#Marble Floor Products

[neelamexports]

Buy Online for Mosaic Art Making Materials in India - Neelam Exports

Mosaic art has captured the imagination of artists and designers for centuries, blending ancient techniques with modern design aesthetics. Whether you're a hobbyist or a professional artist, finding the right mosaic art materials in India is crucial to achieving the best results in your projects. One of the best places to buy mosaic art making materials online in India is Neelam Exports, known for its vast selection of high-quality materials and exceptional customer service. In this article, we will delve into why Neelam Exports should be your go-to source for mosaic supplies and explore the array of products they offer to ensure your mosaic masterpiece shines.

Why Choose Neelam Exports for Mosaic Art Making Materials

When it comes to mosaic art, the quality and variety of materials directly influence the final product. Neelam Exports stands out among other suppliers because of their dedication to providing only the finest materials sourced from reliable manufacturers. They offer a seamless online shopping experience, ensuring that artists from all corners of India can easily access their top-notch mosaic supplies.

Key reasons to choose Neelam Exports include:

1.Extensive Product Range: Neelam Exports offers a wide range of mosaic art making materials, including different types of tiles, adhesives, tools, and more. This extensive variety ensures that artists can find everything they need under one roof.

2.High-Quality Materials: Quality is non-negotiable when it comes to mosaic art. Neelam Exports prides itself on delivering only the best materials, from durable glass tiles to weather-resistant grout, to ensure the longevity and brilliance of your artwork.

3.Competitive Pricing: While the quality of materials is premium, Neelam Exports provides competitive pricing that ensures artists can create beautiful works without breaking the bank.

4.Customer Support: With a customer-centric approach, Neelam Exports ensures timely delivery and professional customer support to answer any queries related to product selection or order status.

A Comprehensive Selection of Mosaic Art Making Materials

Neelam Exports provides a wide variety of mosaic art materials that cater to different types of projects, from home décor pieces to large-scale installations. Here's an overview of the major categories of materials available:

1. Mosaic Tiles

Mosaic tiles are the building blocks of any mosaic art project. Neelam Exports offers a wide selection of tiles in different shapes, sizes, and materials, each designed to cater to specific artistic needs.

Glass Mosaic Tiles: Known for their vibrant colors and translucency, glass mosaic tiles are perfect for creating colorful, luminous art. Neelam Exports provides glass tiles in a spectrum of colors, including both opaque and transparent options.

Ceramic Mosaic Tiles: If you're looking for something with a more traditional touch, ceramic tiles are an excellent choice. These tiles come in a variety of textures, finishes, and patterns, adding a distinct character to your artwork.

Stone Mosaic Tiles: For artists who want to create a rustic, natural look, stone tiles are ideal. Available in a range of earthy tones, these tiles bring a sense of organic beauty to any project.

Mirror Tiles: To add reflective elements and a touch of elegance to your mosaics, mirror tiles from Neelam Exports are a great option. These tiles create dynamic light effects and elevate the overall visual appeal.

2. Adhesives and Grouts

The right adhesive and grout are essential to ensure that your mosaic pieces remain securely in place and can withstand the test of time.

Mosaic Adhesives: Neelam Exports offers specialized adhesives designed to bond a variety of materials, from glass and ceramic to stone. These adhesives are water-resistant and provide a long-lasting bond, making them suitable for both indoor and outdoor projects.

Grouts: Choosing the right grout can enhance the overall look of your mosaic. Neelam Exports stocks a range of colored and neutral grouts, allowing artists to create striking contrasts or subtle transitions between tiles. Additionally, their grouts are designed to be crack-resistant and durable, ensuring your mosaic art remains intact for years.

3. Mosaic Tools

Creating intricate mosaic designs requires precision tools, and Neelam Exports delivers on that front as well.

Tile Cutters: For accurate cutting and shaping of mosaic tiles, Neelam Exports provides a variety of tile cutters that are easy to use and highly effective.

Grouting Tools: To apply grout smoothly and evenly, Neelam Exports offers a selection of high-quality grouting tools, including spatulas and sponges.

Design Templates and Guides: For artists who are new to mosaic art or those looking to create intricate designs, Neelam Exports also offers templates and guides that simplify the creative process.

Read more - Buy Mosaic Art Supplies Online in India — Neelam Exports

How to Buy Mosaic Art Materials Online from Neelam Exports

Shopping for mosaic art materials online has never been easier. Neelam Exports’ user-friendly website allows you to browse through their vast catalog of materials and place orders with just a few clicks. Here’s how you can do it:

1.Visit the Website: Head over to Neelam Exports' official website and browse their extensive collection of mosaic art materials.

2.Browse by Category: Use the categorized product listings to explore the various materials available, including mosaic tiles, adhesives, tools, and more.

3.Select Your Products: Add the items you need to your cart, making sure to choose the right quantities and any specific colors or sizes if applicable.

4.Place Your Order: Once you’ve selected all your materials, proceed to checkout. Neelam Exports offers a secure payment gateway to ensure your personal information is protected.

5.Delivery: Neelam Exports ships their products across India, ensuring that your materials arrive promptly at your doorstep.

Expert Tips for Working with Mosaic Art Making Materials

Once you have your materials from Neelam Exports, here are a few expert tips to help you create stunning mosaic art:

1.Plan Your Design: Before starting, plan out your mosaic design. Use a pencil to sketch your pattern on the surface you’ll be working on.

2.Use the Right Adhesive: Ensure that you choose the correct adhesive based on the type of tile you’re using. For example, glass tiles may require a different adhesive than stone tiles.

3.Grout Carefully: When grouting, use a small spatula to apply it between the tiles. Be careful not to apply too much pressure to avoid displacing the tiles.

4.Seal Your Work: If your mosaic piece will be exposed to the elements, consider applying a sealant to protect it from moisture and wear.

Conclusion

When it comes to buying mosaic art making materials in India, Neelam Exports is a trusted and reliable source. From a wide variety of tiles and adhesives to essential tools, Neelam Exports ensures that artists have everything they need to create beautiful, lasting mosaic art. With competitive pricing and excellent customer service, Neelam Exports is the ideal choice for artists who value quality and convenience. Start your mosaic journey today with Neelam Exports!

[qwuilleran]

There are quite a few barriers to adaption of new technology, not least among them, cost.

A recent history of under-floor heating

I live in new england and don't have them

[stoneartbyskl]

Best Modern Patterns in Decorative Wall Cladding: A Complete Guide

Modern patterns in decorative wall cladding have become a key element in contemporary design, adding texture, depth, and visual interest to any space. By blending art and architecture, these patterns not only enhance the aesthetics but also create a statement that reflects your unique style. This guide delves into the top modern patterns in decorative wall cladding, featuring Indian Sandstone and Indian Marble, known for their durability, elegance, and versatility.

Top Modern Patterns in Decorative Wall Cladding

Random Wave Design

The Random Wave Design introduces a sense of motion and fluidity to your walls. This pattern mimics the natural flow of water, creating a dynamic effect that changes with the light. For a dramatic impact, use Black or Grey Indian Marble to execute this design.

2. Mint Texture Panels

Mint Texture Panels offer a modern take on traditional cladding with fine lines and grooves that provide a soft texture. This design works beautifully with Beige or White Indian Sandstone, adding a fresh and clean look to any space.

3. Abstract Arch Design

The Abstract Arch Design combines bold curves and sleek lines to create a statement wall. This modern twist on classic arch shapes exudes elegance and sophistication. Enhance this design with Green Indian Marble for a rich, luxurious focal point.

4. Abstract Pattern Wall Cladding

For a bold, avant-garde statement, choose Abstract Pattern Wall Cladding. This design blends various shapes and textures, making it a standout feature in any space. Indian Sandstone in Black or Grey amplifies the impact, ensuring a cohesive yet striking look.

5. Curved Fluted Blocks Design

The Curved Fluted Blocks Design adds depth and dimension to your walls. Curved flutes create shadows that shift throughout the day, bringing a dynamic quality to the space. Beige Indian Marble enhances the three-dimensional effect, making this design a captivating choice.

6. Circle Mountain Design

Inspired by natural landscapes, the Circle Mountain Design captures the beauty of mountain ranges. Concentric circles resemble peaks and valleys, evoking a sense of tranquillity and balance. White or Green Indian Marble amplifies the organic feel of this design, making it a serene addition to any room.

7. Ripple Wave Design

The Ripple Wave Design brings a touch of elegance and fluidity to any space. This pattern creates a rippling effect, reminiscent of gentle water waves. Use Black or Grey Indian Marble for a striking feature wall in living rooms or bedrooms.

8. Linear Wave Design

The Linear Wave Design offers clean, straight lines that form a wave-like pattern, perfect for a minimalist aesthetic. This subtle yet sophisticated design suits various spaces. Enhance the linearity with White or Beige Indian Sandstone for a sleek, modern look.

9. Fluting Marble Layers Design

The Fluting Marble Layers Design provides a contemporary take on traditional fluting techniques. Layered flutes add depth and texture to your walls. The rich Green or Black Indian Marble creates an opulent effect, making this design ideal for luxurious interiors.

10. Grey Wave Design

The Grey Wave Design combines soft waves with the neutral tones of Grey Indian Sandstone or Marble. This pattern creates a calming, serene atmosphere, making it a popular choice for bathrooms and spa-like spaces.

Materials Used for Decorative Wall Claddings

Indian Sandstone: Indian Sandstone stands out for its natural beauty and strength, making it an excellent choice for both interior and exterior cladding. Available in timeless colours like Black, White, Grey, and Beige, it easily complements a variety of design styles.

Indian Marble: Indian Marble brings a luxurious finish to any project, making it a favourite for high-end spaces. It offers a wide range of colours, including Black, White, Grey, Beige, and a rich Green, adding sophistication and elegance to your design.

Techniques of Installation

The installation method you choose significantly impacts the final appearance and durability of your decorative wall cladding. Two primary techniques are commonly used:

Wet Cladding Technique: In this method, a mortar mix is applied to the back of the cladding, which is then pressed onto the wall. This technique works well for outdoor installations, providing a strong bond that withstands various weather conditions.

Mechanical Fixing Technique: This method uses metal anchors or brackets to secure the cladding to the wall. Ideal for large panels or wet conditions, mechanical fixing offers a clean and durable finish, making it suitable for indoor installations.

Conclusion:

Modern patterns in decorative wall cladding offer endless possibilities for transforming your space. Whether you prefer the natural beauty of Indian Sandstone or the luxurious finish of Indian Marble, the designs mentioned in this guide cater to various tastes and styles. By choosing the right material, colour, and installation technique, you can create a stunning visual impact that will stand the test of time.

[guardindustry]

Premium Marble Sealer Solutions for Lasting Protection | Guard Industry

Explore our premium marble sealer solutions for lasting protection & superior stain resistance. Shop now for stain-proof permanent options!

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

[markwickens]

Bridgeport Kitchen Great Room

[lovealesia]

DC Metro Dining

[mariasont]

Okay , so a smutty Spencer x reader fic where is very alternative with tattoos and piercings. Maybe she works with the team as an entomologist or something idk BUT she always wears her contacts and one day she comes in thick black frame glasses. Spencer goes feral, he's never seen her in glasses before and he just kinda drags her into a hall closet and just "keep the glasses on" there's a lot of fanfics about the reader going feral seeing Spencer in glasses for the first time but what if it was reversed.

Framed Fascination

A/N: omggggg i loved writing this, you just know spencer would sooo be a sucker for a woman with tats and piercings, so canon

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x alt!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, glasses kink, praise, p in v, dirty talk, degrading sort of, office sex

wc: 2k

When you began dating Spencer, it raised a few eyebrows. Spencer Reid--reserved, a bit awkward, and endlessly knowledgeable--had ended up with someone who they thought was his complete opposite. And to that he would always say, "while the prevailing research suggests similarity is more common in relationships, there's an interesting phenomenon where sometimes, the very things that differ between two people can create a complementary dynamic, much like how two puzzle pieces with different notches fit."

At times, you would point out your differences solely to prompt this response. But, in truth, aside from your outward styles, you shared more similarities than not. Your tattoos and piercings were the first details Spencer noticed and quickly became his favorite as you strode into the morgue on a particularly demanding case. You were immersed in explaining how arsenic disrupted the body's functions, but Spencer was lost in the visual narrative of your ink, his gaze lingering on every etched symbol and shaded figure. From that moment, he was wholly engrossed, and vowed to eventually explore all the unseen tattoos that your clothes kept from view.

Spencer may have had the whole 'nerdy boy-next-door' aesthetic down to a science, but you? You took pride in being called 'intimidating', knowing it was just a first impression. You knew that beneath that surface lay as Spencer would say, 'a cinnamon roll'. Spencer seemed to see through it from the beginning, which is why he didn't hesitate to ask you out as soon as the case closed.

In the span of eight months, your life had been transformed into its healthiest chapter with Spencer as the culprit. He filled every day with thoughtful gesture--surprise art museum dates, breakfast in bed, flowers that would mysteriously find their way to your desk, notes you'd find tucked inside your coat pockets. In fact, if you had seen it in a cheesy rom-com, he probably had done it. You had been tackling each day with a little spring in your step.

Just like today--you bounded into your office humming—you were humming as you went over paperwork. Tasked with consulting for the consumer safety department, your focus was zeroed in on the pervasive issue of phthalates creeping into beauty products. You adjusted the unfamiliar weight of the thick black frames perched on your nose--an odd sensation since you habitually opted for contacts--as your eyes dragged over the papers.

The hum of the fax machine broke the silence, and you swiveled in your chair, a smile dawning as you recognized the documents from last week's BAU case--giving you a chance to steal a moment with your boyfriend.

Paperwork in hand, you made your way to the BAU office, the click of your heels on marble floors keeping time with your quickening pulse. The bullpen was a whirlwind of activity as you greeted Morgan and Prentiss with a nod and smile, your gaze sweeping through the room until it landed on him. 

"Hi there, handsome," you greeted with a playful lilt in your voice, your fingers rapping gently against the wood of his desk.

"Hi, sweetheart--," he began, but his words trailed off as his eyes met yours. There was a pause, a momentary lapse in his ever-flowing stream of thoughts, as he took in the sight of you.

Glasses? He couldn't recall you ever wearing glasses, yet there they were, and the effect was undeniable. The sight sent a wave of unexpected thrill through him--a visceral reaction that left him speechless, his lips parting in awe. 

Spencer's throat cleared, a subtle sound amid the bullpen's activity. His gaze flickered around the room, a silent plea that his colleagues were too engrossed in their work to notice the way he practically undressed you with his eyes. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

"Since I nearly scratched my eye out trying to get my contacts in this morning," you said with a laugh, though the action of straightening your glasses was more of a nervous tic.

His stare was unyielding--intense and almost piercing. It unsettled you slightly as you studied his expression, your head tilting inquisitively as he said nothing else. 

"Well, uh, anyway I have to drop this off to Hotch," you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt the weight of Spencer's penetrating gaze. 

You lingered for a heartbeat too long, hoping for a word, a smile--anything. But nothing came. With a shaky breath, you turned away, hands trembling ever so slightly as you handed the paperwork to Hotch. You whisked yourself back to the comfort of your office. The was weird, right? I mean, sure, Spencer had never been one for being overly affectionate in public, but he at least had more to say than that.

You pushed the nagging doubts to the back of your mind, focusing on the monotony data and figures that sprawled across your reports. He was probably just having a bad day, too maybe theoretical thoughts brewing in the beautiful mind of his.

The hours crawled by, each minute punctuated by the drone of the office--uninteresting reports, pesky coworkers, and the persistent buzz of thoughts circling back to Spencer. When it was an appropriate time to take your lunch, you pushed your laptop aside with a little too much eagerness, hands diving into your bag for your food. 

But before you could do that, a soft interruption at the door caught your attention. Your head snapped up, meeting Spencer's gaze as he leaned causally against the frame of the door.

He stood there, watching as you glanced up at him, the rims of your glasses framing your eyes in a way that made an involuntary shiver down his spine, his gaze lingering on your face. You appeared tired, yes, but the image of you like this had been imprinted on his mind all day, rendering his work secondary to the thought of seeing you again. 

"Spence, hi," you greeted, a sweet smile blooming on your lips as you peered up at him. Your brows knit together slightly; his visits were rare unless case-related. "I was just about to take my lunch, wanna join?"

"No," he replied with a swift shake of his head, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smirk. "Could I borrow you for a second?"

Your gaze returned to the lunch that lay before you, untouched and suddenly unappealing. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. "Sure," you replied, still trying to piece together Spencer's odd behavior today.

He tilted his head back subtly, a silent cue for you to follow him. You obliged without hesitation, following after him, your steps echoing his through the hallway. Your confusion mounted, etched into the deepening furrow of your brows with each corner turned. 

"Spencer," you said, a giggle escaping your lips. "I trust you're not taking me down some ominous hallway to meet my untimely end?"

"Actually, it is an interesting fact that the majority people meet their 'untimely end' at the hands of someone they love." 

"Great, thank you for that, I think that's my cue," you joked, pivoting away in an attempt to make a dramatic exit. But Spencer's reflexes were quick, his grasp secure on your wrist as he steered you into the nearest supply closet. The small space muffled your surprised oomph as you nearly collided with a stack of supplies.

You stumbled into the warmth of his chest, your glasses skewing comically as you steadied them with a fingertip. "Spencer! What has gotten into you?"

"You," came his growl, rough and urgent, while his hands frantically sought your legs, pinning you against the wall.

A soft moan slipped through the surprise of parted lips as his lips found yours. Your fingers tangled in the soft locks of his hair, pulling him closer, your mouth meeting his with the same intensity. 

Your laughter mingles with the kiss as you pull back, lips brushing. "Not that I'm complaining, Agent Reid, but someone is definitely going to catch us."

His eyes meet yours, equally amused as he pins your hands over your head. He makes quick work of open-mouthed kisses on your neck, your body instantly melting into his as his teeth scrape along your sweet spot. "Don't care."

His lips trailed back to yours, his fingers fumbling to push your skirt up to your stomach. You let out a surprised gasp into his mouth, finding the sudden intensity of him incredibly hot. He pressed his thumb into your clit as you dug your fingers into the nape of his neck, your head lolling back as you all but thrusted into his hand. The room swirled with heat, your glasses misting up. You reached for the pesky frames, but his fingers intercepted, pining them against your chest.

"Those stay on, sweetheart." The words tickled your ear, intimate and close, as his fingers traced through your slick folds, coaxing a contented pant from you.

"That's what's got you all worked up, Spence?" You moaned out as his fingers glided over your skin, now slick, drawing a line of warmth up your body. 

He settled his thumb on your tongue, shutting you up as he grabbed a handful of your ass. You wrapped your lips around it, savoring the taste as your eyes locked with his over the foggy veil of your glasses. His gaze held a quiet pride as he smirked. 

"Drove me crazy seeing you like that this morning." He said as he ground his body into yours, his erection settling on your stomach. "Makes you look so fuckable. Couldn't focus on anything else."

Your mouth vibrated softly around his thumb, muffled as he drew it away with pop. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, shoving down his pants and boxers just enough to release his length.

Your mouth watered at the sight, your body instinctively lowering to your knees, but his hand was there stopping you with a firm, "No time."

He pinned your shoulders to the wall with his body, his mouth crashing with yours with desperate need. Your mouth fell open into his as you felt his length press into your opening, his fingers holding your panties aside.

"You feel so good, sweetheart."

You don't think you would ever get over the feeling of him inside you, the way he stretched you out just right. You let out an unrestrained moan as he proceeded to pump inside you, his movements ruthless.

His palm sealed over your lips, a sudden barrier that sent warmth spreading across your face, glasses clouding rapidly, obscuring your view. "Quiet, baby. You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Letting me fuck you in the office?"

You all but sobbed against his palm, your hands fisting the material of his sweater as he continued to abuse your pussy with deep strokes.

"Sp-Spence, please baby," you managed to breathe out as he released his hold on your mouth, grinding against him in an attempt at friction with your sensitive clit.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" He questioned, almost condescendingly as his fingers traced your cheek gently, a stark contrast to the way he pounded into you. "Need me to take care of you?"

"Please," you choked out.

"You're so good for me, baby." He said, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as he pressed his thumb to the part of you that ached most. You let out a sob of relief as you ground against his movements, the familiar coil in your stomach beginning to wind up as you clutched at Spencer's face.

"Spencer, shit, 'm so close," you babbled, tears welling in your eyes as each of his thrusts seemed to urge the ache.

"Go ahead, baby." He moaned as his you felt his thighs twitch against you. "Come on my cock, sweet girl."

His words were all you needed to push you off the edge, your back arching against the wall as your legs shook, threatening to collapse as a wave of pleasure washed over you. He came shortly after you, his form yielding to gravity as his head nestled into the crook of your shoulder, both of you panting softly as you tried to catch your breath.

After savoring a few heartbeats of content, he gently disentangled himself from you. His fingers deftly rearranging your skirt, with a touch so soft, so different from his demeanor two minutes ago. 

"Guess I need to wear the glasses more often, huh?"

A soft laughter bubbled up from him, his fingers lightly grazing under your eyes, brushing away the stray smudges of makeup. "Please do."

[willqraharn]

Dining Room - Kitchen Dining

[neelamexports]

Best Marble Floor Manufacturers and Suppliers in Jaipur – Neelam Exports

Marble flooring has always been synonymous with Best Marble Floor Manufacturers and Suppliers in Jaipur. From ancient palaces to modern homes, marble floors add a touch of class to any space. In India, particularly in Jaipur, the craftsmanship and quality of marble products are world-renowned. Among the top names in this domain is Neelam Exports, a leader in marble floor manufacturing and supply. With an unparalleled reputation for quality and craftsmanship, Neelam Exports has made a mark both nationally and internationally.

Why Choose Marble Flooring

Marble has been a preferred material for flooring for centuries due to its durability, natural beauty, and elegance. Its unique veining and patterns make every piece one-of-a-kind, adding a distinct charm to any space. Furthermore, marble is available in a range of colors, allowing it to complement various interior design styles.

Some key benefits of marble flooring include:

Durability: Marble is a hard, dense material that can withstand high traffic areas, making it perfect for both residential and commercial properties.

Aesthetic Appeal: The natural beauty of marble cannot be replicated. Its veining and unique color combinations bring sophistication to any room.

Cool Surface: Marble floors remain cool, which makes them ideal for regions with warm climates, such as Jaipur.

Versatility: Available in different colors, textures, and finishes, marble can suit a variety of architectural and interior styles.

Neelam Exports: The Leading Marble Floor Manufacturer in Jaipur

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When it comes to marble flooring in Jaipur, Neelam Exports is the name to trust. Their commitment to quality, expert craftsmanship, and wide range of marble options make them the go-to choice for anyone looking to enhance the beauty and value of their space with marble flooring. Whether you’re working on a residential project or a commercial development, Neelam Exports offers the best solutions for high-quality marble flooring.

[its-avalon-08]

it all fell down (ln4)

part1

multipart story! next

✦ pairing - lando norris x female reader

summary : lando norris and y/n were friends for 20 years, fell in love and dated for five. until it all fell down. they left each others lives abruptly and never spoke again, until they met again in the most unexpected way. can they find their way back or will certain scars never heal?

The bustling streets of Monaco were as busy as ever, a stark contrast to the calm that Y/N felt inside. The rhythmic tapping of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the sleek office building. She had always loved the city, but now it represented something more than just beautiful scenery; it was her sanctuary, her fresh start.

"Morning, Y/N," greeted Claire, her assistant, as she handed Y/N her daily latte.

"Morning, Claire. Any updates for today's schedule?" Y/N asked, taking a sip of the coffee, savoring the familiarity of the taste.

"Just the usual. The meeting with the investors is at 10 AM, and you have a lunch appointment with Mr. Dupont at 1 PM," Claire replied, handing over a neatly organized file.

"Perfect. Let's make sure everything is set for the presentation," Y/N said, her voice steady and professional.

As the CEO of her own thriving marketing firm, Y/N had built a reputation for herself. She was known for her sharp mind, impeccable work ethic, and the ability to turn even the most mundane products into must-haves. Her company, InspireVision, had taken the European market by storm, landing high-profile clients and creating groundbreaking campaigns.

But behind the polished exterior and the confident demeanor lay a heart that had been shattered two years ago. The memories of Lando were locked away in a corner of her mind she seldom visited. The laughter they shared, the dreams they built together, the love that once felt unbreakable—all of it was a distant echo now. They had both moved on, or so she told herself.

sneak peek into lando's life

The sound of engines roaring filled the air as Lando Norris stepped out of his sleek, black McLaren. The circuit was alive with energy, mechanics bustling around, and the smell of burning rubber in the air. For Lando, this was home.

"Hey, Lando! Ready for practice?" called out Carlos Sainz, his teammate and close friend.

"Always, mate," Lando replied with a grin, adjusting his racing suit. "Let's show them what we've got."

The past two years had seen Lando rise to new heights in his racing career. He had secured multiple podium finishes and even a race wins. The world saw him as a fierce competitor, a young talent with a bright future. But beneath the helmet and the bravado, there was a part of him that still ached.

"Hey, Lando, I was thinking about grabbing dinner at that new place by the marina. You in?" Carlos asked as they headed towards the garage.

"Sure, sounds good. Need to unwind a bit," Lando replied, though his mind was only half on the conversation.

Racing was his escape, his way of pushing away the thoughts of what could have been. The nights were the hardest, when the adrenaline faded and the silence crept in. It was then that memories of Y/N surfaced—her smile, her touch, the way she used to laugh at his jokes. They had shared twenty years of friendship and five years of love, only to part ways abruptly. They had never spoken again, both too proud and too hurt to reach out.

back to y/n

Y/N's day was a whirlwind of meetings and phone calls. By the time she sat down for lunch with Mr. Dupont, she was mentally exhausted but maintained her poised demeanor.

"It's impressive what you've done with InspireVision, Y/N," Mr. Dupont said, raising his glass in a toast.

"Thank you, Mr. Dupont. It’s been a journey, but I have a great team behind me," Y/N replied, clinking her glass with his.

As they discussed potential collaborations, her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at it briefly—an update on the Monaco Grand Prix. She quickly dismissed it, burying any thoughts of the racing world and its connection to her past.

and here is lando again

The practice session went well, and Lando felt a familiar rush of excitement. After a quick debrief with his team, he headed out with Carlos for dinner.

As they walked along the marina, the city's lights reflecting off the water, Lando felt a rare moment of peace.

"You ever think about what's next, beyond racing?" Carlos asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Sometimes. It's hard to imagine life without it, though," Lando admitted.

"Yeah, I get that. But there's more to life than just racing, you know?" Carlos said, giving Lando a knowing look.

Lando nodded, understanding the unspoken words. There was more to life, but it was a life he had once envisioned with Y/N. Now, it was a blank canvas, waiting for new memories to be painted on it.

The two former lovers, now strangers to each other's lives, were both thriving in their own worlds. They had built walls around their hearts, focusing on their careers and new dreams. Yet, the echoes of their shared past lingered in the background, a silent reminder of the love that once was. Neither spoke of the other, living as though the other didn't exist. But fate had a way of bringing people back together, sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

taglist ---> @misspygmypie @kol67-t @sltwins @f1fantasys

comment to get added to taglist

[kookiewithluv]

The Black Orchid Project

Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader

Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller

Word count: 8.3k

Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised.

Summary:Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

MASTERLIST 01

CHAPTER TITLE: The Thoughtless Encounter

As you approached the entrance of the building, the bold letters of "Jeon Enterprise" loomed above you like an imposing gatekeeper. The guard stationed at the door gave you a sceptical once-over. You held out your ID with a steady hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” you said, your voice smooth yet quivering with a hint of anxiety. The guard barely met your eyes, his nod curt and indifferent.

You had just aced an interview with one of the biggest companies in Asia. Today marked your first step into the role of personal secretary to Jeon Jungkook, the most sought-after bachelor in the region. Your heart raced with a cocktail of nerves and excitement. You had meticulously chosen a sleek black pencil skirt that showcased your curves and a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into your waistband. Your black blazer was tailored to perfection, adding a layer of confidence, and your pencil heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step echoing your resolve.

Inside, you approached the receptionist's desk, your voice soft but steady. “Excuse me,” you said. The receptionist, with her eyes fixed on her computer screen, barely glanced up. When she did, her eyes flicked over you with a scornful sweep. “So, you’re the new secretary for the CEO?” she asked, her voice laced with derision. “Yeah, won’t be for long,” she added, a sneer twisting her lips as she scrutinized you from head to toe.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. It wasn't the kind of behaviour you expected on your first day, you clenched her jaw, trying to dismiss the receptionist’s attitude. The receptionist finally emerged from her cubicle, her heels clacking authoritatively as she motioned you to follow. As you walked behind her, the elevator ride to the 10th floor was a tense silence, the confined space amplifying your anxious thoughts.

When the doors opened, the receptionist led you to the HR office where Jimin, the director of Jeon Enterprises, awaited. Jimin stood with a warm, welcoming demeanour. His eyes sparkled with genuine friendliness, and his smile was like a beacon of reassurance. You felt a flutter in your chest, a welcome contrast to the coldness you had faced earlier.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Jimin’s hand waving in front of your face. “Y/N?” he called gently, his voice a soothing melody that pulled you from your reverie. You blinked up at him, feeling a rush of relief at the softness of his tone.

“Please follow me,” Jimin said, his voice calm and encouraging. He began walking, and you followed closely, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. As they moved through the office, you glanced back and caught the receptionist’s glare. The receptionist’s lips curled into a venomous sneer, her eyes cutting through you with unmistakable disdain. The insult, “Slut,” was unspoken but clearly written on her lips.

Your face flushed with a deep red, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. Anger and embarrassment surged within you, but you forced yourself to maintain composure. You were not able to understand her behaviour towards you; the dread was already pilling in your stomach. Saying you were nervous would be an underwater, and you didn't wish to think about her. She wasn't worth it. You refocused on the welcoming figure of Jimin and the new chapter ahead, pushing aside the sting of the receptionist’s malice.

Jimin led you to the elevator, his hand hovering over the buttons before pressing for the 26th floor. The ride was smooth and silent, filled only with the faint hum of the elevator. When the doors slid open, your eyes widened, your breath catching in her throat. The entire floor was a masterpiece of modern elegance—every surface was a sleek, polished black that gleamed like obsidian. The sharp, clean lines of the architecture screamed sophistication, while the soft, warm glow of hidden lighting softened the atmosphere, making it both imposing and oddly welcoming.

“This is where you’ll be working,” Jimin said, his voice carrying a hint of pride as he stepped out, motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated for a moment, taking in your surroundings, then followed him down the corridor. Each step echoed lightly against the smooth marble floor. You both stopped in front of a large glass door, and your eyes immediately fell on the silver plaque beside it. Your name was already etched there, shimmering under the lights. A mixture of excitement and nerves bubbled in your chest as you pushed the door open.

The office inside was pristine and perfectly arranged. At the centre of the room was a large black desk, its surface almost empty except for a sleek computer and a few files aligned with almost obsessive precision. Behind the desk, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the cityscape, the sunlight flooding in and casting a gentle glow over the minimalist black-and-white décor. To one side was a small seating area—plush leather chairs arranged around a low, glossy table, inviting yet formal, perfect for quick meetings or a quiet moment alone.

“This is… incredible,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe as your fingers lightly traced the edge of the desk, still absorbing the room's atmosphere.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he watched your reaction, a small smile playing on his lips. “Glad you like it,” he said warmly, before gesturing for you to follow him again.

He continued down another hallway, and you followed along, each step bringing a subtle shift in Jimin's demeanour. His posture straightened, and the usual lightness in his expression grew more serious as you both approached a set of imposing double doors. “And this,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “is Jungkook’s office.”

He pushed open the doors, revealing an expansive room that radiated power and meticulous organization. The design echoed the sleek black aesthetic of the rest of the floor but felt more intense here. A massive desk dominated the centre, with a high-backed leather chair stationed behind it. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, filled with neatly arranged files, hardbound books, and glittering awards. On one wall, a large screen displayed a detailed, colour-coded schedule—everything was planned down to the minute.

Jimin’s gaze shifted to you, noticing the way your brows furrowed slightly as you absorbed the details. “Today’s schedule is pretty packed,” he said, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s got seven meetings lined up, back to back.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your lips parted slightly. “Seven meetings?” you echoed, your voice almost breathless. The very idea of keeping up with that kind of pace sent a shiver down your spine.

Jimin chuckled softly, catching the hint of concern in your expression. “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly, his voice taking on a lighter tone again. “You won’t need to run around too much. Just call the office attendant if you need anything delivered or handled. They’ll take care of the legwork.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, nodding as you mentally prepared yourself for what lay ahead. The day was going to be intense, but as you took one last look around Jungkook’s imposing office, you couldn’t help but feel the challenge stir something within you—a mix of nerves and determination.

Jimin began listing the seven companies Jungkook would be meeting with today, each name more daunting than the last. His tone was smooth but carried a subtle edge, as if he was testing your resolve. “And remember,” he added, his lips quirking into a teasing smile, “don’t mess this up. Jungkook isn’t exactly known for his patience, especially when things go wrong.” The lightness in his laugh barely masked the weight behind his words. Your heart thudded faster, your mind racing as you tried to absorb everything being thrown at you.

Jimin’s expression softened as he reached into his bag and handed you a sleek iPad. “Here, I’ve set up a detailed schedule for you,” he said, tapping the screen to show you the neatly organized agenda. “This should help you get through the day without losing your mind. You can access it from your computer too. Unfortunately, I can’t stick around more than this.”

Your fingers gripped the device a little tighter, your eyes scanning the clear, step-by-step instructions. The knots in her chest loosened just a bit. “Thanks,” she murmured, though her voice trembled slightly with nerves.

Jimin’s gaze sharpened, his playful demeanour shifting to something more serious. “One more thing,” he said, leaning in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Among all the companies, Kim Enterprises is the one you absolutely cannot afford to mess up. Make sure every document is ready and double-check everything. If anything goes wrong in that meeting… let’s just say you won’t like the outcome.” His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, your stomach twisting with unease. You nodded firmly, determination hardening your features. You weren’t about to let one mistake ruin the opportunity you had fought so hard for.

Jimin studied you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, before a faded smile tugged at his lips. There was something about the quiet determination in your expression that made him believe you could be different. It was why he had picked you. You weren’t just another candidate with a polished resume—you were someone who needed this job as much as you needed to breathe. He was tired of watching secretaries leave after a few days, scared off by Jungkook’s impossible standards and cold demeanour.

Jimin hesitated at the door, one hand resting on the handle as he turned back to you with a look of quiet urgency. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added, his voice dropping slightly. “Jungkook likes his coffee black, no sugar. It’s 6:55 now, and he’ll be here in exactly five minutes. He’s never late, and he despises laziness. It’s going to be tough, but if you put in the effort, you might just be the one to stick around longer than a week. Please, just don’t quit on me—I’m tired of interviewing new secretaries every other day,” he said, a trace of exhaustion seeping into his voice.

His almost pleading tone caught you off guard, your eyes widening as you registered the sincerity in his words. You managed a small, determined smile, masking the anxiety swirling inside you. “I won’t,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jimin. Your resolve tightened, and you straightened your back, readying yourself for whatever awaited you in the next five minutes.

With that, he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click. You stood there, your thoughts scrambling to catch up with everything he’d just said. Every other day? The chill that ran down your spine was sharp and unsettling, but you pushed it aside—there was no time to dwell on it. First impressions mattered, and you needed to nail this one.

Coffee. You clutched onto that thought like a lifeline. Jungkook needed coffee. But the moment you stepped out of his office, your stomach twisted with a sinking realization. Where was the coffee machine? Your eyes darted around the floor, scanning the sleek black surfaces and cold glass walls. The space was immaculate—too perfect—devoid of anything useful like a kitchen or even a break area.

A knot of panic coiled in your chest as you paced back and forth, your heels clicking sharply against the polished marble. The sound echoed in the empty hallway, a constant reminder of how out of place you felt. Your breaths grew shallow, your mind racing in circles. Think, think! But there was nothing—no vending machine, no kitchen, not even a discarded coffee cup to hint at where you should go.

Just when you were on the verge of rushing back to Jimin for help, the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open smoothly. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. A man stepped out, his presence instantly shifting the air in the room. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, the fit tailored to perfection. But it wasn’t just his clothes—it was the way he carried himself, a quiet authority that radiated from him like a dark cloud.

His eyes found yours instantly, locking onto you like a predator locking onto prey. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. The tension in the room was almost tangible, thickening the air between you. Your heart skipped, your breath coming out shaky as you fought the urge to look away. But those eyes—dark and intense—kept you pinned in place, searching you, dissecting you as if he could see every anxious thought swirling in your head.

He moved toward you with purpose, each step slow and deliberate. Your pulse quickened, your mouth going dry as he closed the distance. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if that would somehow steady your racing heart. His gaze never wavered, slicing through your composure with a razor’s edge.

Just as he was about to pass you, he halted, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was subtle, but the way he tilted his head, how his gaze raked over you, made your skin prickle with a mix of fear and something else—something you weren’t ready to admit to.

He leaned in just the slightest, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. The way he looked at you was like a challenge, a silent test you didn’t even know you were taking. Your breath hitched, the space between you crackling with tension, thick and electric. You couldn’t tell if it was his piercing gaze, the way his jaw tightened with restrained power, or the way his lips barely twitched into something close to a smirk.

His eyes flicked down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your gaze. The way he did it wasn’t casual—it was deliberate, like he wanted you to know he noticed your nerves, that he enjoyed watching you squirm.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, caught in the pull of his magnetic presence. He stared at you a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Who the hell is he? And why did you feel like you were already in way over your head?

Your stomach plummeted as realization struck like a cold slap to the face. Jeon Jungkook. The CEO. The man you were now working for. It felt like the floor had been yanked out from under you. Your eyes widened, pupils blown as panic clawed at your chest, heartbeat thudding in your ears. Why is he staring at you like that?

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his eyes widening in a flash of surprise before narrowing, a mix of curiosity and something darker flickering across his features. His jaw tightened, and his gaze roved over you as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Your throat went dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth as you stood frozen, every nerve screaming at you to do something—anything—but you couldn’t move. You were caught under his intense scrutiny like prey trapped in a hunter’s sight.

What did you I wrong? Your mind spiralled, grasping for answers. I didn’t greet him properly—I didn’t bring his coffee— The panic welled up inside you, pushing you to bow hastily, words spilling out in a rush. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon! I didn’t mean to be rude. I was trying to get your coffee, but I couldn’t find the machine…”

But your apology seemed to bounce right off him, completely ignored. His eyes remained locked on you, unreadable, probing deeper as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface. Your pulse raced, breath catching in your throat as he took a deliberate step closer. The air between you thickened with tension, electric and suffocating. Instinctively, you took a step back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

Suddenly, your back hit the wall, cool and unyielding against your skin. Jungkook was now mere inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes bore into yours, dark and unrelenting, pulling you under a spell you couldn’t break free from. You tried to speak, to regain some control, but your voice stuttered weakly. “W-What are you doing?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear as he demanded, voice rough and edged with impatience, “Who the hell are you?”

Your mind went blank, every coherent thought wiped out by the shock of his question. You gaped at him, lips parted but no words coming out. Your confusion only seemed to frustrate him further. His brows furrowed, tension rippling through his features as he raised his hand in front of your face, his tone sharp and urgent. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You blinked, struggling to focus through the whirlwind of emotions tangling inside you. “F-Four?” you stammered, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Damn it, think!” he growled, eyes flashing with irritation.

“I am thinking!” you snapped back, your own frustration flaring in response. What the hell does he take me for? The thought only fueled your rising anger. Just as you were about to bite out a retort, the elevator chimed, and the tension between you shattered.

Jimin burst onto the scene, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in the sight of Jungkook practically looming over you, his expression dark and intimidating. In an instant, Jimin rushed over, grabbing Jungkook’s arm and pulling him back, breaking the magnetic pull that had kept you glued in place. “Jungkook, what the hell are you doing?” Jimin hissed, shooting you a quick, apologetic glance.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jimin said hurriedly, his voice tight with concern. “Please, just get ready for the meeting. We’ll handle everything here.”

Still reeling, you nodded stiffly, your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury. You turned on your heel, grateful for the excuse to leave, but rage simmered beneath your skin, heating your blood as you marched away. No longer scared—just pissed. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to focus on your task. You weren’t going to let this shake you. You had work to do, and nothing—not even him—was going to distract you.

Meanwhile, Jimin dragged Jungkook into his office, shoving him toward the desk. “What the hell were you thinking, cornering her like that?” Jimin’s voice was low and furious, eyes narrowed as he glared at Jungkook, who quietly sank into his chair, still distracted.

Jungkook barely registered the scolding, his mind replaying the encounter on a loop. Why couldn’t I hear her thoughts? Why is she different? What is wrong with her? The confusion gnawed at him, blending with an inexplicable pull toward you that he couldn’t shake. Jimin’s words faded into the background as Jungkook’s thoughts remained fixated—on you, on that moment, on the way you looked at him with those wide, defiant eyes.

Jungkook flinched at Jimin’s sharp tone, his jaw tightening. His gaze drifted, staring blankly at the wall as if searching for answers. “I couldn’t hear her thoughts,” he finally murmured, almost like he was confessing a crime, disbelief heavy in his voice.

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “What? That can’t be right. Are you sure? Maybe she just wasn’t thinking anything important.”

Jungkook snapped his eyes to Jimin, his stare cutting. “Do you hear yourself? I can hear your thoughts before you even say them. But with her… it’s like she’s a ghost. A complete void.” His voice was laced with frustration, every word feeling heavy, like they were something he couldn’t quite swallow down.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension and disbelief. Jimin’s mouth parted slightly, searching for a response, but he was just as lost for words. The air crackled with something unspoken, both of them grappling with the strange reality Jungkook had just revealed.

Before they could delve deeper into the unsettling truth, a soft knock shattered the charged quiet.

“Come in!” Jungkook barked, his voice a rough command. He leaned back in his chair, fists clenched on the armrests, fighting the urge to pace.

The door creaked open, and you stepped in, your expression composed but your eyes sparking with quiet defiance. In your hands, you held a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the room. Your movements were deliberate as you approached his desk, every step measured like you were consciously holding yourself together.

“Here’s your coffee, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice level, but the slight edge in your tone didn’t go unnoticed. You didn’t bow this time. You simply placed the cup down with a subtle firmness that spoke volumes. “Sorry for the delay. It won’t happen again.”

Jungkook didn’t move a muscle. His gaze zeroed in on you, dark and probing, as if he could pull the answers he wanted from you without needing words. You felt the heat of that stare crawling over your skin like a touch, but instead of shrinking away, you stood taller, meeting his eyes with a quiet fire. Your heartbeat drummed in your ears, but you refused to let it show.

The silence between you and Jungkook was suffocating. Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your face, searching, assessing, his expression unreadable. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but still, he said nothing. There was something about you that gnawed at him—a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and it infuriated him.

Sensing the escalating tension, Jimin quickly stepped in, his tone light but carrying a subtle urgency. “Thank you, Y/N. The meeting with Kim Enterprises is about to start. Could you arrange everything?”

Your eyes flicked briefly to Jimin before locking back onto Jungkook’s, daring him to say something. But when nothing came, you gave a curt nod, turned on your heel, and walked out with a sharp, assertive grace. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze followed your every move, almost like he was trying to burn the image of your retreating figure into his mind. Your hands balled into fists at your sides as you left, your determination steeling. If he thought he could rattle you, he was dead wrong.

The door clicked shut, and Jimin exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as he turned to Jungkook, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. “You were—” he started, but Jungkook cut him off, sarcasm dripping from his voice like venom.

“Oh, was I staring?” Jungkook sneered, leaning forward with a mocking smirk. “My bad. I meant to be glaring.” His eyes gleamed with something wild, as if he was teetering between fascination and fury. He leaned back again, fingers drumming restlessly on the desk. “You don’t get it, Jimin. It’s not just curiosity. For the first time, there’s someone in front of me, and I can’t read a damn thing she’s thinking. It’s like standing in front of a locked door with no key. And it’s driving me insane.”

Jimin shook his head, clearly exasperated, but he softened his tone, trying to get through to him. “You need to let it go for now. We’ve got bigger things to handle—like the meeting. Taehyung’s probably waiting.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his smirk fading as he mulled over Jimin’s words. But he couldn’t shake the gnawing curiosity, the pull of that mysterious void you seemed to embody. He was drawn to you in a way that unsettled him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Jungkook had never been comfortable around people, preferring solitude above all—except for Jimin. Jimin was the one constant in his life, the only person whose presence Jungkook truly cherished. Losing his parents at a young age had left a void in his life that Jimin had filled. Jimin’s father had taken Jungkook in, raising him alongside his own son, providing a semblance of stability amid the chaos.

The memory of the car crash that killed his parents was a blur—just a shattered image of their last moments. Jungkook had been in the car, too, but somehow, he had survived, pulled from the wreckage by Mr. Park. The trauma was too much for his young mind, and he had lost all memory of the accident. The details were locked away, buried deep where he had no desire to unearth them. Jimin had been his refuge, his silent comfort in a world that had turned upside down.

Jungkook vividly remembered the terror-stricken night at the hospital. He had huddled in a corner, clutching a pair of scissors he had picked up from a nurse's cart, not really knowing how dangerous it was. His small body shook with sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks as he screamed for his parents. The doctors hovered around him, their faces grim with worry. The panic in their thoughts—He’ll hurt himself, His father died saving him—only intensified his fear. He was too young to grasp the finality of death but was forced to confront it.

The doctors, overwhelmed and frustrated, began to discuss their options. Jungkook could hear their unspoken worries and anxieties. They thought he might hurt himself with the scissors, and their growing desperation led them to consider sending him to a mental health facility. The idea of being sent away intensified Jungkook’s fear, and his sobs grew more frantic. He felt as though he might vomit from the panic swirling inside him.

Mr. Park, standing by the door, was visibly shaken and began to cry, his face a portrait of helplessness. The doctors, seeing that Jungkook was not calming down and fearing for his safety, began to back off. They whispered about the possibility of a mental health facility, and their thoughts made Jungkook’s cries even more desperate. The overwhelming fear and the impending idea of separation drove him to clutch the scissors tighter, his small frame trembling uncontrollably.

Jimin, observing his father’s emotional breakdown, felt a pang of empathy for Jungkook. Despite his own recent loss, he couldn’t bear to see Jungkook suffering alone. As his father prepared to leave with him, Jimin’s heart ached with a sense of duty and compassion. He sprinted toward Jungkook, his small feet making soft, hurried thuds against the floor. His face was a mixture of determination and worry, driven by a need to offer comfort.

When Jimin reached Jungkook, they both stared at each other, fear and confusion written across their faces. Jimin’s hands were trembling as he cautiously crouched in front of Jungkook. His eyes darted nervously between Jungkook’s terrified face and the dangerous scissors.

Jimin, his hands shaking, finally managed to reach for the scissors, his movements hesitant and painfully slow. The fear in his eyes was evident as he finally managed to grip the scissors tightly. With a quick, nervous motion, he snatched the scissors away from Jungkook. The moment he successfully took the scissors, his fear transformed into a small, relieved smile.

Jimin’s smile was small but genuine. He held out the plushie he had brought, his hands still trembling slightly. The simple gesture was meant to comfort. Jimin’s face was a mixture of fear and hope, as if he was unsure but determined.

Jungkook’s wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto Jimin, his fear evident in every quiver of his lower lip. Jimin, sitting down beside him, gently wiped Jungkook’s nose with a tissue, his touch tender and careful. “Na-um,” Jimin said softly, "you have running rose" though he winced at his own mistake. He meant to say “nose,” but the word came out wrong.

Jungkook blinked, his confusion evident. “Rose?” he asked through his sobs, trying to make sense of the word. Jimin smiled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “No, no,” he corrected, wiping away Jungkook’s tears. “It’s nose.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he processed the correction, his small frame still shivering with distress. Jimin extended the plushie, his smile never faltering, and Jungkook took it, clutching it tightly to his chest. Jimin continued to wipe away the tears, his touch soothing and reassuring. “I want dada,” Jungkook whimpered, his voice cracking with the weight of his grief.

Jimin looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “Your dada and moma went to meet God,” he said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. “But don’t cry, my mama is there too. She’ll take care of them. You can come with me.” His arms enveloped Jungkook in a tight, comforting hug. “Dada and I will love you too,” he promised, his voice gentle yet firm.

Jungkook buried his face in Jimin’s shoulder, his sobs muffled against the older boy’s warmth. The comfort of Jimin’s embrace was a balm to his wounded heart, even as the pain of loss clung to him.

Jungkook snapped back to the present, his thoughts interrupted by Jimin’s voice. “What are you thinking?” Jimin asked, his gaze steady and inquisitive, eyebrows raised in concern. Jungkook met his eyes, the depth of his past mingling with the present moment, a silent testament to their unspoken bond.

Jungkook shook his head, trying to clear away the haunting memories of his past. His fingers raked through his hair, and he rubbed his face roughly, a frustrated groan escaping him. “How many people are going to be there? You know I can’t stand crowds,” he muttered, his voice tight with irritation.

Jimin forced a small, reassuring smile, though he knew it wouldn’t do much good. “Not many. Just a few key people.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, the annoyance evident in the clench of his jaw. “A few is already too many. My head’s already pounding,” he snapped, his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he braced himself for the chaos ahead.

Jimin nodded, choosing not to press the issue further. They exited Jungkook’s office and entered the elevator. As the doors slid shut, Jungkook’s fingers hovered over the button before he pressed it with a reluctant, almost resentful force. His jaw was set in a tight line, his gaze unfocused as he mentally prepared for the storm he was about to face. The constant hum of thoughts from others—their fears, their doubts, their deceit—always hit him like a relentless hammer.

When the elevator finally dinged open, they stepped out and headed down the corridor toward the conference room. Jungkook’s pace slowed, and his eyes narrowed with growing discomfort as he glimpsed the crowd inside. He froze in his tracks, his expression darkening as he took in the scene.

Jimin noticed the shift and turned, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the room packed with over ten people, all engaged in animated discussions, flipping through files, and shuffling papers. He swallowed hard, bracing for the outburst he knew was coming. Jungkook was not just angry; he was seething.

Jungkook’s pulse throbbed violently in his temples, the noise in his head growing louder and more chaotic with each passing second. Why the hell are there so many people? His vision blurred with a red-hot rage, the voices in his head swirling like a storm. Thoughts of greed, nervousness, and the pointless chatter of those who didn’t belong in that room assaulted him. It felt like a thousand nails being driven into his skull.

He clenched his fists tighter, his nails biting into his palms as he glared at the chaotic scene before him. His shoulders tensed, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. Jungkook’s eyes were hard, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. Ever since childhood, his ability to hear thoughts had been a curse, leaving him drowning in the relentless cacophony of other people’s minds. It bred paranoia and distrust, deepening his isolation with each passing year. In business, it was a weapon that cut through deception. But in moments like this, it was pure, unrelenting torture.

Jungkook had always maintained strict rules—rules designed to keep the chaos at bay and ensure he never felt overwhelmed. These weren’t just for his comfort; they were integral to the company’s policies. Everyone knew the consequences of ignoring them.

Now, every one of those employees was breaking the most critical rule. And you—you were responsible for this. It was your job to ensure everything was in order. This wasn’t just a lapse in competency; it was a violation of the very structure he had meticulously built to shield himself.

Inside the conference room, one of the employees glanced up and spotted Jungkook standing just outside the glass door. The color drained from his face as the gravity of their mistake hit him like a freight train. His eyes darted around the room, and panic spread like wildfire. Heads turned, and whispers flared as the realization of the impending disaster set in.

Jungkook’s eyes were a smoldering fire as he fixed his gaze on you, seated at the head of the table, engrossed in the files before you. You were blissfully unaware of the storm brewing outside. You’re about to learn the hard way, Jungkook thought darkly, his anger mingling with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Beside him, Jimin’s shoulders tensed, bracing for the inevitable explosion. He knew Jungkook’s temper, fueled by his ability, could be a force of nature when pushed to the edge. Jimin could only hope that you wouldn’t face the full brunt of Jungkook’s fury and end up quitting—or worse, being fired on your very first day.

Jungkook’s gaze swept over the employees, each one scrambling to hide their files or avert their eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, flicked to Jimin. The silent exchange between them crackled with tension—Jungkook’s fury was palpable, simmering beneath the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. Jimin, acutely aware of how Jungkook could hear every thought forming in his mind, swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation. Though he wasn’t frightened for himself, he was deeply concerned for you.

Before Jimin could piece together a proper defense, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “It’s our company policy. We went over this before hiring employees. Didn’t you tell her?” His tone was frigid, emphasizing that no more than four people were to be present in a room when he was there, especially for business meetings. The more people, the harder it was for him to think and focus.

Jimin’s heart pounded as he tried to formulate a response, but he knew Jungkook had already heard the scramble in his thoughts. Despite that, he forced himself to speak, his voice trembling. “I did. It was the first thing we discussed. I-I don’t know why—”

Jungkook didn’t wait for more. His anger radiated off him in waves as he spun on his heel, the force of his movement causing his coat to flare dramatically. He stormed toward the conference room, his steps heavy and deliberate, each one a sign of the tempest brewing inside him. Jimin stood rooted to the spot. He knew what was about to break loose.

Jungkook yanked the door open with a force that made everyone inside flinch, the loud crash of metal against the frame echoing through the room. The atmosphere shifted instantly—from anxious to petrified. Fear rippled through the group like a cold, biting wind, sending shivers down their spines. The employees sat frozen, their bodies rigid as they instinctively shrank back in their chairs, eyes wide and filled with terror.

You, who had been engrossed in your document, sensed the sudden silence and glanced up. Your confusion deepened as you took in the sight of your colleagues’ horrified faces. Your gaze settled on Jungkook, who stood at the door, his presence radiating a raw, menacing energy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a cold knot of unease tightening as you realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Before you could fully comprehend the situation, Jungkook’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Everyone out. Now.”

His command was like a whip cracking through the room, the harshness of his tone making you flinch involuntarily. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you barely managed to suppress the yelp that threatened to escape. Around you, the cacophony of chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as employees scrambled to their feet. They moved with frantic, jerky motions, their faces pale and their eyes darting nervously as they rushed toward the door like animals fleeing from a predator.

Your pulse raced as you followed the surge of panicked workers, your own fear pushing you toward the exit. You stumbled slightly as you tried to keep pace with the chaotic stampede, your hands gripping the edge of the table for support. Your face was a mask of anxious determination, your eyes scanning the room one last time before you joined the flood of people spilling into the corridor. Each step felt like a race against your mounting anxiety as you hurried to get out of Jungkook’s way.

But just as you were about to slip past him, a hand shot out, clamping down on your arm with an iron grip. Jungkook yanked you back, his hold unyielding, and the force sent you stumbling. You barely regained your balance, your breath hitching as shock flickered across your face. It was only for a split second before you masked it, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, dangerous—a quiet menace that slithered down your spine like ice.

Didn’t he just dismiss everyone? Your brow furrowed, confusion and wariness mingling in your eyes as you looked up at him. But your silence only stoked the fire in his gaze. It infuriated him that he couldn’t read you like he did everyone else. He’d always resented the noise in his head from other people’s thoughts, but now, faced with your unnerving quietness, he almost wished he could hear you. The not knowing clawed at his insides, tightening his jaw as he stepped closer.

The distance between you evaporated, replaced by the electric tension crackling in the air. You found yourself pressed back against the cool glass, caged between it and his broad frame. His presence was suffocating, a potent mix of power and danger that made it impossible to think straight. Your breath quickened, your chest rising and falling as you felt the heat of him, the scent of his cologne mixing with the underlying sharpness of his irritation.

But even as fear coiled in your belly, there was a flash of stubborn defiance in your eyes. You straightened your back, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. You might be cornered, but you weren’t about to cower.

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk, dark and taunting, his gaze holding yours captive. “You really have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” The words slipped out in a smooth, taunting drawl, each one cutting deeper than the last. His eyes searched your face, hunting for a crack in your composure, a hint of the emotions swirling beneath your surface. But all he got was the same maddening blankness, a mystery he couldn’t unravel.

Your pulse raced in your throat, so loud you were sure he could hear it. The steady hum of the air conditioning felt like the only anchor in a room that was spinning out of control. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and unreadable, while yours darted briefly to the door—your only escape. But the moment you did, his hand slid to the side of your face, forcing your gaze back to his. The touch wasn’t rough, but it was possessive, a silent command not to even think about leaving.

“Mr. Jeon, I don’t understand…” you murmured, trying to sound steady, but the tremor in your voice gave you away. Your cheeks burned, the embarrassment only adding to the tension coiling tighter between you.

“Oh, you don’t understand?” he mocked, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in, crowding your space even more. His breath brushed against your cheek, warm and laced with an edge that sent goosebumps rippling down your arms. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as his smirk deepened. “Then let’s simplify it. Did you miss the part about company policies, or are you just too stubborn to follow the rules?” The disdain in his voice was thick, each word slow and deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fought to maintain some semblance of control. You knew you were trembling, and it infuriated you that he could see it—that he was enjoying it. But you couldn’t back down, not when every nerve in your body was screaming to run. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from fear and from something else—something dangerous that curled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel both cornered and alive in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

Jungkook’s patience snapped like a fraying thread. His eyes darkened, and before you could react, he slammed his hand against the glass next to your head with a crack that made you flinch. Your breath caught in your throat, heart hammering as his looming presence boxed you in. “Still don’t get it?” he growled, each word dripping with disdain. “N-O M-O-R-E T-H-A-N F-O-U-R. How hard is that to grasp?” He dragged out each letter slowly, his tone condescending as if scolding a child.

Your stomach twisted with dread as realization hit—you’d seriously messed up. Your voice felt trapped in your throat, your mind scrambling for an explanation that might save you. “I thought it was okay since it was an important meeting,” you stammered, hoping to justify your actions. But the second the words left your mouth, you knew you’d made it worse. Jungkook’s eyes blazed, his jaw clenching so tightly that you could see the tension in his neck.

Before he could lash out again, Jimin quickly stepped in, grabbing Jungkook’s arm. “Jungkook, calm down,” he urged, his voice tinged with concern. He knew the drill—Jungkook’s temper had already chased off three secretaries this month alone. You were barely hanging on by a thread, and it was only your first day.

Jungkook roughly shrugged Jimin off, his gaze snapping back to you with a dangerous intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned in so close you could feel the heat of his breath, his words laced with venom. “Thought?” he sneered. “That’s generous. Clearly, thinking isn’t your strong suit.”

The insult hit like a slap, stoking a fire deep within you. You were scared, yes, but also furious. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you glared up at him, refusing to back down. “You don’t have to be so rude. I was just trying to do my job!” you shot back, your voice trembling with both anger and fear.

Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was nothing warm about it—it was pure mockery. “Oh, you’re doing a fantastic job—if your goal was to completely ignore the rules and make my life a living hell.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, every word cutting deeper.

“I didn’t ignore the rules! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal!” Your voice grew louder as frustration took over. You were tired of being belittled, tired of him acting like you were some incompetent fool.

“Not a big deal?” Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning ice-cold. He stepped closer, his towering figure casting a shadow over you. “You have no idea the chaos you’ve caused. Maybe you should go back to whatever hole you crawled out from.”

His cruel words hit like a punch to the gut, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. You lifted your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a defiance that you weren’t sure you could sustain. But despite your best efforts, your voice wavered as you said, “That’s uncalled for! I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult me!”

Jungkook’s eyes glinted with a predatory edge as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your skin. “Insult you? I’m just stating facts. If you can’t handle the truth, maybe this isn’t the place for you.” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper, each word pressing down on you like a weight.

The air between you was thick with tension, both of you staring each other down as if waiting for the other to break. Your pulse raced, your chest tightening with fear as you realized how serious he was. You were teetering on the edge of losing everything you’d worked for.

The weight of his words crushed your confidence. You froze, your face paling as the realization set in—was he going to fire you? Panic clawed at your chest. You needed this job. You had worked so hard to get here; you couldn’t lose it on your first day.

“Please, Mr. Jeon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break the rules. It won’t happen again,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

Jungkook didn’t even look at you as he sat down, his posture commanding the room. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re a liability. I could fire you right now and make sure you never work in this industry again. You’d be left with nothing.” His tone was indifferent, as if he were talking about the weather.

You glanced desperately at Jimin, who was already stepping in again, his tone firmer this time. “Jungkook, it’s her first day. She deserves a chance to learn from this.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver as he shot back coldly, “I don’t give second chances, Jimin.” He turned away, heading toward the conference table like he was done with the conversation. Your heart plummeted. You were losing your job. Panic clawed at your chest, and tears stung at your eyes as you fought to keep your composure.

“Am I fired?” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands trembled as you struggled to keep the tears at bay. “Please, I—I need this job.”

Jimin shot you a sympathetic look before turning back to Jungkook, his expression pleading. “Jungkook, she deserves a chance.”

But Jungkook’s gaze remained cold and unyielding. You felt yourself crumble under the weight of his indifference, desperation clawing at your chest as you stood frozen, waiting for his final verdict.

He walked over to the conference table, his presence dominating the room as he sat down in his designated chair. You remained standing nearby, your tear-filled eyes desperately seeking Jimin for some sign of comfort or reassurance. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over, but your gaze remained locked on Jimin, silently pleading.

Before Jimin could say anything, the door swung open with a soft whoosh, drawing everyone’s attention. Kim Taehyung, the charismatic CEO of Kim Enterprises, strode in, flanked by directors Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon. Their entrance was like a burst of fresh air after a storm. They greeted Jimin with warm hugs and hearty laughs, their easy camaraderie bringing a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere.

“We’ll discuss this later. Right now, let’s get to the meeting,” Jimin muttered hastily, his tone strained as he guided you back to your seat. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you fumbled with your notebook, your fingers almost too unsteady to hold the pen. The cold sweat on your palms made the notebook feel slick and foreign.

The meeting began, and the room buzzed with business talk. Taehyung’s easy charm filled the space, his smile warm and engaging as he discussed strategies and future projects. His gestures were animated—hands slicing through the air, a thoughtful tilt of his head as he spoke. Seokjin and Namjoon chimed in, their voices confident as they shared insights on market trends and potential expansions. Their ease was a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that lingered around Jungkook.

You tried to focus on taking notes, but your concentration was shattered by the weight of the earlier confrontation. Your gaze repeatedly flicked to Jungkook, who sat rigidly at the head of the table. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes, though directed at the documents in front of him, held a simmering intensity. The muscle in his cheek twitched occasionally, betraying his frustration. The tension in his posture was palpable; even the slightest shift seemed to radiate hostility.

Each time Jungkook shifted in his seat or cleared his throat, your heart skipped a beat. The fear coiled tighter around your chest with every passing minute. Your thoughts were a chaotic swirl of anxiety, replaying the confrontation in a loop. The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, a relentless reminder of how precarious your situation was.

As Taehyung continued to speak with infectious enthusiasm, you struggled to keep your focus on the meeting. Your eyes betrayed your fear, darting nervously between your notebook and Jungkook, who remained an imposing, silent presence. The contrast between Taehyung’s relaxed demeanour and Jungkook’s brooding silence only heightened your sense of dread.

The fear of losing your job, the very job you’d fought so hard to get, was like a shadow hanging over you. The room's buzzing conversations faded into a distant hum as you tried to hold onto a shred of composure, your thoughts a tumultuous storm of anxiety. The possibility of being fired on your first day loomed like a dark cloud, overshadowing every attempt to engage with the meeting.

Was it really possible to lose everything you’d worked for on your very first day?

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just send me an ask.

And drabble requests and character asks are open!

Taglist: @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo

[moonsaver]

Yan!Dr. Ratio has an eye for observation.

That's one of the key basics, obviously. Observe, understand, break down, rearrange.. it's the most basic way to study the general constitution of basically everything.

However, desire does not elude the study of a subject. It continues to stain the pursuit of knowledge, leaving an ugly mark on his streak.

But desire is not what he would exactly frame it as.

Veritas did not ever predict voyeurism would become one of his hobbies, as disgusting as it sounds.

First comes curiosity, a spark. Then interest.. then the overwhelming urge to observe and understand.

His curiosity led to the small crack of your room's door. The dark hallway yet to be lit up by sunlight pouring in from any other rooms was somehow pierced through with a tiny string of light pouring in from your room.

He stepped carefully, as to not make a sound. His brows furrow in contemplation, as he observes your figure. It seemed you were changing into your daily wear, the soft thud of your night wear hitting the bare floor being the only noises that he could hear. He observes the stretch of your body as you put your clothing on, the slight movements you make as you adjust the clothing to your body, tugging and pulling the fabric. He decides to leave, quietly sighing under his breath.

His keen eye for observation, or rather, observing you, becomes much more clearer to him after a few more incidents of similar behavior.

Perhaps when he clicked his tongue as he saw you spill water over yourself, the wet fabric squelching slightly as you pull it over your head, some of the liquid transferring onto your torso. He watches, almost absentmindedly, the sheen of your wet skin under the light as you curse under your breath.

Or perhaps he sees you unbuckling your bra, sighing at the feeling of the fabric loosening around your chest, as he watches the muscles of your back relax, and expand with each deep breath. The strap of your bra falls over your shoulder, and Veritas decides to look away. He knows when to stop observing.

And when, as usual, he decides to force you into bed with him, hands wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you closer to him, he has a chance to study your body in a closer proximity. His coarse hands are coated with oils, or lotions, as they massage a bit too slowly and sensually for your liking, into the curves of your waist, the sides of your hips, etching closer and closer to your chest, as he stays quiet, observing your body with a tense expression, eyebrows knitted in concentration and faux irritation. The glow of your body after he's done reminds him of the water sticking to your skin.

He huffs and moves back when you ask him what's wrong, breaking his minute of silence. He closes the product with a loud "click", and adjusts himself into bed to hold you against him much too close for your comfort. As if that matters to him.

Veritas starts to notice details about your body. Placements of moles, stretchmarks, cellulite.. he should consider these the next time he decides to capture you in clay and marble.

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[blogport]

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[answer2jeff]

break-up, make-up.

song : post break-up sex

warnings : fem!reader, porn with some plot, smut, unprotected piv, make-up sex, lip being needy, mentions of alcohol and smoking (tobacco), reader has scumbag friends, sad pathetic banging, intentional lowercase. (lip and reader are 18.)

word count: 3,707

authors note: this is only like my 2nd time writing smut.......

your abdomen felt cold pressed against the marble of your bathroom counter. pulling at the skin of your face, running your fingers through your messy hair, and picking yourself apart in the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet. you didn't feel like yourself. you swung the cabinet open, reaching for a hard candy eyeshadow pallet, a black eye pencil so old the label had rubbed off, and a mauve-brownish lip liner.

your phone buzzed against your pocket. you groaned, dropping your products into the sink before snatching it from the depths of your jeans.

773-642-3719: party @ ashleys 2night. u coming? 2:36pm.

it must've been karina. ever since you gave her your number on your break during your waitressing shift at patsy's, she'd been trying to drag you out of the house. you couldn't blame her. mopey from your breakup, picking up as many hours as possible, spending your free time collecting coupons for shopping sprees you'd never go on to spend money you didn't have, she was sick of you ruining the atmosphere everywhere you went.

or, wherever you didn't go, more accurately.

"he's just a guy. just—go fuck someone else! who cares if he's a dick just like him. focus on the task at hand: getting laid," she told you, licking strawberry jam from the tip of her middle finger.

"i'm just gonna miss him more," you sighed, watching the clock tick as your 15 minutes of what was supposed to be relaxing free time, was going to waste.

"*** ******** is not some kind of sex god, okay? the sex was good. you can find good sex anywhere."

"whatever."

he was more than that. he was more than the sex. he was the kisses in the early mornings where you'd wake up with him in your sheets. he was the whispers of 'you're so beautiful,' and 'i love you,' whenever you doubted yourself. he was the shitty jokes and late night walks, splitting cigarettes and dabbling in gossip. he was your best friend.

but he was also the hands that slammed your bedroom door. he was also the alcohol on his breath. he was also the words that told you to 'get your shit together.' he was also the broken promises he could never keep.

but he was more than anything karina saw him as.

i'll be there :) 2:38pm.

773-642-3719: bring some1 cute with u! 2:40pm.

you stared blankly at her text.

👍 2:42pm.

bring someone with me? who the hell would i bring? daniel's working tonight. and he's not cute. well—he's not ugly, but...no. stop. just drop it. you don't need to bring a guy with you. jesus. you don't need anyone. relax.

i'm here. 12:37am.

you knocked about 3 times before a lanky, raven haired boy with puke all over his title fight t-shirt swung the door open. you looked past his shoulder to see a group of familiar faces behind him.

"please tell me that's not h—" a short blonde girl groaned before a redhead, eliza, butted in.

"there she is!" she yelled, calling karina over.

the warm glow of the living room complimented the post-punk rock that rang through the poster filled walls of ashley's house. you were met with waves from your friends. karina beamed and quickly made her way over to the front door to greet you. her chunky sandals boomed against the hardwood floor, her red solo cup nearly falling out of her hand.

"you made it!" she smiled, taking your hand and dragging you into the makeshift frat house, slamming the front door behind you. the atmosphere was uncomfortably warm. probably due to everyone sweating their asses off from drunkenly dancing and grinding on each other.

"uh, yeah—i'm kinda late. sorry."

"fashionably late," she corrected you as you followed her through dozens of other girls and into the kitchen.

you analyzed the space. you knew a couple people here, either from work or highschool, since it was the summer after senior graduation, but there were plenty of girls and guys you'd never seen in your life. for the first time in months, meeting new people was sickening. immediately reaching for the bottle of tito's to help ease your mind, eliza stopped you. she furrowed her strawberry blonde eyebrows at you, shaking her head.

"uh-uh. you're the designated driver, sweetie. we can't have you drunk, too!"

your mouth gaped open in disbelief. were you seriously dragged here just to play babysitter?

"but there's plenty else to do," karina peaked her head out of the kitchen and eyeing a couple of her friends that resided on the couch, beer bottles in hand. you couldn't help but turn your head to look, too.

"mikey's got weed," she pointed to a shirtless brunette, "and i think destiny brought some—fuckin, i don't know, xanax to cool your nerves."

you nodded, lips pulled tight in a painfully neutral expression that read 'okay' and 'fuck you i hope you break every bone in your body and live your life as a spiritless vegetable,' at the same time. your arms were crossed against your chest, your body pretty much caving in at the amount of sheer embarrassment that coursed through you.

"since you're, y'know, kinda losing it," eliza wiped the corner of her mouth where whiskey-soda had been dripping from it, pointing her finger at you. her messy red nail polish on healthy long nails taunted you.

you felt like a wad of pink chewing gum: slammed between teeth and tongue just to be spit out and drenched in spit. but you weren't useless enough to be thrown away. just stuck under a table for some gross, unsanitary bitch to pick it up again and stick it right back in her gossipy mouth. cursing yourself for being here, you stormed out of the kitchen and made your way toward the back porch.

if you left, you'd be a prude. but if you stayed and drank, kissing strangers and making up stories filled with little white lies, you'd be deemed a slut for the rest of the summer. your last choice was to stick around, being that annoying girl who smoked cigarettes outside of the party to freak people out.

and so, you did. you hung around outside, watching people come in and out. occasionally, someone would stop to ask if you were alright, if you wanted a drink, or just someone to talk to. you politely declined every time. almost like you were waiting for some other opportunity to spring up in front of you.

"hey," a voice behind you rasped.

it startled you. it was painfully familiar. so much it made your heart drop to your empty stomach. you turned yourself around, eyes met with blue orbs that stared directly into you.

there he was. lip. your lip.

except he wasn't yours. not here. not now. possibly not ever.

"oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me, gallagher."

your hands grabbed onto the wooden railing of the porch steps. hoisting yourself up, you brushed off any dirt that smeared onto your dark blue jeans. your eyes were glued to the ground as you tried to swiftly move past him the moment you could stand up.

"no, c'mon—" he pleaded, rolling his eyes and following you back into the house. he hadn't had a sip of booze. for once, his mind was completely in the clear.

eliza and karina sat on the kitchen counter, their shoulders pressed together while shared a beer bottle, possibly their 6th or 7th of the night. you seriously wondered what they even talked about. they didn't have much in common other than the fact that they both liked reeking havoc on innocent people. and you.

"did one of you fucking invite him?" you spat, stepping just a foot away from the two of them snatching the beer bottle from karina's hand, you held it tightly in your fist, your fingertips turning pink at the brute force.

"lip? yeah, i did! wait, did you guys break up, or something?" eliza laughed, twirling a red curl around her finger while she gave an obnoxious wave to lip as he stood behind you. he bit the inside of his cheek, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into enraged fists.

your jaw had been nailed to the floor at this point. karina looked down at the ground in shame. she didn't care about your 'healing' or 'getting laid.' all she cared about was stirring shit. it was such a middle school stunt for a 19 year old girl to pull. finally snapping, you slammed the beer bottle onto the ground, watching it shatter into a million pieces. clenching your teeth, you looked back up to see the disturbed expressions on your 'friends' faces. they weren't allowed to make this decision for you. you would decide if and when you were ready to act like a normal fucking person around lip.

a boyfriend wasn't the only thing you lost. you lost a friend, a piece of yourself.

hot tears pricked at your waterline. you spun back around and darted towards the front door. shoving through people, your hands grabbing onto their arms and not-so-gently moving them out of your path. you could feel lip's footsteps behind you, his pathetic whines calling out for your name; calling out for his friend ex-girlfriend.

"hey, would you just fucking talk to me? please?"

you finally stopped, taking a deep breath and letting the salty tears that streamed down your face smudge your mascara before turning to face him. the angry knit of his brows from earlier was gone. his face relaxed, a breath of relief escaping his mouth when he could finally just look at you. he took in the sight of your tears, your swollen lips, your shoulders that tensed under your jacket, the way your jaw trembled when you cried.

"i don't wanna talk," you muttered as you shook your head, "i just—i don't wanna talk here. can we go upstairs, or something?"

you stared back, half of your bottom lip barred behind your teeth, analyzing every inch of him. the way his hair that ended at the middle of his ear had grown a bit too thick, the line that formed between his chin and his lower lip when he frowned, his short eyebrows, how prominent his philtrum was, and his blue eyes that caught your attention the day you met in 10th grade chemistry. you missed the way the top row of his small teeth would beam whenever he laughed.

"yeah," lip nodded, "we don't have to be down here, alright? c'mon," he reached for your hand, tilting his head as he tried to stare into you.

you worried about forgetting the feeling of his hands gently caressing your face, rubbing your back when he held you close, twirling your hair around his fingers, when his palms would indent the plush of your thighs, or when he'd grab onto your waist when you kissed him.

there was no way you'd ever forget now.

"jesus, lip—" you huffed through open-mouthed kisses, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his shoulders. the cold wall against your warm back made you shiver once he tore your shirt off from over your head, along with the jacket he zipped down and gently slipped it off from your arms as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your collarbones.

in the most needy, starved way possible, you tugged at his cotton t-shirt. almost as if he'd read your mind, despite him being on a completely different planet, he pulled away from your mouth and peeled his grey t-shirt off with the same hands that rubbed those fucking circles against your hips the way he always did when he kissed you again.

some things just never changed.

your fingertips pressed against his bare abdomen until they made their way up to his chest. you missed seeing that little triangle tattoo that tyler gave him in the school bathroom. kissing it, tracing your fingernails around the perimeter, occasionally biting and soothing the mark with your lips.

"fuck this stupid party," he scoffed, his hand getting a hold of your chin and tilting your head back up to face him. you looked into him through your lashes, lids low with desire. the look in your eyes ruined him.

"yeah. fuck it."

you glanced at his lips and back into his eyes, just for him to smash his mouth into yours again. it was a mess of teeth and tongue while you entangled your hands in his hair.

"shit—" lip detached himself from your mouth to fill his lungs with hair that smelled like your perfume and sex.

his hands cradled your face so gently it was like you'd break if he ever dared to let go. your hands moved over the groves of his arms and up to his shoulders over and over again, the feeling of soft, supple skin never getting old.

"c'mere, pretty girl," lip breathed against your ear, his hand wrapping your neck gently.

he desperately began sucking and biting the tender skin, coming back to comfort it with pecks and blows of fast, cool air. tuffs of curly blonde hair tickled your jawline every time. his veiny hands roamed down the sides of your torso, never traveling up, until you tried removing your bra yourself. lip shook his head, removing his hands from your hips and reaching behind you to unclip the uncomfortable fabric while you clung to his shoulders for support.

"lip—" you protested, slowly growing impatient.

"i got it, baby," he whispered, kissing your shoulder before carefully slipping the straps over your shoulders and off of your body. that pet name hadn't bounced off of his tongue and rang through your ears in weeks.

once he tossed the bra to the floor, your body relaxed as lip backed away just an inch or two to admire you. he smiled, teeth and all. maybe he really did miss you. your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly backing him up towards the bed of the guest room.

funny. you swore what you and lip had was more than the sex. and it was. you weren't lying about that. but my god, the crave for his skin against yours was unbearable. flashes of your hookups projected over your head. the moans that erupted from you while you tugged on his blonde curls for dear life as he pounded into your weeping cunt—you missed all of it.

"i can't believe you even showed up here," you muttered, using the pads of your fingertips to shove lip onto the soft mattress, silk sheets feeling cold against his back. he glared at you through furrowed brows, propping himself up on his elbows. but his expression softened when he saw you unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the fly down and hastily kicking them off.

"me? you—" he let out a shaky breath, gnawing at the inside of his mouth and sitting up right, "you haven't been out of the house for days."

he stared down at the white lacy underwear you wore, fighting the urge to get up and tear them down your ass until they fell at your ankles.

"and how the hell would you know that?"

you raised your eyebrows, signaling to lip to fall back again so you could reveal the aching bulge in his pants. that same bright smile of excitement made your stomach stir as you were unbuttoning and unzipping the denim that imprisoned his cock.

"been spyin' on you a little bit," he joked, but he wasn't totally kidding. for the past week and a half, he'd been taking 'shortcuts' to get to any destination just so he could briefly stop in front of your place. just to see if you'd ever come out and coincidentally run into him. he even started going to your usual hangout spots to see if you'd turn up.

but you never did. him even going to this party was solely based on the off chance that you might've been here. possibly with a new guy. but you weren't. you were alone. just like he often was.

"how sweet," you teased, tracing the tattoo on his chest. caving into your urges, you tilted your head lower to pet it with a kiss, your eyes closed before trailing your lips back up to his own. he huffed through his nose, laughing at your gesture. it was cute. you were cute. lips hands moved down to your hips, his fingers slipping underneath the waist band of your panties. that little puddle of arousal shining through the white fabric of your thong only egged lip on. he looked into your eyes for permission, not wasting any time to help you remove them the moment you nodded your head.

letting him pull them down the plush of your thighs, you turned just enough where you could slip them past your calf's where they pooled at your feet before finally slipping off onto the floor. a delicate hand reached to pull down the fabric of his boxers, his leaking, pink tip practically making you drool the moment his cock sprung out. the heat and humidity of the room making the thick vein down the side of his length twitch just the slightest. you felt a yearning heat build up in your core as you wiggled your hips closer.

"now," you reached between your thighs to coil your fingers round lip's hardening cock, "i need you to fuck me like you haven't gotten laid in a thousand years."

"that's pretty much what it's felt like." lip mumbled so quietly you barely caught it. he looked up at you, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before he used his thumb to caress your cheek.

"wait, you—you haven't been with anyone else?"

lip paused, realizing he admitted to not seeing a single other person since you broke up. it almost surprised you that you weren't the only one who was sex deprived.

"fuck would that do? bring you back?" he tried to laugh, accidentally gasping at the feeling of your wet cunt brushing past his throbbing dick. you noticed this, smiling back at him and slowly trying to position yourself perfectly.

"well, you have me now."

those words were all it took. with one swift motion, lip finally caught a grip on the fat of your hips, guiding you gently down his cock, your wetness making a makeshift lubricant.

"always so fuckin' wet for me," lip praised, smiling at the sight of how easily he filled you up to the brim of your cervix. watching your face contort from slight discomfort and into full bliss was his fucking kryptonite. you gasped, the immediate stuffed feeling hitting your stomach. lip winced at the tight sensation, already cursing under his raspy breath and whispering incoherent praises. "so—so fuckin' tigh...fu–ck" you gave him some time to adjust, propping your hands behind you so you could grind against him just right.

lip began rolling your hips back and forth, wet sounds of sex filling up the room. whimpers of "fuck, yes lip," and "just like that," only made his sexual frustration worse.

"'missed you so fuckin' much, baby. shit—you make me feel amazing. so, so fuckin' good." his hands dig deeper into your hips, making their way to your ass to squeeze and occasionally slap the flesh. you flinched with a moan, his dick hitting your gummy walls at a slightly different angle each time.

"m—fuck, missed you too, lip. you have no idea," your lungs begged for air, your tits bouncing slightly at the constant movement of your hips as you chased your high. you looked down at him, tears of arousal filling up your hooded eyes. lip marveled at the sight of your pleasure, inching closer and closer to cumming inside of you right then and there—but he had to savor this. grunting

how could he have waited this long to make amends with you? his groans felt like they practically echoed and bounced off of the walls. he needed to focus on your needs tonight. he pried between your crotchets, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing sloppy, rough circles against the bundle of nerves.

"slower, hun," you cooed, moving up and down his cock to keep his tip pounding right into your g-spot every time. the idea of staying quiet had never been this hard—but the music and shouting from downstairs was bound to cover for the two of you. lip nodded his head, slowing down his pace and gently grinding his hips into yours as his thumb remained at work.

after the few moments of pure bliss, moans and cries of lip's name coming from you that he wished would last an eternity, he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. similarly, you started forcefully catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling. your head went foggy, every word that fell out of your mouth turning into messy gibberish. lip could tell you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to give up.

"i don't think i'm gonna last any longer," lip clenched his teeth, his hand aching from prioritizing your pleasure while his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. he'd been fucked out without even finishing a single time.

"me neither—"

desperately trying to get a hold of yourself, your body gave out. your thighs began to shake, your cunt contracting. trying to muffle your shrieks, you cupped a hand over your saliva-slick mouth. your hips moved as fast as you could ever dreamed was possible, forcing you to grab onto lip's shoulder blades for support. lip could literally see his dick rolling up and down your stomach as he moaned your name, his eyes screwed shut. finally, just at the very last second, he took every bit of strength left in his body to flip you over, your back pressed against the sheets while you reached your climax. he pulled out with a groan, white ropes of sticky cum coating your lower stomach and the space right under your tits.

makeup sex was not how you envisioned this night would go. but how could you complain?