#It truly means the world to me🤍🤍🤍

[wonwoosthetic]

Hi I am a new follower I've been obsessed lately by ur amazing writings , specially amour haine & Co, such a an outstanding masterpiece, I love everything about it, how u express the emotions and how u leave that mysterious side to each character is just spot-on , I read all the chapters and I miss it already I hope u can upload soon , cuz this is probably one of the best series to ever exist , like bluntly talking, u outdid urself , bless u honey .🤗😚

It's the jeon wonwoo supremacy for me !!!!!

Heyyy!!! I’m so glad you’ve found your way onto this blog! Welcome!!!!🤗🤗🤗 I hope you enjoy it here ˙ᵕ˙ reminder: this is a safe place where everyone is welcome to express themselves and feel comfortable, I’m always here with an open ear and heart🫶🏼

You are too kind😭😭 thank you so much!!!!🤍🤍 oh god, I wish I could somehow express how much this means to me, literally every part of what you said touched my heart, I can’t tear up though rn haha I’m at work😭🥺😭 I feel so incredibly grateful to have people like you on my blog, so passionate about reading, reviewing, and truly enjoying written work on here🥰🫶🏼😭

I’m working on the next chapter to hopefully release it as soon as possible🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

UGH, YOU’RE SO SWEET I JUST WANT YO HUG YOU SO TIGHTLY!!!🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍 I hope you get to enjoy the future chapters as well!!🫶🏼🥹

P.S.: I actually laughed out loud at your profile pic HAHAHAHA megamind vernon is gonna haunt me hahaha

[thedeadthree]

— TAG GAME.

TAGGED BY the dear @marivenah and @leviiackrman to answer a few questions! ty ty so much love!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @jendoe, @kingsroad, @chuckhansen, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @denerims, @phillipsgraves, @jillvlntine, @morvaris, @aartyom, @minaharkers, @unholymilf, @leviiackrman, @jacobseed, @arklay, @corvosattano, @jackiesarch, @malefiicarum, @pearlcscent, @shellibisshe, @weisshaupts, @shadowglens, @leondaltons, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @belorage, @confidentandgood, @girlbosselrond, @thee-morrigan, @rosebarsoap, @fragilestorm, @lacunafiction, @noonfaerie and you!

THREE SHIPS: inspired by mari <3!

THREE CANON SHIPS: geralt x yennefer, corlys velaryon x rhaenys targaryen, and arianne martell x daemon sand!

THREE OC SHIPS: iovanna dayne x daemon targaryen, edelgard vanderweyden x reese verner, maekar targaryen x aeryal arvel (carolines dear!)

THREE MUTUALS SHIPS: mo @kingsroad's alyse x aegon (they mean the world to me!), ash @unholymilf's iconic varya x roman (forever the moment!), airika @chuckhansen's nina x adam (the loveliest! they're dear to me!)

FIRST SHIP: oo ok ok i want to say my first ship was I think? rajaion and ena from fire emblem path of radiance? that or? selina kyle/catwoman and bruce wayne!

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: an iced coffee ajanjnsk bc i am a responsible adult <3.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: my 3829838th rewatch of house of the dragon <3 am i surprised? nay nay! its not at all for oc lore! (leg says like a liar jnjanj <3)

LAST MOVIE: the batman! <3 and one i recently adored seeing was bullet train as well! (ty ty orion and ash for introducing me bc of ur ocs u dears u!)

LAST SONG: its been stuck in my head all week! the fruits by paris paloma <3

CURRENTLY READING: rereading fernweh saga by the dear aelsa! and fire and blood by george rr martin <3 (leg once again says its bc they want know more of what’s in store for the characters and not for oc lore at all like a liar <3)

CURRENTLY CRAVING: my mom is making sauce so i have pasta on the brain <3

[girltomato]

sweet girl: i was looking for that

max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

max almost steals a book from a random lady because there's a picture of the pretty girl he bumped into on the back cover

fc: phoebe dynevor

sweet girl masterlist

melbourne, november 2021

In all honesty, Max had forgotten about that night in that fancy club and that beautiful woman. He had much more important things to focus on like winning the world championship. The pressure was on and the energy amongst the Red Bull team was electrifying.

The way it all happened was a complete coincidence, one stranger's mistake dredging up the memories he had desperately shoved to the back of his consciousness.

A book had been left on a table in the Red Bull energy station. Normally he wouldn't even blink as he pushed it aside and took a seat but the author's name had him spiralling. Y/n, was all be read and he could already smell the phantom whiff of her raspberry perfume, he could feel the warmth of her hand in his, wiling away the buttery feeling on his jeans. Maybe he was being paranoid, he never got her surname, maybe this was another Y/n.

Nope, he flipped the book to read the blurb and there was her face smiling up at him. The same sparkly eyes and the sweet smile he had fantasised about for weeks after their chance encounter. Shit, she was real. He had truly convinced himself she was some figment of his imagination.

“Oh, I was just looking for that.” A woman rushed into the room, charging towards him at a speed he didn't realise was achievable in high heels. He handed the book over to its rightful owner begrudgingly, committing its author name to memory - not that he could ever forget now he had a full name to put to the face that had entranced him. I suppose they both had been looking for that book whether they knew it or not.

“Good book?” he queried, as the woman put the book back into her handbag.

“The best I've ever read.”

It was later that night when he was finally home alone and free from paying eyes that he opened his phone and searched her name.

Search : Y/n L/n

Google didn't teach him anything new apart from her age. He already knew she was an author and he was pretty sure he could sketch her face blindfolded and drunk. So next was Instagram.

liked by harpercollinsuk, yourbff and more

yourusername it's finally here!! after years of work, mousetrap is now available everywhere. this has been such a long time coming and i have legions of people to thank for helping me reach this point. i am a published author that's so crazy!!!!

view all comments

yourbff so fuckin proud!!

⤷ yourusername ugly crying, couldn't have done it without u🤍🤍

yourmother my babies dream came true, so proud of you sweetheart. can't wait to read it.

⤷ yourusername love u mama💖

harpercollins you are incredible, so glad you're part of the family.

⤷ yourusername 🥰🥰

There was no harm in liking the post, right? She had a public page and he technically had just stumbled across her book and before going on an internet deep dive. And following her didn't really mean anything, maybe he just really enjoyed her books or something. With a sigh Max locked his phone, he needed to get some sleep before qualifying tomorrow. Nobody had to know he fell asleep to the memory of her laughter that night.

maxverstappen1 liked your post

maxverstappen1 followed you

okay it's here!!! thank u all so much for all the love so far and to everyone who voted on the poll, it means the world. random lady will be making return in future parts. unrelated, i've been working on my fem!driver oc and she will be making her debut this weekend i think, very excited.

as always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. have a wonderful day/night lovely people🤍

[norrisainz33]

Southern belle || CL16

☆ summary: charles’ and oscar’s rumored girlfriend is the it girl in country music and with the austin grand prix approaching fans wonder if they’ll finally know who she’s with

☆ pairing: charles leclerc x american!singer!reader

☆ fc & warnings: megan moroney and slightly suggestive - you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for this request 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by sabrinacarpenter, charlesleclerc, oscarpiastri, patriciooward, formula1, arianagrande and 301,356 others

ynuser: huge announcement 🚨 i’m singing the national anthem at the austin grand prix!!! i can’t wait to see y’all there but in the meantime, i’m practicing my driving 🏎️🤍

view all 364 comments

user1: ohhhhhh my god yessss

user2: everyone peep both oscar and charles in the likes…..

user22: begging for new music queen 😭

formula1: quick someone get her seat on the grid

ynuser: put me in coach!

scuderiaferrari: you’re always welcome to join us for the weekend 😉

mclarenf1: or you can join us 🧡

user4: taking note of both ferrari and mclaren being here 💀

user3: MY FAV ARTIST AT MY FIRST GP?! IT DOESNT GET BETTER THAN THIS

patriciooward: see you there princessa

ynuser: can’t wait 🤍

user4: and why do none of yall think they’re together??

sabrinacarpenter: prettiest girl in the world

ynuser: says you,, a literal goddess

user6: y/n/n this is huge!!! i’m so excited for you

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, and 7,293 others

f1gossip: y/n y/l/n dropped a new song today and all signs say these lyrics could be about our very own charles leclerc. she sang this song for the first time today in atlanta while wearing a shirt that says “i 🤍 my situationship.” this comes after rumors of the pairing secretly seeing each other after being photographed together briefly in a miami nightclub. do we think the man who ‘isn’t from where she’s from and feels like home’ is a certain monegasque ferrari driver?

view all 435 comments

user1: first of all the shirt is absolutely iconic and i will be buying one exactly like it

user1: second of all i honestly hope she is talking abt charles

user2: idk the fact that the song is called tennessee orange makes me think it could be oscar… didn’t he also get rumored to be with her?

user3: omg it could be oscar!

user1: why would you guys think it’s oscar???

user2: user1 i think it’s because of that video mclaren posted where oscar and lando had to guess the lyrics to songs and one of y/n’s songs was played and oscar sang like the entire thing and lando was like umm??? and oscar turned beat red and said he really liked y/n

user1: ohhhhh my goodness ok i didn’t see that video. begging one of you to do a breakdown of all the info we have for oscar vs charles

user2: i got you , lemme make a twitter thread brb

user14: did y’all consider that this song is truly about a man from tennessee

user3: no! hope this helps!!

user4: ever since she dropped the lore that she loves f1 y’all have been grasping at straws to connect her to a driver fr

user34: do we think she could get him to a rodeo? i’d die to see charles at one

user7: praying with everything that i have that we get an answer abt who she is with at cota

user5: obsessed with this level of delulu from you f1gossip

user8: could you imagine the charles leclerc being your situationship???? i mean wow

ynuser has added to their story

view all story replies

user1: why is everything you do so hot

user2: i wish i could see if oscar or charles swiped up

_quinnhughes: how about you come visit me next?

ynuser: i have heard vancouver is nice this time of year

charlesleclerc: oh wow

ynuser: 🤭🤭🤭

charlesleclerc: you’re more than welcome to take me for a ride after you’re done there

oscarpiastri: need some pointers on how to do this myself

ynuser: it’s all in the hips osc

oscarpiastri: noted

user12: i’m obsessed with you

user13: ok! cool girls ride mechanical bulls! taking notes 📝

user14: thank you for being so sweet at the bar this evening and taking a picture with us!! you are literally the nicest person in the world 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

user3: IM HERE AND IM READY!! YOU ARE GONNA EAT UP THAT NATIONAL ANTHEM

user6: RAHHHHH AMERICA 🇺🇸 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

oscarpiastri: hoping you are my good luck charm y/n

ynuser: wishing you a safe race ossie 🧡

user8: ugh youre in blue you were supposed to be in red or papaya to confirm which boy you’re with

charlesleclerc: i think you’d look amazing in ferrari red

ynuser: you think so?

charlesleclerc: i know so

iamrebeccad: i can’t wait to see you later

ynuser: likewise 🤍

yourbff: you’re living the dream, i miss you bestie

ynuser: i miss you more. please come visit me soon 😭

user13: so excited for you gorgeous girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, yourbff, user5, user6, and 12,345 others

f1gossip: charles and oscar were stood next to each other during y/n’s rendition of the american national anthem and didn’t even look at each other once during the entire thing. do we think there’s trouble in paradise between the father son pair? could both of them be pining over the same gorgeous american princess?

view all 333 comments

user2: them standing next to each other is diabolical

user8: she IS america’s sweetheart and i just hope whatever boy she’s with is treating her right

user6: the way she was unphased and just pranced right on by them in her little cowgirl boots… iconic

user3: i was praying that she was going to stop and wish one of them good luck

user14: guys have we CONSIDERED that just bc she likes the sport and the drivers know who she is doesn’t necessarily mean she’s with one of them?!

user1: imma hold your hand when i say this

user22: my money is on one of them winning and kissing her in celebration

user33: my money is on them being secretly photographed at an after party

user44: tbh my money is on nothing being confirmed this weekend

user23: you better put some respect on my girls name and at least mention how she NAILED that anthem

charlesleclerc has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, ynuser, yourbff and 634,910 others

charlesleclerc: thank you austin for a fantastic weekend

view all 999 comments

user7: OHHHH MY GOD

user2: i know that’s my girl y/n!!!!!! that’s y/n!!!!! you can’t convince me otherwise!!!

user1: it’s her 😭😭 war is over 😭😭😭

scuderiaferrari: congratulations on a great weekend ❤��

user3: she put him in a cowboy hat i’m screaming

maxverstappen1: 👀

charlesleclerc: 🥰

carlossainz55: who is that in the last photo? surely not you

charlesleclerc: it is me in the last photo!

carlossainz55: your pants are oddly tight there

user16: i love a cl16 podium

ynuser: who’s that cowboy?

charlesleclerc: your cowboy

user2: STOP IT

f1gossip: and y’all didn’t believe me

user73: someone check on oscar

landonorris: lmfao they’re all friends it’s ok

user2: LANDO IS ALWAYS AT THE WCENE OF THE CRIME

user24: prettiest boy on the podium as always

charlesleclerc has posted to his story

view all story replies

user44: glad she stayed true and is wearing a football shirt and not ferrari merch

maxverstappen1: feeling a little betrayed that i’m finding out with the rest of the world. WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME

charlesleclerc: mate i didn’t tell anyone

maxverstappen1: but i’m not just anyone 😔

yourbff: my beautiful girl - you better be good to her

charlesleclerc: i will be don’t worry!

user2: the confirmation i needed im obsessed with you both

ynuser: will always wear red for you charlie 😘

charlesleclerc: that’s my girl ❤️

user4: who’s this diva

user14: whelp i didn’t see this coming

carlossainz55: get her in a ferrari cap asap! also rebecca says you need to bring her to more races

charlesleclerc: trust me if i had it my way she’d be at all of them

user55: an american princess and a monegasque prince… a perfect match

ynuser has made a post

liked yourbff, scuderiaferrari, sabrinacarpenter, oliviarodrigo, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 239,836 others

ynuser: mama i like him a lot 🤭 (p.s i’ve always looked better in red)

view all 867 comments

user6: can the european mind even comprehend texas and college football y/n?

yourbff: well… we’re all about to find out!

user2: brb sobbing this is so cute

landonorris: how did you convince him to put on a cowboy hat???

ynuser: it wasn’t easy that’s for sure

user3: my 2 fav things colliding. y/n and f1 ,,, i used to pray for times like this

charlesleclerc: and i like you a lot

ynuser: 🤭 i’m so glad you do

charlesleclerc: it’s simply impossible not to

user67: mama y papa

user89: i can’t believe you’ve fallen for a vroom vroom that isn’t in nascar

scuderiaferrari: welcome to the family y/n ❤️

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[bunnys-kisses]

hey bunbun 🤍 can i have persian rolls and a pastry braid with champagne for lando norris? thank youuu

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you! thank you to everyone who has submitted, these have been a lot of fun to work with! i love writing these <3 and for this once, i love a good sugar daddy au! so thank you for the submission and i hope you love this <3 (remember comments & reblogs are always welcomed!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, sugar daddy!lando, oral sex (lando receiving), couch sex, cowgirl position, orgasm denial, hair pulling mean!lando

"pretty girl, such a pretty girl." he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your cheek. from the bridge of your nose to the corner of your mouth. he even watched your tongue dart out to taste his hard-on.

"lando." you whined.

he chuckled as he held your head by the hair with his other hand, "you really are something, huh? you want that pay raise. you want a little bit more in your wallet every week?" lando would freely give you whatever you wanted. he was smitten by you. but, if you were going to work for it. and work for it so hard. then who was he to deny you?

you were the sugar baby of one of the top drivers in the world, it was plain and simple. the story of how you two met was boring, but the life you lived after you two met was far more exciting. and while you were spoiled with all manner of the nicer things in life, everything came with a price.

and while lando would happily kiss you on the lips while on his boat or let his gaze linger when you showed him something you wanted to buy. his payments were compensation for his aggressive sexual kicks. every hickey was paid for in gold jewellery. every bruise on your hips and ass were paid for in cute clothes and stuffed animals. every mean word was paid for in orgasms. lando norris would bruise you behind, spit in your mouth and call you a slut, but by the time you were back home, you had a notification that l. norris had deposited money into your account.

so with his fat cock grazed across your lips, his heated words burned into your brain, "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." and hissed when you did exactly that.

your blow jobs were sloppy, but in the best way. they weren't refined the way a professional slut would've been, they were messy in a cute way. but you were always mindful of your teeth. your spit got on your chin and lips as you tried to take him to the root. you held onto his thighs as you worked your mouth on his cock.

lando loved the sight in front of him. he was on the couch with his cock out of his sweatpants and you were without any clothes, sucking him off like an obedient girl. he yanked your hair, "i love you like this. such a pretty little slut, you know exactly how to get me off. but, i want more. up on my lap now, where you truly belong."

you pulled your mouth off of his cock and wiped your mouth with the back of his hand before you scrambled to get up into his lap. you were trained to the t, you were so good for him. lando was a little surprised just how good you were. he helped sink his cock into you, your cunt was easy to slip into. you were soaked that the word 'soaked' didn't do it justice. regardless, it greatly turned lando on. you were quick like a rabbit, and lando had to grip onto your hips to slow you down a little.

"it's not a race." he said, softly yet firm. as much as he'd love to eat your cottontail, neither of you were rabbits so there was no need to move so fast. not that you were cumming anyway.

lando loved denying you orgasms, to watch you squirm and whine on his cock. you moved slower, guided by him. he kissed at your neck and chest while you took him impressively. he knew he was well above average and the biggest you've ever had. but you took it all so well. you bucked your hips with each of your movements and it made lando's mouth water.

"such a slutty girl." he purred, "you are so painfully slutty, would do anything for a little extra green in your pocket." he almost laughed and you moaned a little louder. he pulled you closer by your hips and let you ride him.

you could feel the pleasure fill your gut. you clutched onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips a little faster. the movements were hard and it only turned you on even more. that was all part of the game, how you two fucked. lando liked when it hurt a little, he liked when you moaned and squirmed. even when you were on top, you were still under him. he could move you anyway he liked.

"i'll always want you. someone's gotta keep my cock wet. no one else would let me treat them the way you let me treat you. you get off to it all, being used and paid off. you liked the money in your account and my cock on your lips."

you moaned as the pleasure only grew and grew with each of your movements. your nails bit into his shoulders. he looked hot in the black tank top and grey sweatpants. he was the type of man that women got addicted to.

he started to move your hips faster. he was chasing his own high over getting you to climax. he wanted to finish inside of you, he wanted to know a part of him was in you at all times. that left him excited,a shiver up his spine as he had you bouncing on his cock quickly once more. your eyes rolled back a little at the stimulation in your body.

"lando..." you moaned.

he quickly finished inside of you with a heavy groan and you stopped riding him. you sat there, legs on either side of his waist. you looked down at him with your near blissed out expression. you hadn't cum yet, but lando already beat you to it.

he looked up at you with a bit more clarity in his vision. he slapped your ass, the sound echoed in the living room. he raised his eyebrows at you and said, "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat. if you want to finish, you better work for it. now, c'mon, actually work for once in your life." and with shaky knees, you rode him like your life depended on it.

you knew that lando would make up for in the language he spoke. vast amounts of money tucked into your bank account. and when you limped him it would make the pain in your back a little less <3

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : I’m sorry everyone who’s requesting to be added to the taglists :(( I thank you for your support fr! tumblr wouldn’t let me add anymore people. But! I promise I’ll add you lovely people to the maintaglist after this series!

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Moderate Cursing , Grammatical Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 4 | Next >

*Message sent

mclaren

liked by Y/N., oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others

mclaren OSCAR PIASTRI!! GRAND PRIX WINNER

!!!🏆

*Message sent

Y/N. 11h

story replies

oscarpiastri Thank you again Y/Niee🧡 Where’s my reward?

Y/N. So so proud of you Osc! I’m so happy for you. Truly deserved 🥺

Y/N. What reward do you want Mr. Eager?

oscarpiastri Attend the next grand prix 😁 pleaseee?

Y/N. How could I say no to that? 😫 Ok Oscar Jack Piastri, I’ll go to the next grand prix for you!

oscarpiastri Lets freaking go!! Now go to sleep!

Y/N. Aye aye sire 🫡.

Y/bf Someone is being brave 🤭

Y/N. Whatever do you mean my dear best friend

Y/bf Nothing Nothing ~

charles_leclerc OH I SEE 👀

Y/N. well you do have eyes Charles, of course you can see 😌

charles_leclerc yes, and I see you supporting my son~ Are you my future daughter in law then?

Y/N. 🤡 ok bye charles

Y/N 7m

*Incoming Call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Osc! nows not a great time~ I’m live in 2 minutes”

“I know, I’m here”

“what do you mean your here??”

“ I’m here at the venue. Is it normally this loud? your fans are crazy not gonna lie”

“Oscar your here??? like America?? like my concert?? your here here??”

“Surprise! went as soon as I can”

“ Your flight was for here?? Oscar you just won a race and you literally flown to see me?? Thats an 11 hour flight!”

“Yeah well. Anything to make you happy”

“Holy shit Oscar… no one has ever done that for me. you’re fucking crazy! I’ll meet you later I swear…. wait for me backstage you muppet! I Missed you so much.”

“Missed you loads. Good luck on the show, Dear”

“Thanks so much my kindest sweeties pookie. Now watch we work”

*Call ended

Y/N.

liked by oscarpiastri, y/bf, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others

Y/N. The chapter has finally closed beautifully. Thank you Florida and the people who made it so✨

oscarpiastri You were so strong for doing this. I’m very proud of you Y/N 🧡

Y/N. Your support and presence meant the world Osc. Thank you for everything 🤍

oscarpiastri wouldn’t miss it for anything.

Y/bf Y/N, my dearest friend. You’ve truly outdone yourself. My tear ducts are empty, you were literally shining. I’m so proud of you!

Y/N. Thank you my OG 🥺 Thank you for holding on to us since day 1.

Y/bf always babe! always.

user1 If you didn’t cry during Y/N’s concert are you even human? fucking bawled my eyes out there.

user2 ik you could feel the hurt in Y/N’s voice when she sang her old songs for Lando. My entire body felt like I was the one who got cheated on.

user3 Y/N is a genius for making her old pop love songs for Lando into ballads. The raw emotions in her voice were both haunting and beautiful at the same time.

user4 Y/N everyone is so proud of you. Your strength astounds us.

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[taegularities]

colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)

Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀  ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

The whispers cease the moment your door closes.

The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.

They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.

Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.

And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.

As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.

They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.

And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.

Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”

It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.

Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—

Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.

If he hadn’t started, you would have.

The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.

Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.

For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.

Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.

But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.

Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”

You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.

There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.

Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.

Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.

Of course it is.

But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.

God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.

Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.

Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”

He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.

“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”

Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.

“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.

“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”

“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”

It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.

“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”

“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”

Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.

Because the sight is one to behold.

How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

“Why is your mouth open like that?”

“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”

He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”

God, this guy…

And he actually doesn’t stop.

His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.

The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.

Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—

“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”

“Looks a lot better on you.”

One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.

“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”

“What, baby?”

“Just…” 

You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.

“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”

“Really?”

He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.

Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”

You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.

So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”

You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.

You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.

Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.

Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.

And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”

“…Why?”

But you soon get why.

Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.

He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.

Your face burns.

“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”

“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”

Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.

“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.

And then…

Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.

Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.

There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”

And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.

His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—

“No! Oh god—”

You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”

“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry…”

“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”

You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.

They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.

His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.

Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.

And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”

“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Of course.”

Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.

For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.

So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.

Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.

And god, does he do it well…

So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.

How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.

He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.

Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”

Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.

You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”

“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”

Right.

Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.

“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”

And that’s it — back to business.

“Nnnghkook…”

The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.

Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.

The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”

Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.

Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.

He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.

Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”

You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.

His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”

Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.

“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.

It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.

He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.

Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”

Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”

But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—

There’s already a finger to your pussy.

“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”

No, he can’t. Liar.

“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”

You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”

He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”

As if…

He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.

“Okay.”

Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.

Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.

And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward. 

Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.

So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.

He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”

“So far… do more, please.”

It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.

Like now.

Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.

The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.

The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.

Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.

And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Mmhyes, yes, please.”

“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”

“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”

“Perfect.”

And then, everything seems to happen faster.

Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.

What might he be looking like right now?

Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.

“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.

Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.

There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.

Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.

Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.

And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.

It must be.

Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.

“Holy shit…”

You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.

And.

You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.

Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.

And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.

You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.

Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”

“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”

No objection. So you turn around.

When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.

You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.

And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.

But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.

So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.

“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”

“I can’t.”

You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.

Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.

So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.

Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.

Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.

You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”

But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.

And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”

“What?”

“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”

He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”

And whatever happens next, passes by fast.

How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.

Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.

And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.

“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”

“Must be. Too good to be real.”

If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.

Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.

His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.

“Hnnngh, this is just…”

Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.

“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.

Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.

The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.

God. You’re overspilling.

As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.

You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.

“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”

And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.

You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”

“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”

“I know. I know, keep talking.”

Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.

“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.

“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.

“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.

He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.

When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.

What he’s actually so distracted by must be…

“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.

“It looks…”

Must be art.

Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.

Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…

“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”

The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.

And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.

Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.

First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.

He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…

Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”

“H–huh?”

“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”

Shit…

This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.

That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.

He’s right. You were far away for too long.

So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.

You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.

“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.

His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.

“You too,” you murmur.

“Yes. Patience, love.”

No. Fuck no.

Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.

Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.

Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”

One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”

He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.

And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.

“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”

Really? 

So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?

“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”

“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Then I’ll…”

You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.

Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.

Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.

Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”

And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—

“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”

You do. And then — he thrusts up once.

When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”

Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”

Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.

Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”

“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”

“Ngh, I—”

“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”

He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.

And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.

The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.

Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...

Fuck.

Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.

“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.

The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.

Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.

Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…

Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.

Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.

All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.

Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.

He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.

Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”

“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”

“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”

Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.

That’s a pain the two of you share.

He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.

Like something’s burning on his tongue.

But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”

“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”

“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”

He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.

“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”

You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.

And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”

Damn. Damndamndamn.

And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh— yeah?”

“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”

“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”

You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.

Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.

The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.

Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.

And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”

You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.

Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.

“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”

Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—

His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.

There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…

And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.

Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.

Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.

And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”

You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.

For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.

The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.

Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.

Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.

You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.

But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”

“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”

“My god. Stop saying it like that.”

“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”

“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”

“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”

“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”

Oh… oh?

Wait.

Your mouth shuts tight.

Did he…

The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.

And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?

The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”

“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”

He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I… like the sound of it.”

“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”

He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”

“Yes. You are. Of course you are.” 

“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”

The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”

“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”

Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.

“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.

“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”

“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”

“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”

“…There’s more than one?!”

Hmm…

That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.

Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.

And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.

Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.

September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.

But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.

The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.

Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.

…At this time?

Did you leave her this desperate?

“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.

You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”

You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.

The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.

But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.

So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”

You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.

But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”

You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.

“Give yourself closure, babe.”

“I got closure.”

“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”

“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”

“I’m sorry.”

You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.

Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.

You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.

“Alright then…”

Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.

This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.

Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.

“What do you mean?”

The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”

You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.

His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”

“Kook—”

“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”

A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?

You don’t know.

Maybe you don’t need to know.

Not more than what his eyes say, at least.

“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”

His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”

Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”

And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.

Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.

The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?

Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.

But no.

Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?

As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”

“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”

The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.

You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.

And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”

Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.

Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.

Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”

He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.

For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”

Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.

Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”

Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”

Yes. Breathe.

He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.

The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.

It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.

Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.

You sigh…

In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.

For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.

And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.

You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.

But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved. 

Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.

Okay.

She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.

As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.

She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.

The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.

And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”

“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”

“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”

You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.

“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”

You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”

Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”

“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”

You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.

Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.

So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”

You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her. 

“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”

“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”

Jeopardise. Holy fuck.

She has a whack understanding of villainhood.

“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”

You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.

“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”

“You’ve been with him for just a while.”

You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.

“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”

Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”

You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—

“That I can receive affection, too.”

Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.

“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”

Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.

She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.

“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”

“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”

She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.

“You—”

“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.

“Because you almost killed yourself!”

“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”

“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”

No…

You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.

“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”

A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.

You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”

Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.

So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”

You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.

“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”

You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”

And that should be it.

Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.

Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.

Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.

There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.

And then… something miraculous happens.

The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.

But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.

He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.

And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.

“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”

Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.

Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”

Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”

You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.

But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Are you?

You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.

A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.

A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.

You’re not just okay — you’re craving.

Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.

“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”

Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.

It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.

You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.

The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.

But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.

You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.

“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”

“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”

No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.

He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.

If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.

You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.

And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.

“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”

You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”

“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”

Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again. 

Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.

You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”

“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”

And it’s true.

He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.

Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.

His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”

Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.

Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.

Groceries. Decoration. Plants.

With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.

The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.

But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.

Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.

His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”

“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.” 

Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.

Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.

How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.

Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.

Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes. 

You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”

“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”

“What for again?”

“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”

“‘Kay. Understandable.”

“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”

“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”

“I would want it.”

He always does.

Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.

You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”

The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.

You actually mean it, don’t you?

His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.

You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.

So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”

“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”

“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”

“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

“To be fair… I agree.”

A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”

“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”

“Dork. You must survive.”

You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.

The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.

Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

And before you can answer, he kisses you again.

Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.

All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.

Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.

His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”

The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.

But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.

The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.

There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.

The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.

You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.

As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.

And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.

That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?

No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.

Until, someone is.

Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”

Strange. Oddly familiar voice.

You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.

And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!

It takes a moment. Then another.

One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.

You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat. 

Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.

It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.

Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”

“It feels… quiet.”

“What, he bore you to death like that?”

You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.

“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”

Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.

And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…

A sting jabs your chest.

The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.

“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”

And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.

“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.

“Just ninety-nine, huh?”

You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”

Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.

Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.

Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions. 

As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.

But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.

Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”

“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”

A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.

“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”

You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter. 

“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”

“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”

“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”

“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”

Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”

“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”

“Good luck.”

“Buy me sushi.”

One last laugh before you cut the call.

The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.

You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.

A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.

You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.

Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.

Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—

“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”

Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.

And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.

Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.

“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”

She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.

Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—

“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”

Are you rambling?

How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.

Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.

She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.

You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”

Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.

She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.

“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”

She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”

Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.

Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft. 

A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.

And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.

Her touch feels… good.

“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”

You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?

Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.

“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”

“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”

True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.

“Ah… I thought so,” she says.

You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.

Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”

Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”

She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.

“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.

“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”

“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”

You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.

If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.

And you’d see the way he looks at you.

With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.

But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.

“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”

“You better. Pressure’s on.”

He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”

A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.

The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.

You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.

A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.

She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.

“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”

She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.

Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.

But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.

You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.

She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.

“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.

“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”

Right. 

It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…

It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.

But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.

It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.

Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”

Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.

You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.

And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.

You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.

Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.

“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.

But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”

“That’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”

Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.

But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.

And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.

“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.

“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”

“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.

“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”

“You’re the worst, I mean it.”

But his evil snicker isn’t.

He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.

You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.

Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:

Forget about the issue.

Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.

Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”

Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.

But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.

“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”

You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”

“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”

“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”

“…Ah?”

“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”

“Shut up. You’re impossible.”

You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.

Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.

Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.

“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.

“Not the microwave.”

“Jungkook—”

“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”

You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.

But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.

Shut up. You’re impossible.

His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.

Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.

He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.

The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.

Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.

You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea. 

Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.

The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.

Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.

Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.

Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.

Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.

Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.

The difference was still never quite veiled.

He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.

Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.

Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—

There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.

Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.

He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”

“Hm? I’m always cosy.”

“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”

Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”

“A healthy balance? How so?”

“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”

His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”

“You’ve always been mean, actually.”

He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”

“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”

Oh.

Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.

“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”

You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.

So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Now you do slap his tits.

“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”

“And yet…”

He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”

“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…

Is he zoning out?

“Jungkook,” you call again.

“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”

“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”

“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”

“I hate you.”

But you don’t.

He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.

Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.

Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.

“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”

“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”

“Ah. Like you adore me.”

Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”

He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.

“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”

“Uhh…”

His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”

You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”

There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—

“And you are, too.”

Hold on.

Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.

If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.

Is he thinking of the same thing?

Because you’re speechless.

You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.

Oh god.

You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—

“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.

“Only if you feel like it.”

“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”

“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”

Shit.

“Where is the wedding?”

“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”

You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.

Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.

Which is… such a huge fucking thing.

Especially for a girlfriend.

Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?

But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.

These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.

But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.

“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”

“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”

“No. I actually might cry.”

His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.

You could cry.

Because you talked about this so long ago.

Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.

And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.

Is that it? Is that now?

“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.

Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.

“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”

You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?

Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.

In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…

How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?

“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”

Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”

You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”

He doesn’t stall.

“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”

You’ll freaking screech.

“Jungkook!”

Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.

He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”

“No.”

But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”

“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”

He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.

“What am I gonna wear?”

Jungkook puffs out a breath.

You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.

“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”

“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”

“Kook—”

“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”

It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”

Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”

“Or will I seem overdressed?”

“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”

“And… if I’m underdressed?”

“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”

Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”

“I am, too. But…”

His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…

He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.

“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”

You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Good. Oh.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”

“Oh…”

True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.

And now you’re here.

Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.

“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”

“Just…”

“…What?”

“Okay. Hold onto me.”

“Hold ont— oh, f—”

You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.

“And— off we go.”

You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”

“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”

“You better not.”

“No. Just wait.”

He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.

And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.

Holy shit.

the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3

[astraystayyh]

AIDJDJJFJFF I'M SORRYYY but also same dwww we are in this tgtr bb

All for you

skz and the vows they'd write for you.

fluff. gn reader. word count-3.9k. listen to video games by lana del rey if you can!!!

a.n: thank you to @a-cute-french-fry and @dorisnumber1fan for brainstorming some of these with me <3 i made myself very delulu with this so ENJOY. happy 3k!!! i love you all muahhh <3

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 chan ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Chan's warm hands are in yours, fingers tangled with one another tightly- like the sturdy roots of an ancient tree.

“Baby,” he calls out softly, and you can already feel tears well up in your eyes at the tenderness in his voice. His thumb reaches out instinctively to wipe the lone tear that managed to escape. His right hand remains on your cheek, cradling it gently.

“Seungmin always liked to joke that I was nearly half-fifty-two. Then half fifty-three on my next birthday,” he starts, as a faint giggle escapes your lips. “That's how I counted time too, with the different days I lived… That is until I met you.” He pauses, a shaky breath leaving him and crashing onto you. “Suddenly I was no longer twenty-six. I was one week old since I met you. Three months since I’ve loved you. And then five years since you changed my life. Years no longer marked the passage of my time. It was you who marked the passage of me.”

“I always had this idea in my head, that I was only worth loving easily. If I diluted all my problems, concealed all my flaws and insecurities to please the ones around me, only then was I deserving of love. But you...” His eyes soften, even more so than they were before. “But you loved me, you loved me on my happy days, and on my darkest ones. You loved me, even when I couldn't understand it, even when I couldn't see what was there to care for in me. So, thank you, for showing me that I am worthy of love, simply because I am me. Thank you for choosing to be patient with me. You don't always know what to do to help, nor do I, but you try, and I try, and isn't that what love is, in the end? To take time out of your day to try, for the person you love?” His voice cracks, as sudden tears wash over his rosy cheeks.

“And I love you. I love to love you. And I cannot not love you, not when my heart beats to the melody of your existence. I promise that even when I’m eighty, I’ll always try to love you better, softer, gentler. I'll never stop trying to be worthy of your love, to be worthy of being yours. Only ever yours.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 minho ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“Angel,” Minho smiles softly, the back of his hand brushing tenderly against your cheek. “I love you, so so much. You know that, right? I probably don't say it as much as I feel it, because I always do. Every second of my existence is spent loving you. Even when I’m not fully awake, and still floating in that hazy space between dreams and consciousness, I can still feel it deep within me that I love you. It is the one thing that ties me back to life itself.”

“And I never... I never imagined that I could adore someone this much. So much that I always think of you, always miss you, even when you're near. Because I feel as if I missed out on years of loving you, back when we didn't know each other. And I- I want to love you, hard enough so it'd feel as if I’ve done it for your entire life.” He's blinking repeatedly, you're surprised he can still read the words scribbled on his paper. You can sense that the tears glistening in his eyes are on the verge of spilling, so you grab his hand and squeeze it gently. 'I'm here', you silently say- he understands.  

“Thank you for holding my hand. Now, and every time I’ve needed you. Thank you for being here for me, with me. I... I always thought that people like me were destined to be alone. But- but being with you feels like I’m with myself. There's no need for me to pretend. Thank you for not making me pretend anymore. You are my mirror, you and I are one, and I- I hope...” He brings your hand to his chest, where his heart beats wildly- 'stay with me' it sings to you.

“I hope you can always feel my love for you. Now and when we're too old sitting on the patio of our home, and my hand is still in yours. Because my heart belongs to you, it beats for you and I breathe for you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 changbin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“You're breathtaking,” Changbin whispers in awe, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with each lingering look, like the brush of a skilled artist.

“So are you,” you giggle, but he shakes his head vehemently, drawing nearer to you. “You are the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I can't believe I’m marrying you,” he chuckles in disbelief, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around, showing you off for all to see. 

“Look at who I’m marrying!” he shouts with bursting excitement, as he dips you down, his nose grazing yours gently, a soft touch amidst the loud exclamations around you. 

“Still sure you want to marry him?!” Seungmin shouts from his seat and you giggle, wrapping your arm around Changbin’s waist. “I do!” 

Your laughter gradually fades, as Changbin clears his throat. His head is tilted to the side, a small, incredulous smile drawn on his lips as he contemplates the loveliness of this moment- of marrying you. 

“My baby. My beautiful baby. I think this is the happiest day of my life. But again, every day is a happy one with you. I... I've never known that love could be unconditional, that loving someone would feel as simple as breathing. Until you. Loving you doesn't feel like I’m taking something out of my being, and giving it to you. But rather, I’m nurturing something within me, a blossoming tender emotion that grows within my soul. Loving you...” he steps forward, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands. “Loving you makes me happy, immensely happy. Because you are the sunset that makes people stop in their tracks to admire it. You are the beautiful scenery that gives hope to everyone who witnesses it. And you make me feel alive. More than I’ve ever been before you.”

“And I promise...” he pauses, wide eyes trying their best to embrace each feature drawn on your face. “I promise to love you more today than I did yesterday. I promise to shoulder the pain that slips through the cracks in your heart, the one that you try so hard to conceal from me. I promise to hear your silent cries and to hug you until your soul stops bleeding. I promise to see you, even when you try to hide from me. I promise to hurt if it means you'll feel less pain. And I-” his voice trembles as it washes over your old scars, delicately erasing them from your memory. 

“I will love you. When the pain seems too big, I will love you. And when your happiness shines the brightest, I will love you. I am madly, irrevocably, desperately in love with you. My heart is tangled in yours.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 hyunjin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“My love,” Hyunjin begins before abruptly stepping forward, pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss is dizzying and sweet, it reminds you of the figs he hand-fed you yesterday- honey dripping down his tongue onto yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers once he steps back. “I couldn't help myself. You're so pretty,” he admits sheepishly, and you giggle, too in love to ever mind.

“Where was I? Right, hi, my love. Writing these vows was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Not because I didn't know what to say, but there is so much I wish to express, to talk about when it comes to you. How my soul seems to burn for you. How you’re my last love, but also my first, because I don’t think I’ve ever truly loved before you. Not when you are love itself. But I… I found this journal entry, from four years ago. And I want to read it to you.” He clears his throat, a useless attempt to erase the quiver in his voice.

“I used to believe that love was meant to be grandiose. Extravagant gestures and confessions that will seem too magical for any ordinary human. That’s what I craved; a love so big it would overtake my being completely. But... But tonight, you played with my hair as I laid my head on your lap. And we held hands while drinking warm tea on your couch. And it felt enough, more than enough for me to lead a beautiful life. One worth remembering, one worth commemorating. All because it’s with you.

I realize now that I no longer have to search for love all around me, because you hand it to me, so freely, so selflessly. You love me on our extraordinary days and our mundane ones. I never have to second guess it with you. We may be angry, sad, or frustrated, but the love always remains. It's the one emotion that ties us together, that anchors us to one another. My compass. You.

I don't think I ever 'fell' in love with you. Because a fall can never be gentle, it always hurts, even if for a little. And you must always get up afterward, in a minute, in an hour, in a few years. You can't stay down forever. But this, what I feel for you, the emotion that makes my heart beat is tender and soft. It feels like walking inside a home where the light is golden, the windows are wide open, and every past version of me finally finds what it was looking for all along. I want to stay in you for a while. For a long time. For the rest of my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes so you’d let me.

P.S: I am sleeping with a light heart tonight. I hope that, for as long as I’m breathing, you will always too. You deserve it, more than anyone who has ever walked this earth.”

There is a long pause, as Hyunjin’s words hang over the air; they knock the breath out of you but simultaneously fill you with life. You step forward, swiping away his tears gently. He brings your hand to his mouth, soft rosy lips brushing against your knuckles. 

 “I guess I've been writing my vows since the day I met you,” he smiles softly, delicate love overflowing from him. “Every painting, every journal entry, was to you, by you, for you. Thank you for being my home. Thank you for choosing to love me, every day. Thank you for allowing me to witness the magic that is you. I will forever and always orbit around you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 han ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

“Have I ever told you that you're my favorite artist, sweetheart?” Han’s voice is gentle, as he begins speaking. It reminds you of the waves lapping at your feet when he proposed to you. “I feel as if, as soon as you stepped into my life, you began to paint it with the most vibrant colors. The ones I’ve been desperately longing for. Because it is hard… to see the world as a rainbow when you've felt in blacks and whites for so long.” Han’s gaze softens as he spots the tears now trailing down your cheeks. “Shh, don't cry, honey. Or I’ll start crying too, and I don't think I can stop then,” he whispers and you nod, a breathy giggle escaping your lips.  

“My mind used to be a scary place. But it no longer is, because it's now filled with thoughts of you. I like to imagine that you planted yourself a little garden there, vibrant tulips and roses. And these flowers may wither down. But they will always bloom again, watered by my love for you, and your love for me. And I hope you know that I... I'll always be there for you too. When the thoughts in your head won't quiet down, I’ll talk for as long as it takes to distract you. And when you want to sit in silence, I’ll be near you, holding your hand. And when you want to be alone, I’ll be there, lingering around the door, within your reach. In whichever shape you want me, you'll get me. I am here, I won't ever leave you.”

“And now I’m crying too” Han chuckles softly, and through the shimmering veil of your tears, you cling to his hand to see.

“I really, really don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I know I’ll try my entire life to be worthy of you. For as long as I’m here then there will always be someone who loves you. Someone who is proud of you; for breathing, for trying, for never giving up. Please never forget that. You are my strength, my peace, my home. You are everything I have ever dreamed of in human form.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 felix ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

The golden rays reflect on Felix’s eyes as he looks down at his paper. A summer wedding- he insisted, his only condition to you. It is ridiculous, you wanted to tell him, to expect it to be any season but summer when he is the sun.

“Hi baby,” he grins, twinkling brown eyes captivating yours. “God, I’m so nervous. I rehearsed this ten times in front of chan. I think he learned it by heart now.” You giggle, as Chan’s laughter travels across the venue. “I’m not usually afraid of speaking in front of people. But you aren't anyone. I guess that's why I’m nervous. You look really beautiful today. This isn't in my papers, I just wanted to tell you. Because you are. You're always beautiful but today you're absolutely breathtaking and I can't believe I’m marrying you. Thank you for saying yes,” he pauses, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “I’m rambling, aren't I?” you nod, a wide grin on your face. You love him.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I... I'm known as the massage fairy, right? I think I might've massaged almost everyone present in this room.” The loud cheers of your friends signal that they agree.

“I used to, I mean, I do it because you get knots in places your hands can't reach, and it feels nice, for someone to ease the ache of your muscles for you. And I always thought that massages were strictly physical. That it just undoes tension in your body, nothing more, nothing less. And I never told you, because it sounded silly in my head. But I knew... I knew I loved you when you massaged my shoulders for the first time. Do you remember, baby?” he asks, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “That was two months into our relationship. Which is fairly early, but time means nothing when it comes to you.”

“My shoulders were sore, and when I told you, you stood behind me instantly. You started to massage my shoulders and I almost cried right there and then. Because your fingers worked delicately, and it felt as if you were kneading your love into my body. You lifted an invisible weight off of me that day, an emotional one. I didn't even know it was there until you touched me. That's how I knew you were different, to me. That your touch wasn't strictly physical, that it reached into depths of my soul, that it soothed aches I’m not even fully aware of,” he pauses, drawing in a deep breath.

“You already know this, but I... I never really learned how to deal with sadness, because it all happens so suddenly with me. One bad thought always brings with it ten others and suddenly I am pulled into a pool of horrible feelings. But your hands keep me afloat until I’m ready to swim by myself again. I think... I think you understand my sadness more than I do. Maybe because you're a part of me, two halves of the same heart.” His voice softens at the last word, as unshed tears glimmer in his eyes.

“I hope, I pray, that my hands massaging your sore shoulders would also reach into your soul and heal its ache. And I know I might not make you feel better, instantly, or in a day, or the following one. But I promise that I won't ever leave, even if the bad times stretch forward. I'll be with you, patiently, just as you do to me. I may not understand myself fully, but I know that my soul was crafted to love you. Every atom in me is yours, and that is enough knowledge for me.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 seungmin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

You take a step forward, brows knitted in concentration as you carefully readjust Seungmin’s black tie. Your hands then glide to his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his suit. “Nervous?” You ask, and he responds with a subtle nod, planting a chaste kiss upon your forehead.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.”

“It’s never ‘just you’ to me.” He gently holds your chin, dainty fingers commanding a cascade of butterflies inside you. “Just look at me, okay?” You smile tenderly and he nods, taking a step backward.

Seungmin draws in a deep breath, eyes traveling over the entire room before finally settling on you.

“I’ve always liked math. I liked the security that numbers gave me, the exactitude of this science. Because one plus one equals two, and no change in our world, however grand it may be, could ever alter it. I liked things that I could grasp, that I could wrap my head around fully. Tangible rules and formulas. They were my safety net. Until you came into my life. You were the wildest variable I’ve ever encountered, and being near you made me crave things I’ve never known. You pushed me out of my comfort zone, but I wasn't afraid to fall into the unknown, because I knew you'd be there to catch me. So, you became my risks and paradoxically, my safety net, all in one.” He doesn’t look down at his paper- his kind eyes never leave yours, and you’re suddenly the only two humans existing in this world.

 “I remember a Tuesday night, two years ago. You slept over at my house, and we didn't do anything special. We just talked a lot, about everything and nothing, just saying whatever crossed our minds. And then you dozed off on my chest. You looked so... Peaceful in my arms, and I was surprised you weren't woken up by my wild heartbeat. Because I suddenly realized that I wanted a forever with you, right there and then.” You both step forward at the same time, hands reaching out blindly to hold one another.

“I’ve always found it a bit weird to crave something to last for a duration that we humans cannot grasp. Everything we know is ephemeral. Everything has a beginning and an end. So, I never really believed in forever, until you. Forever exists because I can't see myself ever not loving you,” a faint hiccup courses through him, as he looks up at the sky- an earnest attempt to stop his tears from falling. It is useless, because once he looks at you again, emotion overtakes him, rippling from him in waves.

“Even- even when we're both no longer here, and my body can no longer contain my soul. Even if I only roam in space eternally, as a small speck of light, my destination would always be you, because my love for you would be the only thing my soul would remember. The core foundation of my being, the essence of who I am is my love for you, and even if everything around me fades, the love for you will stay.” His forehead presses onto yours, a last whisper, only meant for you- “My eternity is you.”

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 jeongin ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

Jeongin's lips graze the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse dances in fervor- for him alone. He looks self-assured, as he lets go of your hand to take out a paper from his pocket. But there is a faint blush tainting his cheeks; it travels down his neck when he clears his throat.

“Baby,” he starts, voice hoarse from barely hidden emotion- the notes of it settle inside your heart. “I don't know where we will be many years down the road, or what we will be doing. But I know that there are things that won't change between us. I know that I’ll listen to all your rants about your favorite show, and I’ll buy you ice cream when you're craving it at 3 a.m. I will still buy two bottles of my shampoo because you love to use mine more than yours. And I like it when you carry a part of me with you, even in such a subtle way. I will still give you my jacket, even when you insist you aren't cold, but I can tell, because I know you. I will...” He sucks in a deep breath, as his vision grows blurry from the tears in his waterline.

“I will make you coffee in the morning, exactly how you like it, down to how many ice cubes you use. I will warm up your towel as you shower and I will fold your laundry because I know you hate doing it. And I- I will hold your hand when we cross the road, and in crowded places, and in the lines of every coffeeshop we’ll go to. I will run my fingers down your spine when you're about to sleep, and I will-” Jeongin's tears splatter across the paper, smudging its black ink. His lips are quivering, as the paper shakes in his hands.

“I will kiss your tiny bruises and remind you to breathe on- on days where...” Jeongin crumples the paper in his hand as he finally looks at you. He’s crying, a stream of tears trailing down his cheeks like a floodgate that isn't planning on stopping. “On days where it seems impossible to.” He finishes, the words he's written long forgotten by him. He didn't need to read them when he had you in front of him- the sole holder of his love.

“And I will hug you tight on nights when your sadness feels bigger than what your body can contain. And when words don't seem to make sense in your head, I’ll- I’ll listen to you, I’ll understand you, I’ll learn you. And I will love you. I will love you and I’ve loved you and I love you. And I- I wish there was a word bigger than love to describe how I feel for you. Because four letters never seem enough when it comes to you. But I am yours, body, heart, and soul. Wherever you go I follow. Till the ends of the earth, I'll be there.”

[nananamiin]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧 - 🤍

tw || sukuna is himself 💀 also this is written in my opinion and own headcanon. pls tell me what u think! :3 might make part 2

𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂 𝗚𝗼𝗷𝗼 — ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ — 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁

I can’t honestly see Gojo maintaining a long term relationship without him having self destructive tendencies. He’s not exactly a bad boyfriend, he’s surprisingly patient (learned trait as a teacher) and realistic, even cynical on a lot of subjects. But he’s has seen a lot, done a lot and been through a lot. His world has been shaken, destroyed and rearranged so he feels genuine unease and insecurity when he thinks his life is beginning to have some type of stability for once. Which can become Gojo becoming oddly unsure of himself.

He doesn’t understand a lot about himself even at 28 years old, which translates to him struggling to understand where he stands with you. He adores you, in the same way he adored Geto. Hell, he might love you in a more romantic manner than he loved Geto but that doesn’t change the fact that often when you two alone he’s in his own world. He doesn’t mean to be distant, but he overthinks a lot. He thinks and thinks and thinks and he gets lost in it. You have to reel him in. He’ll learn to overcome this bad habit if you give him some encouragement and help.

Always somewhere doing something fighting God knows what. It’s nerve wracking to see him come home after what seems like a week of him just in missions. This can really strain your relationship with Gojo and if it’s a casual thing, then I can’t see him putting too much effort into it. If it’s serious, he will try but try and do are two different things.

Not a very sexual man, he doesn’t have time to sit down and think about sex. He’s comfortable being without it for the rest of his natural life, honestly. When he was a teen, of course he was hormonal and moody. But now as an adult, he thinks of it differently. It’s not a necessity nor does he seek it out. Of course he won’t mind if you initiate it. It’d just be rare for him to make sexual advances on you unprompted. He also values consent A LOT. He hates things going unspoken because it wasn’t until relatively recently did Gojo truly did begin to understand people in general, so he wants you to be clear with him on basically everything.

His students, his work as a teacher, it means everything to him. It grounds him when he’s busy thinking about what if he had gone with Geto, what if Toji hadn’t appeared, what if he wasn’t the strongest, so you have to value that too. That’s a given in a relationship with Gojo and he might put his students before you. If it becomes serious and long term, he might want you to meet his students at some point.

THE master of bad puns and jokes. There’ll be a lot of unserious nights watching him reorganize his Digimon cards into his special folder for the 10th time or watch a romcom with him, just the two of you. These are moments Gojo loves and cherishes. He cherishes what you make him feel.

He can’t help but fall in love. He’s desperately wanting to be who people think he is, to be professional, to understand the role given to him, but he’s human. And he can’t deny it to himself that when he lays down and does his daily routine of overthinking, his brain goes to you. And he has a disdain for it. The last time he got this close to someone…well, they’re not that close anymore. Gojo wants to be both the strongest and the man he wishes he could be for you. But there’ll be times he can’t be that man, he has to be the strongest because society needs him. And it’s emotionally taxing to both him and you.

Let’s be real, we aren’t him. We as people aren’t anything like Gojo so we don’t understand what it’s like being the sorcerer everyone turns to when shit hits the fan, nor will we ever carry that burden (I hope not). And that creates tension. Gojo is disconnected with people which can go both ways for misunderstandings. He’s frustrated at himself that he can’t be what he wants to be and he’s frustrated at you for not being like him (maybe he’s even frustrated you’re not like Geto in the way you can’t understand him.) You’re frustrated because you just can’t always grasp the severity or the way of life with being the strongest sorcerer and also frustrated because it’s just creating tension. But it’s not hopeless! He’s learned that people do care for him beyond just his titles. And he’s learned that communication can make or break a relationship.

If you two overcome your differences, your fears, and become a long term thing it’s his LIFELINE. You are priority number one. That selfish, pretentious part of him really comes back, it really shines through when it comes to you. You’re one part of his life that doesn’t depend on his strength, on this idea of his power bordering deity status. You’re everything to him by not treating him so holy. And God he won’t fuck it up. I can’t see him cheating, not even accidentally. He won’t fuck around, because his devotion is so deep. And he expects devotion back. He’s not possessive but you’re his.

𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗡𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶 — ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ — 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲

Probably the best dating option out of all the JJK men lmfao. He’s responsible, impossibly patient, open minded, kind, humane and very intelligent. Not to mention, he’s hot! He’s a total hunk with brains which is perfect for basically anyone. And he’s pretty sane, so that’s also a plus. He’d probably be the easiest to the date. He won’t compare you to his exes, he won’t ditch you, he’s great at communication and he’s shockingly very blunt about his emotions. And that can make everything much easier as he’s not very secretive. Also he’s very attentive to your emotions, it’s scary. He has to read people and situations quick to survive his missions so he has this eerie habit of reading your features scarily accurate.

He’s quick to judge character or misunderstand someone, though. If someone’s coming off as rude or as arrogant, Nanami takes them at face value. He doesn’t do soul searching psycho analyzing bullshit, if you’re a dick then you’re a dick regardless of whatever happened to make you a dick. Yes, he’s attentive and emotionally intelligent but in his field of work, he’s seen a lot of genuine freaks and weirdos. So he doesn’t think twice before judging someone.

He absolutely does NOT want you to be in any sorcerer problem. No. He can’t handle that. You could be as strong as Sukuna and he’s still battling himself on whether or not he should sit you down and talk to you about it. He doesn’t care if it’s selfish, he doesn’t care if the higher ups argue with him, the idea of you in this field of work haunts him and he hates it. Even if it helps people, he hates it because he knows at any moment you could be harmed or worse. Just this once let him be selfish in having you when all he’s ever done is be selfless and humane.

This may or may not upset some of y’all but Nanami is not a daddy dom. He doesn’t really care for sex much like Gojo. If it happens, it happens. But if it doesn’t happen, he doesn’t care. He’s plain vanilla and he hates kinky shit simply because it just gives him a bad taste. He prefers if sex comes much much later in a relationship since he’s very traditional in the sense he wants a model family. Not to say he’s a slut shamer (my king is NOT.) but he will absolutely not find the basis of a good relationship from a one night stand. Or maybe he will, who knows? He just wants stability that won’t come from someone fleeting is all.

He will stare blankly at a man joking about you in anyway that’s mean spirited. That shit does not go with him because he will actually visibly roll his eyes and make a rude statement. Never ever think someone will disrespect you in his presence because he’d actually rather listen to Gojo’s Digimon rants than ever let anyone disrespect you. Even if you’re casual with him, you’re funny if you think it won’t become serious with him. He has this charm to him that’ll draw you to him. Can you tell I am in love?

99% of the time, it’s serious. Casual isn’t something he has the time for. It’s serious and long term. Which means he expects for you to be committed, honest, loyal and humble. He can’t stand someone who isn’t those things and if you don’t embody that then he won’t give you the time of day. He doesn’t play games, he doesn’t do situationships. It’s all or nothing with Nanami because tomorrow he might not be able to visit you. And you bet your ass he’ll do a background check on you. He’s SERIOUS.

He might falter in the way he can’t express himself at times. He’s so used to just mindlessly staring off into space about the shit that happens to him that he sort of forgets he can also speak to you about his problems. And as mature as Nanami is, he does have his moods. He gets grumpy, he gets bitchy, he gets upset, but he won’t take it out on you. He’ll just silently deal with it himself, because that’s the way he’s learned to handle the problems. It gets to a point that it’s unhealthy and he knows it, so he’s stuck in that situation of being aware of his shortcomings but he feels like he can’t do much about it. It’s an awkward hell he can often trap himself in.

There’ll be some nights, where everything’s dead, everything’s still. It’s just you and him in bed. And he suddenly just tears up and hugs you. And he silently sobs into your chest, clutching you like you’re his safety net. Because you are, he relies on you for normalcy. For love, for peace. And the way he needs it is like an addict needing their next fix. That’s why he’s so adamant about you not coming close to his line of work, because he doesn’t want to start coming to terms with that. He’ll be dependent on you for emotional support because like every other sorcerer, Nanami has seen things that would leave the average man a shell of his former self. And sometimes Nanami cries to you because he’s so afraid that yes, he is a shell of who he was. You have to reassure him he isn’t.

An emotionally driven person despite his professional look. He’s a kind, sweet guy at the end of the day who I can never see doing a mistake too unforgivable or having a flaw too deep that it can’t be overlooked. He’s another man with you, a softer man. A man that lays with you simply watching a stupid movie because he’s got the time. And in that time, he feels normal. He feels average. It’s funny; he left his salary job to be a sorcerer so he shouldn’t have any room to complain about normalcy since it was his choice. But still, we all strive for stability and a peaceful life. And it’s not a crime for him to want it too, you tell him.

𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗙𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼 — ⚝ ⫘⫘⫘ ⚝ — 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻

I’m going to need every Toji stan to be so ridiculously for real and sit down and listen to me when I say this man is trouble. He’s hot I can’t deny that but my god, he’s like an amalgamation of bad decisions. He’d do casual dating solely to leech off of you if you have money and that’s UBER broke man activities. He’s also the type to have situationships he just either ghosts or ditches because he does not see it as worth it. Or he’d blow money like it’s nothing because he just doesn’t have impulse control when it comes to horse racing. He’s like a walking red flag when it comes to casual dating.

He’s down for casual sex but I can’t see him starting a relationship based on casual sex. So if you want something with him, it’s hard to start it simply because this man will identify that effort and shut it off or not reciprocate it. He thinks you’re nice, he thinks you’re sweet, but that’s about it. Toji can be very iffy when it comes relationships. He wants something out of it, so you’d probably enter it knowing he has ulterior motives out of it. Sex isn’t a big deal to him anymore, he can’t see it as a big deal. It’s just something he does to stroke his ego and to help himself when he’s in a mood. His way of being can be hedonistic. And destructive.

But, he isn’t just sex and gambling and eating. He is a broken man with a twisted way of love and caring because of the unfortunate circumstances he was raised in. And that isn’t up to anyone but him to fix. So don’t expect to fix him, because Toji won’t do it himself. He’s not a helpless case but I can’t see Toji doing much outside of just acknowledging it. He’s also very VERY touchy on his past and on you trying to get closer to him besides anything that’s casual couple things. It’s possible for him to open up and be personal, but again remember he was raised in an abusive situation so he views things and himself differently than others. His understanding of the world is bleak.

Would he cheat? No. Probably not. He might see a good looking chick and stare for too long or might make a comment to himself but Toji wouldn’t cheat. It’s not worth the screaming and breakup texts and comments. He’s not the smartest man alive but he knows better. And to be brutally honest, he thinks it won’t last long with you. That’s just how it is with him most of the time. He doesn’t see the need to cheat because A.) Either you or him will ditch the other or B.) The mess is too much to clean up.

He doesn’t really care what your input on his income and wasteful lifestyle is, it’s how he lives. And nobody tells him what to do. He didn’t leave the Zenin just to be told off by a person he’s seeing casually. And he hates it when someone does that. It’s his life, not yours. But like I said before—Toji isn’t stupid. He is intelligent and resourceful. If he sees you truly, honestly, genuinely wanting someone and trying then maybe as you two are sat at another dinner date he looks over. And maybe as he looks over, he’ll see that same type of sheer joy he saw so long ago in her eyes. And maybe after years living his lifestyle, does Toji think to himself that maybe you won’t flee if he stops being this pompous persona.

If every star aligns for it to happen, he’ll become gentler during sex. He’ll start to think twice before overspending on betting tickets, he’ll start to walk you to your home. He’s not impossible to work with but he’s extremely closed off and shut off from anything romantic after losing his wife. Selfishly, Toji compares every lover after her to her and he sneers at the thought of them ever measuring up to her. And yet here he finds himself awkwardly wanting to say more to you. But he can’t open his trap.

He’s super not sure how to do PDA. Back then, she’d initiate everything. So he’s left scratching at his head on how to show affectionate again in a way that isn’t sex or fake. If he really starts to feel for you, he’s going the extra step to make sure you’re on the inside of the sidewalk and he’s right beside you. I feel like that’s the extent he can really show his affection, by doing really menial tasks people don’t think twice about. His hand lingers on yours when he hands you some groceries, his eyes stay on you as you talk. He hasn’t done this serious relationship crap since forever.

You’re gonna have to correct a lot of behavior from him which is exhausting. You’re gonna have to tell him again and again you’re not his dead wife so he can’t compare apples to oranges. You’re not there for him to rely on to change his way for because you’re not a therapist, you’re his partner. You’re not here for him to constantly depend on you emotionally to fix his deeper rooted problems, that’s on him. He’s a lovely man when he’s not constantly full of the negative things. But at his worst, he’s a dependent wreck who’s always thinking of her.

If Toji really really does love you, he’ll go beyond the world for you. He’ll kill and maim for you, he’d devote his life savings to your future with him. You’d become something he cherishes more than money, more than his hedonistic tendencies, you’re everything. The air he breathes, the warm breeze, you’re his life. And he won’t lose you. He won’t sabotage himself to lose something he built good for himself and for you. He’d honest to God turn his life around. But again, old habits die hard especially pertaining to Toji. So who knows if he’d really be up for it.

𝗥𝘆ō𝗺𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 — ⋆ 𓆩☠︎︎𓆪 ⋆ — 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗴

No. Just no. Absolutely not. Let me say it this way; Sukuna genuinely has disinterest in anything that isn’t mass murder with a capital M. He’d literally do everything in his power to be the most heart breaking, bigoted boyfriend imaginable. He’s a wretched son of a bitch. He’s the biggest red flag of the entire series. Sukuna is quite disinterested in romance and relationships as a whole.

He’s a fun villain but as a lover? This man would not hesitate to be a terrible person. He has no problems beating his fucking nephew and murdering children, he has no problem being terrible with you. The only reason I can see him dating you is simply because he’s bored and he wants to see what the fuss is kinda like how he eat popcorn and drank soda in Shibuya. But don’t get it twisted, it’s all on HIS terms. HIS rules. He doesn’t give a shit what you care about or worry for. Your role as his partner is to follow what he says and if you don’t? You’re the next pile of human mush.

If you were of use to him like Uraume, he might consider you something worthy. His relationship with Uraume proves that he can choose a more amicable and stable relationship but let’s be for real, he wouldn’t especially if you’re not as strong as him or someone like Gojo. You’d be a plaything at best. And he doesn’t share his plaything. Even with Uraume, it’s a relationship that benefits him personally so you’d have to provide something of that nature for him to consider you as much as he does Uraume. And good luck avoiding all the comparison he will do to Uraume, he’s toxic LOL.

This can either go two ways which are 1.) you are his favored plaything. And that comes with pros and cons. The pros are that you’re somewhat under the protection of THE Sukuna. That’s about it for the pros because he’d be a possessive, controlling, dominating manchild who would expect you to bend to his whims and any backtalk would be met either a backhand or god knows what else from him. I pray for you if you stand too close to his male servants because they’d be ripped in half simply because one glanced at you. You’d be super isolated, your entire world would just revolve around him whether or not you agree with him. He’d probably stroke your hair not out of love, but as if you’re his pet. His possession. And god forbid you do something he doesn’t like. That leads to him making your life an entire inconvenience to the highest degree.

Impatient and would probably roll his eyes and gaslight you at every turn and tell me I’m wrong. He’d probably laugh and clap if you fell and sprained your ankle.

The second option would be the Uraume route which is a subordinate that can provide him something that’ll be in service to him. I imagine he’d be the biggest bitch ever and very particular so you’d have to deal with him but the benefit of that would be the fact that he’d let you stand close to him and have him cross his bottom two arms over his thick, muscled chest whilst one hand rests on the small of your back to keep you close to him as he overlooks his destruction. It sounds insane but I can see him thinking better of you after sometime as his subordinate. And even in this route I feel like the possessive, selfish streak will continue because you’re actually funny if you think Sukuna’s selfishness has any stops. He will be selfish and probably bodyblock anybody from staring at you.

I can see why Gege wants him so bad though he’s so fine

Honestly, with sex I feel like he really would not give a shit. I mean yes, he has his group of women, but it bores him. Sex doesn’t thrill him unlike fighting, unlike the ability to wreak havoc to a small town that has no choice nor power to defend itself. He understands sexual attraction but I can’t see Sukuna acting on it. He might find you attractive enough to keep you locked up in a dungeon or in a chamber but I feel like he wouldn’t exactly seek you out. You’re more of an afterthought to Sukuna. And you better be comfortable with that because with him around that’s not changing.

Best case scenario? You mean something to him like a useful subordinate he WOULDN’T kill alongside his other servants. He’d like someone resourceful, quick on their feet, intelligent, witty and someone who can understand him which is really weird to say about someone who would skin a grandma. He wants someone to just get him off the bat because I really feel like Sukuna judges hard, especially if you’re someone he’s seriously considering giving respect.

[jhdyuiee]

treasure trove

𓇼 pairing: husband!johnny x fem!reader

𓇼 tags/warnings: fluff, smut!, unprotected sex, tit job, fingering, multiple positions/orgasms, oral (m receiving), tit/breast play, sucking/marking/biting, kissing/making out, dirty talk, breeding kink, cursing, name calling (good girl) & pet names (wife, babe), sex by the beach :0, rough johnny

𓇼 w.c: 2k

𓇼 a.n: hehe, i told ya'll i'd be back very soon and with my first ever johnny fic no less, hehe. anyhow this is the last release of the week, please stay tuned next weekend for my next releases! thank you for your continuous love and support, i truly appreciate it & i love ya'll just so much! until next week, jiji out 🤍

Maldives. 

Nothing beats the ocean side view. The water so clear, so exquisite. You looked out the window of the restaurant you and your husband were dining in for the night. Today marked a day until your honeymoon was over. You were a bit sad, not wanting this to end, not wanting to leave just yet.

You watched as the sun slowly set, illuminating the beautiful ocean. You were always fond of the ocean, it was the center of all your good moments in life. You teared your gaze from the beautiful ocean to the man in front of you.

Your husband: Johnny Suh.

“I’m starting to think you’re on this honeymoon with the ocean rather than with me,” Johnny says as he swirls the wine in his cup.

You couldn’t help but smile at his commentary. “Jealous of the ocean, Suh?” you teased.

“You’re a Suh too now you know,” he answered, taking the cup of wine to his lips. His face scrunches up when he gets a taste. He sets the glass down, using that hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Did I ever tell you how magnificent you look tonight?” your husband speaks, a slight blush adorning your cheeks.

“Yes, yes you have… in fact it's all you’ve said to be tonight,” you told your husband who just looked at you like a love struck fool. He was your fool, head over heels for you. In Johnny’s world he always thanked the lord above for letting him meet someone like you.

“Well, what can I say, my wife is simply just the most radiant woman in the whole world!” he says a bit louder, loud enough for other guests to hear.

You slightly shout his name as you see the few guests turn around to your table. Johnny just laughs, bringing your entwined hands to his lips where he kissed it so lovingly.

“I love you,” he mutters, instantly melting your heart.

“I love you too,” you tell him as you then bring his hand to your lips so you could do the same thing.

And so your dinner with Johnny continued, laughter and smiles radiating from your table. Everyone in that restaurant could feel the love surrounding you two– the newly wedded couple. Once it was time to go, Johnny made sure to take your hand–holding it real tight–and walk you to his car. You noticed there was no one else there except you two, Johnny noticed this too. And Johnny for one was someone who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to do something… revolting.

His hands quickly find their way to your waist, holding you as he slams his mouth onto yours. You could taste remnants of his wine from him, intoxicating yourself. You didn’t mean the wine, but Johnny himself, the man was like an addicting drug, something you couldn’t help but intoxicate yourself with.

You find yourself trapped, being eaten alive almost. His tongue fights against yours, dominance overriding Johnny. His hands lingered on your ass, groping it which caused you to moan into his mouth. He lightly smacks one of your cheeks before soothing it. You could feel your panties begin to wetten, yourself begin to heat up.

He parts from the heated kiss first, instead going to kiss your cheek, jaw, before settling on your neck. He uses one hand to brush away any hairs, leaving your neck in full exposure to him. He nips on your skin before sucking on it. You grab onto his brown locks, holding him as he tries marking you. You were sure you were going to be left in a body full of marks by the time ya’ll leave tomorrow. Well, not that you were complaining.

Once Johnny felt satisfied he parts from your neck, meeting you at eye level. And just as he was about to devour you again, you two hear a woman’s laughter in the distance. You two freeze, instantly sobering up. However you didn’t fail to notice the remnants of lust in Johnny's eyes.

“Just wait until we get into the villa,” he whispers into your ear before taking your hand to guide you to the passenger seat. As you take your seat and he begins to drive off, your mind wanders to all the indecencies that are about to unravel.

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

You two couldn’t make it past the front door before he had you two undressing. You were left in nothing, naked as he sucked on your tits. “How are you so perfect,” he groans against your breast, kissing his way to the other one where he proceeds to suck on your nipple before marking you up. You gripped onto his hair, watching as he loved on your body.

When he’s had enough he brings his lips to yours, pecking them before saying, “why don’t you take care of me now, I’ve been hard ever since the restaurant.” Johnny guides your hand to his hardened member that was still confined by his boxers. You shyly smiled before dropping onto your knees where you then proceed to take them off. His cock springs out, leaking with pre already and the tip looking red.

You licked your lips before inching towards his cock. You dart your tongue out before swirling it around his tip, licking up his pre. You groaned at the sour taste, only focusing on his tip. Johnny looks down at you with an urge to just shove himself down your throat, but he wanted you to do it yourself. He watched as your cute tongue licked his tip before licking his slit. He curses and closes his eyes at the pleasuring sensation.

You looked up, finding your husband in pure ecstasy from just some licking. You felt it was right to now kick things up a notch, so you spit on his cock. You used one of your hands to spread the spit around him, making sure to wet him well. When you felt it was wet enough you begin. 

Johnny opens his eyes again when he feels his cock slide in between something soft, something he knew all too well: your tits.

“Fuck,” Johnny curses as he watches you try to fuck his cock in between your tits. Eventually opting to help you out by thrusting himself in between them, watching as you take his tip inside your mouth.

He knew he wasn't going to last, feeling himself nearing his release. You too could feel it in the way he twitched in between you. So being the caring wife that you are, you helped him out a bit by squeezing your tits a bit tighter and taking him in your mouth more deeper.

Johnny gripped your head, holding it as he came. His warm seeds erupting inside your mouth before you swallowed them. You lick him clean one last time before getting back up. Johnny immediately kisses you, tasting himself on you. You feel as his fingers go to your dripping cunt, he moans at the amount of juice overflowing you right now. He continues, sliding them in between your pussy lips. He barely gets to your entrance before you part from the kiss to say: “Pl-Please Johnny, in-inside… inside me pl-please.”

He groans, “anything for you my wife,” he says, unable to resist your pleas.

He flips your two around, your back against the wall. He takes one of your legs into his hand, holding it as he uses his other hand to bring his cock to your dripping entrance. You watched intently, watched as you swallowed him right up. Your hands fly to his shoulders, holding him as you feel his girth spread your gummy walls apart. He was snug inside you, fitting into you just right.

“So fucking tight, feels so good,” Johnny moans against your ear before kissing it. You mutter a sultry, yes, back to him.

Johnny starts thrusting, in and out, you watched with watery eyes. The pleasure so massive as you feel his cock reach up to your cervix, kissing your womb so nicely. You chant out his name when he continues pumping his length into you ruthlessly. You could feel yourself being fucked into oblivion already. You tightened yourself even more around him. “Fuck, already gonna cum babe?” Johnny asks.

“Mmmm,” you say, unable to cohort a simple sentence. Your fingers scratched Johnny’s back as he continued pounding you against the wall.

Johnny watches you in pleasure, watching the way your tits bounced in front of him. It was a sight he couldn't pass up on. Johnny wraps his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking on the poor thing as you grew closer to your release.

Too lost in the overstimulation from his cock and mouth, you failed to notice his fingers which grazed your clit. It wasn’t until you felt them rub your clit that you felt your eyes widened. Involuntary moans erupted from you as he continued playing with your clit.

“I’m… I’m cumming,” you moaned, as you gushed around his cock. Johnny too moans, loving the way you felt as you came around his cock. He continues his thrusting, overstimulating you into mini orgasms until he finally cums. You still couldn’t get used to how much he would cum, how’d he’d fill you up with such warmth.

However, just when you thought it was over, it wasn’t. Unlike the other nights, tonight Johnny was in a desperation of more. He carried you further inside the villa, rushing to the bedroom. He plops you on the bed, feeling it dip as he climbs on as well. Johnny opens your legs, watching as your and his orgasm mixed together and dripped out of you.

“Say, my dear wife, what if we have a child,” Johnny blurts out.

You didn’t know what to say, was this the cause of his sex driven state or was he genuine? Well, whatever the case, you didn’t mind. You were always talking about how much you wanted a child and were always ready to have one if the time ever arose.

“Do it, get me pregnant tonight my dear husband,” you whispered, pecking his lips. you were testing him, a test Johnny wasn’t going to play by tonight. He backs up a bit, spreading your legs wider before positioning his cock in between your folds. He rubs himself in between them, gathering the remnants of his leaking cum only to push them back inside.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, “I could feel you so deep.”

Johnny smirks, watching your face twist in pleasure, watching as your eyes glistened with tears. He pistoned his thrust, hips slapping against your ass. He continues his ruthless thrust in and out of your cunt as the squelching sounds echoed in the room. He was wrecking your cunt, trying to make sure he was the only one that could ever leave you satisfied for all your life.

“Keep squeezing me babe and you’ll milk me in no time,” he groans, feeling as you squeezed him. “Good girl, just like that,” he then says as he rubs your clit once more.

“I’m go-gonna cum,” you moaned, tongue lolling out, “Cum wi-with me!”

His thrusting falters, going irregular until he finally cums inside you for a second time tonight. Yet he wasn’t done, he still had a promise to uphold. The promise to make sure you left this trip pregnant with his child, our child. And so he fucks his cum into you deeper, not stopping until he’s sure he’s made you pregnant. 

𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉𓆉

Once everything seemed all perfect to him, Johnny takes his cock out of your stuffed pussy. Remnants of his animalistic side, subduing and being replaced by a gentle and cuddly husband. Johnny engulfed you into his body, his warmth, as he whispered sweet-nothings into your ear. 

Then everything fell silent, the ocean waves sounding in the distance lulling you to sleep. You peacefully slept in Johnny’s arms, resting after a long day and night. In the midst of you sleep you felt a hand graze your stomach, and a loving whisper in your ear.

“I promise to protect you both, my treasures.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 10

final a.n: have a great weekend! stay safe! & creds to the person who created the dividers, i lost their tumblr page so i couldn't tag them ahhh

[marshallsgirl]

Marshall revealing his new song to Y/N

Pairing: Eminem x Fem¡Reader

Warnings: 🔞 MATURE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Recommended song: Remind Me - Eminem, In Too Deep - Eminem

Author's note: Hey, guys! I was so bored and I wrote this. I may delete it later or idk. Hope you all enjoy it. I love you guys so much! Sending all of you a warm hug🫂🤍

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■♡■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

"I have a surprise for you" Marshall said to me as he enter the living room. Inmediatly I turn off the tv and give all my attention to him. "Guess what" he said.

"What?"

"The song is complete!"

"Whoa baby!"

Here's the thing. He told me he was writting a song about us, but that's it. He didn't talk about ever again. Even if I asked him about it he had changed the topic. So, I was very nervous about it. Because this has happened before. It was with the Revival album. That one song called Remind Me. That one was for me. I still remember when he show me that song.

" did you...That's my fav rock&roll song!" I said when I heared the beat.

"Yeah, that's the song you kept singin' and singin' while you're cooking" he said wanted to laugh at me.

I loved that song. Perfect combination but it was crazy. I mean...he did that for me? He united rock&roll and rap that was so crazy.

"Damn, that's crazy babe" I said.

"See y/n, u make me do things I normally wouldn't do"

"Awww, I love it and I love you baby!"

So, this time I was really nervous because I've been singin' a lot and very different genres. And Marshall...Well, he is so crazy. I didn't know what to expect.

"Are we going to the studio?" I asked him ready to go change if needed.

"No, let's just get in the car". So, we got inside his car. "Are u okay?" suddenly he asked me.

"Yeah, I'm good! I need to hear your song!"

I got too excited and I get very excited when I'm nervous I don't know why, but It's like I got a lot of energy all of the sudden. Anyways, so he says:

"Okay, okay but you need to know that I just got the final mix and I haven't heard it. I mean I know the entire song but I didn't hear the final mix yet" he explained.

"Omg..."

"What?"

"Wait, let me just make myself comfortable" I said while adjustin' my seat a little bit.

At this point he doesn't even hide that he's laughing at me.

"Ready?"

"Yeah, ready"

"Wait, look at me" he ordered and I obey. "I love you"

"Okay, now play the song!"

"Yo, say it back!" he replied.

"I love you, babe!"

And so the music started and he is lip singin': "This could never work, " is what we said at first. But whatever this is, it's working. But we're in two different worlds and (yeah) I'm not your husband (nah), you ain't my girlfriend. All I know is that (what?) When I'm with you, I'm a different person, yeah. And I ain't never met a chick as perfect. Girl, you're a ten, so here I am (yeah)

I literely screamed and Marshall had to stop the music.

"No, keep it goin'!" I argue.

He laughed and let the music continue: ...Can't tell if I'm cheating on her with you or cheating on you with her. But really, nobody's at fault, can't help who you love. Hope they don't ever hear us talk

'Cause we both are getting sloppy. Probably subconsciously part of me's hoping we get caught 'cause I'm not happy here (nah)

With her. Rather have you (yeah) Rather have me too. 'Cause you're not happy there (you're not happy there) With him. Rather have me (I know, but) We just in too deep (I'm in way too deep)

Marshall started singin' it out loud and I was vibin' with it the whole time. It was a good damn song. Honestly, I loved it. It truly was about us, about the start of our relationship, but there were a few things that weren't true like me havin' a wedding ring. It should say: I got a wedding ring. So it's her instead of you.

"That's it. What do u think?" he said not being able to stop smilin'

"Please, play the song one more time"

And he started to laugh again.

"Marshall!"

"Are for real? Did you loved it?" he was surprised.

"Yes, I love it!"

"Y/n..." he laughs again.

"Marshall! You're being so freakin' annoying. Play the song one more time!"

"Yo, you are just sayin that. You didn't loved it!"

"What? I do love it! Marshall!"

"Okay, okay"

He played the song again.

"I'm gonna cry" I said.

"Yo, you're hillarious!"

"That song is good as hell!"

[semataryyyy]

Words will never truly capture what your art means to me. Finding your music has played such a significant role in empowering me to authentically express myself. The creativity and authenticity woven into everything you do as an artist has bled into my life and my heart. You create some of my most favorite music in the world and continually inspire me to unconditionally be my truest self 🤍

I Love U that’s My whole Goal

[lxclerc]

𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝟏𝟐

summary… arthur is absolutely obsessed with his girlfriend and everyone needs to know request… yes but its for @coffeehurricanes again faceclaim… olivia rodrigo pairing… arthur leclerc x singer! reader

note… i’m being held hostage and the only ransom is arthur leclerc smaus

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

arthurlovesyn

liked by arthur_leclerc, yourusername and others

arthurlovesyn featuring the most gorgeous girl in the world

view all comments…

user1 if he isn't as obsessed with me as arthur leclerc is with his gf then i don't want it

user2 she's so girlfriend in all of the photos arthur posts 🥹🥹

arthur_leclerc the most beautiful truly!

⤷ user3 arthur commenting on here as if he isn't the one running this fan page lmao

⤷ charles_leclerc mate, you need help

user4 if they ever break up, i don’t believe in love anymore

user5 look at her smile omg 🥹

yourusername baby, you’re right next to me

⤷ arthurlovesyn the world needed to see how gorgeous you are

⤷ user6 thank you for your service, arthur 🫡

arthur_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pascale_leclerc and others

arthur_leclerc she’s everything, i’m just ken but that’s kenough for me

view all comments…

user1 it wasn’t enough that arthur runs a wholeass fan page for y/n. his main account also needs to be a y/n fan account

user2 they mean so very much to me 🥹

pascale_leclerc demande lui quand elle reviendra. elle me manque beaucoup !!! (ask her when she’s coming over again. i miss her dearly!!!)

⤷ yourusername je saute dans un avion tout de suite pour toi, maman leclerc ! (jumping on a plane right now for you, mama leclerc!)

⤷ user3 y/n learning to speak french to be able to communicate with the important people in arthur’s life will never not make me want to cry

yourusername actually you’re everything to me 🤍

⤷ olliebearman you’re making arthur cry again

⤷arthur_leclerc IM NOT CRYING OLLIE

⤷ arthur_leclerc Je t'aime pour toujours, ma belle 🤍

⤷ user4 not ollie coming for arthur’s neck like that 😭

⤷ user6 THEYRE EVERYTHING TO ME

charles_leclerc you two make me nauseous

⤷ lorenzotl they are in love, charles

⤷ arthur_leclerc not that charles would ever know what being in love feels like 🤣

⤷ charles_leclerc 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

⤷ user5 charles fr catching some mad strays in this thread

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc, pascale_leclerc, and others

yourusername i hope i never lose you, i hope it never ends

view all comments…

user1 y/n wanted everyone to know that she is, in fact, as obsessed with arthur as much as arthur is obsessed with her

user2 stargazing!!! in!!! the!!! middle!!! of!!! the!!! highway!!!

arthur_leclerc i’ve been sleeping in a 20 year dark night but now i see daylight 🤍🤍

⤷ user3 he quoted daylight 😭😭😭😭😭😭

⤷ yourusername i love you deeply, my sunshine 🤍

⤷ user4 i’m going to kms

taylorswift ❤️❤️❤️

⤷ yourusername mother 🧎‍♀️

⤷ user5 MOTHER

⤷ user6 when mother approves, you know he’s the one

[twobluejeans]

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 6: reckless, part 5: relevancy, part 4: emo ponytail girl, part 3: dupeee, part 2:wtf does ET know?, part 1: don’t start

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 6! #juticefory/n . shoutout to the anon who inspired this chapter, u helped sm and gave me further ideas💌. a lot of tswift references 🫶

INSTAGRAM, july 14

liked by dannylandopnj, alltoowellcharles, and 321,543 others

f1updates carlos recently in an interview in which y/n and charles got brought up

View all 31 comments

sainzpodium this is why carlos is the better ferrari driver

lewishsystem “loyal and trust are crucial in any relationship” wym by that 🤨

hereforicciardo the way carlos didn’t even interact with charles today in the paddock before and after the race

lewisfever lewisystem “it’s hard to ignore certain actions and how they reflect on a person’s character” the way he’s confirming the rumors bro 😭

russeliclassy lewisfever what rumors?

lewisfever russeliclassy charles cheated

INSTAGRAM, july 14

liked by naileadevora, lewishamilton, and 4,567,245 others

yourinstagram surprise. i know u guys are already getting 2 new songs from me with the new midnight deluxe edition on the 17th, but i still have a lot to say. meet me at midnight on chapter 1 for a story that turned out to be pretty…reckless.

View all 64,627 comments

billieeilish already crying

dojacatstreetsera the devil works hard, but y/n l/n world harder

landonorris song’s mid (i’ve listened to it 3 times so far and have sobbed uncontrollably🥲)

yourinstagram landonorris weak (i broke down mid-recording session)

barbiey/n no i cant i’m not ready

INSTAGRAM, july 14

INSTAGRAM, july 15 (midnight)

liked by zendaya, authurleclerc, and 6,543,127 others

yourinstagram thank you dearly to everyone who helped bring this video and this wild idea of mine to life... petracollins i truly could never have done this without you & to the rest of the amazing crew who worked 3 very long days & then a very long week... thank you, from the bottom of my heart. i also want to thank lando, who photographed these amazing photos awhile back when we were in manchester. landonorris i love u. reckless, both single & mv, out now everywhere 🤍 🏹

View all 81,342 comments

beyonce So beautiful ❤️

aliensuperstary/n beyoncé ADAM SANDLER?? WHAT R U DOING HERE😭

tchalamet proud of you ma chérie

yourinstagram tchalamet hi thank you i love u i miss u

onlychalamet tchalamet yourinstagram i love their friendship sm

salmahayek nunca dejas de sorprenderme. Estoy tan orgullosa de ti y tan feliz y emocionada de verte prevalecer a través de todo🫶🫶🩷🩷

see translation? salmahayek: You never cease to amaze me. I am so proud of you and so happy and excited to see you prevail through it all.

yourinstagram salmahayek muchas gracias tus palabras siempre significan el mundo para mí. te amo y te extraño mucho. ¡No puedo esperar a verte a ti y a Valentina pronto!

see translation? yourinstagram: thank u so much. your words always mean the world to me. i love you and miss you dearly. cant wait to see you and valentina soon!

90sbabyy/n salmahayek yourinstagram why am i just finding out salma is y/n’s godmother? hello what

bellahadid i love. so happy to see u turned ur pain n hurt into something so beautiful ... only heard some of it and already know it's so special. ok. enough of that. i feel like i've typed more than i needed to. love u! proud of u!

yourinstagram bellahadid u bitch why would u type this? now i'm crying in the middle of a re-run of narcos

danielricciardo yourinstagram you said u we’re gonna wait till i got to italy to watch it with me…

yourinstagram danielriccicardo ….oops?

landonorris danielricciardo you see me personally, i wouldn’t let that slide 🤷

danielricciardo yourinstagram #fake #donthmu #streaks #realonesknow

classynorris y/n and lando teaching daniel gen z slang gotta be the funniest thing ever

landonorris classynorris i actually regret it so bad

yourinstagram classynorris biggest mistake ever. he won’t stop saying bombastic side eye. free us

danielricciardo landonorris yourinstagram L + ratio + bozo

TWITTER, july 15

INSTAGRAM STORIES , july 15

yourinstagram 7h

viewed by authurleclerc, charlottesiine, and 4,854,257 others

ally’s radio 📻: yeah 😌. people in the instagram story views + the song itself might be a little sneak peak of the next chapter.

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife @mrsmaybank13 @black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx @lilsiz @ohthemisssery @leclerclvr @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @shessthunderstoms @cool-ultra-nerd @ncentic @playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould

[byechristopher]

pleaseee a fic where chris and reader meet for the first time (she's lowkey sad or some shit like that idk) and he's all starstruck by her 😞

lucky you.

–CHRIS STURNIOLO FLUFF.

Author's note: hey y'all. I got the idea from this lovely anon (thank you for the request!🤍) and combined it with something that actually happened to me. Fate truly works in mysterious ways – so take this long, sappy story (based on true events, pft). I hope you like it! Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: long, sappy fluff. Very slight angst if you squeeze, but nothing crazy. Very long, didn't proofread!

My mom used to always say – "that's life; when one door closes, another door opens". And if I still lived in the same house with mom, she'd know; I haven't seen an opened door in a long while. It is unfair but it is what it is and I had no intention of succumbing to tears in the solitude of my nightly despair.

Seated on the chilled bench, I instinctively drew my knees towards my chest in a desperate bid for warmth. The sheer elegance of my black tights, though adorning my legs, proved futile against the biting cold. Unfazed, I refrained from complaining; after all, they were my cherished favorites. Mascara was most likely smudged from my previous ugly crying, yet I ignored it, taking solace in my sweater's embrace.

Leaning my head against my knees, my fingers absentmindedly engaged with the laces of my shoes – a subconscious act of distraction. In the midst of this self-imposed solitude, a sudden exclamation pierced the quietude.

"Shit!" I heard a voice, someone angry. The mysterious guy threw his hat on the pavement and scoffed, his hair nearly as messy as mine. His gaze shifted towards me, a thorough assessment from head to toe, "care if I sit next to you?" he asked quickly. Without much ado, I responded with a nonchalant shrug. I didn't care, I had way more things to worry about.

I could feel him rummaging through his pockets, trying to find God knows what, he seemed upset, anxious, "want a cig?" I didn't see him, but I saw his extended arm in front of me. I don't think he was looking at me either.

"Sure." I murmured under my breath, taking a cigarette from him half-empty packet.

"Why does life have to be such a fucking bitch?" I chuckled in response, treating it more as a statement than a question. Offering another shrug, I watched as he scanned the area, likely in search of his lighter.

"If I had the answer to that, I'd probably murder this bitch." I chuckled, he chuckled too.

He held the lighter in front of me and only then did I turn my head to look at him – he was definitely not what I expected to see from what I've heard. While I didn't dwell on it for long, it seemed he did, as seconds passed without his lighter igniting. His intense pale blue eyes remained fixed on mine, and I briefly removed the cigarette from my mouth.

"Hello?" was my mascara that smudged that I scared the guy? He hasn't uttered a word.

"Oh.. sorry." he shook his head, as though attempting to shake off the reverie that had consumed him in the past few moments in his own world, "I just.. didn't expect you to be here?"

"Well.. I'm pretty sure we haven't met before. So how come you didn't expect me?.." I was confused.

"No, I mean.. you are very beautiful." he almost whispered but I caught that, and if I was just a little disconnected from reality, I probably would've blushed.

"Oh. Thank you." my lips turned into a thin line – I put the cigarette back into my mouth, grabbing his lighter instead.

He chuckled, "and I thought I didn't know how to take a compliment." he took his lighter back, taking a puff of his own cigarette.

"Don't you hear like a thousand compliments on a daily basis?" with my knees still pulled up to my chest, I embraced them tightly, resting my head against the comforting curve of my legs.

"Hm. And yet this was the best compliment anyone has ever given me." he placed a leg on the bench, just so that he'd be able to have his whole body face me.

I couldn't help but laugh, "yeah, I'm good at giving things. Not receiving."

He nodded, his hat still on the ground although he didn't seem to care, "understood.." he smiled and wow, he had a nice smile, almost contagious, "a fellow people pleaser, nice to meet you. I'm Chris."

I reciprocated with a nod and a quick smile. My name slipped off my lips swiftly, echoed by him, and I couldn't help but notice how much better it sounded when it rolled off his tongue.

"Will I ever see you again?" he looked me dead in the eye.

"Probably not." I pursed my lips, looking back at him.

He nodded as if he understood and dropped his burnt cigarette to the ground. Chris grabbed his hat and got up, offering another smile, "I believe in fate."

"I don't." I teased, smiling.

"You probably should." he shouted, already far away from me to speak normally.

What an interaction.

It had been quite a while since said interaction. Not that I thought about the guy a lot, but he definitely was in the back of my mind. Even when I was outside, he'd still cross my mind every now and then, like a nice, distant memory.

I chuckled as I gulped down my whiskey – the music was too loud for my own liking but it was a Saturday night and it'd be a pity if I stayed home once again; my friends begged and I actually like hanging out with them. I watched as my friends danced with each other, not too far away from me, as I rummaged through my purse to find the money so I could pay and leave.

"Fucking.. shit.." I cursed under my breath, turning my phone's flashlight on because the lights in that bar were bright as fuck, but apparently not enough to actually help me see.

"D'you need any help?" I heard a somewhat familiar voice shouting behind me. I turned around and my eyes widened when I saw him.

"I.. you!" I was beyond surprised, to say the least, because I was truly convinced I'd never see him again. Not because I didn't want it; but because I had enough on my plate already.

"Shit.." he whispered, and if I wasn't already looking at his lips, I wouldn't be able to know what he said, "..see, I told you fate works in mysterious ways."

"This was just a coincidence." I convince myself.

Was it, though?

"This was no coincidence and you know it.." he grinned and I let my eyes travel down his body for a few seconds – he looked best in black, ".. I need to see you again.." he muttered.

"Well, it seems you will indeed see me again." I smiled.

"Does that mean you'll give me your phone number?" he grinned and I saw his eyes do the same thing mine did to him; check me out.

I hummed, "..hmm.. no. We'll see if fate actually works." I smiled.

"You can't be serious.." he tilted his head, looking at me in disbelief, "I found you again, how can I leave when I don't know if I'll ever see you again?"

"You said you believed in fate."

I found him undeniably attractive and intriguing. However, at that moment, I realized I wasn't emotionally equipped to entertain the idea of liking someone or embarking on dates. The weight of my personal struggles loomed large, and I couldn't shake the fear that if he discovered the extent of my problems, he'd likely reject me. Hence, I concluded it was better to distance myself now rather than risk inevitable disappointment later on.

It's not like I'd see him again.

Truly, it's been more than a month since I last saw him; I did think about him way more often than usual but he still remained a nice, distant memory. A memory that was in the past and would never be in the future.

"Yo, we're leaving already? It's 2AM." my friend whined, although we were already walking down the stairs, toward the exit, with our jackets on and bags in our hands.

"No, love, we're just taking our fucking bags for a little walk." another friend replied, rolling her eyes and I couldn't help but laugh at their bickering.

Immediately after departing from the bar, he made his way out of the restaurant located directly beneath it. You have to be fucking kidding me.

"You.." he whispered, his eyes widened.

My mouth hung open, my eyes as wide as his; I really couldn't believe it this time. This couldn't be a coincidence, right?

"What.. are you doing here?" there was nothing else that could leave my mouth at that time.

"I work here.. now, you can't tell me this is a coincidence." he walked closer to me, although still keeping a distance to be respectful.

It definitely wasn't but I was still in the same mood I was back then.

"I can't tell just yet." I teased him; deep down I wished I could give him way more. But I knew I couldn't.

"Don't.. tell me.. are you not gonna give me your phone number? Again?" he chuckled in disbelief once again. I nodded.

"He better be a murderer, bitch; that's the only valid reason for you not giving him your phone number yet." shit, I completely forgot that my friends were literally behind me, staring at us; they knew nothing about this.

"Stop." I whispered to my friend and I don't think she heard me but she definitely saw the expression on my face.

"Please?" he said and I almost gave in when I saw those eyes.

I have always been self-destructive but this wasn't it, this time. It was realistic, right? I really couldn't do this; I knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with my lifestyle so I was just doing me a favor by saving myself from possible heartbreak. Right?

"I promise you now; if we meet again, I'm opening up to you. Fully. My phone number, my likes, my diskikes." I gave him a teasing smile, which he seemed happy to receive.

"Pinky promise. Now. I trust fate but not you." he chuckled and so did I.

"But you trust my pinky?" I laughed but he seemed serious, despite his playful stare. I sighed, still smiling, wrapping my pinky around his, "..promise."

This would probably never happen. It's fine.

This time, I really thought about him; dreamed about him even. That was very unlike me but it happened either way. I seemed to be doing lots of things that were unlike me lately – like going to this bar again. I wasn't going to see him but I was hoping to.

The whiskey was cold against my lips, my black dress hugging my hips as I sat down on the couch.

"Third time's the charm."

No.

I turned my head and saw Chris speaking to the friend group that were sitting next to ours; I saw them getting up and leaving, Chris replacing them.

"Oh God.. what did you tell them?" my grin was wider than usual, I really wanted to see him after all.

"That.. I needed to sit next to you. And that it was a matter of life and death." he smiled, taking a sip of his own drink.

"You're crazy."

"For you." he said, searching for something.

Before realising, I saw his phone in front of me, signaling me to dial my phone number. And of course, I did.

"So. Start. Tell me everything."

"Do you have free time?" I tilted my head, still looking at him.

"For you? Always." he chuckled.

I cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, looking into his eyes to make sure he wanted to kiss me as well. And as soon as I felt him leaning towards me, I placed the softest kiss on his own soft lips.

"Take me home?"

[yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere]

❤️🤍💙 #RWRB #RWRBMovie #RedWhiteAndRoyalBlue

Casey being iconic-i just love Them so much!!

#CaseyMcQuiston

. https://twitter.com/ThisIsGSage23/status/1791335511728013403?s=19 .

"I just really wanted to explore both of those characters and I wanted to do it in a way that I hadn't really seen before, and also just like as a queer person I want to make queer art and that's what I'm drawn and that's what I'm interested in. So I kind of had these two different ideas, it was like one idea was that I would write a book about this rebellious first kid who's like figuring out that they're queer and what does that mean for their like political aspirations; and the other was about you know sort of a member of the royal family under all of this pressure to carry on this legacy and like what does that mean if they're gay. Um-And I'm just like kind of weighing these two different stories and deciding where I wanted to go and then I just kind of had this moment of like What If I didn't have to choose and it was the same story because they fall in love with each other? And-Um-You know in a classic bisexual fashion I was like I'm gonna have both, so I did!"

"It was really important to me that Alex was explicitly bisexual because like, you know, I really wanted the representation of like this bisexual character and then it was important to me that he was also Mexican like he is in the book and that he was played by a Mexican actor. (..) It was really important to me that, um, I didn't want any, I didn't want Alex or Henry, no matter how their stories were translated to the screen, I didn't want either of them to have any type of, um, like shame or resentment towards themselves for being queer, it was really important to me that the stakes of their lives and their like inner conflict was much more based on like the circumstances that they're in. It's like they don't hate themselves for being gay-or for being bi-they just wish that it was easier to be who they were in the world that they live in."

"..Taylor embodies that so beautifully. (..) I think he's just killer in that role. And Nick, I mean, if you like turned me upside down and shook me like he would fall out my brain as Henry (..) doesn't have blue eyes but they sure are sad eyes and that is exactly what they need to be."

"I see myself in Alex, tremendously, I'm very much in Alex, I relate to him so much, uh, truly, I think he's the most like me of all my characters."

"I very much would love screenwriting to become part of what I do, I'll say it that way."

BTW for everyone interested: Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston : https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/752528941905018880?source=share

CMQ spotify (characters' playlists!!) https://open.spotify.com/user/p873j0jdmqn5hye7cakdnub7e/playlists

+ also queer history/facts from RWRB(Alex engaging with queer history)(thank you SO. MUCH. CASEY MCQUISTON!!)-GREAT POST here on tumblr!!-many links here, lots of information! (Waterloo Vase, Stonewall, SCOTUS decision 2015, Walt Whitman, Laws of Illinois 1961, The White Nights Riots, Paris Is Burning, THAT David Wojnarowicz photo 'If I Die Of AIDS-Forget Burial-Just Drop My Body On The Steps Of The F.D.A' https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/757305651356729344?source=share (I encourage you to research more about David!!) , Thisbe & Pyramus, The V & A, James I & George Villiers and MORE!!) https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/757308307835895808?source=share (Learning about things referenced in Red, White & Royal Blue, thank you @ elipheleh)

+https://www.vulture.com/article/casey-mcquiston-red-white-and-royal-blue-the-pairing-interview.html

+https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/taylor-zakhar-perez-casey-mcquiston-interview-red-white-royal-blue-1235975977/

.https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/758778031058862080?source=share

+