beautiful melody to his ears. He doesn't hold himself back and fucks you hard against the wall, but you're nowhere near against it, you're loving it.

Your boobs jiggle on your chest because of Jungkook's harsh thrusts, both of your skins glistening under the light of his bedroom, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"I'm so full, Kook," you moan softly and he can't look away from you, finding you so pretty and sexy.

"Yeah? Full of my big cock, baby?" He asks, darting out his tongue to wet his dried lips, passing over his piercings.

"Yes," you cry, breaking eye-contact as you close your eyes, head rolling back and hitting the wall behind you.

His hips are powerful, never missing a beat and brushing over your sweet spot repeatedly. Your pussy has adjusted to the size of his girth, some of your wetness dripping down to your butt and coating his balls that slap against you.

He pushes some of his cum into you as well, the rest you haven't licked off your fingers or spread on your tits. He still can't believe you did that, but god, did he find it hot. He never thought you playing with his cum would turn him on so much. He sure will think about this moment when he's going to be alone with himself.

His eyes shift down to your bouncing breasts and he has to put one in his mouth, even if it means tasting a bit of himself too.

He catches one nipple with lips, wrapping them around your hardened bud. You moan his name and pull on the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing his head down toward your chest.

It sends more tingles to your belly, your walls closing around him tightly. He lets out a grunt, knowing his orgasm will come close if you continue clenching around him as if you want to suck him up.

"Jungkook!" You exclaim when he turns you both around, walking back to his bed. He lays your back down on the mattress, still in you, and continues his assault, snapping his hips against yours.

He pushes up your thighs over your stomach, getting a better view and access to your pussy. "Take my cock, baby. Be a good girl for me," he says, completely obsessed with you and your cunt. If you weren't made for you, he doesn't know how he'll trust life again.

Putting you on his way just to get rid of you... No, if you're not his, you're nobody else's and if he's not yours, then he doesn't know what life is fucking worth.

"Yes, yes, Jungkook," you confirm in a moan, or maybe your brain is too mushy to find something else to answer.

You place two fingers on each side of your hole where Jungkook keeps pounding in, watching his cock entering and exiting your sloppy cunt. You pull on your pussy lips, feeling the knot at the pitch of your stomach tightening again, a more intense orgasm waiting for you.

You bring a finger to your clit and begin to draw fast circles on it, impatient to feel the burning and euphoric sensation of your upcoming orgasm. Jungkook moans at the sight, making him more desperate to reach his high as well.

"Shit, close, princess?" He questions and you nod repeatedly, humming in agreement. "Me too..." He states, breathless and chest heaving rapidly.

He's tired, but somehow he still has the energy to fuck you. Honestly, fucking you might be the only thing he'll never get tired of, that's for sure. It's so addicting, so good, he simply can't get enough.

"Please, please, Kook. Faster," you beg, even though he's already going at a quick pace that will probably leave the skin of your thighs sore and bruised.

You stroke your clit from side to side and he pounds you so hard it makes you dizzy and kind of drunk off the hormones you're both releasing.

He hits your magic spot multiple times, eliciting loud moans of pleasure out of you, your eyes rolling back. "Yes, like that," you cry, the last thing you say before your thighs start shaking.

Your back lifts up from the mattress when your orgasm hits you, passing through you like a tsunami, leaving you out of breath. Your pussy clenches around Jungkook and he's so close, too.

He drives his cock into you, making you whine in overstimulation, and he feels the familiar burning sensation in his stomach. "Oh, fuck, baby," he moans and slips out of you rapidly, jerking himself off just over your quivering pussy. "Gonna cum."

With a last thrust of his hand, he cums on your cunt, making a dirty mess on you. You moan when ropes of white cum land on your pussy, dribbling down to your hole and ass.

Finally, little beads spurt out of his cock, falling on your sex. You collect some on your fingers, pushing them in you and Jungkook watches with lazy eyes, slowly pumping his cock to drive off his high.

He picks you up and places you both side by side on the bed, recovering from the heated session of sex you just experienced. He lies on his back while you're cuddled up to his side, one hand on his chest.

He turns his head in your direction and you're already smiling at him, drawing little forms on his stomach, following the lines of his abs. "Was good," you whisper.

"Yeah," Jungkook agrees, frowning slightly, wondering if maybe, potentially you share the same feelings as him.

The next morning, you dress yourself back up, having taken a fresh shower while Jungkook was still sleeping. He watches you putting back on your dress, his arms crossed behind his head.

When you're done, you spin around and face him. "What about..." You begin, a playful smile gracing your lips. "You call me soon?"

He looks at you, taking a moment to answer, just admiring the happiness you radiate. He compares your mood of when he's found you sitting on the stairs at the party to the one of this morning and he tells himself that you're feeling better because of him.

If you can both make each other happy, he doesn't see why you two can't work — as friends or more, it doesn't matter as long as he's the reason why you have a smile on your face.

"Sure."

·˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ♡

.

.

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part 1: call me later ☼ part 2: call me soon ☾ part 3: call me tomorrow ☼

[hyuckswoman]

mark and you arguing pt2

pt1

genre: angst then fluff

summary: after rain comes sunshine, he finally listens.

pairing: mark x y/n

“good morning” you say to your boyfriend as you pass through the kitchen reaching into a cabinet to take out a glass 

last night had been tense, because of the argument you had a really hard time sleeping, waking up every five seconds. it didn’t help that your boyfriend was the exact same, the only difference between you two being the guilty look on his face

you wanted nothing more than to tell him to forget about it and just cuddle him to sleep because being mad at him or more like emotionally tired wasn’t easy. yes, he fucked up but he’s still the greenest of green flags ever and you just love him too much so being apart with all those angsty feelings was taking a toll on you

but you decided to stand your ground nonetheless, it couldn’t be like every other time where he swooned you with his words and you ended up forgiving him. he had to learn. and even on your end, it’d be fucked up to put yourself through this. so when you woke up this morning with no one next to you, you decided to not care. turns out he was just in the kitchen though

“good morning lovely, i tried to make breakfast, i couldn’t so i went and bought some, your favorite of course, i’m just reheating it right now, juice is in the fridge by the way” your boyfriend greeted you, his back facing you (which you 100% guarantee is because he’s shitting his pants and hopes the tension eased) 

it did not though

“not only did you call me bitchy yesterday, you also said some dumb ass thing about if you were with her.. mark you’re not dumb you damn well that it’s going to take more than breakfast to ease things with me, don’t piss me off so early in the morning please” you said pouring water into your glass, getting out of the kitchen. you and mark took pride in your communication skills, so you weren’t giving him the silent treatment more like you didn’t want to be in the same room as him right now because him acting as if nothing happened pissed you off even more 

the guy was going to have to practically beg for you to be okay with him again 

“..i know, and i’m sorry” mark sighed as he joined you in the living room with the food he bought earlier hoping that despite you not being happy with him, you’d still eat cause no matter how bad the situation is, it’s important to take care of yourself! 

“like i said yesterday, i heard you mark but you know.. actions speak louder than words, until we’ve reached a point where she won’t ever be the cause of a disagreement there’s always going to be some sort of tension” you said as you reached for the food. yes, the food wasn’t an enough apology but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it 

“i know, that’s why i’m going to see her later today, set some real boundaries, tell her off kind of because i do really- and i’m not just saying this to please you or whatever, she has crossed some boundaries that she shouldn’t have so yeah maybe her and i aren’t as close friends as i thought we were” your boyfriend says pouring your favorite juice into your now empty water cup 

first of all, you did appreciate your boyfriend doing all of that (FINALLY!!) but you weren’t going to explode with joy because of him doing the bare minimum 

second of all, your boyfriend is just as much in the wrong as she is. and you debated on telling him that he should also self reflect but decided that you truly wanted him to realize it without you spelling everything out to him 

so you just hummed to the news, finishing up your breakfast heading upstairs while your boyfriend cleaned up and got ready to meet his friend

external pov? 

“hi markie” his friend said as your boyfriend took seat in front of her 

“did i make you wait long?” he replied. despite him not greeting her, her smile grew as she realized he cared about her enough to worry about her time 

“no don’t worry i just got here, anyway you wanted to talk?” she asked in anticipation, it was probably going to be good news (although good news for her meant bad news for you) she hoped your guys maybe broke up or something 

“yea and i’m going to talk for a while so please do not interrupt me” he asked as she nodded eagerly waiting for the breakup news to drop 

“i wanted to talk to you about yesterday, or every single hangout we’ve done ever since i started dating y/n. like i said, y/n and i are dating and i truly think she’s the one so i want to do everything in my power not to fuck it up. and that includes you stepping over boundaries that you shouldn’t step over seeing as though we’re friends. i think last night made me realize how odd? you were around me, how your hands lingered on me maybe a bit too long for a friend, or how you cut off my girlfriend when she was trying to talk, how you made backhanded comments towards her and look, i'm not asking you to like her but she's my girlfriend and she deserves some respect and i'll choose her over you in the blink of an eye. that’s why i’m choosing to put some distance in between us, at least until i’m 100% sure your behavior won’t be the same” mark finishes his rant, his fingers playing with his ring, dreading his (impulsive) friend’s reaction

“ain’t no fucking way you’re being serious right now mark, i’ve known you my whole life and you choose some random girl over me?” his friend says angry that not only you guys are still together but he’s dropping her for..you?? 

“if you don’t have anything respectful to say about y/n i’ll just leave clearly you’re not listening” your boyfriend answers, his patience getting tested 

“no, you don’t get the last word i do. you want to drop me for her? fine. i’ll do fine without you mark but what you cannot do is put the blame all on me. yes, i’ve been inappropriately acting with you but it’s only because you allowed it. each time i thought i was maybe reading too much into the mixed signals you were giving me you reassured me by apologizing because- in your own words - she was being irrational. mark, you are as much to blame as i am and i won’t sit here and let you shift the blame entirely onto me because you allowed me to flirt with you, which is something you would’ve never done if you loved your girlfriend as much as you say you do. and for the first time ever, i do hope you guys break up but not because i want you to myself but because she deserves better than you. fuck you mark” his friend says leaving the café leaving a dumbfounded mark. 

i mean she wasn’t wrong, if he had set clear boundaries from the start she would’ve never flirted with him. your boyfriend started to wonder if that was perhaps the reason why you weren’t THAT enthusiastic this morning when he told you he’d make things right.

so the whole drive home, mark’s head was clouded with thoughts that mainly centered around him being the biggest asshole ever, not only from the words he told you yesterday but also from the way he’s been acting all this time. and it saddened him that he put you through all of that. 

it’s with a heavy heart that he entered your shared house, silently praying god you weren’t going to realize that you do deserve better than him (which he knew was selfish but didn’t care) 

« so… how did it go? i don’t know what you told her but if it’s the same thing you told me this morning I’m guessing she didn’t take it very well » you say watching your boyfriend enter the house 

you guessed it must have went sour judging from the gloomy face he’s making and how deep in thought he seems to be. You didn’t like his friend but you know he liked her very much so you hoped that she said something along the lines of ‘yes i understand and i’m sorry, i’ll respect your boundaries better in the future and i’m hoping we can still be friend’ to salvage their friendship but at the same time you weren’t a fool and you knew that it realistically could never happen 

« it didn’t go super great, we’re not friends anymore but you know in retrospect it’s not a huge loss she wasn’t as good of a friend as i believed she was » you boyfriend started sitting down next to you on the couch 

you wondered what was up with him though, he looked genuinely devastated and it worried you to see him in such state 

« then what’s up? i wouldn’t usually pry and instead wait until you open up to me, but mark i’m concerned you look… sad. and i know we’re in a disagreement right now but i still sincerely believe that you’re the love of my life so i hate to see you upset » you say as your boyfriend slowly lifts his head and looks at you with glossy eyes before his first tear shed 

you immediately hugged your boyfriend rubbing his back as he mumbled through tears about how you deserved better, which you were confused about where it came from, so when his tears quieted down you looked at him waiting to explain

« she just… she said something about how we’re both in the wrong and it upset me because she’s right and she made me realize it instead of me realizing it on my own.. and she said you deserved better and at first i thought whatever she’s just mad i don’t care but she’s not wrong. You deserve better than a boyfriend who lets his friends flirt with him and who dismisses you and acts as if their friend is correct. i’m not trying to victimize myself or manipulate you with my words i’m just really sorry that i’ve been such an undeserving boyfriend and i selfishly don’t want to let you go when maybe i should so, please, give me another chance and i’ll prove to you that i can be the boyfriend you deserve. i swear i’ll be better just please don’t leave me » you boyfriend says. 

you were honestly kind of taken aback by every single one of his thoughts. you did feel a little guilty at first but that quickly went away when you remembered why you guys were in this situation in the first place. 

« listen, like i told you i’m not mad. i was just tired of you not listening to me but it seems like you’ve heard me this time even though i wished it had not gotten that far. i love you and i do not deserve better than you, you fucked up but i fuck up all the time as well and even though i did not picture the end of this situation with me reassuring you, it does not mean that you’re manipulating me, you feel guilty and that’s normal because you messed up but we’ll move past this. it’s a little bump in the road. and i sincerely think that if this situation has taught us anything it’s that we shouldn’t listen to your friend, ESPECIALLY when she says you’re not good enough for me. now dry your big boy tears and let’s go watch a movie yea? all is better don’t worry anymore » you told your boyfriend. 

you really meant your words, everything that mark needed to learn from this he learnt, you knew him well enough to guarantee that you won’t ever be put in a similar situation ever again and that this whole mess kinda made your boyfriend grow up a little? 

plus you were never one to hold grudges, so finally calling this fight over to cuddle and watch a movie with your highly sensitive, still borderline crying boyfriend was quite an easy thing to do. And even though you told him it was okay the next billion times he apologized to you during the following days, it did not stop him from spoiling you with gifts, kind words, actions etc.. like the man shoved all five love languages down your throat and even though it wasn’t necessary, it was always nice and made you feel loved.

that’s why in retrospect, you were (kinda) glad this whole thing happened and he was glad he learnt how to be better for his pretty girl. 

[write-tama]

"to live with the milkman."

╰┈➤ francis mosses (the milkman) x doorman!reader

sypnosis ; reader is worried because francis hasnt been seen in a week. they decide to pay francis' apartment a little visit..

containing! ; lois stilinksy, working as doorman, gender neutral pronouns, use of y/n, francis being a little sick and out of uniform, francis and reader eat mac n cheese tg :3

authors note ; this is lowkey a slowburn-- i didnt mean to write so much D: i started writing yesterday morning and just finished this morning LOL but ya its very just wholesome and soft ^^

4.12.24 | 2.7k words

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

As a doorman, you realize a pattern of people would often come and go through the apartment. You know who goes to work in the morning and who comes home in the afternoon, and you know what days they typically go out and days where they don’t.

So, I'm not totally creepy when I say I've noticed a shift in Francis’ schedule, right? He’s not one to typically go out unless he has work in the morning— which is usually Tuesday through Friday, but lately, I haven’t seen him all week.

Nothing but the worst truly went through my mind. He could’ve been eaten by a doppel, or worse, was mistaken for a doppel and was exterminated on sight! These anxious feelings went through my head as I nervously clicked my pen. I glanced at today’s list again, as if magically waiting for his name and picture to show up on the piece of paper.

click, click, click.

Through the office window, I heard the subtle steps of heels clicking against the worn tiles. Sighing, I sat up straight and folded my hands in front of desk, forcing my anxious thoughts to the back of my head in order to continue doing my job. I looked up to meet the gaze of thick magenta bangs with eyes barely visible I sort of wonder how she even navigates through her surroundings.

“Good afternoon.” She greeted, her thick lips curling into a polite smile. I nod as I took her ID and entry request through the letter box, scanning through the documents for any misspellings or misinformation. As I carefully examined the print, I notice Lois’ lips pursing into a curious point.

“You looked troubled, sweetheart.” She noted. “Is everything alright? Besides work-stress that is.”

I sighed a little, placing her card down before looking through today’s list. I checked off Lois’ picture before turning to my request checklist. “Yeah, I just.. I don’t know. Have you heard from Francis recently?” I asked, not even masking the worried tone in my voice. Lois hummed a little, as if thinking about the last time she has even seen the man.

“The last time I saw him, he looked extremely tired. Like more tired than usual. I think he was just coming home from work? He was coughing and sniffling a lot.” She recalled. “Poor boy.. He must’ve been sick for a while.” Lois shook her head. With her words I felt like a pressure had been released from my chest. Oh, good, so there is a chance he’s alive, I thought to myself. I slid back her ID and smiled.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry, I just get worried knowing that a neighbor could’ve been killed by a doppel or any force of nature of that matter.” I lightly chuckled. Lois smiled, taking her ID before looking at me.

“You should talk to him. I’m sure he could use the company right now.” Lois suggested, but through that grin I could see that teasing smile.

I sighed a little, a little grin starting to form on my face. “C’mon, Lois, that would be way too embarrassing!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms in my chair. Lois lightly giggled, raising a white glove to stiffle her laughs.

“Oh, it won’t hurt, honestly! You never know what could happen~” she said, all singy-songy. I rolled my eyes before pressing the unlock button.

“Yeah, yeah. The door’s right there.” I sarcastically replied, a big grin on my face.

“Just think about it!” She called out as she walked through the door. I shook my head in amusement, listening to the door click behind her. I locked the door and returned to my previous slouched position.

Maybe I should pay him a visit.

My shift ended around late evening. I packed my bag and slid on my cardigan before locking the door behind me and hiding the key in a place only the next doorman would be able to find it. As I walked towards the exit of the building, I thought about what Lois had said earlier about paying him a visit. I never even really attempted to go past the lobby area of the apartment building. I had no purpose to anyway. And plus, it would’ve been a lengthy process to even request a visitor’s pass due to the security. I looked over to the doorman’s office, realizing that as of now, no one is on duty. Would it be morally wrong to go against the rules of the literal job I worked in?

Maybe.

But maybe my curiosity and anxiety could take over just for this one moment.

I walked back to the doorman’s office and unlocked the door. I placed the key back in its original hiding place before entering. I made sure to lock the door behind me before taking a look around the room again. Behind the doorman’s seat, there’s a door that leads to the stairway of the apartment complex. Its main purpose was to serve as a fire escape just in case of an emergency. Eagerly and swiftly, I gently pushed the door open, making sure to not make much noise. Once I walked out, I was met with the smell of old concrete and a spiral of stairs. I sighed to myself, remembering that Francis does in fact live on the third floor.

The stairs felt endless as my shoes clicked on the hard concrete. Fortunately, I only had to take a break only two times. I was finally at the end of the stairs, my legs tired from the endless climbly. I pushed the door open and was greeted with a typical carpeted hallway with blinding yellow-white lights that nearly burned my eyes. I sighed before trailing through the doors, looking at each number plate in order to locate the right room.

“Room 02, room 02..” I hummed to myself, just like how I would while scanning through files. After turning a corner, I was finally able to locate Francis’ room. I raised my fist to knock at the door, but the soft, soothing sounds of piano muffled through the wood. I stopped in my tracks, feeling as if my knock would disturb the perfect flow of the keys as I’m sure its song filled the apartment with grace. I waited for the keys’ song to slow to an end, the melody slowly fading out of the air and a sigh following its silence. I couldn’t help but smile, and sure this gave me enough proof that Francis was in fact still alive, but.. Something about his skills on the piano made me even more intrigued by the man.

I gently knocked with my knuckles, but making sure I was firm enough for the knocks to even be heard. From inside, I heard a chair scrape against wooden floorboard before footsteps steadily approaching me. A couple locks were undone before the squeak of the door filled my ears. I looked up and there Francis was— his eyebags were relatively darker and he was still in sleep attire with a baggy set of pajama pants and a fitting white tee.

“Oh— uh, (y/n)—” he said a little shocked to see me. I smiled a little, tilting my head at him.

“You shouldn’t have opened your door so fast. I could’ve been a doppel, y’know?” I advised. I heard him suck air through his teeth as he realized his rookie mistake.

“Mmm.. I’m sorry..” He mumbled, making me raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve been worried about you since I haven’t seen you in a while. I just.. Wanted to check if you were okay.”

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise. It made me wonder if anyone else but me paid him a visit due to his absence. We lingered in silence for a minute. he stared down at me as I stared up at him.

“..May I be invited in?” I requested, breaking the silence. Francis blinked his eyes a little, as if he had been lost in thought previously.

“Mmm.. ID and entry request, please?” Francis teased, smiling a little. I scoffed, immediately catching on to his wittiness.

“Ha ha, very funny, Mr. Mosses.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes. His grin grew wider, clearly amused by reaction. He stepped aside from the door, allowing me to enter. I walked in, bag still clutched to my side as I took a look around the apartment.

It was humble but quaint space. The ceiling lights were off and frankly looked like they were never used, however, his lamps illuminated a soft warm orange on his furniture. He had a small box TV and dull red couch with a small round coffee table planted in the middle. Huddled in a corner was his old piano he must've been playing earlier. Francis closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it as well. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” He apologized, quickly rushing to his couch where clothes scattered over the armrests. He went down a small hallway I assumed to be where his bathroom and bedroom was. I took off my shoes and placed my bag on the table that sat next to the door before sitting myself on the couch.

I sighed a little, almost drowning into the soft pillows. It almost made me question why he would be struggling with sleep if he has a couch as comfortable as this. I could see a bit of his kitchen from sitting on his couch. It was a decent size with counters on one side and the appliances on the other. It seemed like he had something on the stove cooking as well.

Francis walked in shortly after and took his seat on other end of the couch, keeping a distance between the two of us. I brought my knees to my chest while hugging his couch pillows. I looked at him for a bit, trying to figure out myself as to why he hasn’t been out recently. Not only was his dark circles were more apparent, his hair was a little longer and messier. He looked paler than usual as well. Francis turned to me, a curious look on his face.

“Is it apparent..?” Francis asked. I furrowed my eyebrows, a little confused on what he meant.

“Hm?” I hummed in response.

“That I’m coming down with something.” He chuckled slightly. I shrugged a little, leaning back on the couch cushions.

“I mean.. Your hair is messier.” I smiled, admiring the frizz on the top of his head. Francis quickly glanced up before running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not that messy..” He sighed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You always got that milkman hat on the top of your head.” I laughed. I glanced over to the kitchen again, realizing that steam was coming through the glass lid. “I think you might want to get that.” I suggested, nodding my head towards the stove. He hummed a little before getting off of the couch and heading towards the kitchen. I watched as he reached the top of the cabinets, stretching up with ease. I couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders to his slim waist defined by his white shirt.

“Hey, I made mac n’ cheese if you’d like a bowl.” He offered, his voice immediately cutting through my daze.

“Oh— uh, yeah of course. I was about to get dinner after I got off my shift but here I am.” I chuckled. He nodded before grabbing another platter to make my own plate. I sat patiently on the couch before noticing the remote on the coffee table. “Hey, can I turn on the TV?” I asked.

“Hm?” Francis hummed from the kitchen. “Mmm.. Sure. I don’t mind.” He shrugged before turning back to his task.

Something about this felt so.. Safe.. And homely. I felt comfortable, despite me never even being in Francis’ apartment before. It felt familiar, and I couldn’t lie to myself and say that this is the most peace I’ve felt since the news of doppelgangers came out. I picked up the TV remote and flicked it on, browsing through the channels before find a movie we could idly have in the background.

Francis came out of the kitchen, holding two bowls with forks in each. This time, he took his seat much closer to me before placing my bowl on the coffee table. “Thank you.” I politely nodded. I took the bowl and started to eat. Honestly, to my surprise, the food was actually pretty good for a man who worked day and night. I was enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of us as we enjoyed our dinner together— something I barely saw myself seeing tonight.

“Hey.. (y/n)?” Francis mumbled quietly.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I replied, taking another scoop of the creamy mac n’ cheese to shove in my mouth.

“Why did you.. Come here?”

Something about that question made my heart skip a little. Why did I come here? I mean— I came here to make sure he was okay. That’s my job as doorman. To make sure all of the neighbors are safe and alive. But even when I heard him through the door, clearly shown to me that he is still breathing, I stuck around anyway.

Why did I come here?

“Well— I uh..” I trailed off a little, sort of lost to where I should even begin. “I was just worried about you. That is my job, no?” I said, clearing my throat. I kept my eyes on the screen, a little embarrassed to even face him.

“Mmm.. I don’t entirely believe that.” He hummed. “You could’ve called.”

Oh, fuck, yeah no— he’s right.

Ugh, Lois!

You set me up!

“That’s true..” I chuckled. “I guess you caught me.”

“Mmm..” He mumbled. He placed his now empty dinner on the table before folding his hands in his lap. “So..?”

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart beat fast inside my chest and a warmth creeping up my whole body. I placed my bowl onto the coffee table as well, and finally mustered the courage to look at him in his eyes.

“Francis..” I mumbled. He leaned in a little closer, as if he wanted to lean into my words and trusted them to embrace him.

“I.. I just.. I think I like you..” I trailed out. My head felt cloudy as a tingling sensation danced all over my skin, feeling like a little kid during recess confessing to her elementary school crush. “I've liked you.. Ever since we met. I never really said anything because I felt like you weren't necessarily interested in a relationship.. But Lois and Rafttellyn would always point out how you would look at me and I just—!”

A strong hand placed firmly on my cheek— so cold against my blushing face— pulled me in to meet those soft lips of his. I was completely silenced and wide eyed, but I knew what he was telling me. Everything in those pink lips told me that everything was going to be okay, and he liked me just as much..

I fluttered my eyes closed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to his chest. The TV buzzed in front of us, sputtering incoherent actors cracking jokes and delivering their lines. Our finished bowls of dinner were scattered on the table, but it was easy to tell the food was delicious for no piece of macaroni was left unnoticed. I pressed harder against his lips, letting the thought of breathing slip my mind.

If this is what it's like to live with him—

To spend our evenings chatting

Eating dinner on his couch

Watching TV while enjoying each other's presence

Then maybe I could get used to this.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

tagging ; @crybabies-heart @shypizzaperson @your-local-oc-maker @spearsillustration @mochi46106 @seraphlin @glxyaaandromeda (some ppl i tagged either bc they followed me on my old acc and just some ppl who interacted with my past content and just thought they would be interested in this fic :3

thank you so much for reading and reposts and likes are always so, so appreciated <3

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

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[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

“Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

[steddieas-shegoes]

i could listen all night

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is wanting to hear every detail of their day'

rated t | 803 words | cw: recreational drug use (weed) | tags: established relationship, stargazing, they're so in love

💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟💟

"And it's not even that I'm worried about failing the test!" Steve said as he leaned back against the wall of their too-small balcony. "I did a practice test yesterday and only missed one question. I just feel like it's too easy."

"I think you're just smarter than you give yourself credit for, Stevie," Eddie said as he exhaled smoke.

"I don't think that's it."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly.

They didn't love their apartment. It was on the third floor of a three story townhome that seemed to be a revolving door of large families who couldn't make rent after a couple of months. They'd get close to someone on the first floor and they'd be evicted two months later. They'd finally have a quiet neighbor below them only to find out it was an old man who was moved to a nursing home a month after moving in.

But they at least had this balcony that faced a parking lot of some business that was empty and closed by the time they needed to smoke.

And when Steve graduated, they could move closer to whatever school he ended up working at.

"What if I don't graduate?" Steve asked quietly, reaching out for the joint Eddie had just taken a third pull off of. "What if I'm doing all this for nothing?"

Eddie turned to Steve as much as he could, covered his hand in comfort. "If anyone knows what it's like not to graduate, it's me. And it's not the end of the world. It may feel like it at first, but just because you don't do it when you think you should doesn't mean you won't ever. You're smart and you work hard, sunshine, you're gonna graduate."

"You have to say that. You're my boyfriend."

"I don't have to say anything! I told you just this morning that you were stupid if you thought I wasn't gonna wake up just to kiss you goodbye," Eddie pecked his cheek and took the join back from him.

He knew Steve got emotional if he smoked too much, and he'd already reached the glassy eye part of the high. Better to stop him now.

"Other than your professor scaring you, what happened today?" Eddie asked casually. He wanted to hear about everything, and Steve liked talking about it.

"I had the best cup of tea. The library was giving free cups to students who donated $1 to the writer's club. So I guess it wasn't really free, but still, $1 for the best cup of tea I've ever had isn't bad." Steve leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder. "I studied for an hour between classes and saw these two women making out. One was like, a lot older than the other and I'm almost certain she was a professor with a student. Don't know what that's about."

Eddie raised his brows, but stayed quiet as Steve continued.

"And then I managed to eat my sandwich after my second class. Best one you've made yet. Perfect ham to turkey ratio," Steve kissed his neck.

"Glad you liked it, sweetheart."

"Oh! And there's gonna be a student run show next Friday. I get two free tickets if you wanna go. Maybe we could make it a date night?"

"I think that sounds lovely. Write it on the fridge and I'll make sure I'm home in time to get ready for it," Eddie took one last drag from the joint before putting it out in the ash tray he grabbed from the flea market downtown when they first moved in. "Anything else today?"

"I got to sit outside and look at the stars with my boyfriend. That's been pretty nice," Steve whispered.

Eddie felt his cheeks heat up, never quite used to how easily Steve shared his love and affection. He'd been like that before they were even together, overwhelmingly honest.

"Was he good company?" Eddie teased, leaning his head on top of Steve's and looking up at the few stars they could see in the city.

"He's always good company."

Eddie kissed the top of Steve's head and settled back.

"What about your day?" Steve asked, sinking further into his side.

"My day was boring." Eddie sighed. "But we have new releases hitting the shelves tomorrow. Those days are always fun."

"Any you want?" Steve sounded tired.

It was barely eight at night, but the weed was hitting and he'd been up since five that morning going nonstop.

"Might grab this local band's demo. We're the only place carrying it and they're hoping to do a show in our basement next month, but we'll see. Brad said we had to see how the demos sell."

"Sounds like fun," Steve said.

"You wanna go inside, sweetheart?"

"Not yet. Keep talking. Wanna hear about everything."

"Mkay, baby."

[truegoist]

LOVE LANGUAGES - quality time warnings;; gn reader. both of u are downbad(🤢🤢) . u kiss also. 1.3k words

RIN ITOSHI isn’t the most affectionate person by nature, the extreme drive for his soccer carrier has left the man stranded the permanent aggravated expression that runs through the itoshi bloodline definitely doesn’t help

in all senses, rin itoshi is not the one you expect to appear at your door, 4 in the morning.

For a couple of minutes you just stare at eachother, him fully dressed and annoyingly awake; you in your pajamas and hardly aware at your presence on earth.

“It’s my birthday” is what he says simply. “Why are you not ready” Perhaps it’s just you, but the tone in his voice seems even more agitated than usual.

“Ready for what rin?” You can see the white fog of your breath as you exhale, you don’t want to be mean to the boy on his birthday but he really is challenging his chances

“You said we’d hang out at four. It’s already four thirty five and you aren’t even ready” His tone is harsh. Accusing. But in those teal eyes that had always resembled glaciers to you now look melted down, you can tell deep down the reason for his bother is different than your so called lack of punctuality.

You can tell he’s afraid you may have forgotten about a plan that meant so much to him. He’s afraid you may not even care about it, or him. He’s terrified to not mean half as much to one person he cares about.

He won’t ever voice it. But somehow you know, or perhaps you hope that this is what he thinks; that he longs for you as much as you do for him.

It’s stupid really, how your heart fluttered at the sight of him in your door or how you can’t even bring yourself to be properly mad at him.

That’s cute and all but that doesn’t change the fact that you planned to sleep a good 2 more hours.

“Rin” you finally speak again “I meant 4 pm why would you think- How long have you even been awake for?”

A small oh leaves the strikers lips as he looks at you, dumbfounded. It appears that normally people don’t arrange meetings before dawn only occurring to him now.

With the new emotion in his face rin quite resembles a stray puppy, so much you suddenly get the urge to coddle him

“Well do you want to come inside? We can eat breakfast or something”

He trails behind you to kitchen, with how long you’ve two been friends rin knows the way as good as his own and it’s him who takes the lead on your small walk towards kitchen.

crack

The egg falls to the pan with a satisfying sound, normally you’d have gone with something easier like cereal but the mr sportsman seated in your kitchen now is determined to force his stupidly healthy diet onto you as much as he can.

Despite all his protests and attempts to help you have him sat near the table as you prepare everything. It’s half because it’s his special day and half because he’s a complete disaster in kitchen(perhaps more the later than first).

While doing so you’ve been rambling on and on about whatever comes to your mind to fill his silence, on small changes in your life, school, a show you liked, the cute cat you saw on the street yesterday… Perhaps with someone else this could feel like a monologue but it’s different with rin; maybe it’s the way how he always looks so concentrated on whatever you say, or the way he always remembers everything you’ve told to the smallest detail. Or maybe it’s just your feelings for him that make this enjoyable for you

Whatever it is, it’s how it goes between you two: you talk, and he listens. Aside from the cynical remarks here and there, talking isn’t his thing. Even if sometimes you wished it was, you wished that for once he’d be the one to talk, be the one to tell the words you never brought yourself to speak to him.

With a tap on your shoulder that caught you off guard, you almost hit the man on the face. And you probably would’ve if he didn’t caught your hand midair.

Maybe it’s because you were too caught upon telling whatever story you were on or maybe it was because the eerily quiet way rin moves for a man his size but you only notice how close he has gotten to you at this moment.

So you can almost feel the warmth emitting of his skin. So close you can hear his breath. And suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the way your very own heartbeat seems to quicken.

Perhaps it’s because it’s so early in the morning, but there’s something just so romantic about this moment; how close you two are, how the newly setting sunshine dances on his face.

You need serious help.

“Sorry did I bore you?” Once again, you’re the one to break the silence. Yes that must be it, he was just bored with you talking all the time. You should stop dreaming.

He blinks a few times, it’s evident he finds even the suggestion of such idea absurd “I enjoy listening to you (name), I thought you knew that” you hate yourself for it but even those simple words gives you such euphoria that it practically overwhelms you. Plus he still hasn’t let go of your wrist.

You have to leave before you do something seriously stupid. Like pour your heart out to rin itoshi

“That reminds me! I got something for your birthday,” You originally planned to give it to him much later, but you’re desperate and you need out “it’s upstairs if you’d let me go I can just run real quick and ge-”

“Don’t want it”

His grasp on your wrist is now much more firm, it contrasts the previous gentleness of his touch towards you. Rin has always treated you with fragility that it’s only now you realize how strong he actually is.

“I told you I don’t want you to buy me anything” his bright, teal eyes look more like a turquoise as the sun hits them, leaving you captivated by them even in this moment “But if you’re that insistent on giving me something then um…”

His newly found confidence starts to die down as he mutters the next bit “if you really want to gift me…you can give me something else” the last part is said in such low whisper that you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to hear it if weren’t for how close you two are right now. Maybe your eyes are playing a game to you right now but you can see red on his cheeks.

You must be dreaming. Or it’s that you aren’t fully awake right now and can’t think clearly, because there’s no way the rin itoshi is saying what you think he is

Fuck it, you’ve waited long enough

Your pull on him is harsher than you intended, your lips practically to crash to each other but neither of you seem to care. His body is warm against yours, and he tastes of mint.

You’re not sure how long have passed, maybe a few minutes, maybe an eternity. Or perhaps it was just a moment, shorter than one blink.

Before you can even process what just happened, you’re hit with another shock; he is smiling

rin itoshi is smiling. not a know it all “I said so”type of smirk. not a forced one.

But one that creeps bigger and bigger as he stares to you, mimicking the way red blossoms to his cheek. Yours probably aren’t much different right now either

At that moment one sentence slips out of your mouth;

“Happy birthday rin”

[vipwinnie]

Silence treatment

Draco malfoy x reader

Summary: Draco's actions have gone too far, so you decide to ignore him

At the end of the day you went as usual to join your boyfriend, Draco, in the Hall. When you finally saw him, you saw him with Crabbe and Goyle intimidating a Gryffindor much younger than them, probably in the first or second year. Draco always had this reputation as a stalker. It was in his character to act like a bully, and yet that hadn't stopped you from going out with him. Ever since you got together with him, you made him swear to never harass anyone again. Because harassing someone was like a crime to you, you were so sensitive about this subject. And as you could see now it was just empty promises. So you don't waste your time. You had watched helplessly as your boyfriend, Draco, harassed a young boy in the street. Anger boiled inside you, and you couldn't stand idly by in the face of this cruelty. Tears of sadness and rage beaded down your cheeks as you turned towards Drac. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, how can you be so mean? This boy hasn't done anything to you, and yet you treat them like this? I can't stand this." Draco, surprised by your intervention, tries to defend himself. "It was just a joke, you're exaggerating! Why are you getting into my business?" Your eyes fill with cold determination. You knew you couldn't tolerate such cruel behavior. "It wasn't a joke, Draco. It was harassment, pure and simple. I can't be with someone who behaves like that." Draco, realizing the extent of his actions, tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would go this far...I didn't want to lose you."

You shook your head, arms crossed, leaving no room for his excuses. "Your apology isn't enough, Draco. You need to think about your actions and the impact they have on others. I can't be with someone who doesn't understand that." Without a backward glance, you walk away, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts and remorse. He bit his fingers as he realized that he had lost something precious because of his irresponsible behavior.

After your argument, you went straight to your room, you didn't come out even to go eat, Draco had definitely ruined your appetite. The next morning, after thinking all night about what you were going to do to Draco, you finally decided to have the silence treatment. So that he understands the lesson.

When you join him at the breakfast table, you can feel his eyes on you, looking for a way to start a conversation. Yesterday, you witnessed harassment and it deeply affected you. You can't just erase it. He cleared his throat, trying to find the courage to speak. "Hey, uh... about yesterday, I wanted to talk to you." You keep your gaze fixed on your plate, refusing to meet his gaze. Silence hangs in the air, a heavy barrier between you. "I know what I did was wrong. I shouldn't have acted that way. I'm really sorry." He continues, his voice full of remorse. You remain silent, your anger and your disappointment boils inside you. He crossed the line and that wasn't something you couldn't easily forgive. He shyly reaches out and places his hand on top of yours. "Please listen to me. I regret my actions. It was a moment of weakness and I deeply regret it." You remove your hand, giving him a cold look. Your silence speaks volumes, reflecting your discontent and the distance you feel.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "I understand that you're upset and I deserve it. But I want to make things right, to show you that I'm capable of change." You didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on your breakfast. It's clear that this conversation is far from over, but for now, you've made your decision. As you continue to eat in silence, the atmosphere remains heavy with unresolved emotions.

The rest of the day passed quietly, you had neither encountered Draco in the corridors nor in the hall for lunch. And yet his absence could not have lasted. Draco was anxiously awaiting your arrival “Hey, I'm really sorry about what happened. I acted stupidly and I sincerely regret it. I've been waiting here for hours, just to talk to you and ask you to forgive me. Please just give me a chance to explain.” When you see him standing there, his eyes full of sadness and hope, you pretend not to notice. “I know I screwed up. But please don't treat me like that. I can't do without you, you are everything to me. I'm ready to change, to do whatever it takes to make you happy. Please come back to me.” he continued But you decide to continue on your way by continuing to ignore him. “You are my reason for living, my sun in the darkness. Without you, my life is empty. I feel lost, broken. I would give anything to get you back. I beg you, don't leave me in this state. I can’t bear to see you indifferent to my grief.” You should admit to him that you liked these words but he had to realize his act once and for all. So you decide once again to remain silent. “I know I made a huge mistake. But I love you so much, I would give anything to prove to you that I can change. I am ready to compromise, to work on myself. I just want you to forgive me, to give me another chance." You couldn't resist this scene you were about to break down and forgive him everything but you remember why you didn't talk to him and it's there that you will find the strength to look away from this scene.

“Please don’t reject me like this. I'm willing to do anything to get you back. I know I hurt your heart, but I promise to fix it. I can't imagine my life without you. I beg you, speak to me, tell me that you forgive me. ”

Trying everything for everything. He approached you, his voice filled with despair, and gently laid his hand on your face, caressing your cheek. ”If you change your mind, meet me tomorrow night in the astronomy tower, I will wait for you all night if I have to, I love you my love. ”And so he withdrew his hand and left like a ghost, his eyes looking down on the ground.

The next morning, you hadn’t spoken to Draco since yesterday’s interaction, and you hadn’t seen him at any meals. It pained you, her condition yesterday afternoon after you left school hurt my heart so much. And you had to admit that you miss him so much, that night was for you a real ordeal without him by your side. You were thinking about what he had told you yesterday: “Meet me tomorrow night in the astronomy tower, I’ll wait for you all night if I have to”. It was then decided you can't stand this situation anymore, you will go to him and you will forgive him.

That evening you were on your way to the astronomy tower, and as you walked through the door, you fell face to face with a neat draco holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Before he could say anything, he kissed me full on the mouth, dropping the bouquet on the floor. You didn't waste time and responded directly to this fiery kiss. You definitely missed him so much. After letting go due to lack of breath. He then began to speak, looking you straight in the eyes: “My love, I stand before you today with a heavy and remorseful heart. I know that I have made mistakes, that my actions have caused pain and sadness in your heart. I want you to know how sorry I am. I promise you today that I will change. I will work on myself, on my faults and my weaknesses. I will do everything in my power to become the man you deserve, the one who will make you happy every day of your life. I want you to know that you are the most important person in my life. I can't imagine a world without you. Please forgive me for my past mistakes. I humbly ask you to give me a chance to redeem myself, to show you that my love for you is sincere and true. I love you, and I want you to know that my love for you is infinite. Forgive me, my love, and let me show you how I can be the man you need. When he was finished you had tears in your eyes, and you kissed him with all your strength, jumping into his arms. What I knew for sure was that he wasn't going to do it again any time soon.

[amvpk01]

PATHETIC YANDERE

unwanted obsession

when obsession goes beyond admiration, it turns into repulsion and the search for love becomes a path of rejection.

cw: f!reader, non-con, obsession, rejection, violence, stalking, humiliation, kidnapping, manipulation, murder

masterlist || next

Can you imagine someone who is completely useless at everything they do? There's no such thing as good grades, good looks, popularity, or even a good personality. He was a complete shit and he knew it.

It was just another day of him going to school, doing assignments that most of the time the teacher would point out were wrong just to embarrass him in front of the class or that the handwriting was illegible, talking to his pathetic friends just like him, buying something in the canteen and sitting on the benches to eat and look around judging the people.

It was Thursday so it was more crowded than the other days, some familiar faces and others not so much, but someone on the other side of the courtyard surprised him.

A girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes, a pretty face, and a sexy body.

He wondered how someone as beautiful and charming as that could exist. Were you new to the school or did he just not notice you before?

"-Are you there? Dude?? Hello?! Are you listening to me you piece-"

"Calm down bro-"

"Her name?" He interrupted his friends.

"Uh- Who?"

"Pink shirt." The friends looked at the aforementioned girl.

"Don't know, but Giovanna's talking to her, maybe you can ask?"

"...I thought I'd die before I saw you like a girl!"

"Quiet! So fucking noisy. What if she heard you?!"

"Don't worry. It's just that it always crossed my mind that you would be... you know, gay?"

He didn't mind the homophobic comments or the pats on the back along with the laughter of his friends. All that went through his mind was how he was going to get close to you.

You couldn't help but admire your purple nails that matched your fit. It was already a habit of yours to match clothes along with accessories and painted nails. No matter the occasion, you'll ALWAYS be pretty and stylish.

"[Name]?" You looked in the direction of the voice.

"Hi, Gigi! You good?" Noticing her face made you worried. "What's wrong?"

"Well, do you know about some guy who texted you yesterday?"

"Huh, no? All my notifications are off."

"Looks like some guy from my class keeps saying you're ghosting him on DM."

"Oh. My bad, it was not my intention. I think I'll see about that later." You wondered what that guy wanted to talk about. Maybe was someone you already know?

He couldn't believe it that you didn't block him. He thought you had ghosted him but it was just a misunderstanding?!?

'Thanks God... Now I need to talk with her.'

It's been a few weeks since he had the courage and ask you to talk. Every day you exchanged greetings and had long talks that were mostly started by him. You tried to find him attractive or like his personality but nothing worked. Maybe because you already knew his intentions?

But there's something that has been bothering you. Maybe it's just your mind trying to delude you but you swear that someone's stalking you.

And your instinct is telling you that's him even though you don't have proof. You did see a lot of pictures of you on his phone but didn't think he would start to follow you on your way home.

So today you're gonna find out if it's him or not!

You made your usual way home, but you diverted your path to another street that had more shops. Your stalker follows behind you, his face all covered by a stupid black mask and sunglasses.

Maybe you should enter the first shop that you see to know if he would enter too?

Without wasting time, you run into a lingerie store and try to hide further into the store. The stranger only realized the type of store when he put one foot inside, his covered face flushed with embarrassment, and then decided to wait for you outside.

'Damnit! He didn't enter?!' Your thoughts were pure anger and disappointment but vanished when some lady came asking for what type of lingerie you were searching for. Then you got why he didn't.

'NO. NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. DON'T TELL ME SHE'S BUYING LINGERIE TO USE WITH SOMEONE ELSE! SHE SAID SHE HAD NO BOYFRIEND. BUT WHAT IF SHE'S SEEING SOMEONE?!?' He started hyperventilating and his disguise was only making his breathing worse.

After waiting 5 minutes, you come out with a bag in your hands and then speed up your walk. He couldn't lose you from his sight. In his point of view, he was protecting you.

You surely have been running fast, are you embarrassed by someone seeing you in this type of store?

FUCK, DID HE JUST LOST YOU?!??

Surely he saw you walking around that corner-

Oh no...

It feels like you're leaning against the wall just waiting for him. In a fast move, you pulled away his mask. Not being able to hide your disgusted face.

"...What the fuck?"

"Wait- I-I can explain!! It's j-just a misunderstanding! I s-swear! Please, let me-"

"...That's so fucking creepy dude...

If I knew you were like this, I would just ignore you from the start...

Maybe I shouldn't listen to my friends."

He was disturbed that he didn't mind you running away from that place. How could he be so dumb to fall for such a trick? Now, you won't ever talk to him again. Just the fact that he scared you hurt him so much.

You were so kind and pure to him like an angel, and he felt like a demon knowing that you would never want to see him again.

A week has passed since the incident, and he hasn't gone to school, much less left the house. He didn't dare to even see you. Your disgusted face was already haunting him but there's something that he didn't notice before.

'Maybe I shouldn't listen to my friends.'

What did you mean by that? Did your friends tell you about him or something? His phone was getting many notifications, then he decided to pick it up.

A party? Seriously? He wasn't in the mood for this, but locking himself in his home isn't going to make anything better.

He hopes that you go too so he can apologize for his past behavior.

In his own way.

You were relieved, there was no sight of him in school. Mostly like he was who was hiding and not you. You didn't know if he ever felt sorry, after all, you blocked him from everything leaving him with no opportunity to speak and you didn't see him everywhere. Thanks God.

But nothing more than a wonderful party to raise your mood.

If you only know what would happen after this.

part 2 (in progress)

[k-slla]

Like A Wrecking Ball

Gif is just to get your attention- this is not a Demon!Dean fic- I hope I won't disappoint you! 🔥🤭

A/N- had a dream yesterday, listened to THIS SONG and voilà- here you go! 🫣🤭

Pairing- Jensen x Fem!reader

Warnings - 18+ ONLY, semi-public/public fingering, hair pulling, unprotected PinV, breeding kink, dirty talk - if I missed any, let me know:)

W/C: ~1.7 | My Masterlist

Not proofread (only once, instead of my usual 5 times😅)/mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

To some, it might have seemed rude of you to steal Jensen from his party, but he for sure didn't seem too mad about it. How much small talk does one have to make on his own birthday anyway. They'll forgive him for ditching the dinner with you.

You didn't plan this night to end this way. At least not this quickly, but you only had yourself to blame for that. Hadn't you started playing footsie with him during dinner, he probably wouldn't have pulled you to the bathroom either. That's where it all went down. Or in his case, up. But you wouldn't have liked to get caught by someone, so you kept the action in there short. It would have been a thrill for sure, but having both of your parents at the party, the risk of being busted was way too high.

Now you both sat in the backseat of a taxi, panting hard between your kisses, unable to keep your hands to yourselves. Jensen's fingers slid up your thighs under your dress, where you had already drenched your panties. You had to bite hard down on your lower lip to keep your moan under control, when he slipped one finger past your lace underwear, pushing it into your cunt. You grabbed onto his wrist to stop him, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do, it would have been too hard for you to keep quiet if he'd kept going. “Please, Jensen.”

You looked into his eyes. Desire had darkened them almost black. “No, sweetheart.” He laughed at you.

“You know the order. First my fingers.” He whispered, kissing down your neck, and slipping his hand back into your underwear. His lips moved up to kiss the delicate skin under your ear. Tickling of his beard made you pull your shoulder up and squeaked lightly. You didn't let him get away with the teasing, and swiftly unzipped his dress pants, and locked your hand around his cock over the boxers.

Neither of you cared what the driver thought of you two. It was too late for that. This definitely wasn't the first time for neither of you to make out, and even more, in a taxi.

Feeling your hand in his pants, Jensen gasped. “Fuck.”

“You didn't finish telling me the order, babe. Cat got your tongue?” You teased close to his lips as you saw how hard it was for him to get a word out.

He slid his tongue past your lips, claiming what's his, and stealing your breath with the kiss. Jensen pulled his fingers out of you and settled on rubbing your clit through the thin lace cover.

“You know what's coming after my fingers.” He smiled darkly, making your imagination run wild.

Of course you knew the order. The same one he had set in the beginning of your relationship. The order always remained the same.

First he'd use his hands to make you cum on his fingers, depending on his mood, he always didn't let you finish the first round. Jensen loved to see you beg for him until you were in tears.

Then he'd take sweet sweet time to eat you out. That man loved your pussy more than breathing, and when eating you out, he was always generous, making you finish on his face for him to lap up your juices like he was saved from the desert in thirst.

And finally, after all that teasing and torture, he'd finally claim you as his and that was always the sweetest release you waited for the most. Your bodies were just made for each other, you swallowing every inch of him, Jensen always filling your cunt to the brim with his seed. Simply put, starting a family was the next big step in your lives, and both of you made sure that you'd enjoy the journey to the destination to the fullest.

You didn't know how much longer you could hold on. The drive home seemed just infinite. Suddenly Jensen pulled away from you and drew back to the opposite side of the backseat.

Your mind was completely fogged, thinking only about what was waiting for you at home. The need you had for him right now was unbearable. But you didn't have to suffer for long.

The car pulled to a stop in front of your and Jensen's home, and you tried your best to keep your composure getting out of the car. Neither of you touched each other while Jensen unlocked the door. As soon as it closed behind you, you were both at each other again, not bothering to find your way to your bedroom.

You began to quickly peel off layers from Jensen, starting with the jacket while he worked on his pants, until there was nothing left on him. You took a step back, looking up and down on him, feeling the arousal pool between your legs from hunger at the sight of his hard cock. “Jesus, how are you real....” you muttered, holding your breath. He closed the distance between you and grabbed your face into his palms, pulling you into a heated kiss, before he whispered into your ear.

“Was your dress expensive?”

“What? No.” You whispered and pulled away in confusion.

But Jensen's arms around you kept you close to his body and before you knew he had ripped open the back of your dress, making the buttons from the back of it fly across the room.

“Jensen!” You yelped, completely surprised by his action.

“What?” He laughed and his ‘not-so-innocent’ innocent laugh brought a smile to your face, too. Jensen removed your dress, leaving you only in your underwear and thigh high stockings. Running his hands over your ass, he pulled you back into him.

“Fuck, you're damn gorgeous, you know that?” His fingers locked in your hair, pulling on it and making you mewl in the pleasurable pain, moving forward slowly so you'd back into an old oak dresser decorating the hallway.

The sloppy wet kisses he left on your neck tied your tongue. “Jens- please.”

“You're thinking what I'm thinking, babe, hmm?” You knew exactly what he meant and nodded eagerly. Step number two was definitely going to be skipped tonight. Immediately he curled his thumb under your panties and pulled them down.

“Oohh, fuck..” you let out a shuddering breath when a slight coldness touched your wet pussy.

“Up.” Jensen said and helped you onto the dresser, pulling your legs open for him. He didn't waste any time and in a quick move he sheathed himself inside you. Your head fell back in silent scream and nails dug deep into his muscular shoulders. “Oh…oh, fuck...yes...” you breathed out heavily with each of his deep thrust. He picked up speed and it was harder for you to control yourself.

“Don't you hold back now, love....I want you to be heard to the end of the street..” he gently brushed away a strand from your face that had fallen out of your hairdo.

Jensen loved when you couldn't keep quiet. He just enjoyed hearing you cum, the louder the better, whether it would happen on his fingers, all over his face or on his cock with him when he fucked you. He enjoyed all you had to give to him.

You sat up, bringing Jensen's face closer to yours, kissing him hard and pulling his hair, drawing a deep groan out of him. His fingers dug deeper into hips, holding you in place for him to keep pounding harder into your pussy.

Jensen's moves and words started to clash with each other. From his moves it seemed like you were just an inanimate toy for him to rut into, but he still spoke sweetly against your lips. Showering you with affection and praises, softly caressing the rest of your body, that wasn't getting used by him.

“Fuck..love you, baby..love your little pussy..gonna put my babies into you.” his eyes were completely fixated on yours, keeping you from looking away, his moves not faltering yet. “You'll take my babies, won't you?” He breathed out harshly, thumb brushing over your plump lips.

“Yes! Please, babe..Fuck.. I'm getting closer..” you cried out. “I need…ah…” Jensen groaned deeply when he felt your pussy clenching around his cock, trying to keep him inside of you.

Without another warning, you suddenly snapped. “Oh, god, Jensen! Yes!” Your head fell onto his shoulder, completely overtaken by bliss as Jensen kept driving into you.

“You're so good for me, baby, coming on my cock just as I like it.” He gently lifted your head from his shoulder. “Aren’t you a good girl?” His green eyes looked for an answer in yours, but all you managed was to nod.

Just as you, Jensen was breathless. “I’m getting close, sweetie, but I want you cum again..with me. Can you do that?”

“Yes..” you shuddered, and bit your lips, already feeling it build inside you.

Your hands draped over his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Jensen's nibbed on the delicate skin on your neck. It didn't take long for you to fall apart for him again. But now you were just a soundless mess, waiting for him to cum and fill you.

With a hard groan, he stopped inside you, spilling his seed into your womb. “Oh, god..I love you, Jensen..” you whispered in the crook of his neck.

He pulled away slightly to take a look at you, but your bodies stayed connected. “I love you, too.” He pressed a soft kiss on your swollen lips, relishing the taste of the little bit of gloss that was still left on your lips.

You held onto his face, not allowing him to pull away from the kiss. Although you were satisfied, very much so, the stubble under your fingers made you now miss the feeling of his tongue and his tickling beard between your legs.

“Hmm, what did you say?” You asked with a grin on your face, enjoying the confusion on his. “You're still hungry? Mm, yeah, me too..”

He started laughing and lifted you off the dresser. He tugged on your hair and a little slap landed on your ass before he turned you towards your bedroom. “Go. You know the position I want you in.”

He let go of you and you quickly went to your bedroom to wait for Jensen to follow you. Laying on the bed you let out a big sigh. You had no regrets on leaving the party, and were quite sure neither did he. Your anticipation was high when you heard him walking into the room.

The night was still not over for you.

Tags: @jackles010378 @nescaveckwriter @cevansbaby-dove @deanwinchestersgirl87 @winchesterwild78 @anundyingfidelity @suckitands33

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[lianaisabsent]

BSD men if you died

synopsis: you died the day he was planning to propose to you, and God has he never hated any day like that day.

CHARACTERS: Dazai, Ranpo, chuuya

DAZAI OSAMU

He's already lost his dear friend and now the one person he allowed himself to be vulnerable to, someone he allowed himself to get attached to was gone as well.

Fate was playing a joke at this point. Did the world hate seeing him alive and well so much?

He got even more shut in after this, refused to talk to any agency member and pretended like everything was fine.

It was the day he decided “maybe I can allow myself to love someone truly.. Maybe this time it won't be taken away maybe this time I can truly allow myself to be happy" he decided he'd propose, propose after you come back from the mission.

That maybe however was a mistake on his part, There was no maybe in his life. He was born to loose everything.

he chuckled dryly staring at your grave, he couldn't cry he had no tears left now he had truly become a man who lost it all.

He couldn't live anymore, if life wasn't a chore already it certainly was now. He promised to his dear friend he'd live but when he did find a reason to live, to feel he lost it yet again.. It's like fate itself hates him

The day he found your body, he was shocked he was too shocked to even see anything he held your body he screamed and screamed he felt so so vulnerable. How could you leave him? Why would you leave him? You promised you'd stay with him.

After your funeral he spent a whole week at your grave and hoped maybe you light revive and come back and maybe you'll kiss him like you used to, maybe you might bring back life to his cold lips that have been cold ever since your body left all its color.

He did not know anymore he did not care anymore, he felt like living for anyone wasn't worth at this point. Lovers till death they said? What a load of crap.

RANPO EDOGAWA

He knew it. He knew it. He knew it

He couldn't stop it. He knew it. He couldn't stop it.

He cried, he never cried like that he knew it he knew something would happen if you went there on that mission

He didn't eat nor sleep

Cried by your grave and fukuzawa had to take him back to his place to comfort him.

Yosano tried to comfort him as well

Didn't bother poe for a whole two weeks

As soon as you left for that mission even though he told you not to, even though he said he had a surprise you still went. He received the news, he knew something bad would happen but he really didn't expect news of your funeral.

He cried and cried he wasn't ready to let your body go, he didn't want to let it go, he wished he stopped you somehow, any way he could he should have tried.

He stayed by your grave telling you about everything that went on in the armed detective agency even though he knew you weren't there to listen to his ramblings anymore. It only made him sob more

He didn't have it in him anymore, he felt like what was the hardest of being a great detective if he couldn't even save his one and only love.

Seriously everyone was concerned for him, ranpo was never the same after your death.

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

He was angry, he was confused, he was sad.

He felt an anger he never knew he had.

His powers even got the best at one point.

He didn't listen to anyone, he was so angry at your death because you promised just yesterday you wouldn't leave him. How could you

In the port mafia a death isn't really much of a big deal, it happens every now and then but that one death, your death. It wasn't normal at the least, not for chuuya it wasn't.

God knows how much anger he felt that he couldn't help, that he couldn't use his power to save you, that he couldn't hold you in his arms anymore or listen to your voice or feel your touch.

He absolutely hated it. He drowned himself in alcohol, he rummaged through every one of your belongings and kept them close to him. He was so angry, annoyed and frustrated.

How could you just leave him? He planned to propose today, to get down on one knee and give him whole life to you! Yet you just go ahead and die?

He knew it wasn't your fault. He knew you weren't to blame for your death but he had no one else. No one else to blame the death on because the boss closed the case saying it wasn't important. God, has he not hated any other day like the day of your death.

[vvh0adie]

bonnet bust down

pairing: jungkook x reader | type: oneshot | words: 7k | rating: 18+/M

Jungkook is jealous of a bonnet (yes, gurl), and because he can't ever take shit serious —as if he ever has— the ultimate battle begins.

⇴ genre/au: tooth rotting fluff | light crack | light angst | slice of life ‖ idol | boyfriend ⇴ persona: idol!jungkook | forensic tech!reader | needy!jungkook | willing!reader | possessive!jungkook | anxious!jungkook ⇴ cw: cussing | smut | cuddling | ebonics | words of praise | hurt comfort | jealousy | feelings of abandonment | overwhelment | career burn out | crying ⇴ dynamic: soft dom!jungkook x sub!reader ⇴ sw: dirty talk | groping | overstimulation | french kissing | tongue sucking | tongue fucking | public hair pulling | cunnilingus | anal fingering | vaginal fingering | unprotected vaginal sex | wining | humping | name screaming | sweating | nipple play | whimpering | full body orgasms | growling | mating press | downward dog ⇴ a/n: inspired by this thread from @jaehyunsblkgf cuz it was too funny. I had to make it raunchy too. prolly isnt that crack’d cuz i think this may be my softest fic yet. also metaphors/similes for brown pussies on point. periodt

masterlist | inbox

© vvh0adie 2022- [do not AI train/copy/repost/translate]

✧༺♡༻✧

Jungkook comes back from a recording session, swinging the door wide open till it hits the wall.

He stands there bright eyed, smiling at you. You, on the other hand, are surprised and slightly anxious of what’s to come.

A moment of silence goes by as light from your tablet illuminates your face. Then Jungkook lifts his fists up and raises his brows. You mimic his face, a giddiness rising within as you smile.

“I’m home!”

You chuckle, “I can see tha-”

He immediately rushes you, jumping onto the couch to wrap you into a big hug as he lays kisses along your neck.

Your hand shoots up, holding your tablet out the way as he moves to the other side of your neck. Jungkook hums, murmuring about how much he’s missed you. You giggle and rub his head, loving the feeling of his soft strands gliding between your fingers.

He’s your big baby. And by that fact, he’s crushing you.

“Kookie! Ah- You’re killing me.” He immediately raises onto his heels, staring at you all balled up with the tablet pressed to your chest. You’re so cute.

Whenever he tries to imagine you, his memory comes up short, always concluding that he can't possibly capture how divine you are. So when he's home, lovingly stalking you like a lost pup, he’s truly amazed at how hard you are to replicate. You need to be seen in person for one to fully grasp the magnitude of your beauty. And if you heard him say this out loud, you'd frown and shake your head. You're just too humble.

So all he says is “You're so beautiful, Baby,” and you giggle, hiding behind your tablet as your head tilts. Then you peer over the device, staring at each other's big, pretty eyes.

His beautiful brown eyes are full of youth and wanderlust. He’s truly a duality of man.

Just yesterday, you were on this very couch, legs spread wide and pushed back, feeling and listening to Jungkook eat your wet, glistening cunt, his dark gaze boring into you the entire time. And when he finally came up, his tongue glided over his pouty lips as drops of your slick dripped from his chin.

But right now, he’s so soft and needy. You truly believe he’d wither away like a faerie just from being away from you. Like he'd grow sad at the possibility of you not believing his existence or the magic that he brings to your life. So he needs to be near, reminding you of his undying love.

It hurts the way Jungkook gazes at you sometimes; like he has no control over how far he’d go to love you. And you often wish the boys would scold him to come to his senses, to hold himself in such high regard as you do. But you don't know when that time will come, so for now, you always make time for cuddles and kisses, like today because he needs your touch.

Setting the tablet on the coffee table, you raise up, cupping his face. Your thumbs smooth over the supple skin of his chubby cheeks as your eyes wander, taking in his beautiful visage: the soft slope of his big nose, curl of his long lashes and wet pout of his lips.

Your lips press to his with firm passion as you move to suck his bottom lip before peppering the top. He hums the entire time, making you smile.

“I love you so fucking much,” he says softly.

“I know.”

He whines, “____~” causing you to giggle. You peck him again, and when you pull back, he follows to push his tongue past your lips. You moan at his taste, your lashes fluttering as he releases you. Then you look at him with wanderlust. He cherishes every moment you spend in vulnerability with him.

You rub his cheeks. “I love you so much too, Jeon Jungkook.”

“You have to say the ‘fucking’ part.”

You snicker. Lord have mercy. He's so lucky he stirs such cute aggression within you or else you'd find the notion overkill.

“I fucking love you so fucking much, Jeon Jungkook,” you playfully growl, rubbing your nose against his.

A grin splays across his lips as his eyes scrunch; such a happy bunny. Your happy bunny.

From the corner of your eye, the tablet screen changes and you stretch to retrieve the device.

Your purchase window has timed out so you have to retype all your info. After sighing, you commence all the previous steps, feeling your legs come apart as Jungkook ducks in between the gap in your arms to lay on your chest.

Large hands find your thighs again, as he throws them around his waist and your feet lay against his back. Then he sighs, his warm breath hitting your neck as he nuzzles into it. His lips softly brush against you. And his body shifts against your’s, as he tries to get comfortable.

“I’m finna make you get up; be still,” you scold, slapping his butt, suddenly turning him into a mess of giggles and wiggles. You shake your head, still entering the info. You can’t be mad at him; he’s too darn cute.

You continue to settle him down by rubbing his butt and occasionally giving it a pat. Jungkook finally gets comfy, resting a hand behind your back and the other on your boob. It lays idle till he lightly squeezes your breast, thumbing over your nipple. You feel a light throb between your legs. Seems a cuddle isn't enough attention.

You feel him looking up at you before he kisses your sternum. Ugh~ he’s softly killing you, and yet if he knows, it's because cuteness comes naturally and he’s not looking to seduce you.

Finally scrolling to the bottom, you tap the ‘purchase’ button; afterwards your hand quickly finds refuge in Jungkook’s soft, dark curls. He hums at the way you massage his scalp; he’s really been needing it. His temples hurt from wearing headphones and listening to the same beat all day.

Jungkook eventually turns his head towards the tablet, prompting your chin to lift.

“What are you buying anyway?”

“A new bonnet.”

“Oooh! Yay.”

You laugh, “Boy, what are you ‘oohin’ for? You’re not the one wearing it.”

“I know but you look so cute in your little bonnet.”

“Well, this one isn’t little. I’m moving up a size ‘cause my hair has grown.”

He lifts to look at your hair in a puff on your head. It’s so shiny and defined. Though his mind drifts to your how you look like a little mushroom in your current bonnet. He finds it cute but it probably isn't good for your hair. Or rather it doesn't stay on.

“When does it get here?”

“In three days.”

“What color did you get?”

You giggle, loving how invested he can get into everything from your hairstyles, to your products.

You click the ‘x’ taking you to the product page.

“This one,” you say, pointing to the XL pink and purple bonnet with little Mangs sprinkled about. “Isn’t it cute?”

“...”

“Jungkook?”

“Uh~ Yeah. It’s got Mang without the mask.”

“Mmh hmm. Now, I have something of all the BT21 gang, but I thought I should upgrade Mang.”

“Did you only buy one?... I know how you like to switch them.”

“Nah, I’m feeling very purpley lately. I don’t think I’ll ever change it. Until it's worn out, of course.”

Jungkook suddenly gets up to stretch, giving you a peak of his tummy. Your hand snakes up his shirt, feeling his slightly taut abs and warm skin. And you giggle at the way he finches a bit when you accidentally tickle him. Jungkook smiles but it's different; more quaint than his toothy, cheerful one.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Yeah, long day; just tired.”

“Mh, yeah. Well, let's get a bath and go to bed, huh?”

He nods with a grin as you reach out for him to help you up. Then he takes your tablet, turning it off and tossing it onto the couch. His large hands circle your waist before he’s pulling you into a tight embrace. It lingers for some time as he begins to sway, waddling you two in a circle.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Does something have to be wrong?”

“Mh, no~ But you've been very clingy, Bunny.”

“…I just missed you.”

You rub his back. “Jungkook, since your break, we’ve been together for six months. Did a few hours really make you this needy?”

“Yes,” he grumbles against your shoulder.

“Okay, okay, alright.” You pat his butt. “Let's get to bed then” You grab his hand and circle the couch, walking down the corridor to the bedroom. “Little spoon or big spoon?”

“Big,” he says with little hesitation, stealing a giggle from you.

“Why?”

He suddenly whines, surprising you. He doesn’t want to answer any more questions; he just wants to hold you, keep you away from everyone and give you kisses so you know how much he loves and needs you.

He kisses your neck. “Because I wanna be able to hit it from the back.”

“...Jungkook.” You pull back to look at his grinning face. He’s smiling but you can definitely tell something bigger is at play. Though, you don’t want to push it because it's clear that he just needs your comfort at the moment.

✧༺♡༻✧

Exhausted from a long day's work, the infamous boy band shuffles into the room before scattering to sit.

Jin sighs, “Man, that's a lot.”

“You think it's too much?” Hoseok asks. “Mmh~ I think we could pull it off but we’re definitely pulling all nighters.”

Jin sucks in a breath, tilting his head. “We’ll, see.”

Jimin bites his lip. “Maybe we should cut some stuff?”

“But we already curated everything with stuff Army really wanted. I'm scared to take anything off,” Tae pouts.

“Yeah…”

Everyone sighs before the room falls silent, though, it's not long till Jungkook breaks it.

“_____ bought a new bonnet with Mang all over it,” he says casually, staring aimlessly at the ground, his eyes wide and still as his lips move.

Some smile; others snicker, watching his brow furrows as he continues to not stare at the floor.

Hoseok jokes. “What? You think you’ll be sleeping with me? What's wrong with that, Jungkook?”

Jungkook scratches under his lip. “Nothing ‘cept it’s on her head.”

Jimin laughs, “You’re acting like Hobi’s putting his crotch in her face.”

Jungkook gasps at the imagery, finally breaking his trance. “Don't say that~” He leans over and hits Jimin who can only laugh, finding Kookie way too cute.

They tussle for a bit; the others are completely unphased by their play; either casually watching or doing other things. Grunts and slapping fill the silence and overtake the blowing of AC, and staff’s footsteps along the halls.

Jimin finally manages Jungkook into a headlock. “Stop,” he says in a little pout, whooping Jungkook’s butt. The youngest suddenly slumps; his lips turning downward. He grumbles to which Jimin giggles, still holding his maknae by the head as he lays a cheek on top and begins to rock. Poor Jungkook seems to relax; now finding comfort in his embrace.

“There’s only one thing you can do, Kook-ah.” Jungkook turns to Namjoon who's scrolling on his phone.

“What?! Hyung. What? Tell me!” Jungkook’s face lights up, the fluorescence overhead reflecting sparkles in his eyes.

Namjoon grins at his eager dongsaeng. “You gotta make her forget.”

“...”

“You gotta fuck her,” a voice grumbles out before smacking.

Everyone turns to Yoongi resting on the couch with his head knocked back and his eyes closed. Suddenly Jungkook pulls his head from Jimin and crawls across the leather towards his hyung, sending snickers throughout the room at the skin sticking sounds he leaves behind.

“I do that, though; like three times a week. Maybe four with just foreplay, if I'm really good.”

Hoseok sputters into his fist, catching a glare from Jungkook.

“You gotta be rough and mean. Throw her around; call her names.” Jungkook just looks. “You don’t ever ‘Dumb-fuck’ her?”

“What? No, we have soft, sensual sex.” Jungkook smiles at his use of alliteration.

Yoongi tilts his head, opening his cat-like eyes to stare at their beloved maknae. His hand finds Jungkook's cheek, lightly patting. “My prodigal son. You can be rough and sensual.”

Hoseok nods. “You dominate her, fuck her guts up-”

“Whoa.” Taehyung finally looks up from his phone, brows raised and eyes wide.

“As you kiss and tell her what she’s not going to do. They like that shit.”

“I know women like rough sex… Just the ones I've been with usually want me to degrade them.”

“All we’re saying is that ____ might be the type to like a rough fucking while being sweettalked.”

“Mmh~ She is really receptive to praise when I'm just slow.”

“Yeah, that works too. Slow and rough. Drives them crazy; turns them dumb.”

“You mean to tell me you two only fuck slow and soft?”

“Mh, yeah. It edges her out longer before she cums.”

“You have a lot to learn, lil’ bro.”

“Slow and rough,” Jungkook murmurs to himself. “Slow and rough.”

✧༺♡༻✧

As the elevator door opens, Jungkook is glad to see that there isn’t a package at his doorstep. He hums a lil’ ditty as he presses the key code and slips himself into the familiar comfort of his home’s scent: crisp, light, and cotton fresh.

Kicking his shoes off, Jungkook looks around before neatly putting his sneakers in the cubby.

“I'm home.”

Silence.

He rifles around his pockets, retrieving his keys and wallet to throw into the bowl.

You’re not in your usual couch spot and the door to the gaming room is closed, so you must be in the bedroom.

“I said ‘Kookie’s home’. Your number one lover… Actually, your only lover!”

Jungkook walks swiftly down the hall, swinging through the bedroom door frame to meet the sight of you. You’re humming a sweet little tune as your hips slightly swaying. He smiles, wandering your pajama clad figure.

And right on top of your head lies the infamously adorable Mang; looking just like their father with their cheery eyes and bright smile. Jungkook does have a habit of being rough with the BT21 children but he's never wanted so badly to punt one of them until now. He’s setting such a bad example for Cooky.

“Hey~ Baby.”

You hum, turning around to give Jungkook a crescent eyed smile. “Hello~ Pookie.” You shuffle towards him, arms stretched out till you can cup his face and mark him with kisses.

Jungkook hums against you, melting into your sweet taste. He needs you so badly like his life depends on it.

Suddenly you’re being lifted and thrown onto the bed. Jungkook kneels onto the comforter, his fingers fiddling with one another as he looks down at you with pleading eyes.

“Please.”

You wander over him. Your sweet baby boy. You don’t know what's going on but you want to make it go away. You have to because, maybe once he’s gotten his frustrations out, he’ll confess.

“Please, what, Kookie?” His bottom lip juts out despite knowing he has to be direct with his sexual needs.

“Can I… Can I fuck you?”

It's so cute the way he’s able to cuss and ask for such lewd things. You can already feel yourself getting wet as your pussy contracts, yearning to bring him home. And the throb of your heart lies deep within your clit.

“Yes, Bunny. You can fuck me.”

You lay down, tilting your head to watch him; your leg rubbing against the other as you feel the anticipation rising within.

Jungkook frantically begins to stripe, pulling his shirt from smooth, bronze skin. The flex of his abs drive you wild, wanting to touch him. Then he pulls both bottom down, lending his hard cock to spring free and touch his lower tummy.

Your eyes wander as you bite your lips. He’s so fucking delicious to look at; you think you could cum now.

The bed dips as he crawls to spread your legs open so that he can undress you.

You watch him admire you, his hands roaming your thighs then squeezing your exposed sides. You're so soft, looking so cute in your lace pajama set. The thin fabric lays taut against your pussy, imprinting your succulent slit and your perky nipples poke through the matching tank top.

Then he stares at the bonnet. Oh, you're so beautiful and it sits so perfectly, protecting your crown. How could he be mad? It isn't the bonnet nor is it true jealousy or anger, is it? It's a deep sadness. A profound yearning.

You're so pretty he needs you to know how he feels. He needs to thrust his love into you like a subliminal that engraves itself upon your eyelids. You need to think about him as much as he does you. But you do and a part of him knows this but his ego says you'll forget about him eventually with all the time you spend apart. Though, how can someone possibly forget Jeon Jungkook? It's simple really because only you could forget the intricacies of Kookie. Your Pookie. Your Bunny.

Jungkook’s emotions heighten as he frantically strips you. You gasp and whimper at his ferocity; his hands feeling everywhere and nowhere, driving you mad, making your clench furiously.

Once done, you lay in nothing but your bonnet and plush socks. His eyes move in a frenzy around your body, taking in your luscious curves, plump pussy and supple breast. He thumbs over your soft patch of hair, lightly tugging to watch the cute little expression on your face.

“Jungk~“

He bends down, shoving his tongue past your lips. You’re overwhelmed, falling into lust as his wet taste swirls around yours. He's over powering you and you relinquish control, letting him ravage your mouth. He lets up a little, breathing heavily. He's so needy. He's about to dive in again but your hand shoots to grab as you whimper.

Searching his face, his brow tenses with worry. You lay a hand to his cheek. “Kookie, calm down. I'm not going anywhere, Bunny.”

Jungkook looks at you with his deep browns as you catch the brief twitch of uncertainty etched onto his brow. He needs you so badly.

You cup his face, bringing him down to kiss; this time softly and slowly. He looks at you through heavy lashes, humming as your tongue invades his mouth. Licking into his inner lips, you occasionally seal a kiss.

Then you lick the expanse of his tongue before sucking the tip. He whimpers, his eyes finally rolling shut. He shuffles his hips closer, lightly teasing your slit with his leaking cock.

You gasp, releasing him. He looks down, seeing you bound by your essence.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes and licking his lips.

You rub his cheek, your eyes gazing into one another as you urge him to kiss again. He’s so cute and vulnerable.

Expose your neck, you submit to him, moaning as he attacks your warm skin. His lips caress downward onto your throat, nipples, and soft tummy. He chuckles when your hips roll from his kisses to your inner thighs.

“Mmh~ I’m sorry, Baby, no teasing.” Jungkook thumbs spread you wide, watching your slit open with a messy pop. And your scent hits him as he marvels at your clenching hole. You’re so wet, and velvety like dewdrops on a brown orchid. Your pussy is begging to feed him as a little trickle of slick pushes past your hole, steadily spilling towards your tight rim.

You hear him rumble, breathing his warm breath onto your fold before it's replaced by the hot lapping of his tongue. You moan, arching your back as he slurps at your folds. Jungkook nips at them, pulling and prickling pain for your clit to feel pleasure.

You cry as he pushes your legs back and tucks his arms under. Jungkook’s ministrations are slow and maddening, his lips kissing, sucking, and licking your hole as it pulses to make out with him as well. You squirm when fingers rub your blushing clit, sending your head back and your voice to ring out.

But you really start to claw away when his tongue glides into your swollen pussy, thrusting and swirling around. Starting from your ass, he sucks up all your juices before spreading your pussy to spit. Jungkook sucks and bites your thigh, watching the essence slip into your hole.

Coming up, he graces you with his wet chin then wipes his mouth. And you touch yourself, gasping at how you’re dry everywhere but your pussy. You lift up to stare at him and he meets you with fire in his eyes. He’s a man on a mission.

Jungkook shuffles to line himself up, swirling his leaking tip around your entrance as it kisses him to enter. He hisses, sinking in slowly as your walls flutter to suck him in.

His hands caress up your thighs till he can press your legs against his shoulders. Then Jungkook comes back down, resting his forearms beside you while simultaneously driving his heavy cock deeper. You clench around him and he swallows your cries with a kiss as your hand presses to the back of his head. Jungkook slowly fucks into you and your hips accompany his as you both moan against each others open mouths.

Your back arches as he kisses your neck to your sternum. Jungkook whimpers, loving how flutter around him. He loves the sound of your pussy sucking him in, wanting to drain him mind, body and soul. He moves to lavs over your nipples whining but then he remembers.

Jungkook sits up, pulling out to gaze upon his glistening dick. Your slick needs to be creamy white and coating his cock because that's how he knows you’ve been fucked throughly; that he’s put his all in loving you down.

There would never be a reason to leave. If only he wasn't so busy then he’d be perfect for you. But if you knew he was thinking this it’d break your heart.

Spreading your legs, he stares at your pulsing hole and rosy clit. Your pussy, so dark and ripe for the taking.

You call his name timidly. The way Jungkook worships you is something you don't think you’ll ever get used to.

He runs a hand down your chest, stopping at your tummy then he grabs your breast, squeezing your nipples to perk. You moan, making the sweetest face. Jungkook rubs your hips, pecking your lips before his large hands flip you onto your belly. He lifts your hip then puts a pillow under. Your arch dips and your pussy spreads for him, a lone drop running to your clit. He bends down and kisses it away as you jump and moan. He rubs your ass growling as he takes a lap.

Jungkook comes up to stare at you spread out for him; ready to take his heavy cock in your tight little hole. And while you think it's kind of early for this position, your embrace around his cock is comfort that he needs.

He slowly enters and lifts you up by the throat, pressing your back to his broad chest. As you sink down onto his cock, he kisses your neck and squeezes your breast as he fucks up into you. You moan, putting your hands atop his as you try to bounce. His girthy cock nestles deep, curving to glide along your soft tissue. And deep circles rub into your clit and a pinch hardens your nipple. Your head throws back onto his shoulder and your toes wiggle.

Rising, he guides you on all fours, grabbing your ass as he fucks slowly. “Jungkook~”you whimper before gasping when he picks up the pace. Your limbs feel shaky and your head bobs as you moan his praise.

He switches it up, thumbs spreading your cunt as he eases in before thrusting hard. All your holes clench and tingle at the new sensation and your toes clench this time. Your hand shoots back to run over his abs as you look at him with lust. His dark gaze and thrusts cause your eyes to flutter as you bite your lip. You’re close.

“You like that, Baby?”

You nod, whining, “So fucking big.” You hiss. “Stretch my pussy out, Bunny.”

He thrusts again, becoming harder till your ass slaps against his toned thighs. Your leaking pussy sucks around him and he bends over onto your back to finger your clit. You bite your lip, looking at him as your brows knit. You look so fucking cute.

“There we go, Mama,” he whispers, laying his forehead to yours. Your breaths stir as you gaze into each other's eyes before he licks his lips and kisses you.

“Aaaah~ Fu-” Your legs shake as they try to close but Jungkook pushes them back open, continuing his menstruations on your swollen clit. The whole time there's darkness in his gaze. You don't know what happened today but it changed him.

Though, it really shocks you when he enters hard and drags out slowly. You feel every sculpted curve of his cock, causing you to cry out as your head hangs down and your eyes shut tight.

“Ah- Fuck! Jungkook, fuck my pussy. Ugh! Fuck me, n-”

He grins, grabbing your hair while in the bonnet. It slips off after a hard thrust, staying in his hands. You flop down, moaning loudly. He pulls back and you leak around him. You're not creamy enough yet.

“Oops…" He stares at the back of your head, watching your hair begin to spread and frame your face.

He knows the silky bonnet serves a purpose but he loves waking up next to you as the sun kisses your golden bodies. That must be what Adam saw when he was blessed to gaze upon Eve for another day.

But fuck, do you look so good on his cock in all your natural beauty. He wants to see your face contorting from pleasure as your hair manes around you. He fucking loves “Day 3 Hair” because its that perfect inbetween of defined and voluminous.

The universe knew to birth him after the 70s because he’d have been the greatest stone to ever roll; always surrounded by fine women with their “Big Hair, Don’t Care” attitude and the tightest daisy dukes and bell bottom rompers. But truthfully, he only needs one old soul in particular.

He simply shrugs, deciding not to put it back on. He’ll gladly suffer the consequences later. And knowing you, they're never that bad; only making his yearn for you stronger.

Feeling his hands leave your hips, his own stutter, sloppily thrusting into you as his dick tempts to slip out. What the fuck is he doing? He’s ruining your high and surely his too.

You whine, moving your hips to follow his cock. Not wanting it to slip out, you rock back, trying to find a rhythm. But you can’t really focus with the incessant rustling behind you.

“Who's the captain now?” You finally look over your shoulder, surprised to see the band of your bonnet slapping across Jungkook’s forehead.

“Bruh-“ You go to roll your eyes but Jungkook’s firm hands slap against your ass, digging crescent shapes into your supple skin. Spreading you wide, sweet searing pain pricks at your hole, Jungkook’s cock threatening to stretch and tear you apart. You whimper, but it's cut short by a quick and forceful thrust.

“Oh! Fuc-“

Jungkook watches you gasp as your eyes remain rolled back. Your brow tenses, and so does your grip onto the sheets.

He grins massaging your plump ass, allowing his hands to glide up your sides, squeezing your soft curves. Here comes his favorite part.

Jungkook begins to slowly drag out of you and is immediately stuttered by the clenching of your walls; only dragging his veiny cock even slower against your soft tissue.

You yelp, legs shaking and toes curling as you close your eyes and bite your lip. You’re losing control, your body moving to throw your ass back onto his thick cock.

“Yeah, Baby, fucking take this dick. Fuck me. Put that pussy on me. Fuck~” he growls, his head throwing back and his eyes shuting tight. Jungkook rubs your hips, but soothing measures mean little as you cry.

You’re probably too far gone, so all he can do is help coax you to climax. You whine, clenching hard to build up the sweet pain of impaling yourself on his massive cock.

"I know~ I know, Mama~ Let it out," he coos, feeling you flutter around him; you’re gonna milk him dry and he's gonna let you.

"Mmh~ Jungkook! Fuck my pussy, Baby," you gasp feeling his tip glide along your g-spot. You contract, squelching sounds between you as your slick spills around his cock.

He tilts his head, his face idle as he licks his lips. “I got you, Mama, hm? You like when I fuck this pussy, don’t you?”

“Yes~ Ugh Mmhph,” you cry into the covers.

“Okay, Mama, time to make these pretty legs shake. Gonna cum for me, yeah?” All you can do is give an incoherent cry.

Bending down, his large fingers wrap around your throat to lift you back onto your hands. Jungkook sets a light squeeze before slamming his hips into your ass, rippling waves like the silkiest chocolate.

It's an out of body experience: head airy as if you’re ascending to glory and white heat blooming behind your eyes. But in between you and your lover is hellfire burning; a sin so painful it makes you wet from pleasure.

“Uh uh uh!" Your legs shake and you feel the pressure rising. Each stroke coaxes your pussy to coat his cock in thick white slick as it runs down your thighs and his sack.

You clench and he hisses, slapping your ass. Jungkook spreads you again, watching your tight little rim spasm. Then he drags a thumb from your wetness to massage before pushing knuckle-deep into your asshole.

“Aaah~ Jungkook, no,” you cry, your legs shaking as your hand finds his wrist. But he quickly throws it off, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Stop?” he asks, though, you quickly shake your head, making sure to give him a few pulses of your pussy to suck him back in. But Jungkook pulls out anyway, watching you writhe and cry. He desperately wants to coax you into overstimulation.

Maneuvering you onto your back, Jungkook comes down on top of you, bringing your hands overhead. His dark eyes admire your bouncing breast then his lips wrap around your nipples, lending his tongue to caress them with deep swirls and the light grazing of his teeth. Then he pecks up your throat to find his way back to your soft lips.

Jungkook’s thrusts never falter as you moan against each other, never fully able to seal a kiss. He needs release. He needs to mark his claim into you. So he lets his mind slip into his darkest desires to intertwine his soul with yours.

“Don't ever buy anything that doesn’t represent me ever again,” he growls into your ear. You know he's just in the moment and that the bonnet isn't really the problem. He’s just silently screaming for your attention. And you can’t help but scream his name as he sucks your neck while jackhammering into you.

Jungkook’s fingers interlock with yours as his wet taste invades your mouth once more, sucking and swirling. You’re overcomed, feeling fucked out; eveything’s dizzy and numb except your pussy.

You can feel every throbbing vein and drag of Jungkook’s cockhead against your soft tissue and you can’t escape the sound of your messy, wet cunt running down your ass and his thighs, merging you together in blasphemy. Through blurry eyes, you gaze at your lover, sweat dripping from his face cooling your hot skin, his brows tense as he focuses, the veins riding up his golden skin.

You hiccup his name and Jungkook stares at you with longing before pressing a hard kiss. Then he slips into your neck to release his grunts and whimpers onto soft skin. And his cock pumps inside of you, shooting his hot white load against your cervix. Jungkook moans into your ear causing you to clench; in turn overstimulating him to writhe as you milk him.

Your fingers lazily glide along his back and you press your face against his to take in his scent. It's so enticing; his natural musk permeating the air. You almost want him to fuck you again right away, but you know its just primal.

Instead, you lay silent, feeling and listening to each other's staggered breaths.

Jungkook’s eyes close to basking in your scent as well. Your hand cascades up to rub his head, but you stop at the silky feel of your bonnet. You manage a tired smile.

Jungkook suddenly lifts up. “It’s so fucking hot,” he mumbles. The band is pushed down onto his brows, causing you to giggle. You pull the bonnet off, cringing at the damp feel. It's already in need of another wash. Things truly don't last with a man in the house.

“Phew,” Jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. His curls have sweated out but it's not dripping like usual. Maybe there was an upside to his antics.

“See there.” You click your tongue. “You can't even handle a damn bonnet.”

“Pssh~ You can't handle this dick,” Jungkook quips, grabbing his base to swiftly pull out. Your arm shoots out to dig blunt nails into his arm, and you’re shocked as he grins watching you shake through an orgasm.

Jungkook lays his cock between your pussy lips, purposely brushing his tip against your clit, aiding in the release of his warm load. It sputters out of you and he hums at the sound.

A hand comes under your neck, tilting your head back so he can kiss your glistening throat as you reel. Lifting up, he watches your eyes roll back. He smiles a little; you're so cute. He like fucking you dumb now. Jungkook’s thumb rubs over your baby hairs as he watches your hand clench. He presses his lips into your palm to kiss.

You finally settle, whining. “I know, Baby. Your pussy’s still sensitive, hm?” His tone is sly and cocky. “Want me to do it again? Hm?”

You remain still, pondering it over, but then your head lazily shakes. Jungkook chuckles, “Okay,” kissing your cheek then your lips. You hum, wrapping your body around him as he cups your face with one hand while the other rubs your side.

Releasing you, Jungkook’s firm hands squeeze your curves then travel up to grab your breast as he kisses your sternum. He lays an ear to your chest, listening to your heart as he comes down like a weighted blanket onto you, shielding you with warmth.

✧༺♡༻✧

You two lay in bed as he spoons you with his leg thrown over your waist. He’s nuzzled into your neck, his tongue laving against your hot skin, sucking and nipping.

He moans with you as you squeeze his hand interlocked with yours. He grinds his soft cock against your ass, whimpering.

“Huh, fuck-“ he sighs. “I love you so fucking much.” His embrace gets tighter.

“I love you so fucking much too, Jeon Jungkook.” He looks up to gaze at your side profile as a grin spreads on his lips. Then he gives an open mouth kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

It’s wet and sloppy. “Ew!” you whine, wiping your face.

“You like it wet and nasty,” he quips, his brows tensing like he’s the offended one. You’re shocked, titling your head to decide if he’s really fucking with you. But all you can do is chuckle before you try to roll out of his embrace.

You two tussle a bit as he tries to rangle you back. He pulls you closer, lifting up to cage you with his body even more as he attacks your neck. You squeal, your shoulder raising to shield you.

His determination tires you out and you simply hum at the way he kisses your back up to nip your ear. He maneuvers his hand under yours, interlocking your fingers again so that he can grab your breast, lightly rubbing over your nipple.

The room goes silent again as Jungkook’s arm under your head moves up so his hand dangles over your bonnet. He touches the silk material, eyes wandering over the cute purple chipmunks.

“I hope you know I’m not finna stop wearing this bonnet,” you finally say, turning slightly to face him. His brows raise as he wanders your face. Is he even listening? Yes, he is, your face is just his best point of focus; ebbing his mind to tranquility.

“You saw how expensive it was,” you pout, causing him to smile. “…And I’m not about to let you become some asshole boyfriend who wants to control me.” He finally looks you dead in the eye, his smile faltering. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, causing your pulse to spike a bit.

But soon he’s leaning to kiss you. “Thank you,” is all he says afterwards, caressing your face.

You swallow, now ready to confront him.

“Bunny…”

He hums, rubbing his thumb along your baby hairs.

“I need you to tell me what's the matter… I’m worried.”

He freezes still staring at his thumb. He's quiet for at least ten seconds before he tries to talk but his voice cracks and you watch as tears well in his eyes.

“Our- our schedule is stacked and I may have to leave the country,” he sniffles, tears running down his cheeks.

“Oh, Koo~”

“I hate it. I just wanna be here. I’m honestly so tired. I don't wanna leave,” he says, shaking his head.

You rub his face, swiping a thumb under his eyes. your heart feels shattered.

“I don't wanna do this anymore.” You look at him with shock.

“Jun-“

“Aht- I mean I don't wanna perform how we have before the hiatus. I'm ready for a change. I'm ready for things to slow down. I never had a reason until now,” he says, his dark brown eyes boring into you, intertwining your souls to understand.

You turn into his chest fully, wrapping your arms around his neck to press a hard kiss onto his plump lips. It's needy, all-consuming as you sigh into it. You caress his tongue with yours before releasing him. His eyes fall half lidded as if you’ve sedated him and he melts further into your soothing touch on his cheeks.

“My sweet boy. It's gonna be okay. We’re gonna get it sorted out.”

“But Ar-“

“They’ll understand. They have to.”

You smile at him, scooting up slightly to rest him onto your bosom as you rake through his soft curls, and nuzzle into his crown.

You have to fix this.

✧༺♡༻✧

Night life comes about when the sun sets, and the faint bustling of the city awakens you. You open your eyes to the pitch dark and your hands run along Jungkook who's still sleeping against you.

Your fingers carefully touch Jungkook’s face as you find his cheeks to cup. Still groggy, you press a lazy kiss to the corner of his mouth before trying again for his lips. You hum, feeling love swell within you. You also feel protective, wanting to be the only keeper to his heart. But you can’t. You have to call one of the few people who love him fiercely as well.

You look over your shoulder palming the nightstand before grabbing your phone. The light instantly hits you in the face as you wince and Jungkook suddenly shifts. Jungkook whines, embracing your tighter as he nuzzles your chest and his lips brush your nipple, eliciting a helpless moan. This is not your finest moment. You’re on a very important mission.

You navigate to your contacts, but the time catches your eye. It's 9pm. Who would be up right now?

Biting your lip, you’re about to make the call when Jungkook’s phone startles you. Jungkook’s head lifts, “looking” around. He’s actually still asleep, so you quickly guide his head back down before stretching to switch out the phones. You stare at the phone, a smirk gracing your lips. It seems great minds think alike.

“Yo, Jungkook, I've been meaning to call,” the deep voice says.

You begin to speak but it chuckles a bit.

“So…I presume “Operation Bonnet Bust Down” was a success?”

“Operation what now?”

“Aht- _____?”

“Uh~ Yeah… Jungkook's asleep,” you groan, pointing the phone down to stare at your Bunny’s pouty face. You give him a quick kiss and his brows knit as he licks his lips, nuzzling between your breasts. He's so cute, but you should definitely punish him later. “Namjoon, if it means what I think it does then yes,” you grit, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew men talked about things like that and the boys are no exception. But just the thought of them imagining…

Namjoon just hums, but you can hear the grin on his face. Probably thinking ‘Attah Boy, Kook-ah.’ And of course it would be him; Namjoon may think he’s quite suggestive but you feel he's the main perpetrator of the many things Jungkook comes asking you to do in bed. You’ll never thank him but you won’t discount his expertise.

“Look, we need to talk about Kookie in other ways.”

“Yeah, wassup?”

“We need to talk about your schedule.”

The line goes silent a good while till a book softly closes and glass clinks together as a light pour cascades into crystal.

Namjoon takes a sip of his concoction, hissing. Then he sighs, “Let's talk then.”

masterlist | inbox

[starrbright]

Haven

I had a really shit day yesterday, so.....this is just me venting.

It eats you. It makes your nerves creep, it twitches and itches. And you want to forget about it. You so badly want to forget about it that maybe you'd do anything to have it.

That includes begging your man.

You were already home, just burying yourself in some chores that needed to be done in your home, or distract yourself with other things, be that as it may as the hours passed by of him still not coming home yet—that gnawing feeling still stirs you. No matter how distracted in the moment you were, when it ends, it comes back again.

So what do you do when he finally comes home?

The second you heard the door opened, you laid down whatever that was you were doing, your feet so light as it stepped on the floor but one could not miss the heaviness you were keeping in just to keep it light.

He could never miss the suddenness in your gentleness despite it all. Easily seeing through you. He embraces you back, letting out a low chuckle as he does so, holding you tighter as you bury yourself in his arms. A shuddering breath you make as you tried to let go of what burdens you. He takes it willingly, wholly.

Finding yourselves in your bedroom then as he gets out of his work clothes, there you are on the edge of the bed."Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks simply.

You love him, you do. You trust him, with your whole life, yes. You rarely keep anything to each other, very much so....But this....is different.It's just a bad day, you tell yourself. Just one little thing that you wish to forget.

So, "No." Is what you answered. "I don't, I don't wanna talk about it, I don't wanna think about it." You begin, mind and mouth threatening to ramble. You don't stop it. Creeping thoughts finally being free from you. "I'm fine, I swear....I just—a heavy sigh that leaves you immediately—"I can't get it out my head, I feel so fucking terrible, I didn't do anything wrong or maybe I did—I know I did even though I did it for the right thing. I still feel bad and a completely stupid person"—your chest heaving at that point, your voice close to breaking. His gaze never left you, as he kneels in front of you, holding your hands. You break. "I just wanna forget, please...I don't wanna think about it anymore, I can't. Please, just help me, make me forget about it, please."

He knows when to not pry even if it was for the sake of comforting you, knows when to only listen and utter his gentle assurances, knows how much patience he should have.

So for now, that's what he does. He makes you forget.

Kisses that began all too gentle and slow. He knew how to work with your mind. Knew what to do to leave you breathless, that all what you'll be thinking of is how you'll be taking your breath back without panting like a puppy. He knew just the right amount of force of him grasping your throat that'll make you gasp. He knows that keeping up his agonizingly slow kisses will have you feel your cunt leaking in your panties, knows that what you'll be thinking of is to seek for some pressure down there, knows that a second later he'll be feeling your thighs twitch and you're gonna whimper and whine for more.

And he gives it, but not before he teases you, not before he makes you beg, not before he makes you call out his name over and over again and again while barely giving you what you need, not before he's made sure that all of you're thinking about now is him, just him and all of him. Because all the long hours of night, to dusk till dawn—what you will only know is him.

—may or may not delete this some time soon.