#I like emailing because its like setting free a carrier pigeon

[mytortoisegotstuckinatupperware]

FUN FACT IF YOU EMAIL ENOUGH PEOPLE SOMETIME (SOMETIMES) GOOD THINGS HAPPEN

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don��t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

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© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[theranskahovs]

A Proposition *Part 2*

Request: Babe!!! I just read that fic where the reader is trying to kill vlad by pretending to be a stripper and its. so. GOOD!!! Can you please write a part 2?? where reader is eventually Piotr’s gf or something.. 🌹  Also adding: ‘•Vladimir would most likely scare you into submission honestly. He doesn’t care if you’re bratty or not, he’s going to punish you either way.’ well that’s fucking hot😳 could you maybe write a one shot about this pretty pretty please?  Warnings: intense smut, of course. swearing.  Word Count: a fucking novella 4k A/N: it doesn’t end as reader being Piotr’s gf, so sorry if that bothers anyone. but I did make it so you can easily tell reader prefers Piotr over Vladimir, so maybe if there’s ever more to this it can easily lead to that. 

Part One 

It’d been over a month since you’d seen them both. It was a relief, you’d let yourself hope they forgot about your deal. And yet, you still waited anxiously for Piotr and Vladimir to come back. 

That’s not to say you could’ve forgotten about them, though, no. Exactly a week after your encounter with the Russians at the club, you received the $10,000 you were promised. When you were told they’d been keeping tabs on you, you expected them to get your phone number, maybe shoot you a text of Howdy! We’ve got your thousands of dollars for not killing our boss and then fucking him! Get it when you have time! But no, you got no text, email, fax, carrier pigeon. When you came home exactly 7 days later after the incident, you found a bag of money on your kitchen island. 

When you saw the money, you felt a chill go down your spine. You thoroughly inspected your apartment after, knowing the kind of people you were dealing with. Hell, you even stayed at your friend’s for the next few days, that’s how shaken up you were. 

And yet, you still wanted to see them again. You told yourself it was because of the money Vladimir promised you’d make from each of your encounters, and you let yourself believe that. But truly, you would’ve wanted to be with them again, even if there was no money involved. Whether it had anything to do with the way Vladimir was finally an equal match for you in terms of attitude and boldness, or the way Piotr fucked you so well, you couldn’t tell.

By now, it’d been over a month since you’d seen them, but you knew they were always watching. At first, it wasn’t as obvious as a pile of money on your counter. But you knew they were there, at first by intuition, then by glimpses on the street and around your apartment. To an untrained eye, it would’ve gone unnoticed, but you knew the men that seemed to be watching you as you turned your back had too many strange tattoos and telltale accents. 

You were grateful they were watching out for you. They knew your original employer had to be angry enough to kill you since you didn’t keep your promise to finish Vladimir off a handful of Fridays ago. You definitely finished him in another way, you think to yourself with a huff of laughter. 

Today was the first day you’d mostly pushed it out of your mind, instead spending your day doing errands and buying groceries (with the money you made. You almost felt proud at having earned it so easily, doing something you’d normally do for free. It felt empowering, to say the least). 

So when you finished your errands, lugging your bags of groceries and purse into your apartment, all that was on your mind was a hot shower and Netflix. Those plans vanished when you stepped in the threshold, knowing something wasn’t right.

Hesitantly, you grab the knife you keep in the potted plant by your door, gripping the familiar handle in your palm. Cautiously, you enter your living room. You’re greeted by Piotr smoking a cigarette on your couch and Vladimir sampling the alcohol in your cupboards. 

“Glad you could finally make it,” Piotr greets with a chuckle, watching intently as you try to appear calm. 

You set your knife on the kitchen island, next to the glass of whatever Vladimir is drinking. Vladimir pulls you into his side with one arm, pressing himself close to you. “Hello, princess.” 

You don’t say anything, just take his glass out of his hand and down the remaining few sips; you knew you’d need it to last the night. He chuckles, taking the glass back from you when you’re done and putting it down. “Not happy to see us?” He asks, hand stroking your side. 

You are, you’re so incredibly happy to see them, but you’re determined not to show it. He accepts your silence and leans down to kiss you. You pull away, placing a hand on his chest. “Wait, how much?”

“What?” He asks, confused.

“How much,” you repeat. “How much are you paying me?”

He understands what you mean instantly, and laughs. He leans back against the island, still stroking your side. “How much do you want?”

“Depends on how high you’re willing to go,” you say with a smile, knowing you’ve got to get the most money out of him.

“We will not get anywhere like this,” he tells you.

“Alright. Then I want $2000,” you tell him. 

Piotr whistles and Vladimir raises his eyebrows at you. “Bit much, no?” 

“It was $10,000 last time. I’d say you’re getting a hell of a discount.”

“You were trying to kill me last time,” he points out.

“I can try again if you like. Since it seems to be a kink of yours?” You smirk at him, knowing he’s going to give you what you’re asking for.

He scoffs, “$2000 it is, then.”

“Yay!” You exclaim happily as he leans down to kiss you quickly before you can pull back again, holding you tight to him as the taste of liquor mingles between your lips. 

He starts walking you backward, to where your bedroom is (you assume he already knows your apartment’s floorplan, which is slightly unsettling, but you try to forget that and think instead about getting your 2000 dollars). He decides it’s too clumsy walking with you, so he picks you up as if you’re a sack of feathers and continues walking. 

He breaks your kiss to nod his head towards your room, for Piotr to follow. “Grab her knife, we will be needing it.” 

“What-” You begin to protest, but he presses his lips against yours, a trace of a sinister smile on his face. 

Your hands reach for his spiked up hair, tugging roughly and reveling in the hiss Vladimir emits. He pulls your hair just as roughly, growling at you, “No. We are in charge.”

You tilt your head at him, a challenging smile on your lips. “Is that the character I’m being paid to play for the night? Someone submissive?” 

Vladimir readjusts you in his arms as he kicks open your bedroom door. Piotr speaks up from behind him, “Soon you won’t be playing part, kitten.”

Vladimir drops you at the edge of your bed, and you bounce slightly on the mattress. You lean up on your elbows, waiting for what’s about to come, too timid to ask. 

You’re suddenly all too aware of the sweatpants and tie-dye t-shirt you have on from your day of running errands. You wished they would’ve come on a better day when your hair in its messy bun wasn’t so tangled, and your half-hearted attempt at makeup wasn’t so obvious. 

Vladimir makes eye contact with Piotr, nodding at him. Piotr grins, striding to the edge of the bed, like a predator ready to pounce on prey. Your heart jumps in anticipation as he holds up your knife, watching it glint in the faint lamplight. 

Once he’s sure your gaze is on the knife, he flips it in the air and catches it, spinning it gracefully around his fingers. He leans over you, kissing you too delicately, and it puts you on guard. A second later you feel a tug on your shirt, and hear the rip of the cotton as your knife meets the material. 

Your stomach is exposed to the air, and both men seem to drink in the new expanse of skin that’s been revealed to them. Vladimir chuckles at your plain bra, “You should buy lingerie with the money.” 

You scoff at him, defensive, “I was doing errands! It’s not like you warned me you were coming.”

Piotr hovers over you, knife pressed flat against your chest. “I hope you are not arguing.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially, “He hates that.”

You grit your teeth, tempted to fight back. You just shake your head, wanting him to continue on with whatever plan has him so excited. “Good,” he confirms, pulling the ripped shirt off your frame. When he’s done he tosses it at Vladimir’s head with a laugh, leaning down to give you a kiss. 

He kisses you deeply, hands cupping your face. The knife is in one of his hands, and it’s tilted away from you, but it’s still so close to your features that you want to shrink away from it. You’re almost worried he’ll forget it’s there, but he wouldn’t, would he?

His thumb strokes your jawline and your legs come off the bed, wrapping around his torso where he’s hovering over you. He smirks into the kiss as you pull him closer to you.

“Alright,” Vladimir huffs out, and Piotr lifts himself off of you to look at Vladimir. He doesn’t look happy; he’s scowling, and if you were correct, jealous? Piotr holds his hands up in mock surrender, rolling off to your side to lie next to you. 

Vladimir kneels at the end of your bed, eyeing you, deciding what he wants to do with you first. He slips your sweats off your legs, almost like you’re a ragdoll. “Hand me that,” he grunts at Piotr.

When he gets the knife in his possession he brings it to your chest with such carelessness you’re terrified he’s going to stab you, but he just lifts the middle of your bra up in the front between the cups and cuts right through it. He helps you slide it off your shoulders and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“He has not figured out how to get them off with his hands yet,” Piotr whispers to you, and you giggle. Your laugh trails off when you see the angry glare that Vladimir is directing at Piotr. 

Vladimir’s hands go straight to your chest, where they knead and grope roughly at your exposed breasts. When he leans down to kiss you his stubble scrapes at your skin, and he bites your lip. You didn’t expect or want him to be gentle, but it’s a stark contrast between the two men (if you could even call Piotr “gentle”). 

He starts to kiss a path down your neck, biting and nipping at all the skin he can. He kisses all the way down to the seam of your underwear. You know what he’s going to do, and he smiles up at you, wanting you to challenge him. 

But you ignore him, staying silent as Piotr leans over to kiss you again, rolling your nipple between his fingers. As he’s doing this, Vladimir cuts your underwear off. 

You’re completely exposed to them now, and it makes you want to shy away from their burning gazes. You’re holding your breath, waiting for someone to do something to take this further. 

It unsurprisingly turns out to be Vladimir, who picks a scarf off your floor with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He ties it around you, and for good measure finds some similar garments to tie your hands to the headboard with. 

“Makes it more fun, does it not?” Piotr asks, slipping his shirt over his head, and completely pulling the scarf over your eyes. 

“Let’s play a game,” Vladimir suggests. “You have to guess which one of us is touching you. If you win, you get rewarded. If not, you get punished.”

You know you can’t do anything but nod, so that’s what you do. You feel them shuffling around on the bed, trying to confuse you. Your senses are in overdrive, trying to make up for your loss of sight by listening to any signs that will tell them apart.

The first thing you feel is the cold metal of your knife, it goes from your neck to your breast, swirling around your nipple. From there it trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its path. Then it scratches you, leaving you to jerk away in uncertain fear as it continues down your body, stopping between your legs. You know there’s got to be your wetness on it, and it has you smirking at the thought that one of the boys is probably licking it off, tasting you.

There are a couple seconds of nothing, giving you time to think about who it was. Piotr is more skilled with the knife- it felt like a steady hand. And Vladimir wouldn’t have simply scratched me, he would’ve wanted to see blood. 

“It was Piotr,” you say surely. 

“Good job, kitten,” Piotr says, pecking you on the lips. 

There’s more shuffling, and you know they’re just doing it for show. There are fingers moving from your stomach up to your neck, and from there a hand is pressed against the base of your neck. He’s pushing up slightly so it’s hard to breathe, and when you’re seized with fear you instantly know it’s Vladimir. Of course, he wants nothing less than a reaction out of you, and a terrified one at that.

“That’s Vladimir,” you say, taking in a large breath of air, and simultaneously missing the imposing weight of his hand on your throat.

The man in question simply grunts in response, giving your breast a squeeze as it falls silent again. Other than a wailing siren down on the street below, the only sound in the room is your anticipative breaths and the rustle of your comforter.

The next touch you feel is a hand going up the side of your leg, and someone is pressing open-mouthed kisses up the inside of your thigh, stopping when they’re at the apex of your legs.

“Piotr,” you groan, knowing he would’ve wanted to tease you. You also didn’t feel Vladimir’s stubble on your thighs (you won’t admit that you really want to, either). 

“Yeah,” he confirms, letting it fall silent for Vladimir to announce the verdict. 

“Good girl,” he starts off. “You did perfectly, but we find it more entertaining to punish you anyway.” You can’t see his face, but you know there’s a proud smirk on it; he always feels the need to be in control, and right now he knows he is.

“Vladimir-” You start to protest, hands pulling at the surprisingly tight knot Piotr tied between your scarf and the headboard. You feel his hand reach back up to your neck, tightening once, quickly, and it’s gone before you know it. 

You feel shuffling on the bed, knowing Vladimir gave Piotr a silent command. Someone is between your legs, spreading them further apart. Judging by the lack of harshness, you assume it’s the latter. 

Like before, he presses wet kisses up your thigh, laying a heavy hand on your hip and massaging it. His mouth meets where you want it most, tongue tentatively raking through your wet folds and swirling around your clit- it feels divine. 

You sigh, trying to tangle your fingers in his hair, but remember the bound predicament your wrists are in. His tongue circles your entrance, and then there are two fingers inside of you. You press your hips closer to him and are met with resistance.

“Don’t move too much,” Vladimir warns, and you feel the knife pressed against your lower chest.

Piotr’s arm drapes across your hips, holding you down as you try your hardest not to squirm too much. You don’t know if he’s simply trying to hold you down for his own benefit or to keep you away from Vladimir’s knife, but either way, it’s helpful. 

Piotr’s fingers push all the way in, his knuckles awkwardly bumping you. You’re about to make a smartass comment about how it doesn’t even feel that good, and then he’s curling his fingers in addition to sucking on your clit and oh, it definitely does.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Piotr asks. His gruff voice has you wanting to bring is face back to where it was before. 

You’re met with pain in two separate areas as your wrists tug uselessly against the scarves, leaving you groaning in frustration. Piotr laughs softly at your desperation, returning his mouth to your folds. Your back arches as he repeatedly curls his fingers and his free hand tries to push your hips back down on the bed. 

He’s a second too late because the next thing you feel is the knife slicing into you just below your breast. It’s too deep to feel pleasurable for you, but you know Vladimir’s getting hard at the way you jerk away from the knife in surprised pain and fear.

Piotr clucks his tongue at you as if to say, You were warned, and I tried to stop you. You suck in a sharp breath as Vladimir wipes the drops of blood gathering along the cut, knowing he’s most likely just smearing it on your skin and it isn’t helping at all.

“Don’t you ever listen?” Vladimir growls at you, and you flinch as his hand curls around your throat. 

Your face burns in anger at not being able to argue with him. You simply shake your head, unable to speak. “Piotr, move,” Vladimir huffs impatiently. 

“She’s about to cum, Vlad,” Piotr insists, fingers not stilling inside you. His other hand squeezes your thigh, and he feels it shake as he continues his ministrations. 

“I don’t care,” Vladimir states firmly. “She’s being punished, remember?”

Piotr doesn’t say anything further, and you’re met with a feeling of aching emptiness where his fingers were seconds before. You feel the weight leave the bed as Piotr moves to make room for Vladimir and Vladimir stands up to take his pants off. 

You hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it and kicks his pants aside. The bed dips as he hovers above you. He teases you by running his tip along your entrance and against your clit, leaving you to whisper a choked-off, “Please.”

“That’s not good enough,” he says, and you’re fed up with his superior attitude. 

“Vladimir, I need you inside me. Please,” you repeat.

There are a few seconds of silence and you wait in agony, thighs pressed together in an attempt to put pressure back on your clit. “Open,” he commands, tapping at your thighs.

You obediently open your legs, and he instantly pushes into you roughly, not giving you a second to adjust. You gasp in shock at the abrupt sensation. It’s slightly painful as he instantly starts thrusting, not caring if you’re stretched out enough. As long as it feels good to him, right? You think angrily. 

His hand comes to your waist, gripping roughly at your skin as he sets a hard and fast pace. Your mouth falls open slightly as he hits the spot deep inside you with every thrust. 

You moan unashamedly and hear it bounce off the walls. Vladimir’s groans are brewing deep in his chest. Vladimir’s hand returns to your throat, long fingers digging into your skin as your head tilts back in pleasure. 

The next time you moan, the pressure on your throat makes it sound more like a choked off whimper. You hear Piotr’s deep groan a few feet away, and you know he’s started jerking off as he watches Vladimir fuck you ruthlessly. 

You can feel Vladimir’s thrusts start to get sloppy as he continues his rough treatment of you after a while. His hand tightens around your throat so much that sucking in a breath has become a challenge. As soon as you see white spots bloom behind your closed eyes, he removes his hand.

He pulls out of you, and the emptiness is enough for you to start begging again. A second later he cums on your stomach and breasts, the warmth just sitting there as Vladimir gets off you, moving off the bed. 

The bed dips again as Piotr takes his place between your legs. “Hi, kitten,” he greets quietly in your ear. His hand runs up your side as he enters you, his pace only slightly gentler than Vladimir’s. Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist, dragging him closer to you so he presses in deeper. His other hand cups your jaw, and you flinch, expecting him to tighten his hand around your sensitive neck. 

He shushes you, instead bringing his fingers to tangle in your hair. He tugs, bringing your mouth to his. His lips coax yours open, and his tongue dips into your mouth.

He breaks away to suck a mark just below your jaw, and you let out a sigh at the feeling of his lips on your pulse point. His thumb reaches down between your bodies and circles around your clit, matching the quick pace he’s set. 

His tongue drags over the mark he’s sucked onto your pulse point and his nose nudges against the shell of your ear. “You going to cum for me this time, baby?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice. 

You finally speak up for the first time in almost a half hour. “Mmm, if you keep fucking me like this,” you reply. 

He laughs low in your ear, “I plan on it.” He kisses you deeply, hand heavy on your hip, and you arch into his touch.

His thumb continues his motions on your sensitive clit, and you let out a long moan of his name, only causing him to increase his efforts to get you to orgasm.

There’s a coiling sense of tingling anticipation burning deep in your stomach, and each thrust of Piotr’s hips and circle of his thumb brings it closer and closer. “C’mon,” Piotr encourages, feeling you tighten around him. “Good girl,” he praises in a grunt.

You let out a final moan, head tilting back as it feels like you’re in a freefall of pleasure, little surges of heat shooting through you. You take a couple minutes just to calm your thoughts and try to get your breath back. 

When you’re finally able to focus on the present again, it’s because Piotr is coming inside you, warmth filling you. He stays above you for a minute, both of your breaths coming fast and shallow. 

He pulls out, and before he goes to clean up he pulls the scarf from your eyes, grinning at your blissed-out smile. He comes back a second later with his boxers back on and a warm washcloth from your bathroom. 

He unties your wrists, and you rub at the red marks you brought upon yourself. He wipes the blood off from the cut Vladimir gave you, furrowing his brows when he realizes how deep it is. You smile at him, you’ve had worse.

He wipes your stomach and chest off, and then between your legs. Your face flushes as you realize how intimate it is that’s he’s cleaning you up.  

“Hurry up,” Vladimir tells Piotr.

“Hang on,” Piotr tells him. 

“Piotr,” Vladimir snaps.

Piotr turns to him, yelling something in Russian. “You were too rough with her, give her a minute.” 

Vladimir scoffs and leaves the room since he’s already fully dressed. You assume he’s going to help himself to more alcohol while he waits for Piotr. 

“I’m fine,” you assure Piotr softly. He nods, but it looks like he doesn’t believe you as he wipes more blood off the cut, and eyes the bruises on your throat that you suspect are already forming. 

He stands up, putting his clothes back on. You sit up, and he tosses your shirt and underwear to you, and you slip them on. It’s suddenly too silent and you don’t know what to say, or if you should say anything at all.

You choose instead to look out your window, and you notice it’s already gotten dark. Lights are still on in every single building you can see. 

“Here,” you’re a bit surprised to hear Piotr speak again, and it startles you. You turn your gaze away from the skyline outside. He’s holding out your sweats, a hand resting on your thigh. 

You take them from him with a small smile. “Goodbye,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before you can react, surprising you further.

He’s already out of your bedroom by the time you murmur, “Goodbye.”

[howtohero]

#044 Contact Information

Superheroes cannot reasonably be expected to be aware every time a crime or supervillain attack occurs. They’re busy people! Or they’re very oblivious. Also, ever since that space shuttle full of alien robots crashed into that volcano it’s gotten hard to determine which giant robots strolling through the city are part of some evil scheme and which ones are just confused, but friendly, alien robot tourists who just got lost on their way back to where they parked their crashed spaceship. So sometimes heroes just don’t know when or if they’re supposed to spring into action all heroic-like. So it’s a good idea for superheroes to set up some sort of system by which the public, or certain elements of it, can get in touch with them. If you happen to have super hearing this isn’t really such a pressing issue for you. All you have to do is listen for someone calling your name. But for the rest of you, that only works if someone is screaming your name in your immediate vicinity. And what are the odds of that happening??? Probably they are very low. 

The first thing you have to do is determine who you want to be able to get in contact with you. Members of your own support-squad should definitely be able to call you when they need you and communicate with you while you’re out in the field. You should probably just all get matching communicators. That would be so fun! You could have a night where the whole squad gets together and everyone customizes their own communicators. You can get stickers and glitter. Just go all out on those Team Bat-Fish-Giant-Bird-Wing-Woman communicators. You’re also going to want other, unaffiliated superheroes to be able to get in contact with you. If you and all your super buds get your communicators from the same Radio Hut you could probably arrange to meet up on a separate channel which can be used to communicate with each other. Provided you’re in range of course. And can get a signal. It will always be hard to contact another hero when you’re underwater or in space. So think about that before you go off into deep water/space. Don’t dive right in and blast right off and then think to yourself “oh man, you know who would be great to have as backup here? Ny™@r3 the sagely horse who gives advice to troubled youths!” You need to have all of those thoughts before hand! Also if you try to get matching walkie-talkies with all your pals you become one of those “you can only reach me if you’re within a thousand kilometers of me and also if you shop at the same electronic stores as me” people and those people are always a hassle to get in contact with. Another thing you can do is to just casually give out the cellphone numbers of the people on your support team to anyone who asks and this way if someone needs to contact you they can call them and then they can determine if it’s an important enough message to relay to you. 

The next people who are probably want to in touch with you are (your parents go call them you jerk!) the police. Sometimes solving and preventing crimes is difficult. Sometimes the city doesn’t have enough money in its budget to train their cops to fight evil talking polar bears. So they give you a call. They don’t have to pay you anything. You get off on that stuff. (This is all presupposing that you’ve gotten past the awkward “is that guy in the costume punching other guys a criminal???” phase with the local law enforcement)/]. But how will the police contact you? Can they call you? Beep you? If they wanna reach you? An idea that might seem attractive in theory is to provide the local PD with some kind of giant spotlight that they can shine into the sky whenever there’s trouble. But just know that that’s stupid. That’s not an effective way to get in touch with a person. Like, at all. What if there’s an emergency during the day? What if you’re out of town or, I dunno, indoors? What if you’re not just staring at the sky?! It’s also a great way to let all your enemies know exactly where you’re going to be. That’s a great way to get murdered. If you don’t want to get murdered, don’t do that. 

Instead what you should do is set up some sort of hotline. But not the kind of hotline that gets advertised on billboard and park benches and indoor blimps at basketball games. You don’t want to get flooded with calls for help moving furniture or doing arithmetic homework or prank calls from supervillains. Don’t fly around the city dropping business cards with your number on them. Don’t hang up flyers in your local Pizza Shack. Don’t take out an ad in the papers. What you should do is give your number to a few key individuals, the mayor, the police commissioner, your parents, that guy who tipped you ten bucks after you saved his life that one time, the president, the chef at your favorite restaurant, attractive journalists, me, so that we can always contact you if there’s an emergency you need to be aware of. 

If answering calls isn’t really your thing –which I get, talking on the phone is hard- another thing you can consider doing is setting up an email address which people can use to contact you. Or have both the hotline and an email server and allow more people to have access to the email address while keeping the hotline reserved for just like, me and the president. Having an email setup is handy because you can just use the search function to find the most urgent emergencies. Searching keywords such as “monster attack” or “alien invasion” or “free ice cream, ends tonight,” can help you cut through the frivolous and the spam. You can also just assign interns to maintain the email account and then they can pass on the most pressing information directly to you. You can even let them craft fun responses to the emails! Stuff like “hey thanks for these pictures of your cat dressed in a cape we printed them out and hung them up all over the hideout,” or “hey, we know we said we liked those pictures of your cat with the cape, and we did. We liked them a lot. But you need to stop sending us pictures now. You’ve sent us over three thousand pictures of your cat in a cape. It’s not even different capes. it’s always the same cape. This is absurd. You need to stop.” Of course, that means letting a bunch of college kids represent you on the internet while also allowing them to decide which world-threatening emergencies are worth your time,  and there’s definitely a learning curve that comes with that, but they’ll probably get the hang of it quickly. 

You can also set up a PO Box which people can mail letters to. Or train pigeons to bring you letters! That’d be pretty neat! (If I had a pet carrier pigeon I’d name it Carrie, everyone call out your dream pigeon names in the comments!) This will cut down on the amount of adoring messages that will inevitably clog up your voicemails and inboxes. Make it clear to your legions of fans that you will only read love letters or fan mail if they are sent through your country’s esteemed postal services. (Also I guess this would be a good place to direct people to send pictures of their cats in human clothes.) This can also be handy if someone knows about a crisis that will occur in the future and thus, is not exactly urgent information now. Stuff like “My cousin just got a doctorate in mad science and also bought a bunch of bats off of the internet and I’m concerned,” or “The ghost of my grandfather’s college roommate appeared to me and warned me that an army of evil old-timey ghosts are going to attack the living realm in three months’ time,” stuff that’s important for a superhero to be aware of but not as pressing as some of the other stuff you need to be informed about.

No matter which method(s) you decide to adopt you’ll quickly find that allowing people to contact you to report crimes and/or emergencies will vastly improve your ability to actually be where you need to be to help people. Don’t be one of those chumps that just wanders around waiting to come across danger. I mean you can still do that too. That’s kind of proactive I guess. But also make sure people can get in touch with you when they need to.

[firstdraftpod]

Preferred Ways of Failing with Josh Gondelman

First Draft Episode #210: Josh Gondelman

Josh Gondelman, comedian, TV writer for shows like Last Week Tonight with John Oliver and Desus and Mero, and debut author of memoir Nice Try: Stories of Best Intentions and Mixed Results, talks about coming up in comedy, fumbling his breakout moment with the viral Modern Seinfeld Twitter account, and learning that being a “nice” person isn’t the same as being a good person.

Links and Topics Mentioned In This Episode

In addition to Nice Try, you should also check out Josh’s standup specials: Dancing on a Weeknight (2019); Physical Whisper (from 2016); and Everything’s the Best! (2011).

Nancy Kerrigan was the subject of one of the most bizarre crimes in all of sports (really worth watching The Price of Gold, an excellent 30 for 30 documentary about the Kerrigan-Harding incident), which was documented in the film I, Tonya, which Josh’s parents did not see out of loyalty to Kerrigan

Early on Josh performed in the chorus of The Music Man

We decide that literary humor is to comedy as Garrison Keillor is to Chris Rock

Josh wrote a spec script for It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Josh was contributing to places like McSweeny’s and New York magazine when he first moved to the city

Josh co-founded the @SeinfeldToday Twitter account with his friend Jack P. Moore (playwright and sitcom writer for shows like Dear White People), which went viral and got him lots of professional opportunities

Josh made an impression on Jim Gaffigan with a joke about the wisdom of the justice system in D2: The Mighty Ducks when he was getting his feet wet as a standup in New York City

Josh talks about establishing authority as a standup onstage, which reminded me of Pete Holmes addressing how he looks (more like a youth pastor than a comedian) on his 2013 special, Nice Try, The Devil. You can see a great example of Josh doing something similar in his 2019 sets on Late Night with Seth Meyers and The Late Late Show with James Cordon. Josh also got advice and encouragement about this from fellow comedian Pete Lee.

Josh got a big win when he was able to write for Billy on the Street, featuring Billy Eichner

One of the notable segments from Last Week Tonight with John Oliver was an early one about net neutrality, with a bit at the end (which Josh credits to Geoffrey Haggerty, a comedy writer for shows like The Daily Show and Last Week Tonight with John Oliver) calling for viewers to write in to the FCC. So many viewers wrote to the FCC that its system crashed, and the government investigated whether the onslaught of feedback was from actual citizens or a coordinated DDoS attack.

Tim Carvell, head writer for The Daily Show who left with John Oliver to create Last Week Tonight with John Oliver

Josh is now the producer and writer for Desus and Mero on Showtime. Before he wrote for them, he was a fan of Desus and Mero’s podcast, Boedga Boys, and their TV show, Desus & Mero, on VICELAND.

Josh does pep talks on Twitter from time to time, and initially was approached to write a book based on that premise. But he resisted that idea because internet darling Jonny Sun (playwright, academic, and author and illustrator of Everyone’s a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too -- listen to Jonny Sun’s episode of First Draft here) had already illustrated the famous Twitter pep talks written by Lin-Manuel Miranda (actor, composer, and playwright of Hamilton and In the Heights) for the book, G’Morning, G’night!: Little Pep Talks For Me & You.

I was reading Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly: How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, at the same time as Josh’s memoir, which actually was a beneficial co-reading experience (FTR I also recommend Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are on audiobook! It’s read by Lauren Fortgang and she does a great job!)

Josh was on a panel with journalist and author Liz Plank--whose most recent book, “For the Love of Men: A New Vision for Mindful Masculinity”, is on sale now!--about shifting concepts of masculinity

Nikki Glaser, a comedian and radio host who Josh admires, gave him pivotal advice early in his career

I want to hear from you!

Have a question about writing or creativity for Sarah Enni or her guests to answer? To leave a voicemail, call (818) 533-1998. You can also email the podcast at firstdraftwithsarahenni@gmail.com.

Subscribe To First Draft with Sarah Enni

Every Tuesday, I speak to storytellers like Veronica Roth, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Divergent; Linda Holmes, New York Times bestselling author and host of NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast; Jonny Sun, internet superstar, illustrator of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Gmorning, Gnight! and author and illustrator of Everyone’s an Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too;  Michael Dante  DiMartino, co-creator of Avatar: The Last Airbender; John August, screenwriter of Big Fish, Charlie’s Angels, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; or Rhett Miller, musician and frontman for The Old 97s. Together, we take deep dives on their careers and creative works.

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[vcwveapehokw-blog]

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I Forgot My Gmail Password

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Firstly,New One Definition

Are you thinking to reset my Gmail password when you don't recall my recovery information? Unsurprisingly, Google has definitely hermetic account security. along with the finest in the world, in fact. If you have drifting or forgotten your Google/ Gmail password, or if your account was hacked, you have exactly one way to get help into that account. The automated process that starts here. Ive answered variations on this other mature and places, and added a lot of additional detail. But it all adds in the works to the similar thing. If you have a g suite account thru a situation or school, you can call your administrator. If you own a g suite hosted domain (cheaper and easier than you think, and worth doing) or if you are an giving out on a domain, next you can call tech withhold at Google, directly. Theyre clear 24/7, and trust me, they are good. But afterward a pardon Gmail account, if you acquire locked out, you absolutely cannot way in a human creature at Google very nearly it. You cant call, text, email, snail mail, carrier pigeon or pony reveal them. along with set up 2-step verification, using all feasible safety option, including printing your recovery codes and stashing them in several places. Used properly, step can and will prevent your account getting hacked. You are taking someone out for a date and you don't know what type of restaurant she fancies and you quality awkward asking her. Just say, guess what restaurant I'm taking you to . She will publish a place; every you have to attain is warfare surprised and say, how did you know? There is a other product, Google one. It offers other account storage - and tech support, for Gmail addresses, including alive phone support. Which of course made me totally enthusiastic if this could be used to unlock accounts. in view of that swine as I already pay for additional storage and was as a result automatically enrolled in Google one, I filled in the tiny form, and had them call me. And the answer is no. The tech preserve folks you can attain past the Google one relief pull off indeed do its stuff for Google. But they pull off not (and cannot!) have the funds for any suggestion for locked out accounts, extra than to saunter you thru the automated process. If that process fails to acquire you in - you wandering the account. Side issue: the reason there are as a result many collapsed answers here is because there are a ton of scammers out there who want you to call them, and they act out difficult to acquire their contacts into quora answers. They will along with use every trick there is to convince you they are somehow affiliated like or sanctioned by Google. They arent. They can unaided use the similar automated process I amalgamated above - and skirmish you fine allowance for pretense something you can reach yourself. Again, there is lonesome how to recover gmail password one habit to recover a free Gmail/Google account. If you cant acquire in using that process, you directionless the account, forever. consequently the best advice I can provide you is to intentionally go thru the security checkup process on your Google account page. You can set up a recovery phone number and email address. I strongly suggest you use both, and make the recovery email quarters one that belongs to a close relatives aficionada or well-behaved friend. Not one of your own, that you may forget or lose!

Things To Remember

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