#They are available for silly things like this though (as long as the asks are unrelated to the story)!

[knifearo]

I've been enjoying all your posts lately, especially all the community engagement. It makes me think about posting more personal aroace content instead of just reblogging.

I'm full of feelings but not sure what I really have to contribute to the conversation. Aro-identified people skew young and I feel like nobody's going to care what a middle aged aroace has to say but now I'm like hang on, maybe all aro content is good content, I don't know, I'm thinking about it.

i am absolutely of the opinion that all aro content is good content! especially because a lot of us skew young, i think it's so important to have (first of all just aro content in General. there's always a lack of that. but especially) aro content from people who don't usually have their perspectives talked about. if you've got nothing to contribute to the conversation that's fine :) more than half the time i do not either, i just make a silly happy little lah di dah i love aromanticism post and chit chat with all the little aromantic people who live on my laptop. if you're aromantic and you're engaging with the community then everybody should be more than happy to have you there :) just like you said. all aro content is good content. your opinion is valuable and your presence is treasured <2

[deceitful-garden]

the eeper

shhhhhh... the eeper is eeping...

[hoshigray]

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | suguru getō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Geto are college sweethearts - implied that you and Geto are early 20s - lingerie + bunny outfit - oral (m! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - use of an anal toy; butt plug - backshots/doggy style + deep impact positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play - praise - finger sucking - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - pet names (angel, baby, bunny girl, little bunny, good girl, my love, princess, sweet baby, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Mei Mei, and Gojo - reader is very shy but is trying their best! - kind of freaky! Geto awakening, lmao - humor - mention of drool/spit and tears - will be proofread l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.2k (sigh..)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! haven't done a suguru fic in a long while so ehh, why not? && tysm for 8.8k, my loves xoxo

“…”

Oh no.

“…Well,”

I have to be dreaming…

“Needless to say, I brought your package inside, Y/n.”

THERE’S NO WAY!!!

Being an introvert can have its trivial times; you should know that. Looking back on your life, you can’t seem to say you had the drive to stand out, an expertise you regret not putting effort into. You couldn’t do it; you’ve tried but to no avail! Going out of your comfort zone is too scary, shivering or freezing on the spot whenever you’re being spoken to or fumbling with words when trying to make a point. Man, it’s so embarrassing! It sucks — you’re a grown adult, and yet you can barely get through any gathering without anxiety rattling your bones.

Some are good at talking with others or are lucky enough to be naturally blessed with a social spirit. Some people like your boyfriend, for example. 

Yes, you have a boyfriend. 

Suguru Geto, your partner, wasn’t a complete extrovert. Honestly, he’s comfortable keeping to himself if he could choose. After meeting you, he preferred dates when you visit each other’s dormitories and enjoy each other’s company. However, compared to you, his people-pleasing skills outclassed yours unquestionably. Geto knew how to talk, drawing people in with his mellow tone and inviting aura. He was good at mingling and making everyone feel comfortable around him. You were a victim to it, lured in by his charm and soft ambiance.

He was terrific, a role model to you. How he would efficiently put himself out there while you stayed close in his shadow never failed to inspire you. The way he spoke, how he listened intently to others’ concerns, and his maturity seen as a dependable figure to lean on. It’s absurd to think that such a marvelous man fell in love with you and asked to court you.

You and Geto have dated since your junior year of college; what you once thought would be a tiny crush on one of the school’s notorious heartthrobs became your first and longest-running relationship! How did that happen!? You couldn’t tell; one moment, you two were paired up for an end-of-semester project, and he managed to have you relax and talk with him daily. The next thing you know, he’s asking you to live with him in his apartment the second you finish graduation. Now, you two have been a couple for nearly half a decade. It’s unbelievable to think about.

But even with how long you two have been together, there are moments where you feel as though you weren’t doing your part. Being in a relationship is such a hurdle for an awkward person, aka you, such as going stiff whenever old friends of Suguru pop up and greet him or him inviting you along to parties only for you to stay glued to a corner in silence. You felt as though you were…boring? Dull? Deadweight!? The list goes on, and the guilt never tires you out.

And Geto – God bless him – has repeatedly expressed and assured you that you didn’t have to feel as such. His alluring purple eyes and soothing voice vouch that he doesn’t mind standing in as your sponsor and speaking for you, and you are eternally grateful to the stars above for gracing a loving and understanding boyfriend your way. Nonetheless, the stress that churns your stomach doesn’t go away. He’s always been the one to voice for you, attend to you, and look out for you. Hell, even in the bedroom, he’s doing most of the work. Again, he’s never complained nor seems to ever will, but still!

He’s done so much for you, and you want to meet him at least halfway and make him feel appreciated. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do something special for your man!

Here was the plan: going out and buying stuff meant talking to people, and talking meant letting strangers know about your business; merely thinking about it had you trembling a storm. So yeah, nope. You went on the Internet and found sites catering to your search. You can’t say you were the type to wear anything risqué, especially in the bedroom. So, you dialed up your two best friends, Mei Mei and Shoko, to help you find stuff that they thought would look nice for you to wear.

Luckily, they came in clutch and found something for a beginner like you! It’s not something you’d wear in public—you’d rather die—but it’s a good start when implementing new things into your lifestyle. You added the item to your cart, purchased it, and waited silently for your package to arrive. To say you were anxious about this new step of adulthood was on the nail, but you beamed with glee once you got the notification that your bundle would be delivered today!

Before then, you decided to nap and wait for the item to be delivered to your apartment door. You woke up to that once you saw the notice on your phone, yawning your way out of the shared bedroom to retrieve it.

However, what you saw as you entered the living room stopped you dead in your tracks, and your eyes widened with absolute horror.

What you should have accounted for was that today was a Thursday, meaning Geto would usually come home from work on weekdays. So, while you were snoring in the comfort of your blanket, your boyfriend was the first to see a mysterious box with your name on it at his doorstep. And to add more salt to the wound, you caught him in the act unboxing the package and inspecting its contents, and you’re too shocked to fall on your knees at what he has in his hands.

Geto sat on the living room couch, the box perched on the coffee table opened with the wrappings decorating the brown table surface. His eyes find your figure to latch onto, but yours honed on what he was inspecting. In his right hand was a black lacy top meant to be worn around a chest—the other holding onto a headband with bunny ears of velvet material. 

This is where we lay our current scene; astounded, you could only stand in place — like Geto — at the sight before you. And with every passing second, you wanted nothing but to explode into bits. Your boyfriend had found your package and opened it!

Of course, you’d be stammering your words! “W-Where did you get that!?” What a silly question; where else would he have gotten it, dumbass?

Nonetheless, the dark-haired man answers after a forced cough. “Well, umm, I saw it at the door coming from work. I brought it in and was going to let you know, but you were asleep, and I…didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Why did you open it if you knew it was mine??”

Geto raised his hands defensively, still holding onto the items. “I–I’m sorry! I thought it was something different, like the cute glass cups you liked and ordered last week. I figured I would set those up on your behalf. I had no idea it would be something…” Your feet suddenly felt heavy, watching your boyfriend scan the lace top. “Like this.”

Any attempt to fight the mini shakes of your knees was impractical, and your throat was going so dry that you were scared to swallow.

“This doesn’t seem like something you would buy; could someone have accidentally sent this with the wrong information?” He inquires with furrowed brows. “Better not be some fucked up prank or whatever.”

“N-No, it’s, I…” Fuck, this had to be the worst scenario to admit this. “….I did mean to buy it.”

Have you ever had those moments where people would look at you after saying something that you wish you hadn’t? You indeed hated those moments; they made you feel so scrutinized by the public judging you. And seeing your man’s eyes widen and his expression morphed his lips to a small “o” shape? Oh, you couldn’t breathe adequately.

“You bought,” your quivering lips worsen when his left wrist flicks with the bunny-eared headband. “This?”

Your hands come to your face, shielding yours from his as you silently squat down with the weight of your humiliation. The shakes rock your entire frame, and you can sense your tears forming. This officially was the worst day ever; out of all the dilemmas that could happen, why did it have to be the worst one of all?!? Your partner had found out about the out-of-the-norm purchase you made without you present to explain yourself first. Now he probably thinks he’s dating some freak into weird shit. Can this day get any worse!?!

You wanted to cry, hoping the floor beneath you would give way and ingest you out of this cold, cruel world. But alas, you’re still here and can hear the footsteps approaching your crouching state, and you jolt when Geto embraces you.

“Y/n,” God, why did he say your name like that? His tone was smooth like honey, and he rubbed your back as he brought you closer. “It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to judge you or anything; I was just curious, is all. Sorry, I opened your package without letting you know, okay?… Ahh, did I make my sweet angel cry?” Raven brows scrunched together at the view of you burrowing into his chest more. “Aww, Y/n, I’m sorry…”

Yes, you were indeed sniffling into his sweatshirt. Although, it’s not that he opened your stuff without your consent that upset you the most. You whine while moving your face, “I just…wanted to do something different.”

“Hmm?” Geto’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, speaking to you in a low mode. “What’s the reason, sweetie?”

“Because, well,” you chewed the inside of your cheek as they warmed. “I just felt like I wasn’t…Like—sigh, you’ve done so much for me in this relationship, and I’m so lucky to have you as my boyfriend. But I feel like I don’t do my part as I should, you know?” Nothing is said from the other, so you continue. “I just–sniff–want you to know that I appreciate you and all you’ve done, although I didn’t know if my words would do me justice. So, I, uhh,” your thumbs find their way to fiddle with themselves. “I asked Shoko and Mei Mei for help and bought…..this to wear for you.”

Three seconds pass without saying anything, then six. At ten seconds, the silence suffocates you and probes your unease more and more. 

However, his chest’s sudden rise and fall startles you, along with his pleasant laughter. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Your body’s rigid compared to his lively motion. “My angel was gonna doll up for me?”

“Yeah, and you ruined it!” You fuss, your cute teary face all hot and puffy as you complain. “I just wanted to do something special for you after I finally muster up the courage to go out of my comfort zone and do something nice and…well, sexy,” you cringed internally at the final word. Yet, it was true. 

Geto hums through your explanation. “You’re always sexy to me.”

“That’s not the point!” He laughs at your remark, the sound filling you with warmth. “I–…I’m different compared to you. Whenever we’re out, you’re so much more social than me; I feel like I’m a burden or make it seem I need you to watch over me or something…And I know you’ve said you’re okay with it and don’t mind, but it’s….sniff–I don’t know, like I’m putting more on your plate when it’s more of a ‘me’ problem…”

Your eardrums pick up low chuckles. Then, like the Prince Charming he is, Geto uses his hand to bring your chin up. Your face warms up at his handsome face in your vicinity. “Baby, although I appreciate you going out your way to do something for me—believe me, I could jump over the moon right now—you don’t have to go outside what’s comfortable to you to impress me or anything.”

“But I—“

“I mean it; I really don’t mind that I have to be some voucher for you. It’s not a burden; that’s just who you are. And if that’s the case, you’re too cute as hell the way you are.” You didn’t see his small smile grow because your eyes bashfully averted away from his gaze. “Now, if you want to build your confidence, don’t be afraid to ask me for help, okay? No need to force yourself to change up for the sake of ‘appeasing’ me or feel as though you’re not fitting whatever bullshit mold of an appropriate partner you’re expected to be.”

“Suguru…”

“Y/n,” your name pierces your heart like an arrow as his hand prompts your face back to him; God, he’s so dreamy. “I like you no matter what. You’re my princess; your troubles are my troubles. I’d tell you long ago that you’re bothersome if it wasn’t. But you’re not, so don’t put too much weight on yourself. Promise not to stress yourself over this, okay?” He boops your nose, “Remember: communication is key, right?”

Once again, you’re reminded how lucky you are to have such a man like Suguru Geto to court you. So understanding and attentive to your feelings and wrapping you in his blanket of love constantly makes it hard not to fall in love all over again. Chewing your bottom lip doesn’t even help the heat of your cheeks creeping onto your ears. 

“You’re right,” you almost melt under his lips as he kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” your heart skips a beat. “But what are we gonna do with all this?” He points to the open package with his chin. “Now I feel kinda bad for having you buy this for me and ruining the special occasion.”

Wincing at the box, you remove yourself from Geto’s embrace to inspect the contents. “Honestly, looking at them in real time, I regret buying them. I’ll return them tomorrow or Monday, seeing I don’t necessarily need—”

“Woah, woah,” you stop in your tracks at your boyfriend’s exclamation. “Why are you returning them?” 

Huh? “Well, I mean, there’s no need for them, no? It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, but you already spent so much money for my sake. Plus,” Geto picks up the bunny ear headband from the package. “If this is what you were gonna wear for me, then it would be kind of upsetting if I didn’t see you wear it at least once.”

Oh, God, no. “S–Suguru, it’s totally fine; I can just—“ Oh no, he’s looking at you with that face, his eyebrows slightly trenched with a minuscule sad glint in his expression. Your stomach was doing flips out of guilt and concern, and the formidable gets worse when he asks the following:

“Y/n,” you swallow spit thickly as the man dangles the headband around. “Would you please wear this tonight?”

The question nails you to the ground, frozen in place as it rings within your mind. You? Wearing this for tonight?! “N–No, I can’t!!”

“Why not? You bought it to be worn!”

“Yes, but t-that was before you looked through my package and didn’t give me the chance to try it on myself!” When you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than before, the embarrassment of this predicament humbles you. “And thanks to you—“

“T-Thanks to me??”

“—I don’t wanna wear it anymore!!”

Geto raises his other hand in defense. “Okay, okay! Look, I’m sorry; it’s my bad. But, to be honest, I’m thrilled that you went out of your way to think of doing something for me out of nowhere, and as I’m looking at this outfit,” He glances at the rest of the materials in the box. “I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it.” You can’t tell if your heart is thumping from his words or because you’re about ten seconds away from combusting. “So…One night to test it out, yeah? And if you surely don’t like it, then you can ship it back tomorrow.”

He’s so good at that, using his charm and words to shade you into rational thought. You take a huge breath and exhale through stressed nostrils, and your wish to dig a hole and rot away increases. 

Of course, you bought the items to treat your boyfriend for something out of the norm; that was the entire point of the plan! But what is the use of following a plan when you’ve let your guard down, and the element of surprise backfires in a way that you had foolishly unforeseen?! There’s no way you could put that stuff on you now that you’ve been exposed. Absolutely not!

“I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it…”

And yet, Geto’s words repeat like a broken record, each time making you as timid as the last. He wants to see you wear what you had bought, so eager to marvel at his partner adorning such risqué clothing that you don’t comprehend how you put said purchase in your cart! The thought of wearing such a thing in front of your man bubbles an excitement that is borderline frightening yet new; picturing his expressions and imagining his compliments is dangerous for your brain to form a headache.

But not as dangerous as the slight friction of your inner thighs pressing close to each other.

With a stare downcast and fidgeting thumbs, you ask, “…Just for tonight?” 

And Geto assures you with a nod.

“Only for tonight.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Geto sat on the bed in silence, listening to the ticks of the bedroom clock on the wall as he waited patiently.

As you two entered the bedroom, the man found his place on the bed, a still figure in the dimly lit room. You, on the other hand, made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. “Wait here…D-Don’t peek inside!” You commanded him, your voice betraying a hint of shyness. He obeyed, settling on top of the comforter.

Minutes soon went to double digits; nervousness wasn’t something that usually struck Geto. But the more he sat on the bed and listened to your mutters behind the door–distancing the two–the more he couldn’t help but feel an itch to worry for you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Y–Yes!” That didn’t sound convincing… “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“Okay…”

And so he waited for a minute. Which turned to two minutes…Three…..

Anticipation transitioned to unease, calling out to you once more. “Y/n?” No answer; not a good sign. The tall man gets up and strides to knock on the bathroom door. “Baby? Everything alright?” Nothing, even if he knocks on the white surface again.

CREAAAAK…!

But his frets are handled once he hears the sound of the door opening slowly. He steps back to make way for the person on the other side of the door, and lo and behold, you stand.

There are things in Geto’s life that never cease to amaze him—you being one of them. From the moment he saw you, he swore that in his life, there had never been something that looked so mesmerizing and captured his eye in an instant, and Gojo and Shoko are always sure to tease the guy for such a confession. And the time you reciprocated his feelings and accepted being his domestic other half, words could not describe the elation his poor heart couldn’t handle. 

Right now, he is experiencing those same feelings when he’s with you. His expectations were blown out of the water once you entered the plane again.

Your face was the first thing he looked to, a sheepish yet cute expression that went with the adorable white bunny ear headband you adorned at the top of your head. Your casual attire had been withdrawn to the bathroom tiles, substituted with the outfit you had been fussing about until now. Your chest harbored a black lacy negligee with intricate designs that had Geto’s purple eyes dance and trace around; the faint drapes of the gown cascaded down to your upper thighs, yet your underwear could still be seen. It matched the lacy black thong that made your boyfriend gulp thickly at how gorgeous your hips looked–not to mention the tiny bow at the top center. And to complete the look, black stockings come up your knees.

“…”

There is silence between you and him. The only sound you can use to distract yourself is the beat of your heart.

“…”

But the longer you wait for a response, the louder the rhythm. 

“…”

The lack of his voice was killing you – eating you alive – and you’re sure that you’re bound to faint if this kept going. Did I wear it wrong? Do I look weird?! Oh God, please say some— 

“Y/n”

You squeaked. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you please,” Geto takes a few steps closer, enough for his hands to come around your waist and pull you in. You almost choke on the air. “Remind me to thank Mei Mei and Shoko first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Wh–What the—What does that mean—?”

“You look amazing.” Three simple words have you still. “Like, seriously. Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” He leans around to look at the details of your sides, and your brain short circuits when he moves behind you and lifts the negligee to see the rear of your panties. What is happening… “Holy shit, this suits you so well.”

“Re…Really?”

“Really.” You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he surveys every physical thing about you. “I’m so tempted to grab my phone to take a picture.”

“Oh my God, please don’t!!” Your frightened hands grab his sweatshirt with a vigorous grip, contrasting the trembling owner. “Don’t take a picture, please!!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” the dark-haired partner assures you through a fit of laughter, his warm, slender hands finding your fists and pounding him. Again, you are frozen stiff when he kisses your temple. “Besides, I prefer not sharing something as beautiful with anyone else.”

You don’t know how many compliments you can take before spiraling into a puddle. “You really do like it.”

“I love it,” another kiss to your cheek while his hands now find purchase on your waist. Oxygen suddenly feels foreign when you’re so close to him to pick up the cologne on his clothes. “It looks so much better now that you’re wearing it. You really know how to spoil me, huh, angel.”

Was it him being spoiled right now or you? How he spoke to you had your heart racing uncontrollably since you left the bathroom. You’ve been a complete nervous wreck from the moment your friends probed you to buy this outfit up until now, and now you can honestly feel that you’re feeling a sense of glee wearing it because your boyfriend likes it so much. Regrets no longer linger in your bones, goosebumps calm down on your skin, and you hum as you return the embrace. 

That is…until you feel something pressed against you. Something….hard.

Curiosity sprinkles your pretty little head until it snaps and your hips sway to experiment. A subtle jolt rocks Geto—confirming your hypothesis.

“Su..Suguru…” You don’t know why, but the following words felt prohibited to leave your lips. “Is that—“

“Hnnm…Sorry,” he purrs abjectly. “Guess I got a little too excited.” He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you, and your stomach churns at the sight of his stare, holding a misty, lustful glint. You don’t even mention his hands silently moving to cup your ass. “Is that too much, baby?”

Violet eyes latched with yours make you shiver, suppressing a gasp when he throws a slick rut to grind the tent of his dark sweatpants on you. “N–No!” You squeaked, feeling small when his smile got broader.

“So sweet like always,” a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips feels like clouds. He then steps back out of your arms, pulling down his sweats to reveal the erection contained by the boxer briefs. Geto sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head. “So, will my sweet bunny girl care for me tonight?” Seeing you gawk at him, he stifles a chuckle, and it takes a good mental slap to bring you back to reality. A few seconds pass, and you finally build up the courage to walk forward and crouch between his spread legs. 

Mini prayers replay in your brain as your hand hesitantly touches the clothed shaft, the firmness of it getting stiffer and stiffer as your fingers touch thoroughly. When you’re ready, you bring the hem of his underwear down, welcoming his cock to the open air for it to intimidate you with its girth. Precum trails from the urethra, traveling down from the corona, foreskin, and underside. God, it’s been a while since you were up close and personal with this thing; its sheer size is enough to reconsider the regret you threw out minutes ago. Too late now, though.

Come on, Y/n, you use your inner thoughts to motivate you. You’re doing this for Suguru; don’t chicken out now! So, you bring your lips to meet the head of his cock, earning a hum from the man above. Blowjobs have never been your forte; again, it’s been a while since you’ve had his cock near anything outside of your lower regions. But today was different as you used your tongue to lick the lip of the cockhead, the salty flavor of his fluid teasing your tastebuds. And with the sounds of him whimpering, you begin to remember the routine as the seconds go. Your mouth takes in his tip with hollowed cheeks, and your hands grasp around the shaft before you glide up and down.

“Hahhhh, yes, sweetie,” Geto soothed, biting his lip at the display of you pleasing him with your plump lips. “Just like that…Nnngh…!” His words fuel more confidence in your motion, using this to move to the next step and take in as much of his shaft as you can. You don’t go all the way to the hilt–a task that you’re afraid will have you choking– but once you reach halfway, your head starts to bob up and down at a gradual pace. Black brows furrow at the movement; fuck, you felt so good for him. So nice and warm on his dick; he wouldn’t mind having his whole evening dedicated to this. “Fuck, my love, loosen your jaw for me…Mmmm, good girl, that’s it. Keep sucking like that.”

It’s not before long that you find the groove; albeit sucking on Geto amateurishly, he places a hand on your head, which you can only assume is that you’re doing a decent job. Saliva coats the limb busying your oral cavity, mixing with the excess come that escapes and spreads with your lips going to and fro. Your tongue goes on to flick and lap on his tip some more, evoking the hottest moans you’ve ever heard from him. And while you stroke his member, your free hand finds his scrotum and massages the pair in unison, a buck of his hips as your thumb presses down on the testicles with a curl. Your bobbing becomes frequent, a mediocre cadence that has your partner throw his head back. The veins scraping along the upper walls of your mouth are too erotic for your mind to comprehend

“Shiiiit, I can’t—Nnnmm!” He hisses before he cups your wet cheeks. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

Your eyes open and peer to the person talking above you. With a soft ‘pop,’ you release his length before placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Yew fink shoow?” You speak with a mouthful of his dick to his frenulum, humoring the dark-haired man.

“Yes, little bunny,” he teases, and you can sense the throbs between your legs getting worse after referring to you with that title. “Wait, I just remembered something…Hold on, lie on the bed for me.”

You’re gently pushed off him as Geto stands up from the bed, confused. You take your place atop the bed, and he grabs something from his sweatpants and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water from the sink fills the silence before it’s shut off. He then returns to the bedroom holding a bottle of lube you’re familiar with in one hand, and the other with a wet, metal…fluffy…looks like a kind of—

Eyes shoot wide open when you finally register what he’s holding, and the anxiety hits you like a punch to haunt you. “Wh–W-Where did y-you get that?!”

“I saw that you left this in the box before dressing up,” no, you didn’t forget a damn thing. You deliberately avoided the very item that Geto was holding because looking at it was embarrassing enough; it would be horrifying to have this in the same room as you now! Between his thumb and forefinger was a metal butt plug–a small one, nothing too major–with what appeared to be a white fluff ball at the end. It’s meant to be worn with what you wore, but these bunny ears already trampled your dignity. Adding an anal toy to the frey might as well have you sign up for assisted suicide! “I figured we needed it to complete the look.”

“N-No! No, no, no, absolutely not!” Rejections fly out of your system. “That’s too much!”

Geto blinks. “You think so? It’s pretty small from what I’ve seen.”

You’ve seen these before!?!? “Even then, I don’t wanna—“

“Didn’t you see this with the set before you bought it?”

You almost choked on your tongue. “W-Well…Y-Yes, but,” your thumbs find themselves fidgeting, anything to distract the humiliation that overshadows your nervous state. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to…wear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—” embarrassing as hell! A bunny tail as a butt plug!? Just kill me!! “—It’s…..It’ll look weird on me.”

Oh, how you didn’t know how much of a switch that flipped for Geto, the other quietly thought to himself before speaking again. “Y/n,” you perked at the mention of your name. “Turn around for me.” Chewing on your lips, you shook your head—you knew what he was doing. “C’mon, now, I thought you were my sweet girl.” You flatten your lips when he comes close to squeeze your cheeks. “Please? Wear this for me, my little bunny?” 

Oh, for God’s sake, this night was getting more challenging to get through with the hour. Inner dialogue can’t even bring you to a consensus, as your conscience is getting in the way of coming to a decision. On the one hand, you feel as though you’re venturing out of your comfort zone enough, wearing this flustering nightgown and these damn bunny ears. Yet, at the same time, this isn’t about you; this is all meant to be for your partner, something entirely out of the norm to make him feel special. And you being reluctant to accept his wishes is just pushing you back to square one and defeating the purpose of this entire dilemma, right? 

Your hands find your face to shield, releasing a long sigh that should have stretched to your final days. Nonetheless, you slump your arms down in defeat, and a short nod is given: “.......okay.”

Without being told again, you feebly follow Geto’s request and turn around. Your lower half is the only thing in his line of sight. Your lips can’t stop quivering in such a position, and breathing becomes arduous once you feel your boyfriend’s weight dent the mattress. You jolt when his hand comes to the top of your laced thong, bringing the material down to expose the bare skin of your ass to him. Damn it! A pillow within your proximity is brought to your face, using it to hide yourself from the world.

However, “Aww, don’t be so shy on me, baby,” Slender fingers faintly brush from your spine down to the very crevice of your bottom, making your body shudder. “Shouldn’t be hiding that pretty face from me.” The sound of your gasp, when his lubed fingers teeter around your rear entrance, ignites a flame, and now he has a thirst he’s itching to indulge with. “Shhhh, breathe, my love. Gonna go real nice and slow for you, okay?”

The pillow muffles your moans as Geto begins to push one finger inside your puckered hole slightly. The stretch of the digit is a pain you have never experienced, making you whimper like a poor babe. Your boyfriend coaxes you through it, adding more lube to ease your ass as his finger goes back and forth to prepare you. Adding another finger causes you to shake your head, and your entrance accommodates the insertions, whether you like it or not.

A full minute or more passes where your ass is played with, and Geto smoothes you with a rub of your buttcheeks as he removes his digits out of your lubed hole. “Now, time to test this out…” A sudden chill has your arch, and the cold metal of the butt plug has you clamping involuntarily, yet the raven-haired partner reminds you to relax your body while he pushes the toy inside you. It doesn’t invade with the snap of the finger; thirty seconds in, and your butthole is slowly but surely adapting to the alien plaything. And before you know it, you feel the whole thing finally be swallowed into your rear walls; you grip the pillow as your mouth releases silent cries. 

“Haaah…I-Is it in?” You lifted your head to inquire. 

“Yes, angel,” he playfully smacks your ass, and you jerk at the unexpected contact. “Damn, now you look all cute and sexy with this on.” Geto then shifts to stand on his knees before maneuvering above you, removing the pillow from beneath you so you can’t hide yourself from him any longer. And more trembles crawl all over your body when you feel his solid cock create friction on the rift of your ass. “Lift your butt a bit for me,” your hips follow his hands, guiding you upward until you meet his pelvis. “Good girl…Gonna start putting it inside, okay?”

You nod leisurely, grabbing the comforter beneath you as Geto pulls the thong to the side. It’s no surprise to see that your cunt is covered in your slick, the tip of his member queued to kiss your labia. The lascivious man hisses at the sensation, anticipation climbing up as he pushes himself unhurriedly. The same goes for you, your mouth agape with quieted shrieks when the cockhead makes it inside your vagina, gripping the sheets as he slowly pushes more of himself, every inch of his penis becoming greater and greater, inaudible babbles once the base meets your folds.

Geto allows you a couple of seconds to stabilize your breathing, starting with excruciatingly slow thrusts–so painfully slow that you can feel every dent and vein that ventures inward and outward your chasm; it’s hard for your hips not to move on their own. With every pull, your inner walls clench on the shaft as if wanting more as he leaves your warmth. And every push makes you full to the brink of tears, and your brows trenched together as your fists ball the sheets.

“Mmaahh…Nnahaah…!” The brush of your velvety channel feels good within the minute, and the insertion pain is now being replaced with pleasure. Your roll to the ceiling at the graze of your G-spot, the butt plug made your nerves more sensitive with how busy your lower half was. And once he’s warmed up enough, your companion turns up the speed of his ruts. “Taahhh, I, ohhhGod…! Sugu—Oooo!!” Did he just poke your cervix!? You sobbed out loud.

“Nnmm, holy shiiit, you feel so good, sweetie,” Geto moans, taking in the view before him. The lingerie you were wearing gave a beautiful image of your backside, his indigo orbs survey from the muscles of your back to your prompted ass. Holy hell, it was driving him crazy, watching how the flesh of your butt reverberates with the smack of his pelvis. It makes him want to go ever faster, harder. And don’t get him started on the white bunny tail butt plug; shit was too cute to resist and toy with, pulling on the item lightly and turning it around.

The action had your holes clenching simultaneously. “Shh–Shhtop, Suguuu!!” You wailed out, toes curling as he taunted your anus with light pulls and pushes. “D-Don’t do that…!”

“Heh, sorry, my bunny girl,” God, the way he was teasing you was literal hell on Earth with how he’s using your body right now. “You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Aiisshh! Fuhuck, you’re squeezing me so hard…Hmm? You like it when I tease you, huh, baby?”

You shook your head no in a rushed manner, the heat of your face already coursing to your ears. But then your frame jerked along with the sound of something, and it was a hand smacking on the skin of your butt.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Geto chuckles above you as you cry. The same hand he used to slap you soothes the blow. “You know you can be honest with me. At least your body is…Don’t you like being close to me like this?” You don’t reply, too busy squealing at another graze of your sensitive spots.  So, he slaps your buttocks once more. “Don’t ignore me, love.”

“—Mmmph! Ahh-hahh, I-I,” You swallow spit before choking on it. “I can’t…Hic, it’s shoh embarrassing…!”

“Aww, is the little bunny still scared?” He then bends down to your ear, a big move on his part as you swear you’re bound to shut down from the closeness. “Hmm? What’s so embarrassing?”

A sluggish pull back before Geto snaps his hips into you harshly, another jab to your cervix practically has you seeing stars. “Hoooh!! Be–Becausee!!” God, it’s so hard to think right now, the pound of your head getting harsher with the increased heat. “Y–You—Ahhaa! Youu make me…s-sound sho dirt—Eeeyahh!” 

“Oh?” He licks your ear before nibbling on the helix. “You don’t like it when I fuck you like this? Don’t like it when I whisper to your ear while you scream for me?” You shake your head no, which is extinguished once Geto stuffs your mouth with his fingers. Your tongue, played with by his fore and middle finger, has you mewling like no tomorrow. “Hmmm, that’s a funny thing to say when your pussy can’t stop twitching on me. Make it seem like you’re not embarrassed to milk my cock dry, huh, princess.” 

“Nnoohh, it’s not—hic—not like that!” A tear trickles down a hot cheek as you suck on his fingers, his thumb there unaware to wipe it. “Don’t say stuff like that…!”

“Why? Too crude for my angel’s ears?” He keeps teasing you, “Even though we’ve fucked lots of times, you still act like such a cutie.”

“Stooop,” Lord have mercy. Any more than this, and you’re bound to melt away sooner rather than later. “D-Don’t tease me…”

He can’t help it, not when you sound so cute and flustered because of him. It makes him think of an idea and straightens himself off of you. But not away from you — he then grabs your leg and rests it on his shoulder while straddling the other, changing the position so you can look at each other. Something a lot more intimate as he goes back to drilling his length into your heat. With a smug grin, he asks, “Is this less embarrassing for you, sweet baby?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat; no, this is much worse! Your shrieks returned to erupt out of your figure as Geto’s pace increased. The new angle achieves having his dick venture deeper inside your throbbing channel, pounding to you until the hilt meets your southern lips, and the bump and grind of your clitoris with the motion is enough to have you winded. “—Ohoohh!! Dooahh! N-Nooo, d-don’t look…!” You try to shield your face with your forearm.

Yet Geto instantly refutes that, using his free hand to move it while he bends back down; his added weight has you whining aloud. “Don’t do that,” he groans at the contract of your walls, retaliating with more rough plunges. “No more hiding from me; I wanna see that pretty face always.”

“Suguu, pleasee—Nnnn!” Scrapes to the walls of your vaginal walls are even more dangerous in this position. “T’oo faaast!!”

“Hnngh! FFfuckin’ shit…But you feel so good,” Geto presses his forehead onto yours. “You feel so good, you look so good, like holy fuck! You drive me too crazy; it’s–Ghhh!- just not right how you can make me go wild. I wanna see it all, wanna see how cute you look, how dirty you look, and how fucking hot you sound because of me—and only me.” A kiss to your nose before placing one on the corner of your lips. “Starting now, I wanna see all these sides of you, so don’t hide them from me…” 

You are given no room to reply to his statements as a kiss to your mouth finally seals the deal for tonight. Light pecks gradually dwell into steamy, longing smooches, tongue and teeth classing for intimacy. It’s all it takes for you to sink into his touch finally and the comforter beneath you, submitting to him as he finishes you off.  

Geto then rolls his hips at an erratic cadence, and relentless hits to your cervix have you blubbering helplessly into his lips. Ungovernable throbs around his girth are ineluctable, the climb of your orgasm climbing up tenfold with the brush of your clit up against his pelvis. OhhhGod! It’s coming, I’m gonna—“Mmmmph!”

The peak of your crescendo has you moaning deep into the kiss, your writhing figure submitted to the end of your session as your cunt flutters around Get’s girth as the shocks of the climax rock your entire body. And your contraction is all your partner needs to let go of the reins and cease to his own release, his pulsating shaft expelling his load deep into your palpitating vagina. The two of you continue to kiss as your bodies heave and jolt, with the last of the aftershocks coursing through your nerves. 

He breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air in sync. Drool slips from your lips and comes down to your chin, and Geto smiles before kissing your cheek. “Thank you for the gift,” he commends you. “Ya sure I can’t get at least one picture of you?”

You’re undoubtedly out of breath, yet your facial expression doesn’t fail to display unease. “Please…stop teasing me,” you sniffle with hooded eyes.

“Okay, my sweet bunny girl,” he chortles. “Well, at the very least, let’s go another round, ‘kay?”

“Wha—H-huh!?!?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…I will never listen to your advice ever again.”

“Wow, rude?”

“Right, like whatever happened to ’thank you’?”

As far as mornings go, this one was ultimately out of the norm. When was the last time you woke up with your body sore to the bone? Because the moment the sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and landed on your eyes, you couldn’t move a single finger or toe without feeling a sense of heaviness. Or maybe it was because you found that your tall boyfriend was still sound asleep; his slim frame was spooning you close to him. You could hear his light snore as he rested in the crook of your neck and arm to your shoulder with a strong leg between yours. 

Your face warmed up at the realization that he was so close to your proximity, and it only worsens when you realize that you both are in the nude, which rarely [if not NEVER] happens! Where’s your pajamas? At the very least, an oversized shirt and panties! 

But you couldn’t find them anywhere. All you could see was a black negligee and a white bunny-eared headband, and memories of last night finally started to swim into your brain. But the true horror was when you saw the butt plug from before down on the comforter, and it slipped past your mind not to scream and kick the item in humiliating terror while abruptly waking up your partner. WHAT THE FUUUUCK!??!?

And to add the nail to the coffin, your body didn’t look like how you left it yesterday. As you got up to head for the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and felt like you witnessed a scene from a horror movie. Your skin was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, discoloration where it’s implied there were hickeys received all around your neck, stomach, and inner thighs. You were still wearing the black knee-high stockings. However, those looked utterly different from how they looked initially; tears and holes were found all over, but most prominently, the inside of your upper thigh area.

Speechless was the word to describe your puzzlement—appalled, dumbstruck, void of thinking as your reflection showcased an entirely different person. Th-…There’s no way… That’s all you could say to yourself, but it was the way.

Once Geto left for work, it wasn’t any easier for you to work around the house. Working remotely suddenly became an obstacle, as every time your mind recalled the events that transpired the night before, you’d become too flustered to continue your work. You couldn’t even walk into your shared bedroom, too rattled to the point that you just used the guest bathroom! The notion of embarrassment was getting challenging to function today; had you known this would’ve been the effect of buying that damn outfit, you would’ve stopped yourself!

Hence, you’re now complaining to the people who probed you to purchase it in the first place. “A ‘thank you’? I could barely enter past the threshold of my own room, and you want me to thank you!?”

It was late afternoon. You were washing dishes and drying them in the kitchen while putting them aside. But you weren’t alone; your laptop sat at the kitchen island with an application running. On the screen, a window harbored two screens with different faces: one woman with brown hair appearing to smoke out her balcony, and the other with pale blue hair styling her hair to a bun. 

The brunette, Shoko, responds to your words. “Y/n, calm down; all you did was have sex in a bunny costume; nothing radioactive happened there.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I did something radioactive!” You retorted, wiping the sponge across the wet plate concerningly fast. You pick up the headband from last night and grimace. “Damn this headband…God, I’m so sore.”

“Having sex for an hour straight will do that to a person,” a nerve is stricken when the other speaks; Mei Mei is now done styling the back of her hair with a sly smile. “Pfft, I still find it funny that you passed out.”

“It’s not funny!!” To your dismay, you only make your two best friends laugh even harder. “This is not how this is supposed to be; I don’t even recognize my own body…You saw the pictures!”

Shoko titters, “Yeah, I saw, and it looks like Geto couldn’t keep his hands off you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the smoke. “Isn’t that a good thing, though? It means that he liked the gift and appreciated it tenfold.”

“Exactly,” Mei Mei agrees. Your complaints seem to suggest that we completed the mission of making him feel special—which was, you know, the main reason you wanted to do it in the first place.”

“Oh, he felt special, alright,” you said, placing a dry plate on the rest. Although you’d been in a constant state of indignity, what they were saying was true. The whole point of making a fool of yourself and wearing a costume was meant to be outside the norm. It’s exciting for you and Geto, and you can assume that the outcome brought a satisfying end for both parties.

…However, it would be nice if it didn’t cost you a lot of hickeys and soreness. You sighed heavily, “You’re right…I’m just happy that he enjoyed it. He even said I looked cute dressed as his little bunny.”

“I bet!! Why didn’t you take pictures!?” Shoko complains, her device coming closer to her face to emphasize her disheartened tone of voice. 

“I would rather die than have photos of that of me around,” the thought alone causes an unsettling quiver.

But Mei Mei also voices her grievances. “Ehhh, but I bet you looked so adorable~. You better take pictures the next time you do something like that!”

You could’ve sworn your neck was nearly to break when you snapped your head to look at your laptop screen. “Are you insane; what do you mean next time?” 

A silver brow rises. “Oh, be real, Y/n; you really think this is some one-and-done type thing? I bet you ten dollars that Geto would love to pull those bunny ears out again.” 

The brunette chuckles after exhaling more smoke from her pretty lips. “Aye, maybe we should find you some more outfits to wear for him. Maybe we should have you in a fox costume next.”

Your mouth drops in displeasure, but Mei Mei beats you into saying something. “Mmm, now that’s a good idea; I saw something online with cute ears and a skirt. And,” her lavender eyes narrow with a scoff. “I’m sure you’d love to wear the butt plug tail of that one too, Y/n—“

“GOODBYE!!”

You slapped your laptop screen down as your farewell to your best friends, whom you’re sure are probably laughing to themselves for witnessing your reaction. 

Your cheeks are so hot that they are in discomfort; unbelievable. A next time!? You couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you’d be wearing something like last night again. Could you even look at bunny ears the same again after what just happened?! Bunny tails, too; what you primitively thought was cute and pure has now been tarnished to a suggestive and erogenous image. No, there’s unquestionably no way you would be put into that position ever again. No, no, nope, and no!!

DING-DONG!!

The sudden noise of the doorbell diminishes your reluctant energy within milliseconds. You checked the kitchen clock — Geto should be coming home right about now, but why would he be ringing the bell? Inquisitiveness draws up to your shoulders as you dry your hands, taking light steps to the door and opening it after unlocking. 

You leave a small opening to peak through, “Y-Yes?”

“Is that the lovely Y/n I’m seeing~?”

That voice…Not Geto’s, but familiarity sparks up, and recognition prompts you to open the door wider. 

Pure snowy white hair is the first thing that captures your attention, along with the dark shades concealing its owners’ eyes—a signature look of your partner’s friend, “Sa–Satoru?”

“Aye, you remembered to call me by my first name that time!” The named man was dressed down in his work attire, his hand holding his black blazer while he brought his sunglasses up for his azure eyes to throw a wink at you. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has!” Your perplexity was evident in your tone; you had forgotten just how tall the man was. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was finally able to catch your boy-toy here before ditching me at work,” Gojo brings your boyfriend into view with the tug of his collar, the raven-haired man expressing nothing but total irritation. “Dude owes me dinner, and I heard someone is cooking a nice meal tonight! Have room for another person?”

“Who said you were invited?” Geto questions his best friend after getting out of his hold.

“I did!” The white-haired man answers. “You owe me for saving your ass yesterday with that file scare—you’re welcome, by the way,” he ignores the glare of his friend. “And just be glad I’m asking for a home-cooked meal, or else I’d be draining your pockets at that new steak place that opened up recently.” 

“Unbelievable…” Geto sighs exasperately. “Hurry up and get in.”

You move out of the way so the men can enter your abode. “Excuse my intrusion~,” the blue-eyed man says as he takes off his dress shoes in the foyer and happily walks to the living room. 

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, baby.”

“It’s okay; I was done washing dishes anyway.”

“Mmm,” he brings you in for a hug, part of the routine when he returns home. “How’re you feeling now?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I feel…okay, still sore, but, you know…” He smelt so good, his cologne pleasantly sinking you in. 

“Heh, sorry,” he kisses your temple. “I had a good time; you really spoiled me.”

The heat in your cheeks ventures to your ears and nape, and your heart returns to racing at an irregular dance. The memories of last night all come back to haunt you once more; images of you being bent into different positions and crying out for Geto hit you one after the other. The lewd thoughts are too much for your pretty little head, especially when you imagine the tall, dark-headed man all sweaty and panting above you with a grin on his face like last night.

At this point, your face will need an ice pack because it’s getting hot. “I’m..really glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he takes your hand and after removing his shoes. “Can’t wait to try it again next time.”

And with those last two words, the world suddenly fell to a standstill. You didn’t hear what you just heard—no, you didn’t. “N-Next time?” You repeat.

“Of course!” he leads you down the hall to the open space. What, you thought you’d spend all that money on me for just one night?” No, I HOPED so! “Besides, I was looking online during my break at work, and I saw this fox variant look that I think would look real good on you—”

You couldn’t believe your ears; not only did Mei Mei prove you wrong, but now you have to deal with your boyfriend’s interest in wanting to indulge more in this idea you’ve brought into the relationship. What you thought and hoped would be for one night is now bound to haunt you for many days to come, and that thought in itself had you shaking in your slippers.

As well as the fact that you now owe your best friend cash for jinxing this situation. Damn her!

“Yo, Suguru.”

You perk up when you hear Gojo’s voice as you two enter the kitchen area. And just when you thought this world couldn’t chew and spit you out enough, the image of the white-haired man standing beside the kitchen island holding something in his hand mortifies you to the core.

“What’s with the bunny ear headband? I thought Easter went and passed already.” 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by alp (ringoya) + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

[diy-dynamite]

Longing for Home (1)

Mr. Crawling x Reader || feminine terms used (wedding dress 😭) so I think this is for the fems... I'm sorry guys

Contents: spoilers for one of Homicipher's endings that I don't remember, NOT a part of my "Television" series (but I might make a version of this for that)

********

YOU never found your way back home. With your skin stained with red, rash-like patches, and with your body slowly conforming through regenerative cycles, your home is no longer the one you knew.

This is your home.

Your home is in this strange building.

Your home is in the room next to Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped's.

Your home is on one of the two hospital beds that stand next to each other.

Your home is standing in front of you.

Or crawling, rather.

He was leading you back to the room after your usual wandering, collecting cute trinkets from the piles that fell from the human world. You came back with an arm full of things, and surprisingly, the majority were makeup.

Not the major glam kind, but stuff like lip gloss, lipstick, mascara, and powdery stuff for the eyes that you can't remember—and it hurts that you forgot what it was.

You laid them out on your bed, Mr. Crawling sitting on the ground next to you, looking at what you brought back with a puzzled look on his face.

He called all of them "things," which isn't entirely wrong.

Pop! An idea went off in your sneaky little head.

"You like me?" you asked out of the blue, turning to him with lip gloss in hand.

He tilted his head and chirped a little, ridiculing your question. "I like you? I love you many. You tired?" he asked, as if to say, "Is the fatigue messing with you?"

You laughed. He smiled. "Not tired!" you explained, then you sat down in front of him. You gestured him closer, so he did as you asked and crawled a couple of inches closer to you.

"You do something for me," you said.

"...?"

"Don't move."

...

"Don't move!!" you laughed, finally putting lipstick on him properly. He was struggling to hold still, the feeling of the lipstick irritating him.

"So cute!" you said, hoping to calm him down with a compliment as you shut the lipstick lid. "Cute! Cute!"

"Strange..." he mumbled, reaching up to wipe it off, but he didn't do it. He couldn't. Not when you said he was cute this way. "I cute...?"

You nodded, beaming brightly, and he couldn't resist it, so he didn't remove the lipstick.

As you rummaged in your little collection, you found a magazine full of ladies with white, majestic, beautiful dresses. Almost like The Bride's, but way more... lively.

No.

Way more alive.

Just how long will it take for you to lose all that feeling?

No—if you long for it, then it must've already been missing.

The home you knew is a place you can never reach again.

That's where your heart is. That's why your chest feels so hollow.

Do you even have a heart anymore?

You pressed a hand against your chest, and you felt a pang of envy for the smiling woman and man on the front page. Technically, you were never alone. You had Mr. Crawling!

That didn't help how you felt, though.

Jealousy.

Longing, nostalgia, and jealousy.

A longing for that human feeling, a nostalgia for your childhood dreams, and jealousy, because you no longer had that within your reach while others do.

You threw the magazine over your shoulder, and you buried your face on your mattress, knees still on the floor, and you tried to get rid of the heaviness on your chest.

You didn't cry.

It just... hurts.

***

It felt like ages—Mr. Crawling came in and out, bringing in various people to try and check on you after his own attempts failed. Mr. Silvair didn't do anything. He didn't know what to do. Mr. Chopped tried to console you with his silly faces—the expressions you showed and taught him with your own face—but to no avail. He even dragged in Mr. Stitch—and he hates that fellow—albeit bloody from Mr. Crawling forcing him to follow, but you didn't look up at all. He shoved Mr. Stitch right back out once he didn't work, though.

He was starting to panic. You never did this before.

He tried to think back to anyone else who you seemed to tolerate the presence of, but... oh!

The pile of pages you threw! That was the last thing that you touched before you shut yourself off!

He picked it up, looking at it with a puzzled coo. He didn't understand it, but he noticed that in most of the pages, there were people like you who were smiling happily together. He wondered why.

Oh! Maybe you wanted a new dress! Is that it?

He glanced at you and tried to show you the book again, but you only inched away. At least he knew now not to do that again....

He quickly left the room and glanced down the halls.

Then with one huff, he recited: "Clothes!"

"Clothes?"

He giggled when he saw The Bride appear.

"You hurt...?" she pointed at his face. Specifically, his mouth.

Mr. Crawling proudly showed it off, smiling. "They put it. They say I cute."

She raised a white dress, trying to offer it to him, but he shook his head.

"They sad," he said. He raised the book. "Clothes."

The Bride, elegant and poised, glanced at the book with her non-existant eyes (and head). "Wonderful! Wonderful, cute!"

"Clothes," he pointed at one of the dresses. He liked this one, specifically, where the dress wasn't as puffy as the others, but not as skinny. There were white clothes for the hands (gloves) and for the legs (stockings), and there was a strange but aesthetically pleasing clump of cloth on the back (a rose made of silk).

"They look cute, this."

"I make!" The Bride nodded eagerly. If she had a head, she'd be smiling the same way the humans in the book were. "I make, I give!"

It didn't take long—she disappeared, and Mr. Crawling waited outside your door for only a moment until she came back with an even prettier version of the dress.

Mr. Crawling, trying to contain his excitement, chirped happily and let The Bride enter your room.

You were still there, curled over your bed, but you were putting the same red thing you put on his.

If he had eyes, they'd be sparkling. He had no idea what you did to yourself, but you looked... even better than you already did. Which is saying something—you were everything to him, and now you have such a pretty shade over your eyes, and your lips were like his!

"You hurt?!" The Bride gasped again.

You let out a strained laugh. Mr. Crawling knew it wasn't a real one. "Not hurt. I... make me cute."

"You cute! Before!" The Bride said. "Cute now, cute before."

"They cute," Mr. Crawling agreed simply. "Give! Give!" he urged the ghost-woman in white.

"Give," she extended the dress to you.

You stared.

And stared.

And you... began to cry.

Mr. Crawling panicked, and so did The Bride. There you were, kneeling next to your bed with tears running down your face. Mr. Crawling immediately took his place beside you, holding your head in his hands as he tried to console you.

"I sorry," he said, but he didn’t know what for. "I sorry, don't sad... I sorry—"

He would've apologised on and on if it weren't for how the black streaks appeared from your eyes.

You looked even prettier to him.

He loved it when you smiled, but he dies a little more than he already did, figuring out that you were so pretty when you cried.

"No, no," you said, wiping the black gunk off your face. "I—I love—" you pointed at the dress. "So—so wonderful, can't—can't.... You...!"

Your shaky hands held his face, and he didn't know what to do.

"You... kind... can't cry not," you continued to sob.

"...you kind," he mumbled in return. He's still confused, though.

***

Did this ho just assume you wanted a new dress??? Because he wasn't entirely wrong. Or maybe that's just you trying to justify it all.

Even if you tried, you can't stop crying. He doesn't comprehend the layers of what you feel yet, but he still tried, and you can't. Stop. Crying.

"You're so sweet," you began to ramble in your own language. You cupped his cheek with your hand and your lower lip trembled. "You're so sweet and nice and you always look after me and I—agh, I can't—I hate how nice you are, it's annoying, I love you so much," you sobbed.

He didn't understand at all. Even you yourself didn't—you're losing your knowledge in your own language and you can't stop crying.

You're sad. You're angry, you're missing what you used to have, you're happy, you—

Your weeping calmed.

You realised something.

A sliver of human shame entered your face, embarrassment for crying, but as well as another thing. You can't quite tell what it is.

Mr. Crawling seemed hopeful, leaning a little closer to make sure you're okay.

You wiped your tears away and stood up, hoping they'd just forget about it.

"Thank you," you said to The Bride. She seemed confused, but so were you, so it's fine. "I appreciate. Clothes, wonderful."

"Thank you," she clasped her hands together as you took the dress away. "You are wonderful. Farewell," she hesitated but left, anyway.

"You ask they make clothes for me?" you asked Mr. Crawling, going behind the curtain that separated the two beds.

He tilted his head. "Yes."

"I appreciate," you said, wiping your face down with the blankets of the other bed.

After a moment of shuffling into the new dress, you suddenly froze.

Were you gonna cry again...?

No, no—you were nervous.

Why?

You glanced over your shoulder to see Mr. Crawling, expectant, and, as before, confused.

You peeked your head out, and he lit up with a smile. "I unsure."

"....?" he frowned a little. "Unsure?"

~~~

"Honey, I'm not sure."

"What? Why?" he laughed. "We did agree to this, right?" he joked. You would've laughed, but right now, your thoughts were too clouded for you to even form a grin.

"Yeah, but..." you bit your tongue, wary.

Your fiance—no, your husband laughed. "Sweetheart, nothing will go wrong. It's just a superstition."

But what if it isn't?

You glanced down at yourself, clad in a shiromuku. You heard one of the guests say they'd "go home" (a superstition in Japan that they say might jinx the marriage). What if something bad happens, now?

Before you could overthink, his hands clasped over yours, his long, black hair only sealing his own black-coloured attire, his effortless ethereality catching you off guard again.

"No matter what happens, I'll be right next to you. It doesn't matter what the guests say," he said, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles.

You felt your cheeks bloom, and your heart only sunk deeper in the well of love you carried for him.

"And as much as you're adorable when you cry...." he then said, so you smacked his arm with a playful laugh. He responded with a giggle of his own and only held you closer.

"Let's head back inside, okay?" he smiled and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. "Staying in the garden for too long might make the guests assume something."

That earned him another smack, and that made him give you another laugh.

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, but there wasn't any. He just wanted to hold your face.

He smiled.

"I love you so much."

********

This is already way too long so I'll just have to make a part 2 SIGH

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 19

(I know I'm tech on a break this week, but I could use the serotonin.) masterpost

“He understands that I am coming over?” Damian asked as he inspected his pencil case to make sure he had everything he needed. Father would be picking him up from art class to fetch lunch.

“Yep, Danny knows we’re bringing lunch over,” Grayson answered. His thumb swiped idly across his phone.

Damian took a slow breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He loved Grayson, but it did not mean that the other was not an idiot sometimes. Sometimes family meant loving someone even though they were an idiot, Damian reminded himself.

In an attempt to start again, Damian stayed silent until he was sure that he had all of his supplies in his messenger bag. “I meant, does Danny understand that it is specifically me bringing the food? Does Danny understand who I am?”

“Oh, Dami baby, yeah,” Grayson said, voice softening in a way that made Damian bristle. At least Grayson finally set his phone down. “Jay talked to him about it and is still there at the apartment with Danny now. I’ll over over to give Jason a break and be there when you and Bruce come. Do you want me to double check with Danny before you arrive?”

Damian frowned as he adjusted the strap on his bag.

“Yes,” Damian answered after a pause and when he could meet Grayson’s eyes confidently. “I believe that the redundancy would not go amiss.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll be sure to double check before you and Bruce get there.”

“Acceptable,” Damian said and let to find Pennyworth for his ride to class.

Doing art calmed him. That knowledge had been a surprise at first. While Damian had, of course, learned about art as part of his cultural and historical training, actually being able to engage in art was was something entirely knew. Something that was available to Damian only because of his Father’s allowance.

No, that was not quite right. Father didn’t allow Damian to do art, Father simply wanted them to be happy and art is what made Damian… perhaps not happy, but at least more at peace.

Peace had been such a rare thing in Damian’s life.

He still didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Annoyingly, class that day didn’t quite manage to tamper the churning in Damian’s gut. He could (and would) ignore the feeling, of course, but that did not mean it wasn’t there.

Or that it didn’t grow as Damian was waiting for Father to pick him up for class.

“You have put in the order we discussed?” Damian asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Yes, it should be ready shortly after we get there,” Father answered. “You were out quickly today.”

“Tch,” Damian looked away from his father’s searching gaze and focused on the world outside the window. He hated to have tells, but in a family of detectives it was impossible not to. “If it unlikely to be ready, perhaps we should stop by the Turkish bakery that is near. Surely there are items there that are not too sweet for his diet.”

“That’s a nice idea,” Father agreed with a thoughtful hum. “He may have never had them before so we can get a little selection of what you think he needs to try.”

Damian worked not to physically freeze. That felt suddenly like a great deal of responsibility. Which was silly, it was simply food.

“That is a sound idea,” Damian said instead of trying to face his sudden worry.

It was even more overwhelming in the face of all the options. Damian certainly spent far too long making a selection, but Father doesn’t rush him, so Damian tries to allow himself the time. The food is easily acquired after. Far too quickly that they were in front of the safehouse door. Father rested one hand on the back of Damian’s back, a bracing presence, before he knocked.

“Coming!” Grayson called needlessly through the door a few moments before he it swung open. “Hey guys, come in. It’s all good.”

Damian resisted the urge to nod to that, took a breath, and crossed the threshold.

Danny sat on the couch. The fabled day saving blue bear was clutched in the boy’s lap; clutched too tightly. Damian shot Grayson an accusatory look. Clearly it wasn’t ‘all good’.

Grayson rolled his eyes and took the box of sweets from Damian to take to the kitchen with Father.

Damian was left alone with Danny.

At least it gave Damian time to properly study the other boy. Not blood son. Clone. Better and worse at once— a copy of Father. It was clear how much Danny looked like Bruce, a redundant thought now that they knew Danny was a clone, but it crossed Damian’s mind all the same. It was odd to see the still slightly sunken cheeks and too prominent collar bones on someone that looked so much like Father, so much more like Father than Damian did.

Idly, Damian wondered if Danny would ever reach Father’s stature, what with his past. Damian himself had started to grown into wild shoulders and broad chest that would someday be his body over the last year, but Danny had not.

Danny, at least a year older, was still far too slight.

But older.

The oldest blood.

Would he try to take Damian’s place now? It would only be just, with how poorly Damian had behaved when he first arrived, especially to Drake. And Damian’s brash attacks, Danny would have the right to his. He was oldest…

“Are… are you alright?”

Damian’s head snapped up at Danny’s words. When had he lost his focus?

“I do not know,” Damian said, too honest words tumbling across his tongue without his permission.

He didn’t know.

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons

Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.

- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.

- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.

- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.

- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.

[mochinomnoms]

i understand the simping for the fashion dilf believe me i do

but i come offering other non simping thoughts for now

i can imagine yuu just casually braking into other dorms to sleep when it rains bc their dorm is still…extremely broken (because the BIRD MAN WONT FIX IT)

so their friends (and possibly lovers depending upon your preference) just wake up the next morning to see yuu on on couch in their common area with grim sleeping on them

-🐝

I love this alot but especially if it's a case that no one can figure out how the hell you're getting into their dorms. Even though they're easily accessible through the mirrors, the dorms are probably locked from the outside for safety reasons.

At my dorms and for most of the buildings, they were open during the day and at night they would only be accessible though student id/key cards. I think the students at NRC maybe could use their wands as their key cards, but you don't have a wand, just Grim with his stone. And people forget that Grim, even though he's just a lil ceacher....is still technically a student that can get into buildings lol.

Heartslabyul is the main victim of your sudden appearances, which makes Riddle a bit conflicted, as he understands Ramshackle is desolate, and the roof might cave in on you while sleeping... But there are RULES, and you're not supposed to leave your dorm after a certain time, AND you need permission from your housewarden to sleep in another dorm. But technically you're your own housewarden...and you did come into his dorm right before the deadline (Idia can pull up the timestamped camera footage to prove it if you ask). Ace and Cater get a kick out of seeing you in the lounge and may or may not have the urge to draw silly things on your face in marker. Trey and Deuce feel a bit bad since you are using the couch pillows to cover yourself, so they start leaving throw blankets for you to use. Riddle will get over it, eventually, and will start involving you in the dorm's morning routine and chores if you're there often enough.

The next most common is Scarabia, mostly because their lounge is super luxurious and Kalim doesn't care that you sneak in. In fact, he starts anticipating it (he can be perceptive if he really pays attention) and will sit in the lounge waiting for your arrival for an impromptu sleep over! It only becomes a problem when Jamil wakes up and goes to get Kalim up for the day only to realize that he's gone and oh god where is Kalim did he get kidnapped oh shit Jamil is gonna get murdered by Kalim and his own—WHY ARE YOU SLEEPING IN THE LOUNGE—PREFECT????? You promptly get banned for a few weeks before the cycle continues again.

For the next dorms, it's a tie between Savanaclaw and Diasomnia. Mostly because they're not as comfortable, like yeah Savanaclaw has a pool in the lounge and Diasomnia is a cool gothic castle but...they're not comfy to sleep in. Scarabia gets hot, but at least the lounge is comfy, Savanaclaw doesn't have loads of cushions, pillows, and blankets. Leona doesn't care much though, and he had you over once before, so as long as you don't disrupt his sleep again, do what you want. And Diasomina, while you'd be welcomed with open arms by Malleus, is kinda creepy...especially in the lounge....and you've woken up with Malleus or Lilia hovering over you, unblinking, staring until you wake up. They just want to greet you good morning! It's...sweet...but unnerving. But if you can't go to Heartslabyul, and you've been banned by Jamil from Scarabia for a while, then it's a toss of a coin between those two.

Your last options, in order, are Octavinelle, Pomefiore, and Ignihyde. Octavinelle, well they have a very lovely lounge with lovely ambience and quite comfortable couches! But, last time you got found by one of the students, you got reported to Azul who promptly made you work in exchange for sleeping in the dorm without reserving a room. Yeah, you forgot that Azul has rooms available to rent out, you can't get around that by sleeping in the lounge, work off your debt! It becomes a game almost, to see if they can find you before you sneak out of the dorm. You've been unsuccessful, as Jade and Floyd has an uncanny ability to find you no matter where you are. Once, as a joke and in retaliation, you managed to sneak into Azul's office and sleep on his couches. You'd planned to wake up and sit in his chair so that you could turn around with Grim in your lap like a James Bond villain (Grim asked what a James Bond was), but you ended up passing out for a solid 10 hours from how comfortable you were. You woke up to your head in Jade's lap, petting you like a cat, and legs over Floyd's lap, as Azul worked on paperwork. When you woke up, very confused and groggy, he asked how you would like to split your ten owed hours of shifts.

Pomefiore, while lovely, is not your favorite choice. Mostly because you don't want to deal with Vil. He's actually the most concerned out of everyone that you've resorted to sleeping in lounges, it's not good for your health. And as we all know, he is very concerned with his dorm members maintaining a good health and general wellness. So the moment he hears that you are sleeping around in the lounges, he waits, even puts Rook on watch for you. The moment you pass out in his lounge? He's snatching you and nearly motherhenning you. He's pushing you to sleep in one of the dorms, most likely Epel's room, since you're familiar with each other. And now, you've also been tied in with the same routine and rules as Epel. You appreciate the concern, but you don't know how to tell Vil that you kinda like the fun of running around between dorms and freaking people out. He probably wouldn't be amused, so you manage to escape his grasp and stay at Ramshackle for a while to let him cool down (he's a bit offended that you wanted to escape, so now he's biding his time and waiting for you to eventually crawl back when the other dorms are occupied.)

Ignihyde is last because, quite frankly, that bish look cold! And uncomfortable! And a lot creepier than Diasomnia!!! And also, Idia and Ortho have that dorm covered in camera and security measures, so you're not getting in. Sorry I don't make the rules, Idia just really doesn't want to deal with you in the lounge, especially when he runs out for midnight munchies and has to hold back his scream when he sees a random person in his dorm and oh no it's just you. Prefect, what the fuck?

[koocycle]

over wine; chapter one (j.jk)

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

word count. 37.8k (it’s gotten out of hand)

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

warnings. mild cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive and mature themes including the following: unprotected sex, spanking, choking, dom!jk, oral (f. receiving) mirror sex and car sex. 

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist

one, two, three

author’s note. oh my god. to say i have written for a lifetime and got nothing in me anymore, would be an understatement. (kidding. i’ve got an entire series to finish) no but, to actually be able to finish this part of the series and publish it with pride is such a milestone for me. for over a year, i’ve been drafting and drafting, deleting documents and rewriting them, moving from concept to concept, pausing and swearing i’d never write another word again. really, i’m dramatic like that. and i want to take this little note as a thank you to @latetaektalk who’s been hearing me bitch over this for so long. who’s been reading draft after draft and even when she’s busy, was sulking about the fact that she was too busy to read it. but future doctors don’t read silly fics linh!!! they just scream whenever their friends scream and hop off to biology (?) class. i’m very thankful & proud.

OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the “reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen”, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck right now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘‘Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you…you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

‘‘I get it, okay?’’ He finally says, now at the edge of his seat as well. ‘‘It sucks to sit here and be confronted on issues that we can’t seem to work out ourselves, but we’re trying to crawl out of whatever hellhole this is. At least I am. Some cooperation would be appreciated.”

You don’t argue back as fast as he expects you to. ‘‘I’m trying, too.’’ You don’t stutter, you don’t fidget with your fingers and you sure as hell never break eye contact with the man. You never do when you defend yourself against your husband, and Jungkook has always admired how firm your feet are planted to the ground. Though when you’re wrong, then he’s the one who must be right. ‘‘She doesn’t fit our needs. Stick your head out of the sand and try to see what I see, Kook.’’

‘‘She doesn’t fit?’’ Jungkook’s brows pull together in frustration, defensively resting his palms on his inner thighs and causing his arms to crook. ‘‘What? Because we’re not a match or because you can’t stand it when you’re not winning?’’

‘‘What is this, the fucking Olympics?’’ You scowl, impulsively copying Jungkook’s defensive form. ‘‘I don’t need to win a damn thing. Look at where we got ourselves,’’ angry hands fly in the air and fall back down your lap with a loud slap. ‘‘We’re already losing with a therapist like her. You and I both.’’

‘‘You can’t just sit here and suck these theories out of your thumb, ___, we’re no kids no more. Stop acting like we know that woman,’’ Jungkook cries out, accusing finger-pointing your way. ‘‘You just can’t stand the fact that Seulgi is actually doing her damn job and isn’t blindly taking your side. Is it really that hard of a pill for you to swallow?’’

‘‘She’s blindly taking your side.’’ You spit back and your husband can only respond with a humorless chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. ‘‘The minute we step into this room, every fucking time, I’m painted as the clown. I’m the damn joke. Forced to listen to the way she’s putting you on a pedestal as she’s digging me deeper into the ground like there aren’t two sides of the story. Why is your first response telling me to shove it? You’re being a real asshole right now.’’

‘‘I never told you to shove it. Don’t put words in my mouth.’’ He attempts to say with a bit more composure but you can see the fire in his sharp eyes all the same way. Pierced lip curling in to hold himself back from saying all the wrong things. ‘‘I’m trying to be the rational one here.’’

‘‘Rational? You don’t need many words for it to be obvious.’’

‘‘Damn it, ___.’’ He curses and his fingers fall to rub at his temples, elbows digging into his thighs. You always got your word ready to spit back in his face. ‘‘Why don’t you just go home if you’re so unhappy? I’ll do this by myself if you’re really going to be this childish.’’

It feels like a slap in the face when his words work through, while it doesn’t sting and only seems to work you up with immense rage. Blood fast to rush to your head. You’re not sure what it is that’s keeping you from defending yourself. Knowing you, you’re not one to let accusations like these slide that easily, and neither is Jungkook. Maybe you expect him to apologize as far as your husband is able to. As long as his pride doesn’t tumble to the ground and shatters into pieces. You don’t know, maybe you expect him to at least take his word back while he looks you in the eye again.

It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t.

Jungkook’s head tilts when he hears the rumbling in your mini bag, watching your manicured hand dig through your belongings. ‘‘What are you looking for?’’

Your lips purse together again at the sound of his voice. ‘‘My phone,’’ you say shortly before you pull out the device. Long, almond-shaped stiletto’s tap against the screen and it is the only sound that’s creating much of a suspense. ‘‘To call a cab, I mean. You think I’m walking home in these heels?’’

‘‘Really?’’ he states more than he asks, sending him to the very edge. ‘‘You’re actually going home.’’

Your phone is already to your ear when you stand up from your spot on the sofa, Valentino Garavani falling in the crook of your arm as you straighten your dress. Heavy lidded eyes surf back to his dumbfounded state. ‘‘That’s what you told me to do?”

‘‘You know that’s not what I fucking wanted.’’ Jungkook scowls. ‘‘Seulgi’s gonna be back any minute now.’’

‘‘Good. Tell her I said hi.’’ And with those last bitter words slipping off your tongue, you leave him astonished in the luxury office with his hands reaching for his hair.

You’ve never been an easy one, Jungkook has been told by various people since the start of your relationship. But neither has he ever been a goody two shoes. Whether the both of you could handle each other, even after all these years of tough practice, might be a totally different story.

It was in college when Jungkook first realized he caught the most beautiful gem in the jeweler's inventory. Fresh into his first year as a finance major, entering his twenties and living life to the fullest in a brand new world that consisted of sex and alcoholic beverages to explore. Jungkook has always been a big dreamer, even back then. A real go-getter. One who used to scribble down achievable five-year plans at that marked page in his notebook, in that awful handwriting anybody could barely read. It was quite funny, considering you weren’t a part of the initial plan before you said yes to a single date with him. But when you finally became Jungkook’s girl to kiss, to fuck and to admire, he knew he could easily squeeze you in that plan. Jungkook wanted you for life. He knew so from the start. He was the one who dreamed of moving out of the city and into a large house in the beauties of suburbia, surrounded by a white picket fence, a little family and two guard dogs on the side. He wanted it all with you. You were his dream girl.

Jungkook was never one to shy away when it came to you. He was yours, and you were his. It was just the way it was supposed to be and everybody had the right to know. Jungkook was most proud to call you his when curious eyes easily swayed your way across campus. It happened every time you came to pick him up from class. Your perfectly pin-straight styled hair fell down your perfect face all the time, and the dark denim low waist jeans that stopped just beneath your pink, sparkling belly button piercing made anyone want to be with you, or be you. No in between. He loved how his hands fit so perfectly around your waist, on top of that_ Prada_ belt encircling your hips. But what he must have loved a little more, was how everyone’s eye shifted to the way he’d pull you chest against chest. He was all yours, and you were his. Everybody knew.

Seven years later, and things haven’t changed a bit.

Well, most of that.

The low waist jeans are replaced with the champagne-colored Celine dress which enhances your every curve, stopping mid-thigh. Jungkook is aware that each spouse, faithful or not, must have taken a second look your way. The rounding of your wine glass hides in your palm as the French Chardonnay in it sways back and forth with every minor hand movement you make. Eyes are on you. Subtle or not for whatever reason your neighbors might have to peek and mumble about, it doesn’t matter. Probably from every corner of Park Jimin’s pool party, too.

Even Jungkook can sense the air tighten around you when his large hand finds that familiar spot above the swell of your ass. This doesn’t feel like seven years ago, when you were mere college boyfriend and girlfriend, smothered all over each other like your time together was limited. The tension is here and fairly obvious.

“What are you guys chit chatting about?” He interjects your conversation with Kim Joohyun anyway. Kim Namjoon’s wife: the lady down the street you claimed to never really like. Something about her being too merry, and her collection of flowery sun hats you can’t bear to look at. Jungkook figures he does you a favor, but you don’t spare him a second glance even when his chest nearly bumps flat to your back. Which probably still has something to do with the incident back at Seulgi’s office.

“You, actually.” You say, a click on your tongue.

Jungkook grins cutely, dimples appear at the sound of it while his hand rubs in small circles at your back. “Oh? Good things only, I hope.”

‘‘___ was just telling me about your upcoming trip!’’ Joohyun shrieks, no ill intentions behind that wide, toothy smile of hers. You don’t even blame her for not noticing how Jungkook stills on your side. ‘‘Gotta say you have me jealous, Jungkook. A trip during this time of the year? Sounds lovely.’’

‘‘Well… not sure how jealous you should be. It’s just business,’’ he heaves a breathy chuckle as he pulls you closer to his side, the tugs at his lips awfully forced in front of your neighbor. ‘‘But you knew that,’’ Jungkook nudges your side even though you don’t put in the effort to lock eyes, so he just watches your face crumble. ‘‘You didn’t mention that?’’

Your brows pull together in question. ‘‘Why would I?’’ You ask as you’re fast to focus your attention back to Joohyun, thumb pointing his way for emphasis. ‘‘He’ll be gone for almost two months on a Caribbean cruise. Isn’t that enough to be jealous of?’’

Joohyun cackles along to your bitter chuckles, the wine in her glass nearly tipping over. ‘‘You had me at Caribbean.’’

‘‘It’s not a vacation.’’ Jungkook quickly defends himself, interrupting the laughter. ‘‘It’ll be less fun when I’m going to be stuck in conference rooms all day. Believe me, it’s really not that big of a deal.’’

You swirl your glass in your hand, teeth digging into your lower lip. The feel of his fingertips at your hipbone now becomes more prominent. ‘‘You only cared to inform me last week, so I’m sure it’s no biggie.’’ You say, voice laced with irony. ‘‘He’s leaving in two weeks, by the way.’’

It’s true. Jungkook didn’t care to mention a thing about the business trip until a week ago. On a random Thursday night with Chinese take-out served on the table and a glass of red wine on the side. You’ve never been upset over any of his trips in the past, so when you stared back at the flabbergasted man with pulled brows, chow mein stuffing your cheeks as another episode of Ugly Betty blared in the background, it came as a surprise. Why, he asked you, why is it so hard to keep you happy? And the question threw you off the edge, snapping something inside you didn’t know you were keeping in. A trip that would last nearly two months had to be planned in advance. Longer than a total of three weeks, that is. Jungkook must have known he’d be gone for a long time, and he didn’t even care to inform his wife.

Jungkook apologized the moment he saw the confusion shift into anger. Though the apology was rushed and spurted out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he did it because he didn’t want any wine stains spilling your loveseat with the way you gripped onto the glass so tight. Or maybe because he realized he wasn’t the owner of a newborn pup, a last-minute search up his sleeve for a sitter during his two-month cruise vacay.

It was probably the former.

Even Kim Joohyun in her tipsy state takes note of the tight air around your throat. She smiles a little and takes another sip of her Chardonnay as if she isn’t being obvious. ‘‘More wine, babe?’’ You turn to Jungkook. His glass is still half full when you take it from his grip, pushing past his shoulder.

A pout plays on Joohyun’s lips as Jungkook’s gaze stays on you until you’re out of sight. Sad eyes trying to meet Jungkook’s as he watches you disappear into the crowd. ‘‘She’s a lady. She’ll come around.’’ She cutely tries to reassure him, a light slap to his bicep with the back of her hand. ‘‘It’ll be over by the time you all reach 30. Trust me, Joon knows all about my shenanigans by now.’’

Jungkook fakes a laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes the same way. But that’s you, he thinks to himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted, innocent joke, but Joohyun and Namjoon are only a couple years older than you two are, not even close to reaching their mid-30s. And ever since Jungkook moved into the neighborhood and has known his friends for, he’s seen the way they have never encountered a genuine threat to their relationship. Maybe you won’t ever come around, maybe Jungkook won’t either.

Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’

‘‘Most likely.’’ She carries on, apparently determined to lighten up the mood. ‘‘Isn’t that what Seulgi is there for?’’

Joohyun’s words spill off her lips before she gives herself the chance to comprehend them, not even waiting for an actual answer before she brings her glass back to her lips, painting yet another spot at the rim a bright, cherry red.

Rule 101 to a successful neighborhood-friendly party: don’t bring therapists into the conversation. Avoid at all costs!

It catches Jungkook’s attention as if alarm bells are going off. Wide eyes and usually perfect brows are suddenly a little less sharp than they were a minute ago. Kim Joohyun knows about the sessions with your couple’s therapist? Have you been going around town, casually rolling the topic into the conversation with a bunch of neighbors? Jungkook isn’t sure why he can feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the thought of it, at the mere assumption. Maybe because this is something between you and him. Something so personal, so intimate and so damn private. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to allow people to dig their noses into your business. To put it out in the open without talking to him first.

‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’

Jungkook finds it in him to stay calm. Though curiosity gets the better of him when it becomes obvious in his voice. Joohyun stands tall on both of her feet when she hears it, lips parting into a slight O. ‘‘Oh well, I mean, yeah. We’re girl friends.’’ She casually says, and it makes him wonder how deep into detail you went with the woman. When she catches him clenching his jaw, her eyes grow big. ‘‘I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was pry!’’

Kim Joohyun is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, Jungkook knows she’s already drowning herself in guilt with only a single glance his way. This is not about her. And let it be a coincidence or not, but he has mastered his poker face ever since his first years in college. Seems like the skill came in handy after all. ‘‘Don’t be sorry, what have _you _done?’’ That is all he can manage to say for now. A silly, shammed smile on his lips though he doesn’t even wait for an answer.

You, on the other hand… you’re nothing like Kim Joohyun.

A heat of adrenaline rushes through him, and he swears it is not the wine that has gone through his system. No, it can’t be, because his mouth has gone dry while the Chardonnay Park Jimin poured him earlier had some sort of sweet aftertaste. It was one of the sweetest white wines he owned, is what the blonde man gushed about.

Without any other thought hazing his mind any further, Jungkook politely excuses himself to fetch off and find you. Like a hawk, he bumps shoulders with a couple strangers as he tries to scan the large backyard, until his eyes land on you. Seated at the pool chair by the water with the sun in your face, bare legs stretched and crossed as your Givenchy sunglasses sit on the tip of your nose. The two wine glasses from earlier are forgotten and disregarded at your side table. You seem disinterested in the ongoing party at your side, not really one to mingle with strangers in the dirty pool water. You’re not a shy woman, and Jungkook has always admired that about you. It’s just that you don’t always fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. But not once since you moved to the suburbs did you mind. Instead, it almost seems like you’re glad.

‘‘You’re blocking my sun, Kook.’’ You say as if it isn’t obvious when Jungkook comes to stand at the end of the chair, by your feet. Your glasses are tipped to the tip of your nose as you lock eyes with him.

‘‘My bad.’’ He grins cutely before sitting down at the edge, fully taking you in when your middle finger pushes the tinted glasses back to your bridge as you make yourself comfortable again. ‘‘Are you enjoying yourself, babe?’’ Jungkook questions sweetly, tatted hand reaching out to cup your inner thigh, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the soft skin.

“It’s okay.”

He hums. “Mhm, I can see that.” Gentle fingers drag across your hot skin but you don’t pay him much mind. There is no need for much eye contact when you’re closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair, hands intertwining on top of your stomach. He can tell you’re still upset about earlier, when Jungkook ignored your worries and encouraged you to leave Seulgi’s session. And yes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He is aware that maybe he had gone a little too far when he just let you walk out of there without sitting you down and letting you say your thing. Though you and him both know he wouldn’t push your buttons after pulling a stunt like that. ‘‘Look at me, love.’’ He says with a tight line of his lips. You broke a piece of his trust the moment you laid your relationship bare before a woman you barely know, and God knows who else you might have told.

You do as he tells you, but mainly because the pet name sits so strange on his tongue. Like there is a bite to it. And for some strange reason, the confused look on your beautiful face irks the fuck out of him. As if you never feared he’d find out you told some neighbor about something so personal. Like he wouldn’t get upset.

‘‘Care to tell me when you got so tight with Kim Joohyun?’’

You frown, lips pursing together. ‘‘Joohyun?’’

Jungkook wants to give you another bit to process the question, but you made him an impatient man. It’s a simple query, he thinks, and there is no need for him to elaborate any further. Though you seem on the slower side today, eyes half lidded through the dark brown lenses of your glasses, like you’re done with his bullshit for the week.

‘‘You know,’’ he pushes, nodding along. ‘‘When you had no issue letting her know the ins and outs of our relationship like you’re pulling off some Vogue interview type of shit.’’

‘‘Jungkook, what are you even saying?’’

‘‘The therapy, ___. The sessions, Seulgi—all of that shit.’’ He hisses, voice lowering even though the edge to it is just as sharp. ‘‘Why would you tell her?’’

It takes a moment before he watches the realization sink in. Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and threatening flames swim in them, restlessly waiting for your word against his with his lips curled inwards and brows pulled together. You owlishly blink at him, stumbling on whatever you’re about to say next when he is looking at you like that, holding you under that microscope he’s had you on for years. Though it feels like it’s the first time he’s actually paying attention. At least now, after a long fucking time.

Jungkook is not one to easily feel small due to anyone’s actions, let it be his own mother and he wouldn’t dare to let his guard down. He is a true businessman at heart. At one point in his career, forceful assertiveness was an important skill that had to be drawn into his system in some way or another. Whether that’s considered a good quality or not, to Jeon Jungkook, financial manager of four years by now, it has always been reality.

‘‘You’re upset I told Joohyun about the therapy?’’ Qualities, skills and class. All of that thrown out of the window with a single look at those big, astonished eyes.

He returns them, all the same way. ‘‘Of course I’m gonna be upset. I mean, Kim Joohyun?’’ Jungkook scoffs loudly, having trouble keeping his voice down. ‘‘This is our fucking shit, ___. It’s none of her damn business.’’

His rage is working you up as you catch a couple heads eagerly turning your way. Negative attention is still attention, some say. ‘‘Can you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood is here.’’

Here’s one thing: Jungkook can’t give a damn about any of them now. The chatter and mingles are done for, he’s over it today. It messes with his head; the fact that the first words that came from you weren’t a set of haste apologies. Call him self-centered, he doesn’t care. It’s all he intends to hear. ‘‘You should’ve discussed this with me before you went out to talk about our personal shit with others.’’ He lowers his voice anyway.

‘‘Discuss?’’ You ask quickly. “This is not some business ordeal, Jungkook. Am I not allowed to vent to someone?’’

‘‘I’m here. Right under your nose.’’ Jungkook argues, an angry finger digging into his chest. ‘‘Why won’t you vent to me? Why would you turn to people you barely know when you’ve got me?’’

‘‘You?’’ A humorless chuckle escapes you before you can hold onto the irony. ‘‘Sure, I’ve got you. For two full weeks before you leave for that damn trip–isn’t that a luxury? My relationship is going to shit and I don’t have a single friend in this town who would want to hear me out. But thank God I got you, the one who sends his wife home mid-therapy sessions.’’

Jungkook painfully pinches his brows together as he shoots daggers through your shades. ‘‘It doesn’t matter the circumstances, ___. You don’t just casually discuss that shit with people. It isn’t something to be fucking proud of.’’

You take the glasses off to get a better look at him. ‘‘You’re not actually upset, are you?” You ask, head tilting and gaze clouding. ‘‘God, it’s beyond me how much you care about these people’s opinions. It was just a harmless neighbor-to-neighbor talk with some woman down the street. What are you afraid is gonna happen next? Them throwing us off the Saturday night mini-golf game?’’

Irony. You’re a master at it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem amused by your humor. ‘‘You know what? Tell whoever the fuck you want.’’ He stands up from his seat. ‘‘If you’re unable to see the issue at hand then maybe you’re not even worth my damn time. Figure this shit out yourself, ___.’’

And with so much, Jungkook slips away in between bodies of people you don’t know. It leaves you unhinged in your seat, the sun gracefully falling down your skin again like you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Your head runs blank when you repeat the conversation, running around in circles when you recall all of the finger-pointing. All the looks of revulsion.

You’re not one to really care about other people’s opinions. You’ve never been and never will be, you swear. People will gossip about anyone to spice up their own lives anyway. There's the unemployed wife from number 09 who walks around town in designer mini-skirts with a diamond at her ring finger bigger than her own head. She’ll undoubtedly be a broad topic with many chapters for many. You let them talk. You don’t care. There is no point in caring what those low lives say about you. The grass on the other side of the white picket fence isn’t any brighter.

So when Kim Joohyun subtly warmed you up to the topic of unstable marriages, you saw no point in lying to her and telling her you couldn’t be happier. That you’re on cloud nine and that Jungkook is the type of partner you always dreamed of, that you are his ideal partner he’s been dreaming of. Because he isn’t, and neither are you. Yes, your marriage is going to shit and you’re trying to fix it. So what if the entire neighborhood knows? You might as well give those nosy Suburbans a reliable source to gossip from.

Jungkook has always cared. You know he has. Your husband cares about the way he’s perceived by strangers; you’ve seen it as long as you’ve known him. He’s never shy to show off the gold-coated jewelry that hangs off your neck, or the overpriced three-piece suits he’ll wear long after office hours. Of course Jungkook would go feral, you then realize. Jeon Jungkook is a flawless soul. God forbid he is dealing with an unhappy wife at home and a couple’s therapist to place the cherry on top.

The door softly thuds behind you as you get home, the loud keychains announcing your return to the big house instead of a sweetened hello. You catch the back of Jungkook’s head immediately, facing you as he’s seated at the dining table. The change in his clothes stands out. The laid-back blouse he wore at the pool party is replaced with a more formal, striped button-up with neutral colors and you wonder why he’d change into it if he’s working from home, where no one would see him. The brightness of his laptop screen hits his face and it makes you realize how fast the sun had set since he stormed off earlier. He must have been working ever since he came in.

You don’t care to take your heels off as you approach him, wanting him to hear the slow steps you take instead. ‘‘Would it really hurt Park Jimin if he offered his guests some snacks? It’s a pool party for God’s sake; people shouldn’t swim on an empty stomach,’’ you whine, making your way over.

‘‘You’re home late,’’ Jungkook mumbles, teeth grinding at your presence. His eyes are set on his laptop screen, a bunch of numbers you don’t care about filling his file.

‘‘I didn’t think it’d hurt if I stayed out a little longer.’’ You hum cutely. Hands come to rest on his broad shoulders before you gently start kneading the tense muscles. You watch from behind as his head tilts a little, not yet sparing you a glance and letting go of the cold shoulder but relaxing into the feel instead. “You and I could spend some time apart after that conversation we had, no?”  

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Sighing, he speaks. “Whatever you’re trying to do right now, it’s not working.”

You pissed him off. That much did you understand when he stormed off Park Jimin’s backyard and didn’t return to make any more small talk with any of your neighbors. That perfect, white-toothed smile gone and hidden in the safety of your four walls, where he didn’t give himself the time to unwind and went to work behind his laptop straight away. You know his ways by now. Jungkook is a workaholic, that much isn’t a secret. It’s a Sunday afternoon with bits and pieces of sunlight on every corner of the neighborhood, but Jeon Jungkook would rather spark an argument with his wife and work his ass off to distract himself after.

“Hm, what is it that I’m I trying to do?” You’re provoking him, hands traveling down south beneath the thin fabric of his unbuttoned blouse while you continue to leave sweet kisses at his jaw. Quietly, you move on to deeper spots of his silky, thick neck. A cute bite here and there. “I’m not doing anything.” Your nails gently scrape against his chest in need for attention and you know it’s working despite all his efforts to remain calm. You can feel the slightest hitch of a breath with the way your palms are pressed against him. He is holding back because he’s angry, but not on your watch.

“Cut it, ___.” Jungkook snaps even though you know you nearly got him hooked around your finger. No matter how many years you’ve known the man for, he is only a man. They’re the easy kind. “I’m working.”

“On the weekend? Don’t act so fussy babe,” You circle his chair, lingering fingers in the back of his neck with a big pout on your glossed lips. You lean against the edge of the table, ass planted next to his laptop. “You used to fuck me on and off business hours all the time. What changed?”

Jungkook leans back in his chair with a loud exhale through his nose. You’re playing a silly game and he can be just as witty. His hands intertwine and his head tilts as he locks a cold eye with you. The smug curve of your lips tells him everything he needs to know. A sharp brow rises. The familiar, cocky attitude telling you to continue your little act. Continue it and see what happens, is what he tells you.

You move on command, closing his laptop with a soft thud before you impatiently shove it to the side. Jungkook watches your every move like a hawk and you wouldn’t dare to break eye contact; you wouldn't lose to him. Straddling the man with a bare leg on either side of him, you make sure you’re seated just right as your heat hovers above his already growing bulge. He whines a little at the feel of it, ever so soft like he doesn’t want to give into you. “You used to hold me, just like this,” you whimper, ushering his large hands to sit at your hips where they tighten their grip, one of them quick to move to the swell of your ass and grab a handful. “You’d tease me, play with me,” another roll of your clothed heat against his sends a wave of relief through him. It’s slow, addicting. “You used to want me all the time.”

“I still want you.” Jungkook is fast to object. Eyes flickering down to the plumpness of your tinted lips and you waste no time in shutting him up when he does so. Your lips clash together like it’s second nature, perfectly in sync from the get-go like it is always that easy between you. Teeth clash and tongues dance like you’re desperate. You don’t stop until a tattooed hand reaches through your hair, gently make shifting your locks into a ponytail until he tightens his grip. Prying you away with a little more force than he‘s shown earlier. “But you fucking piss me off baby,”

He has you in his lock, gripping tighter onto the ponytail until you look down on him and that smug smile is wiped off your lips. “Do I?” You ask dumbly. You know you do. He knows you know.

“You do, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?” He questions with a closed-lipped smile. Jungkook’s free hand moves to hike your dress higher up your ass until it sits completely bare on top of him, one less layer until he can feel you. With the fresh air that is roaming through the house, you’re not given enough time to adjust to the new feeling against your bare skin when he spanks you once. Soothing the skin with a little graze after. “You think sex makes me forget about the way you can’t shut that tight little mouth? Hm? Always gotta complain about something.” Another spank. Through it all, you remain eye contact as you watch the fire swim through his gaze. “Not to me, though. To your little friends around the neighborhood, right?”

“No.”

“Hm, what was that?” He heard you, though he hums anyway.

“Just Joohyun.” You whimper in his grip, stopping yourself from rolling your hips into his when he grabs a handful of your flesh. “I only told Kim Joohyun from number 05. She doesn’t fucking care about you or me. Nobody fucking cares about us.”

His grip on your hair only tightens as you spew the words out, a delicious sting at your scalp. “Aren’t you sorry, baby?” He whispers with a sharp edge to it, spitting the words out like he doesn’t need an answer from you. Like he already knows the answer. “I’d be fucking sorry if I were you, because I’m yours. And you’re mine.” His lips press together, sharp eyes burning into yours. “And whatever the fuck is mine, I keep to myself. Don’t you think that’s rational?”

You nod, but it isn’t enough for him. “C’mon, babe. You were talking so much shit earlier, you can give me more than that.” He says.

“Yes, Kook. You’re right.” You whine out loud, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tilts his head cutely, intently peering back at you. “Sorry, for?”

“For talking shit about everything. The sessions, the therapy. I should’ve understood this is something between you and me.”

A smug smile paints his lips, seemingly pleased with your answer as he loosens his grip at your hair. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard now?” He asks sweetly, eyes softening and fingers continuing to travel through your locks, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying the way you relax into his touch. “Go lay on that table and spread those legs for me.”

You shoot him a look even though the state between your legs worsens, pausing. “Jungkook, we eat at that table.”

“I told you to get on there, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when he’s looking at you like that. Those dark, hazy and impatient eyes seem to bore into your skull until you do what he asks. The petty attitude you carried with pride is now long gone, lost in the heat of the moment as you climb onto the dining table before him, like a five-star buffet. Heels dig into the stool in between his legs and thighs clamp together as you lean back to observe him, testing to see how much longer you can push his buttons. He knows you’re trying to work him up because you’re great at it. He gave you seven years to master all your troublesome ways on him.

The corners of your mouth curl up to a sly and mischievous smile as your teeth dig into your lower lip. ‘‘You wanna play, baby?’’ Jungkook challenges, noticing the look you give him. He rises from his seat until he hovers over you with his broad shoulders. With your knees stay put against his chest, he quietly watches how you get down to lay your back flat against the table the closer he comes. Just the way he told you to. ‘‘Let’s play then,’’ he murmurs, his hands sliding up your bare legs, pausing at your thighs and gently tearing them apart until you’re spread out to his liking. Your breath hitches in your throat, back already curving off the surface of the table when Jungkook’s thumb grazes soft circles over your panties. The black-laced thong does little to block the sensation. He sighs heavily, breath fainting in the crook of your neck while his free arm supports his weight next to your head.

‘‘I don’t even know if you deserve to be fucked good.’’ Jungkook groans into your neck. There is no way he doesn’t feel the wet spot on your panties, not when his fingertips continue to feel you up and dig a little at where your hole is covered up. ‘‘What if I just,’’ he slips your thong aside, ‘‘…fucked this soaked pussy with my fingers, hm?’’

You can’t stop the whimper that leaves you when his thick middle finger teases a long strike down your folds. ‘‘Please, Jungkook.’’ You cry, nails scraping at his nape. ‘‘I want you.’’ Jungkook never fails you when it comes to sex. He knows your body like the back of his hand and no matter how shaky the ground underneath your feet might be, Jungkook will always be a passionate lover underneath the sheets. Some days, it might be all you can hold on to.

‘‘Yeah? You want so much, baby.’’ He continues to trail messy kisses down your throat, traveling lower until he reaches your hardened nipples. His free hand flicks it twice before he takes the sensitive bud in between his lips and starts sucking with no shame, teeth grazing with a slight sting. ‘‘And I give it all to you like an idiot, even when you don’t deserve it. What makes you think you deserve to feel good?’’

‘‘I apologized, Kook.’’ You defend yourself, heat pooling in your lower belly when his lips sink lower. Tasting every inch of you until he stops just above your begging heat. ‘‘Please, baby, right now I just… need you.’’

A low hum leaves him as if telling you he understands. With a single, last kiss does he finish off, hands sweetly running over your thighs like he’s thinking. “Let’s compromise.’’ He then says, looking up at you. “I’m eating this sweet pussy, but you don’t cum unless I tell you so.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Clear?’’

You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’

He only strikes you with a satisfied smile before he averts his focus. Large hands curl around the back of your thighs to keep you in place and the excitement rushes through you merely at the feeling. Your pussy is pulsing beneath him only at the thought of having him so close to you and it pushes his ego. “And I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Understand me?’’

“Yes, Kook,’’ you wail, feeling the impatience tug at you.

A desperate whimper cut short leaves your pretty lips when he pushes your panties aside again, this time until he’s able to fully expose your bare heat. You’re sensitive and a little swollen beneath him, eagerly awaiting his touch. That, or his lovemaking. He doesn’t know which one it is, but he is convinced it doesn’t matter. When he gets to watch you like this, so needy for his touch and desperate for his attention, then ultimately, Jungkook feels like he has won.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook needs to win petty games because it’s obvious you don’t need him like you used to. Some days you barely talk to each other, and others, you don’t even see each other. You fetch for yourself and so does your husband. No issue, he often tells his friends when they ask about your relationship and its rocky road. Part of life, it’s gonna cool off, is what he says. Though when he’s got you beneath him like this, moaning and whining his name in utter desperation, then yes, he remembers what it is like to be wanted by you. And yes, he needs to win that game.

“Always so perfect for me,’’ he mumbles more to himself than to you as he spreads your lips apart with two thick fingers. Blowing cool air directly on your drenched cunt, curious to see how sensitive you really are. And to say he’s pleased when he watches you flinch away with that cute little gasp coming from your throat, is an understatement. “Have you touched yourself since the last time I fucked you, baby?’’

He knows he has. Jungkook has thought of you in the shower, a door away from where you were sound asleep. Or on the downstairs sofa, the night you were out with a couple women down the block. And most embarrassingly of all, locked in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, when you were too angry over his late hours to give him a call back. He watches your face distort, trying to read whatever it is he expects you to say. “Be honest with me, there is no wrong answer.’’ He mellows, a single finger continuing to stroke your folds ever so gently.

“Yes…’’

He hums. “Yes, what?’’

“Yes, I touched myself since you last fucked me.’’

It’s been a long week since he last fucked you. Your husband had been busy preparing for his upcoming business trip, while you were upset with him for prioritizing work over your marriage. Both of you were angry with each other. Though, despite the high tensions, neither of you was willing to break the standoff by dropping your cold shoulder and making the first move. Until now. “What did you think of when you were touching yourself?’’ He asks you quietly, tip of his tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe at your wet folds. “Was it my mouth?’’ It’s a gentle move at first, though Jungkook grows more focused on the sensitive bud of your clit when your little whines increase. Taking it in his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you stumble beneath him.

“Yes, I was thinking about your mouth on me,’’ you’re out of breath when you finally speak and Jungkook snickers into your heat at the fragile state he’s got you in. “Also your fingers, Kook.’’

“What about them?’’ He breaks free from your lips, thumb back at your clit and rubbing in sweet circles before you can comprehend it. “You imagined me fucking you with my fingers?’’ His other hand reaches down to play a little at your hole, teasing as a string of wetness attaches to his finger.

“Yes, Kook, please.’’ You groan out loud, ‘’I need you to fuck me.’’

His mouth is back on you as soon as the words come out. Little pools of saliva drip from his lip and fall onto your cunt until you’re a mess beneath him, rolling your hips into his face and growing desperate for some sort of release. Jungkook hums sternly with the bud in between his soft lips as a warning, the sensation of it pushing you even more off the edge. “You wanna be fucked, baby?’’ He asks you like it isn’t obvious in the way your face seems to glow with delight, eyes shut so tight and lips so pursed you might explode. “What is it? Your own fingers didn’t satisfy you?’’

A thick finger enters your slick fold just as his words get through. Curling inside your tight walls as his tongue flicks to make a return. “Need yours,’’ you cry, his tongue making circular motions onto your clit for as long as he feels you tighten around him, encouraging him to fasten the pace and make you cry on his tongue. “Yours always make me feel better.’’

“Hm, yeah?’’ He buzzes, eating your needy whines up. ‘’Pretty baby can’t make herself feel good so she needs me to do the job for her?’’ Your moans are like music to his ears, adding another finger to your tight warmth and fucking in and out of you until your moans aren’t recognizable anymore.

He pumps in and out of your warmth until you’re squirming beneath him, until he is satisfied with the sounds your cunt makes for him. Wetness coating his fingers as proof he is the only one out there who makes you feel this good. The only one who gets you to roll your eyes to the back of your head in absolute bliss. It sparks his ego, alright. Jungkook can’t stop the smile from spreading onto his lips when you grip his wrist tightly, holding onto him because his pace sends you to your high a little too quickly. He curls his fingers inside you once more, rubbing your sweet walls to remind you how much you need him to be yours.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.’’ There is a layer of desperation he hasn’t heard in a while, and fuck, it is an addicting sound coming from you.

Jungkook’s tongue clicks at the roof of his mouth, tsking loudly. “We had a deal, baby. Want to remind me what we agreed on?’’ His fingers reach deeper into your pussy and he rolls his tongue more passionately onto your clit, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you try to run back on it. “Remind me, ___.’’

The stern tone throws you off guard and you might be imagining things, but you swear he fucks you a little harder the longer you stay quiet. “I can’t cum without your permission.’’

“See who listens if she tries a little?’’ He throws in a wink just to get to you, ‘’So we’re gonna be patient, aren’t we? You told me you could do it, ___. ’’

There it was. That sweet tone of his that always drives you off the edge. His eyes tease when they meet yours, something challenging gleaming in them as if he’s already won your little game. And with the way you squill when he rewards you with a particularly harsh suck at your sensitive clit, he might be closer to crossing the finishing line than you are. He knows that, too. Feels it in the way you fumble as you lay there, in the way your pussy clenches around his thick fingers.

“I can,” you defend yourself, although it doesn’t sound convincing. Not when you’re so out of breath.

Jungkook snickers at you like he’s amused. He finds it endearing how you’re trying so hard to remain calm underneath him. You’re so stubborn, so sure of yourself like he hasn’t known you for almost a decade. Like he hasn’t been given ten years to explore you, to know you from the inside out. And whether you forgot about it or not, there was a time when Jungkook read through you and you loved it. There was a time when you were his, and he was yours. A time when you wore that diamond around your finger with pride.

“Gonna miss this sweet pussy when I’m gone.” He’s talking about his trip. But you don’t want to hear about it, and he knows. He sees it in the way your face crumbles and the sighs of pleasure turn into ones of distress. Jungkook reaches up to you, two fingers still buried to the hilt until he hovers above you. The warmth radiating off his chest is addictive no matter how many times you’d deny it. He locks your lips with his in a swift motion, dancing together like you weren’t shooting lasers at each other earlier today. A lewd moan leaves you when he bites down your bottom lip, the sensational sting holding on to it even when his teeth let go. “Are you gonna miss me?”

I miss you every day, is what lies at the tip of your tongue. Though you realize it sounds a bit too sentimental for the current state of your relationship you find yourselves in. So you opt to respond with beats of silence instead. You figure it wouldn’t complicate things. It breaks his heart a little when his answer is filled with only the sound of his fingers pumping in and out your pussy, but he knows he isn’t one to dwell. “I’ll bring you something pretty back.’’

You figured he would bring something exquisite back with him. It is just the way he does things. Always bringing something pretty back home and never returning from his trips empty-handed. Jimmy Choo high heels, Prada mini handbags, you name it—he has a knack for finding you the most coveted items. Though right now, you don’t care about any of that. All you want is him, there is no need to offer much else. The thought of his embrace, the way his touch sets your body on fire, it was once enough to fill you with a longing. A craving only he can satisfy. Not some luxury item he’s pulling off his sleeve.

You hold Jungkook’s cheeks to draw him nearer, at a loss for words. You haven’t gotten much to tell him, after all. His warm breath grazes your lips and you’re sure he feels the same thing, eyes flickering from your dark gaze, back to your lips as his fingers slow down. “Jungkook,” you whimper, shivers sending down your spine when he rubs your walls so deliciously slowly. “Make me cum, please.” You beg, silenced by the way his lips meet yours in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves you a little breathless. He tastes like white wine and sweets, the flavors melting on your tongue in a sensual tango as your fingers run through his perfect locks, pulling him closer as your breaths become ragged.

“You want me, baby?” His lips are swollen when he breaks free, needing confirmation. He hates that he can’t go without.

“So bad,” you tell him, nails sweetly scraping at his jaw when his fingers are buried deep to the knuckles. “Want to cum on your fingers.”

It’s all he needed to hear to be satisfied, the smug smile on his lips dying to make an appearance when you whimper beneath him like you do. “Come for me, princess.” He orders sweetly, a toothy grin lingering as his hot breath falls down your face. “Make me a mess on my fingers.”

You comply gracefully, without needing him to ask twice. As a wave of pleasure pulses through your body, the knot in your lower abdomen unravels, causing your back to arch off the table and your thighs to clamp together until Jungkook’s torso blocks them from doing so. He watches intently, observing the way your jaw drops and your lips part ever so slightly, noticing the crease that form between your eyebrows as your eyes squeeze shut. He wants to preserve this image, to savor it in the recesses of his mind, even when he’s halfway across the world and separated from you.

Your breathing slows down until you come down from your high. Jungkook’s fingers gently slip out of your cunt before they cup your warmth one last time, sweetly spreading your wetness over your folds until he’s satisfied enough and you can’t seem to take any more of his touch, even if they are minor and gentle. You make a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with him, even though he seems to be pleading with his gaze. He keeps his eye fixed on the side of your face as you drift off, the weight of your breaths gradually easing until the tension between you suddenly tightens. His chest above you becomes a little less warm, and you become a little more cold. Some sort of emptiness arises, both of you can feel it.

Moments ago, you couldn’t even tell him you’d miss him in return. And despite the fact that you might not miss him back, he would much rather have you spew out that little white lie in the heat of the moment than have you stay silent the way you did. It would spare his feelings a little, he wouldn’t mind. But even after your glow died down and the initial rush subsided, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. You know your relationship is, and has never been solely based on sex; that much was evident from the beginning. So why are you acting as if it is?

“You don’t gotta.’’ He says simply, not wanting to elaborate much further as the issue at hand becomes more apparent, becoming clear to him. However, for you, he doesn’t have a clue what is going through your mind. But for him, the problem nags at him to the point where he can’t find it in him to come up with a solution. Where he doesn’t necessarily want to find one.

You stare back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “I don’t mind.’’ You shrug, hands falling limp on your sides. “Do you?’’

You observe as Jungkook’s lips purse together and his eyes start to wander around the room as if looking for something fascinating. He shifts his weight to one leg as his hands slide into his pockets. “Yeah,’’ he mumbles in a low voice with a frown, no indication of humor on his face.

You wait for him to provide an explanation. Maybe he’s simply worn from today’s events and wants to head to bed early. To go upstairs and take a long, hot shower after he worked his ass off behind that screen. It was only last week when Seulgi brought the topic of sex to the table, at first suggesting you’d attempt to see each other more often during the day. Maybe go out for lunch together during his breaks, or have breakfast together before he takes off.

No way, Jungkook told her then. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are spent behind his laptop screen and it’d be impossible to shift around the schedule, let alone picking you up and bringing you back home by the time his break ends.

You’d have to find the time some way or another if you want this to work, she said. Try having more sex, she then suggested, attempt to rekindle that spark that brought you together in the first place through more intimate, private methods and connect to each other in your most vulnerable ways. Intimacy can help reignite the passion in some relationships, is what she tried to convince you of.

A bunch of crap, you swear. Two hundred bucks an hour for advice you could’ve found at the back of some middle-aged gossip magazine? Not when he has an obvious hard one hiding in his pants and rejects you like he has better things to do than to _“reignite the passion you share that has brought you together.’’ _

Especially when you haven’t fucked ever since that day.

Jungkook’s lack of response speaks volumes, leaving you feeling frustrated and disrespected. If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he could just say so.

Screw him and screw Kang Seulgi. You refuse to settle for a partner who rejects your advances, or a therapist with shallow suggestions. You deserve a partner who is willing to put in the effort to keep the spark alive in your relationship, and not just dismiss your needs with a simple swipe of his card at Seulgi’s office.

The week continues much like the way you and Jungkook prefer to handle things—tons of escapism and much less communication than is probably needed. In your defense, your husband will leave the country in a little over a week, and all the issues you could address and possibly solve now would still be forgotten and buried by the time he travels back home. It’s pointless, you think. You figure there just isn’t much to talk about in such short amount of time, and Jungkook must think something similar; it is evident in the way your backs face each other every night of the week, the way he eats dinner at the dining table in the living room while you do it at the kitchen counter, the way either of you can barely look at each other for longer than a few seconds. Your pride is too high to break through your walls.

Car rides have never been this dreadful before.

It is only when Jungkook stops in front of a red light that manages to steal a glance at you in the passenger’s seat. His demeanor stays cool, with his tattooed hand on the wheel as he sits back and takes the opportunity to observe you. His inked sleeve is on display, with his dress shirt rolled up all the way up to his elbows, although he is required to cover up in mere moments before you arrive at the business event that got you so dolled up, surrounded by tens of his colleagues.

You’re typing away on your phone screen on his side. Long, almond shaped nails tapping against the device as if you’re setting several emergency meetings up for the upcoming hour.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | So, you haven’t had sex in over a week? He didn’t want to at all?

You | I don’t know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t fucking talk.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | Maybe he’s relieving it somewhere else. Any big fights gone on between you two recently?

The text causes you to pause. You look up, looking a little puzzled with the way eyebrows furrow. Jungkook catches on quickly, meeting your eye for a split second before you tear your eyes back to your tiny screen. You’re not sure what Joohyun is implying and neither do you care enough to know. You may make Jungkook out for a lot of things a lot of the time, but you know there is one thing he is not.

You | You better not say what I think you’re saying. Lol.

Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.

The implication pisses you off as you let your phone fall to your lap, arms folding over another. He watches as you’re visibly bothered, instantly recognizing that look on your face because he has seen it a dozen times already. The pursed, glossed lips and the clenched jaw, it’s a classic. Jungkook isn’t sure who pissed you off to the point where you’re not even arguing with him, but he doubts you’ll tell him. His eyes are on you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. Instead, you remain silent, your annoyance palpable in the air.

Jungkook clears his throat, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ He speaks over the radio, a careful start.

You can’t help it. You’ve been with the man for almost a decade, and sure, not always has it been pretty, but somehow it has worked. Maybe it was your first mistake to tell Kim Joohyun about the therapy sessions and the whole Kang Seulgi issue at hand, but you needed an outlet. Something close to a friend who would listen to you since Jungkook was always out of the house. Now you’re stuck with random people implying your husband doesn’t need your sex, that he’s fine finding it someplace else. You so dearly hope you misunderstood her, because your heart pounds a little faster, chest grows a little tighter.

Your head lolls to the backrest of your seat as you take a deep breath, eyes set on the scenery outside. ‘‘It’s just something Joohyun said,’’ you finally say. The sky above you paints an array of pinks and purples, a beautiful sight if only you weren’t feeling so sour right now.

Jungkook nods like he understands, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his head softly nods along to the music at the radio. ‘‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’’

The words throw you off guard. You can’t help but stare back as he looks at you with a patient, and rather relaxed demeanor. You can’t recall the last time where either of you suggested to talk. It must’ve been a long time. It’s rare, that is. You shake your head slowly, swallowing before your head falls back to your seat. ‘‘No, it’s nothing,’’ you murmur, eyes back out of the window.

He clicks his tongue softly. ‘‘Alright. If you say so,’’ Jungkook says, quick to dismiss the offer, and something inside of you wishes he pushed a little further. Moments of silence continue to fill the car, with the only sound coming from the radio and the soft hum of the car’s engine. ‘‘You like the dress?’’ He reaches out to lower the volume, eyes scanning down your body, where the simple, strapless silhouette of the Valentino mini dress hugs your curves so charmingly. Worn as a vision of elegance with the way you do it, he knew you’d like it too. 

‘‘I do. Thank you.’’ You say, only now having the chance to thank him for the luxury item you found on the kitchen counter this morning, just like Jungkook’s text told you where to find it. The message didn’t say much, just that the dress was there and that he’d pick you up straight after work for the business event he was invited to. You got the hint, styled the dress with some jewelry that matched the rich, ivory white fabric and you picked out your prettiest heels. The Jimmy Choo ones with the bow that you knew Jungkook loved so much. You’re not sure how long it took for you to get ready, maybe an hour or two tops, but you know you took your time. Maybe because you wanted to look pretty for him, knowing he probably wanted to see you in the dress if he bought it for you.

His eyes travel to your legs, also leaning back in his seat as his foot hovers over the gas pedal, the car humming as it moves forward a little. ‘‘Thought everybody should see you in it tonight.”

Reality rushes back to you, then. Jungkook doesn’t care about you _or _the dress. Your husband only cares about the way the both of you will be perceived tonight. By his colleagues, by his friends and by his acquaintances. Yes, you’re looking stunning tonight. Your hair sits flawlessly and your legs have never looked sexier before. But what does that matter when he can’t proudly put his arm around you and call you his?

The light turns green and he tears his eyes off you, back to the road. ‘‘But I hope you get to smile a little more by the time we’re there.’’

There’s an attitude to the statement, leaving you a little in awe. ‘‘I don’t really feel like smiling,’’ you declare, arms folded. It’s a sassy response, one he catches on to instantly and you know it, considering the way he side-eyes you from behind the wheel. The glances he throws your way burning at your head.

‘‘I don’t need you acting petty, ___.’’ He chuckles, though there is no humor to it. ‘‘I know we’ve got a lot of our own shit to worry about, but we don’t need any of that tonight. Please,’’ he adds, ‘‘just be there with your head.’’

You feel a surge of anger rising inside you at his words. How dare he tell you how to feel and how to act? You take a deep breath, voice already shaking from the way he works you up. ‘‘So you want me to pretend all is good in front of everyone? Because you know it isn’t.’’

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the pedal a bit harder, grip tightening around the wheel. ‘‘I’m asking you to keep it down,’’ he argues, ‘‘there’s no need for us to be mixing business with private matters in front of these people–it doesn’t concern them. We can talk about everything else later, I just want to get through with it for tonight.’’

You scoff. ‘‘Funny you say that, considering we haven’t exchanged a word all week.’’

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second before focusing back on the road. ‘‘Not now, ___.’’ He insists, ‘‘I promise we can talk about anything you want the minute we’re back home, just not now.’’

‘‘Now you just need me to be perfect. Got it.’’

His grip on the wheel tightens even more, the tension radiating off him. You never make the effort to try and understand him. ‘‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘‘All I want from you is to act professional. It’s not the time or the place for this shit, ___. We can deal with everything else later.’’

You don’t agree but keep it to yourself just to save either of your energy. The rest of the ride is quiet, but far from peaceful. It takes not much longer than twenty dreadful minutes before you arrive at the grand hotel as you waste no time getting the hell out of Jungkook’s Benz to breathe some fresh air, dusting some imaginary dirt off the ends of your dress while your mini bag hangs in the crook of your arm. The valet rushes to your sides, taking care of his car keys before Jungkook leads the two of you inside with his large hand burnt to your lower back. It takes everything to keep yourself sane, to not rip his touch off you as he sends his prettiest, most charming smiles to people you only know the faces of.

The dimmed lobby is bustling with people as you make your entrance, all dressed up in their finest attire and sipping on champagne while chatting amongst themselves. The night passes uneventfully, with the occasional surge of excitement as the guests mingle and socialize. You’re grateful for the attentive staff, who makes sure your glass is full throughout the night. Mainly sticking by Jungkook’s side with champagne as your only friend, an arm looping around his own as you lean into him and fall back into your own world.

New colleagues of his stumble in left and right, and you admire your husband’s ability to remember each of their names and faces. You, on the other hand, stopped keeping track of whoever stands before you. You figured it is easier to become the wife Jungkook wants to represent you when you keep your mouth shut and merely stand there looking pretty. Designer dripping off you as your hand caresses over his chest in circles with a sweet, dimpled smile on your face.

‘‘I would’ve worn my fancy tie if you told me your girlfriend was this beautiful, Jeon,’’ a rough, low voice interrupts. ‘‘You know, the one that lightens up when you press the button.’’

Before you stand an older couple, their eyes crinkling with sweet wrinkles and sparkling with warmth the minute you lock eyes with them. They mirror you, where their arms loop together and move in perfect sync. Jungkook chuckles on your side, cute apples of his cheeks making an appearance. ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Choi,’’ he exclaims, moving to place his hand just above the swell of your ass before pulling you closer into him, though his touch leaves a chill in its wake. ‘‘I take it you haven’t met my wife yet.’’

‘‘Oh, dear Lord,’’ the woman known as Mrs. Choi squeals as she gladly takes your hand in hers. Hers are warm and embrace yours gently, only now knowing you sipped a bit too much champagne when the movement throws you off guard. “I keep insisting that Jungkook needs to bring you to the office so I can meet this pretty face but he won’t budge,” she says, keeping your hand warm in between hers. “Now I get why he wants to keep you to himself—you’re a doll.”

You snicker a little at the comment, feeling the champagne flush at your cheeks at the older lady’s words. Jungkook’s thumb runs in small circles at your hip. “Isn’t she?” He speaks, softly pulling you towards him. “Why would I share with anyone?”

The Choi couple share smiles of delight, visibly over the moon when Jungkook pulls you closer to his side and plants a sweet kiss on your temple. “A married man,” Mr. Choi sighs with fondness in his eyes, hands gesturing your way as if to say look at you. “I wouldn’t have known for the love of God, son. It’s wonderful to witness young love well and alive.”

Jungkook wears his prettiest smile, obviously enjoying the way Mr. and Mrs. Choi worship at his feet. He takes your free hand in his own before he pulls it up for a showcase, the shining diamond around your ring finger glinstering beneath the warm lights. “We mark 7 years this season.” He seems proud as he speaks, the close lipped smile telling them all they need to know.

Mrs. Choi holds an exaggerated hand to her chest, eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry. “You must be so proud of him,” she glows when she speaks to you. “You’ve got the office’s heartthrob in your hold, dear. I can guarantee you he’s taking that award home tonight.”

“Businessman of the Year!” Mr. Choi exclaims with theatrical hands, fading away before you. “I can see it, kid. The title looks good on you.”

“Oh, I won’t assume anything.” Jungkook snickers on your side, pretty dimples visible when he smiles. “I don’t intend on winning tonight. I’ve got strong competitors to see eye to eye.”

It’s not that you’re not proud of all that Jungkook has accomplished, but the bitter smile returns and is barely perceptible. You doubt anyone notices. Hell, Jungkook’s pride seems to consume him, too far gone to notice you straying away in his warm hold. It astounds you how his colleagues seem to put him on a pedestal, quite literally worshiping the ground he walks on and hanging onto every word he says.

“They got nothing on you.” Mrs. Choi argues with a light scoff before her toothy smile returns. “But I get it. Who wants to win some trivial award when you already got your hands on the most beautiful gem in the room, right?” She throws the compliment your way, a wink thrown in there but your stomach tightens at the words all the same.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching for a connection that seems elusive. “You know, we’re all so consumed by the road to success that we sometimes don’t realize what we already got,” he begins, eyes back at the Choi couple when you refuse to look back at him. “If tonight ends without that award, I’d be more than content to celebrate with just the two of us. Just like we always have done—years on end.”

“That’s what love is about.” Mrs. Choi nods with a tilted head like she understands. Like you and Jungkook will go home tonight and make love with butterflies in the pit of your stomach, hearts fluttering with anticipation, and a sense of triumph in the air. She probably wouldn’t smile so wide if she knew the ground you’re standing on is not so solid. “And that’s why good things come your way, Jungkook. You do everything with so much dedication and love, you should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s true.” Mr. Choi interjects, nodding sagely as he extends a wise finger. “Take that well-deserved promotion for example. It didn’t appear out of thin air, son. You’ve worked hard to earn it.”

You still on Jungkook’s side and he can feel it in an instant. He feels your eyes on him, a piercing gaze that cuts through the chatter of the lobby. His sharp brows furrow slightly as he senses your scrutiny. His voice, tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension breaks the silence, hopefully able to remove that big question mark off your forehead. ‘‘Yes, the promotion,’’ He begins, now avoiding your eyes as his fingers loosen at your hip. ‘‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Choi.’’

Mrs. Choi’s cheerful demeanor suddenly falters, replaced by concern etched onto her face. “Are you feeling alright, dear?’’ She asks you, her voice filled with genuine worry. ‘‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You don’t spare Mrs. Choi a single glance when she puts the focus on you, practically forcing Jungkook to lock eyes with you. Your eyes bore into his, your attention solely on Jungkook and his bewildered state. “Promotion, huh?” You say, voice tinged with a touch of resentment. The bitter tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny how you never mentioned anything about a promotion, Jungkook.”

He hesitates, his hand retracting slowly, an obvious gesture of unease. “Well… it was meant to be a surprise,” He pulls out of his ass, a reassuring smile aimed at the elderly couple who already seem remorseful for bringing the topic up, apologetic smiles on their faces. “To be honest, it isn’t that big of a deal anyways. Just a small step up the corporate ladder.”

‘‘A small step up the ladder?’’ You repeat a little louder than you mean to, voice dripping with disappointment. You turn to fully face him, back turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Choi when you do your best to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook. I know exactly what a promotion entails.”

The room seems to hold its breath, the tension palpable as the air grows heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed grievances. The once-glowing atmosphere now feels suffocating, the sense of disconnect between you and Jungkook impossible to ignore. The weight of your words fall heavy on the tip of your tongue and your eyes tell him that you’re becoming furious, the fire in your eyes burning with an intensity that can’t be contained. How dare he? You’re hanging on to this relationship with every fiber in your body and what does he think is the solution to that? Adding hours to his already demanding contract while you continue to plan more sessions with Kang Seulgi?

Jeon Jungkook’s audacity is truly unbelievable. How could he be so blind to the problems that you’re already trying to tame? He chuckles quietly, devoid of any genuine humor. His eyes dart around the room, scanning for any sign of anyone else besides the Choi couple taking note of the tension. ‘‘I was going to tell you, it’s just that nothing is final yet. I haven’t signed anything,’’ he stammers, attempting to justify him keeping this from you.

‘‘But you were going to.’’ You snarl, jabbing an accusing finger digging into his chest. ‘’Do you even realize what you’re doing, Jungkook? It’s not a matter of when. It’s the fact that you’d do it in a heartbeat, not even taking us into consideration like any decent partner would.’’

‘‘Sweetheart,’’ Mrs. Choi’s tries to interject, voice filled with concern. ‘‘I’m sure he just wanted the moment to be special,’’ Her well-intentioned effort to comfort you falls on deaf ears with a dismissive wave of your hand. You’re not sure if you can take any more of this bullshit tonight, the surge of resentment is swelling within you.

‘‘Please, excuse us,’’ Jungkook says with a forced smile, gently pushing you forward by the small of your back, signaling you’d better walk if you want to talk some more. And walk you do, your arms crossed tightly and lips pressed into a thin line, leading the way out of the sea of people chatting about God knows what.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook gets held up again. You don’t recognize the face of the taller man who approaches him, and neither are you interested in his being, though the blood rushes to your head when Jungkook starts talking back with that familiar sweet smile. He searches for your eye over the taller man’s shoulder, making sure you’re still there before his polite, charming grin paints his lips again like nothing is wrong. Like you aren’t ready to lose each other.

You make a beeline to the bathroom the moment you realize it. And for just a moment, you find solace from the suffocating air outside the restroom. It happens the moment you lock the door and cover your bare neck in cold tap water, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you as it seems to hit you like a train. You don’t know if you and Jungkook will ever be okay. It might be the alcohol in your system, but the tears that form in the corners of your eyes threaten to escape. It’s difficult to hold them back, but you do it somehow. You wonder if there’s any hope left over, or if this promotion is just another confirmation of his growing distance, a subtle way of telling you there’s little left over to salvage.

Three quiet knocks tap against the bathroom door. ‘‘___, it’s me,’’ his voice booms from the other side and you take a moment to recollect yourself. When you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, tears still hang in the corners of your eyes if you pay a little attention and your throat falls dry. “Open up?” He shouldn’t see you like this. You don’t remember the last time Jungkook has seen you cry; the last time he’s seen you vulnerable.

‘‘I need a moment, Jungkook,’’ you reply, shuffling around the small space.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. ‘‘Please, just let me in. We gotta talk.’’

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing him now feels overwhelming. Back there, amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces, you felt as if you could explode. Steam blowing out of your ears, blood rushing to your head. But right here, in this confined space,  it’s just you and him. Your eyes are slightly glossy and your lips anxiously curl inwards. You don’t know what’s coming over you. You’d much rather have him see you angry, with your head held high.

With a heavy sigh, you turn the lock, leaving the door ajar just wide enough so you can see his face. The tight purse of his lips eases when he takes in your appearance, and you swear you can see a glimmer of softness in his eyes. A flat, tattooed hand gently pushes the door open before he enters with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress pants. Your fingers curl over the edge of the sink when you stumble back and lean against it, watching as he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Silence hangs heavily in the air, overtaking you. Neither of you can help it. There’s nothing to bicker about when it seems like you’re at the verge of breaking down, so silence it is. ‘‘Then talk,’’ you say, voice distant. ‘‘You’re not talking. You said we needed to.’’

Jungkook’s gaze flickers with something you can’t place. You hope it has something to do with regret and determination. He takes a step closer, closing the space between you. ‘‘What happened out there,’’ he starts, voice quiet when a finger points towards the door. ‘‘It was unnecessary, ___.’’

You shouldn’t have opened that door for him like a fool, expecting he wouldn’t spit in your face like that. You don’t know what it is you want him to tell you, but for some reason, you yearn for something that sounds like an apology. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. ‘‘You waltz in here like that and that’s the first thing you say? Cut me some slack, Jungkook, please,’’

His jaw tenses, a sign of growing frustration. ‘‘___, we had a deal. No business mixing with whatever problems we have. Not tonight… not when tonight is supposed to be special.’’ Jungkook quietly reminds you, taking another step closer until your chests almost touch. ‘‘And as for the promotion,’’ he sighs heavily, his hand tugging at his tie with a frustrated huff. ‘‘I was going to tell you when it was just you and me–just us, away from all of these people. That was going to be our damn moment.’’ Jungkook spits, teeth grinding together as his brows furrow. ‘‘They had no business opening their mouths on it, but they did anyway. So if you want to be mad, then fine, do your thing. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but you did.’’

The small room feels suffocating, tension building with each passing second. Your tears are long forgotten every time he opens that big mouth of his, because the anger seems to consume you. ‘‘I don’t fucking care about any of that,’’ you scoff, pushing yourself off the edge of the sink with a head held high. Now you’re the one stepping closer. ‘‘It’s the idea that you would even accept all those extra hours and responsibilities when you know,’’ there is a heavy pause for you to catch your breath, a finger digging so deep in his chest it makes him stumble back a step. ‘‘When you know what is going to happen to us if you take this.’’

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his own frustration surfacing. ‘‘And what’s happening?’’ He retorts, his voice filled with defiance. ‘‘How can you expect me to turn an opportunity like this down when I’ve worked so hard for it? I worked my ass off for this, proved my fucking worth and ended up deserving it. I haven’t even reached the age of 30 and chances like these don’t just appear out of thin air, ___. I’ve got colleagues twice my age trying to achieve what is waiting for me to grasp.’’

The intensity of the argument rises, voices echoing off the walls and you’re sure people passing on the outside hear every word. You scoff, a humorless laugh escapes you. ‘‘So this is all about your precious career, isn’t it?’’ You hold up your hand, where your wedding ring catches his eye. ‘‘You made me a promise, too. Long ago, before you knew any of those people you’re trying to prove your worth to.’’

Jungkook’s face flushes with frustration, his hands clenched into fists before they settle at your hips and shoves you back until you’re leaned against the sink again. Though not too harsh. He is never too harsh. ‘‘Why can you never be satisfied?’’ He mumbles, anger giving way to hurt. ‘‘This is my chance to provide for us, to make sure we have a future that we deserve living. Why won’t you support me, be by my fucking side?’’

Bitter laughter escapes your lips, almost grazing his own. ‘‘Support you? How can I support you when you’re digging us deeper into the ground? We’re already so close to reaching the fucking limits. So close to becoming everything we’re trying not to be and then you continue on to pull this crap? It’s like you’re waiting for us to call it quits.”

Jungkook’s anger simmers beneath the surface, his grip on your hips tightening as he fully closes the distance between your bodies. His dark, sharp gaze is fixed on you, the air between you crackling with tension at the false accusation. A blend of frustration and desire when you meet his intense gaze, the moment overwhelming you, and without a word, he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate, fiery kiss.

The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and desire, the electricity between you undeniable. Each touch and movement speaks volumes, conveying a complex blend of emotions that words fail to express. As your lips move against his, you can feel the weight of the argument still hanging in the air, but for a moment, it's forgotten. Until he speaks against you. ‘‘That’s the last time you’re gonna accuse me of something so ridiculous. Got it?’’

Between heated kisses, angry whispers escape your lips. "You can't just expect me to follow blindly," you mutter, your voice laced with frustration. "We're too close to the edge already."

Jungkook’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his voice husky as he responds. ‘‘I know, but I’m trying.’’

It is all he says, and you fight the urge to say something back just because you feel like you’ve had enough for one night. You’re the one to pull away first, a flat hand to his hard chest as you push him off with ease, no fight, no nothing. The momentary connection fades and a sense of unease settles between you. You exchange a final gaze, unresolved emotions and unspoken words clear in the air. It’s obvious that the underlying issue remains unresolved, and with that, you both walk out of the ladies’ room together. Side by side, like everything is fine. The bitter taste of the argument still hangs onto your tongues but you choose to ignore it even though there is no way you can get rid of it tonight.

Jungkook stops before the bustling crowd, causing you to stop in your tracks as well. His hand delves into the inner pocket of his jack, retrieving his wallet as he goes through the contents. With a subdued voice, he offers you his card. ‘‘Here,’’ he says quietly. ‘‘Go buy yourself something to drink. I’ll be over there talking to some people if you need me.’’

You accept the money silently, a slight nod of acknowledgement before you part ways, heading toward the bar while Jungkook navigates through the crowd. As you order your drink, the bitterness of the argument still weighs on your mind, the unresolved issues swirling in your thoughts.

Your husband hasn’t spared you much of a second glance after he handed you the money, already too busy mingling with his colleagues to notice that the bottom of your cocktail glass is starting to show. As he brings his own glass back to his pretty lips to sip on his dry wine all the way on the other side of the lobby, you continue to listen to the nameless people around you and the award he might be winning tonight. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—it might drive you crazy.

It drives you crazy, and you would probably never admit it out loud, but you feel smaller without Jungkook’s presence so close to you, without his arm secured around your waist, your chest tighter than he seems to realize. You don’t need him to feel confident, you know. You don’t need any man in order to make you feel secure about yourself. Though tonight, even though it is only for a little while, his absence feels a little more pronounced than usual, and you don’t like to feel like some fraught, single woman in her late 20s. It unsettles you, and you don’t mean to feel like it.

You’re counting fifteen minutes when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Jungkook seems to be in his element, watching as you occasionally meet his eye from across the room before he rips his gaze off you, interrupted by another coworker every two minutes as they block your sight. More small talk with the man of the night as he’s sucking it up like second nature. Adoring the constant praises he’s receiving throughout the entire event. A charming smile paints his features, one that makes him look smug as hell.

“That dress makes up for the fact that you look like you don’t want to be found dead in here.” A low voice booms from behind the bar, “Valentino, no?”

The rim of the cocktail glass in your hand detaches from your lips when you realize you’re being spoken to, another spot painted a smoked almond shade at the edge. “Good eye,” you nod, high heels impatiently tapping against the steel of the barstool. It’s the first interaction since the Choi couple took notice of your distress, and suddenly, you feel a little less invincible. .

“I know a thing or two.” The owner of the velvety voice reveals himself, emerging from behind the massive camera cradled in his veiny hands. Smooth, jet black curls cascade over his forehead as a troublesome grin broadens on the unknown’s glistening lips. He briefly catches your eye before shifting his focus back to the display in his grip. Rounding the bar, he comes to sit at the edge of the stool next to you. “You seem to be a natural. Ever thought of a career shift and dropping this business ordeal?”

The picture on the display reveals. It’s not bad, you look greater than any other night, the effort you put in tonight’s look clear to see. But he’s joking, though you can barely crack a smile. “Oh, please, I’m just a plus one.”

“I see.” The man who you now assume to be tonight’s cameraman leans over the edge of the bar as he allows his camera to hang low at his neck. He subtly searches for your eye and when you meet his gaze, indicating that he’s got your attention, he pulls his focus back to the crowd, a finger beneath his nose as if he’s deep in thought. “So, which one of those pricks is responsible for making you sit here by yourself all night?”

You roll your eyes but a suppressed snicker betrays your amusement, prompting the corners of his own mouth to lift as well. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore the derogatory remark about your husband, though it might feel good if someone else would openly share your sentiments right now. “The same prick I’ve been with for the past six years,” you point Jungkook’s way when you speak, leaning a little more to the man’s side to give a good point of view. “He’s a busy guy,” you remark, Jungkook looking devilishly expensive when he’s networking, his navy blue Prada suit shimmering beneath the dim lightning. His jet black hair is slicked back and he’s never looked sexier before. Such a shame you’re not talking.

“The man of the night himself.” The guy huffs at your side, back leaning against the bar as he’s no longer interested in Jungkook, eye solely on you now. “I’m not really supposed to shoot plus ones tonight, he’d have to be in the picture for that,” he taps at his camera. “A shame he’s too busy to bat an eye when she’s looking this lovely tonight.”

A dagger to the heart, but you take it lightly. You pause as you finally take a good look into this sharp, cat-like gaze of his. A sly looking smile tugs at the corners of his lips when your eyes meet. “Complimenting a married woman? How audacious of you.”

He shrugs indifferently. “He isn’t doing it, so,” he says nonchalantly before he pulls himself together, a polite hand to his chest when he speaks. “Pardon me. It’s just that I’ve never been good at keeping thoughts to myself.”

You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”

He catches on to the challenge that’s hidden in your voice, the slight attitude you’re subtly bringing over. He pauses for a moment, reading your face before he continues. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly, though his voice is low enough to recall mischief. His eyes lower a little down your dress before he takes out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. I’m tonight’s photographer.”

You accept his hand, hot and tight around your own. It feels refreshing in some way or another, his eyes locking with yours again when his head tilts just slightly, tongue slipping out to wet his pink lips. “It’s good to meet you,” You tell him, returning your prettiest smile, “I’m ___.”

Taehyung stills. “God damn.” He curses quietly, just a whisper above his breath. “I knew you had to be from someplace else—you’re one of Minnie’s girls.”

His words take time to process. There is only one Minnie you’d know. “You mean, Minnie Chang?” You query, frowning when his knowing finger bounces your way. “My modeling agent? You know her?”

“Sure,” he beams, shoulders visibly relaxing as he sits at the edge of his seat. “I run shoots with Minnie’s girls all the time. We just wrapped up an upcoming November issue. It’s such a pity she never sets me up to shoot your covers, we use your references all the time.” His sharp eyes darken, running down your figure again. “We’d kill the job together, if you’d ask me.”

Your cheeks flush a little at the statement. “Oh, well, we probably would.” You stumble, still trying to catch on. “Though Minnie no longer works for me. I quit modeling some time ago, which is probably why we never worked together.”

Taehyung’s pretty lips part when his head tilts even more, a light and humorless chuckle escaping. “I mean, do tell me you’re screwing with me.” The smile ghosts his lips, though this time a little died down. Your silence answers his questions and the sheepish grin only adds on to it. “Forgive me for being so straightforward, but I’ve seen your works, ___. No one in their right mind would want to give such potential up for some mingling on the side bar.”

Taehyung jokes again but there’s a bit of truth hidden in it, and neither of you dare to laugh too loudly over it. You sigh, bringing the glass back to your lips even though your drink is almost finished. “You’d be surprised what love does to people.” You chuckle but it holds no humor, you just sound so ironic. Taehyung’s eyes rip away from you to scan the lobby in search for the man in question, easily found in the sea of people because Jeon Jungkook just works like that. Wherever he goes, your husband seems to carry this magnetism with him. People fall in love with him left and right, and you don’t blame them for it. Look at where you are. “I wanted to go wherever he went. Now I’m just trying to live up to the consequences.”

Taehyung hears as you try to laugh it off, chuckling softly and unable to match your energy. “I’ll give you my card,” he then decides, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket as a set of protests already stumble off your lips. “No buts,” he warns. “My office line is on there. Do whatever you want with it, but just know that you can always hit my line whenever you’re done dealing with the consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you start but it holds no weight, watching as he nips the piece of paper in between his fingers. “You don’t gotta do that.” His eyes draw back to your lips before they flicker back to meet your gaze, the curly locks at his forehead almost preventing you from doing so, seemingly darkening his eyes.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, ___.” His voice lowers, deepening as his breath almost fans your cheeks. It’s hot. A little alarming. “I own a studio downtown where we could meet up someday. I’ll shoot us a couple photos, and if you want, we could add some to your portfolio. If it feels right, you’ll know,” he says, clearly catching on to the glint in your eyes. “If it doesn’t, then all I am is wrong. But you can’t convince me you’re feeling content, sitting on the sidebar waiting for that idiot to come to his senses.”

You know Taehyung just earned himself a slap across the cheek for the degrading comments about Jungkook. For the assumptions he’s so quick to make when he’s met you five minutes ago. Probably no less than a hard push against the shoulder too, but you hold back from doing so when his words speak to you in some way. Somewhere not so deep down, you know Taehyung made some points. It has nothing to do with the rich cologne that embraces you when he stands this close, or the darkened gaze that tries to meet your own when you rip your eyes away.

“Take it.” He waves his card in the air before he gently tosses it at the bar in front, next to your empty glass. “I don’t expect you to do anything with it, but it’d feel good knowing you have it. Who knows what good it’ll bring.”

You don’t hesitate but pause anyway, meeting his eye and the moment that famous grin paints his lips, you can’t stop yourself from copying it. “Thank you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.” You say, taking his card.

It surprises you how at ease Taehyung makes you feel afterwards. Once his card is out of sight, hidden in the safety of your handbag, he doesn’t pry further about any more modeling shoots or your forgotten career. Nor does he bring Jungkook up again, even though everyone else around you can’t seem to shut up about the man. It’s a peaceful feeling, distracted from the eye of reality because of this man who excels at making small talk. He’s chatting away about his camera, pointing at elements you don’t know the names of as he explains the functions of them.

You don’t listen. You haven’t been listening for a while and wonder how you stumbled upon this topic instead. It’s not a bad thing; Kim Taehyung makes you feel comfortable and that’s all there is to it. You appreciate him for fading your surroundings off.

It doesn't take long before a large hand rests above the swell of your ass, stroking sweet circles there. “Are you ready? They’ll start presenting the awards soon.” Jungkook’s voice booms at your left, sending a jolt of surprise through your body. You turn to face him, finding him standing there with his usual confident demeanor, contrasting with the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The touch of his hand on your backside feels a little more possessive the longer you take your time to respond.

You glance over at Taehyung, who also seems to have noticed the change of atmosphere. His expression remains composed, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say before you hop off the barstool and recollect yourself. “It was so good meeting you, Taehyung. I hope we get to talking soon.” You slide your mini bag over your shoulder, an apologetic smile at your lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you so occupied, I know you’re on the clock.”

His lips only curl into a warm smile that seems to reassure you, a small shake of his head shrugging you off as if to say you shouldn’t have to worry. Your attention reverts back to Jungkook, noting that his gaze is already fixed on you as he searches for something you can’t decipher. “Okay, I’m ready,” you repeat, this time a little more determined. He nods quietly, hand curling at your waist before he leads you the way towards the ceremony, eager to be gone, but not before he steals a look at the older man by the bar, tongue in his cheek. A hint of playful defiance glimmers in Taehyung’s eyes and Jungkook wouldn’t know for the love of God what it means.

The following hour ends up not being as dreadful as the previous ones. Jungkook still guides you throughout the night with prolonged small talk and half-filled champagne glasses which you’ve grown tired of drinking. Nobody is paying attention to the wife of, much to your luck, because it gives you the opportunity to slip into your own world with Jungkook’s hand still snaked around your waist. Taehyung’s words ghost your head instead, and as much as you try not to, you sneak a glance his way every now and then.

You can’t help it. It’s been some time since someone recognized you as anybody else than Mrs. Jeon Jungkook. The lucky one who gets to wear designer dresses and expensive jewelry with a zipped mouth on her face. The brief minutes spent with Taehyung were cut short, but reminded you of your own persona. So hidden behind the shadows of Jungkook’s success that you almost forgot you once had built the start up of a successful career as well.

You can’t think in this room. The warm air is rising to your head and all you can hear is the low murmurs of Jungkook and his colleagues at your table. You start to wonder things. Big things. Like, what if Taehyung wasn’t the only person who believed in continuing the neglected modeling career you were so desperate to let go of some time ago? What if he wasn’t the only one and you’re just meant to find the right people to support you? What if that dream was worth pursuing, now still, after all this time accepting this is what your life was going to be like; a bitter housewife in the suburbs forever holding on to a forgotten career.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook queries on your side, eyes lingering on you for too long and you don’t care to return it. His hand travels to your upper thigh beneath the table cloth but you barely process it, head too clouded with whatever you’re worrying about to take notice. “You seem distracted.” He says, his large hand resting there without much thought, warming the skin up as he gently starts rubbing in circles.

“Yes,” you say though there is a pause to it, one where you hold your breath as you wonder if you should say more. You know he doesn’t like it when things start getting personal when all these people surround you, but you’re so close to the edge. You turn to him, knees touching. “I just need some fresh air. Hand me the car keys?”

He stares at you for a moment, a look shared that tells you he’s trying to read you even when you’re shutting him out. An arm lazily rests atop the backrest of your chair as he sighs through his nose. “They’re starting soon.” He breathes out like he hasn’t said it a thousand times already. “And you’ve been drinking. I’m not handing you anything.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not drunk and I’m not driving. I’m just gonna sit in the car and take a moment for myself.” it’s your turn to sigh, a bite to your words that Jungkook easily catches on to. His eyes narrow, lips growing into a thin line. “What is it, are you not allowing me?”

His chest grows tight when he hears your words, the sassy attitude not gone by dismissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t you take half an hour longer?” His voice lowers in case anyone overhears, the back of his fingers reaching to stroke over your cheek softly. “Batting those pretty lashes the way you do it so well?”

His comment flies to your head, hitting you like a slap to the face and you search his eyes for some sort of sincerity. Some sort of remorse for spitting that degrading shit in your face like that. You notice the way people perceive you as the wife of Jeon, how they look at you because you’re just one of his pretty things. You’re aware. And you don’t need anyone to tell you, because you could care less about them. Though when the confirmation slips from Jungkook’s lips, you swear he turns the switch inside you.

“You’re an ass.” The feet of your chair screech loudly against the floor tiles of the lobby, the sound of it making heads turn your way with curious gazes. And unlike your husband, who seems troubled upon the sudden attention, you couldn’t care less, storming out of the quiet lobby like your Jimmy Choo heels are meant for you to stomp off the way you do.

You hear a faint call of your name even though it doesn’t take long before you reach the main entrance doors and fumble your way out. The anger rises to your head and you consider you might have done Jungkook a favor with the way you made it out so quickly.

It takes a couple minutes before the swinging doors you just erupted from come to a loud shut once more, revealing a heated Jungkook sauntering down the stairs. “Get moving. You were the one who wanted to go home,” He doesn’t spare you another glance when he passes you by with a pinched expression. Both your jackets hang from his arm but he doesn’t care to hand you yours, quick to rush to his Benz with you right behind him.

The only sound that fills the air is the angry stomping of your feet, Jungkook’s not as prominent as your own heels clack loudly against the pavement. “I just needed a minute out. I never said you couldn’t finish your little act in there,” you retort, frustration lacing your voice.

He opts to ignore your remark at first, jaw set and focus straight ahead. Though the more he repeats your words in the back of his head, the faster his own spill out. “I asked you not to throw a scene and you go ahead and do it anyway,” he sneers, unlocking the back door before he throws your coats on the backseats. Slamming it just as loud. “For what, ___? Couldn’t stand not being the center of attention for one night so you pull this shit?”

Jungkook is fast to open the door to the driver’s seat but you beat him to it. Slamming his door back shut only to earn one of his lethal, disturbed looks. “You take that back.” You point an accusing finger his way, trapping yourself between his hovering body and the car. “For years, I’ve been tagging along to these stupid events like some luxury piece on the side. Supporting and loving you from behind your huge ego,” you huff, a pillow of air rushing from your lips and into the icy air. “All the while you choose to show me off whenever you feel like it when I’ve been happier for you than anyone in there—’’

“Have you?” His lips curl inwards, sharp eyebrows tightening. “Because the second you heard about some promotion, a couple more hours added to my contract, you start freaking out. Running out there like the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t, ___. Get it out of your head.”

“Jungkook—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly waves you off, pointing an angry finger back to the building you just came out of. “You know I’m winning an award at this very moment? I’m reaching the tip of the iceberg tonight, and instead of celebrating it, I’m out here trying to keep you sane.” Jungkook grunts, hand falling back to his side. “I didn’t see Jung fucking Hoseok do that last year when he won that damn award. His partner stood beside him, supporting him while he accepted the prize.”

You maintain eye contact, no matter how much fire swims in his gaze. “I know you didn’t just compare me to your coworker’s wife.” You scoff loudly, “Jung Hoseok probably has the decency to include his partner in every major decision he makes. Including promotions that will require your everything, Jungkook. If that was our case,” your finger swats back and forth between your raging bodies, “then yes, I would love to be that kind of wife for us. But I’ve done that for a long time. I can no longer be like her.”

Jungkook groans, stepping closer and causing you to press your back flat against his Benz. “Maybe Jung Hoseok works his ass off to earn such a prize in the first place, knowing his wife is there. On his side. No matter the case.”

“Well, maybe that is because Jung Hoseok and his wife never stopped loving each other!”

Little puffs of air escape your lips and the statement leaves you a little breathless when realization strikes through. They mold together with Jungkook’s, who also seems to need a moment to register whatever it was you just spat in his face. His aura changes not much longer after, eyes digging into yours with the tip of his tongue running over the back of his teeth. Jaw set tight with a dare running in his gaze. He looks down at you with heavy lids, and when you stay quiet for longer than he was hoping, he speaks up. Though the voice is low enough to pass as a warning.

“You want to repeat that for me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes as you try to place a somewhat reassuring hand to his burning chest, it’s hot and under fire beneath your palm. You didn’t mean to slap him across the face like that. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean you and I—’’

“I don’t care what the fuck you meant.” He says slowly, swatting your hand off him with an intense gaze. “Repeat that for me.”

You shake your head, keeping it up high even with the way he’s looking down on you. You can stand your own ground as well as him. “Kook, I’m not going to repeat myself when I didn’t mean to say that.” You argue, arms folding.

Jungkook locks eyes for much longer than is necessary, like he doesn’t believe you and he’s trying to find some sort of truth in them instead. Hands now situated in the pockets of his dress pants, he leans his weight down on one leg. “Then get in the car.” He then simply says, tone a bit too composed to ease you down. “We’re going home.”

“No,” you argue back with a stern voice. You’re both upset, incredibly so. The last thing you need to do right now is push your anger to the sidelines. “We’re not done talking, Jungkook.”

“We’re done.” He’s quick to tell you, taking a step back before and impatient, sharp eyebrow arches. The weight of his body on one leg. “I said, get in the car, ___. You wanted to go home? Let’s go fucking home.”

The bite in his voice is evident to send the warning through. He is just standing there, hands casually hidden in his pockets as he glares down at you, patiently waiting for you to get moving. You shoot him a look, something that says something along the lines of, seriously, this is how we’re gonna do this? He nods once. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all you’ll get.

Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.

Jungkook is quick to get in the driver’s seat when you huff and round the car, the silence quick enough to break through the tight space once the doors slam shut. For a brief moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at the packed parking lot without another word exchanged. You know Jungkook needs a moment to collect himself before he gets off driving you both home, but he is not the only one in desperate need to let go of some steam. The tight gripped hand around the wheel, where his knuckles turn a pale white is telling you enough about his current state. He hasn’t even stuck the key in the ignition yet and that might be for the better.

He finally looks at you without a word and you don’t back down from the challenge. He still fumes with fire when your gazes meet, lips tightly pressed together. The man watches you like a hawk, right hand still planted at the steering wheel as he stares back down at you from over his shoulder—seemingly no intention to drive off anytime soon. You seem to glow with a heated bitterness and he finds himself feeling a similar way. It does little to intimidate you, though.

Rage consumes you and the silence only seems to worsen it. You’ll have to voice your thoughts or you might go feral. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.”

He scoffs, bits of amusement tugging at the edges of his lips. “Don’t get me started, princess.”

Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.

Your eyes narrow, challenging him. “Go get started, Kook,” a dare drips off your mocking voice, low and anticipating when you raise a single brow. ‘‘I don’t mind.’’

And just like that, something in the air shifts. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drag down your glossy lips without an ounce of shame, or the noticeable fact that his pants are starting to tighten around his crotch area. Your eyes fall down there. You can’t helpt, and neither do you mean to hide it.

“You don’t want me to, baby. Trust me.” He asserts, tone firm and unwavering.

“Try me.”

Time seems to go still and Jungkook seems like he’s hesitant, eyes flickering down your lips one or two times too many. There’s not much sentiment found on his features. No pretty little smile at the lips, and no softened gaze roundening his eyes. Instead, his jawline is locked so tight, you’re able to catch each huff and puff that leaves him. The silent battle of wills unfolds between you. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if debating whether to succumb to your request or stand his ground.

However, Jungkook is a raging mess, all he needs right now is an outlet.

“Damn it,” He curses before he slams his lips onto yours. A surprised, muffled gasp falls from your mouth into his when your noses angrily collide, finding the right amount of balance when a tattooed hand reaches the back of your neck to keep you in place. His lips feel velvety against yours, soft and inviting despite the intensity of his movements. Even though his moves are much rougher. Much more raw.

You respond to the passionate kiss with the same intensity, kissing him back just as hard with your hand steady at his jaw. His own hand hides at your nape, both of you hovering over the storage box in between your seats like two horny teenagers hiding in his big brother’s car. Moans escape his lips and resonate against yours. Youthful desire builds the intensity, sending sweet tingles straight to your core.

‘‘Fuck, come here,’’ Jungkook utters, exhaling heavily as he settles back into his seat.

Not one to resist, you swiftly maneuver your way into the driver’s seat, straddling him with both legs on his either side. His hands instinctively find place at your lips as you lean in to capture his lips in a heated, messy kiss where you hold onto his jaw and push the back of his head to his seat. However, tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, he can’t let you take control.

Jungkook’s kisses become fervent as he pushes you against the steering wheel with a bit more force than intended, causing it to dig into your back with a sharp yelp eliciting into the air. The soft gasp you breathe out as you try to catch on easily gets ignored by him. Still adjusting to the rapid pace, his hands tenderly explore your backside, rubbing in sweet circles before moving down to roam over your ass.

His slender fingers carefully tug at the hem of your dress before he rushes to ride it up your thighs, just until your bare ass hovers above the growing bulge that’s hidden away in the dress pants that now seem too tight around his thighs for his own good. It is no longer something you could ignore even if you wanted to. Not with the way his cock throbs against your panties; the thin material of his slacks not helping much to create a decent barrier.

Nonetheless, you don’t seem to care when you shamelessly start to grind down on his clothed erection. He groans on your skin when you throw your head back, fingers playing while they tangle through his slick locks as if to guide his mouth. “Sit still,” he angrily mumbles, though he doesn’t try to still your hips from humping onto him.

“Don’t wanna,” you stubbornly mutter in response, tugging tighter at his hair in the hopes of a response. You have to hold the evil smirk that's threatening at your lips when you shift back and forth in his lap with a much quicker, more dangerous pace. “Make me?”

His mouth stills at your neck and a rush of satisfaction wavers over you. Jungkook’s hot breath fans over the same spot his lips were just pressed against, slow to look back up at you. Only to find you grinning in his lap like a fool. “You got such a big mouth on you tonight.” He murmurs so close to your lips like he’s planning on kissing you again. Heavy lidded eyes stare back at you in the dark when his middle finger hooks around the lace of your thong at your ass. “Such a big mouth but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. What a terrible trait, sweetheart.” He teasingly tugs at the thong, rubbing the material in between your sweet cheeks.

Your hands reach behind you, reaching for the zipper at the back of the dress before you start to unzip it. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” You sing, tweaking the straps off your shoulders with a teasing grin. What are you waiting for? Undress me, is what your eyes tell.

God. He can’t stand you.

His lips are on yours within a heartbeat. And neither of you plan to let go without a fight.

It’s like both of you are fighting for dominance over the other as the kiss grows more intense. Noses angrily bump into each other, teeth clash and bite into the already swollen flesh of your lips. You’re so engrossed in the lip biting and breath sharing that you barely realize Jungkook pulling down your dress with force, the latex now hunched around your waist to reveal your bare chest. It is only when his fingers reach out to pinch your hardened nipples when you break free from him, the sensitivity growing into excitement before it runs straight to your core.

“Hm, so sensitive baby.” Jungkook hums with a pleased grin threatening on his face, pinching a few more times at the sensitive buds. “I have a feeling you’re all bark and no bite tonight. How come?” He asks quietly. “Felt ignored because I didn’t look at your pretty tits all night? ‘Specially when they’re looking so nice and swollen for me right now, mhm?”

He dives down and wraps his pretty lips around the perky bud when you don’t respond on time, tonguing and nipping until he can hear you squirm on top of him. “I knew that was it.” He mumbles, letting go with a lewd pop. You almost don’t catch it with how low he is speaking, almost like you’re not even meant to hear him in the first place. His tattooed hand gently massages your other breast in the warmth of his palm. “Baby feels neglected the moment the focus isn’t on her. Ain’t that funny?” He chuckles humorlessly, something far away from genuine laughter and you don’t manage to crack a smile either. “Now she’s on top of my cock waiting to get fucked like she wasn’t acting like a total brat back there. Like brats deserve to get fucked nice and slow.”

You push Jungkook back against his seat by the chest, his head lazily lolling back without much surprise as he patiently waits for your next move with a darkened gaze. He knew he was going to press your buttons some time soon. Both your heart and head are fuming. “Not true.” You argue weakly before you decide it’s your turn to pepper angry kisses at the silky skin of his neck. Your grip tightens at his throat, right beneath his jaw. Only to keep him still, you convince yourself. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” You mumble against the hot skin, surprised he’s able to understand your muffled words.

Your hand isn’t that secure around his throat, but he decides to play along nonetheless, keeping his head locked to his seat. “So I’ve heard, sweetheart.”

You ignore the cheeky comment and instead allow your free hand to fumble with the leather belt wrapped so deliciously around his hips. You continue biting and licking in the crook of his neck, not caring if any purple marks find their way there. Jungkook swallows back a whimper of relief when your hasty hands unbuckle his gold coated Montblanc belt. His dress pants aren’t even supposed to be this tight fitted around his crotch area, even when he’s hard. Though it’s no secret Jungkook has been working on his thigh muscles throughout the years. And to say it has served him right would be an understatement.

“Take me out, sweetheart.” He breathes when you dip your hand inside, not yet granting him the pleasure of pulling out his cock just yet. Cupping him over his boxers instead, you suck his quiet moans up like second nature.

Jungkook’s hips eagerly buckle into your grasp and you contemplate on giving him the satisfaction this early on, because even you are growing impatient. Instead, you continue stroking his cock over his boxers, rubbing up and down his length with more pressure as you watch him exhale through his nose. Jungkook’s adams apple moves at his throat when he swallows tightly, eyes shutting in frustration.

You bring your lips to graze over his cheek, so sweet and romantically as the two of you are. Hot and sharp breaths fan on his skin. “Stop bossing me around, will you, Kook?”

He breathes lowly; still through his nose as his chest heaves up and down. Almost like he’s holding himself back from doing things you can’t handle. “Spoiled girls need someone to boss them around.” A sharp sting tingles at your ass, realizing he just spanked you there, the sudden cry you let out in the shell of his ear explaining why his large hands are now soothingly caressing the sensitive skin. “They turn into brats the minute someone doesn’t put them in place. Did you already forget the way you acted tonight, babe?”

He gently continues to knead your ass in his big hands. “You’re just as responsible as I am for that.” You whimper weakly, deciding you’ve had enough when you take Jungkook’s thick cock in hand and out of his pants and boxers. He’s warm, heavy and angry in your grip, red and swollen tip staring back at you when he’s fully out. You raise a brow at the sight. “But it seems like you don’t mind it right now.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he despises more at the moment. The way the shit-eating grin on your face only seems to spread the longer victory consumes you, or the way his dick twitches when your hand tightens around his shaft. Jungkook holds back his grunts. Adding free coins to your egoism is the least bullet point on his to-do list.

“Careful,” he speaks with a warning, eyes flickering back down your lips before the tips of his fingers slide down your covered slit from the back. They rasp against the black lace a little before he adds more pressure where your hole is covered, content to feel your soaked cunt leaking through the fabric. Continuing to feel up to the damp spot, he speaks. “You’re not one to talk when you’re dripping like this. Take this off for me, sweetheart.” He hints at your panties even though he is the one dragging the lace down your legs already.

For as far as his cramped Mercedes allows you to reach down atop his muscled thighs, you make sure you’re at a safe distance before a chunk of spit runs off your lips and onto his throbbing cock. Jungkook groans loudly, hips rutting up when you start pumping him with a tight grasp. You maintain eye contact while you do so, addicted to the way his hazy gaze angrily stares back at you, free hand moving to knead his balls. Your thumb grazes over the head, silently massaging his slit where you spread the precum over the rest of his leaking cock.

“Fuck,” you curse, the wetness coating your fingers. “Want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah.” You repeat.

Jungkook’s hands tighten at your waist, digging into your skin. “None of that.” He then mumbles, earning a confused frown from you. “Rub yourself against my cock, baby. Need to feel how wet this tight cunt is for me.”

“God.” You roll your eyes like you mean it, but your pussy starts to throb at the thought already. He knows it does. How could he not? Jeon Jungkook knows you from the inside out; knows what you like and what you don’t like. Six years of being with you has taught him that much. And because of that, Jungkook is not one to wait around for you to make your move and pushes his hands harder at your hips instead, guiding your bare cunt towards his cock.

“That’s it.” Jungkook lets out a low groan from the base of his throat, the pressure at your hips slacking down once you take over with a slower, more experimental pace. His head falls back and his thick neck comes into view instead, velvety skin on display when your cold fingers hide to intertwine at his nape again. Wet lips drag over his cock and spread wider the more pressure you add. “Look at you soaking my cock like you’re ready to ride it. As if girls like you deserve to be stretched out in the first place.”

“I deserve it.” You nearly stutter when you find the right amount of pressure, your clit now directly rubbing against his head.

He hums softly at your engrossed self. “Yeah?” He continues to ask. “You think you deserve to fuck yourself off on this cock?”

You can only nod in return when your pace increases and eyes shut tight. Jungkook takes sight of the teeth that dig into your lower lip and nails that scratch at the skin at the back of his neck. He moans a little at the sharp feel, his own chest heaving up and down when the blood rushes to his cock. “Can’t hear you, baby.” He pushes when you continue to rock against him without another word, his tattooed hand spanking your ass cheek again to grab your attention. “Need words to decide if I’m letting you ride me.”

It’s not an easy job to pry your eyes open again when your cunt is so deliciously dragging against him, but you manage to do so with heavy lids. “Not to bruise your ego, babe,” you breathe out, thumb padding on his slit as if addressing an obvious issue at hand. “But you’re not really in a position to make demands either.”

He huffs out some air, the warmth of it fanning against your lips. You know you’ve got him trapped without a comeback to throw back in your face when he pierces a single brow. “You should really do something about that mouth.”

“Thought you said you were gonna take care of that.” You boldly recall, clearly challenging him. “Or are you backing out so soon?”

Jungkook doesn’t care enough to defend himself against your assumptions. Instead, he nods his head to the backseat. “Get back there.” He instructs with pressed brows. “You won’t be so smart when you’re coming on my tongue.”

A dramatic sigh leaves your lips like you’re tired. Hands cupping his cheeks sweetly, the back of his head easily lolls to his seat so he looks up at you with those darkened, dangerous eyes. You take him into a slow and wet kiss where your lips seem to dance together in unison, breathing heavily into each other until his tongue presses between your parted lips in an attempt to enter. But you pull away on time. Still, only inches away from his face, his eyes glued to your lips. “You don’t have to eat me out. I can take you right now.” You heave with swollen lips brushing his.

“You know I don’t mind,” Jungkook frowns a little at the odd statement, fingers absentmindedly running circles at your hips again.

“I know you don’t.” You’re quick to speak, hands moving to rub at his shoulders. “But Kook,” you whine with an obvious pout, removing his grip off your hips before you guide his fingers to your dripping cunt, voice sweeter than candy as you watch him observing quietly. “Feel me—I’m so wet for you. Can’t I have you right now?”

A sense of relief already rushes through you when Jungkook’s fingers carefully pad at your wet lips, spreading them apart with a clear string of fluid sticking to his fingertips. “You’re soaked,” he says like you don’t already know, and you can only nod in agreement, the glossed and pouty lips never leaving your face. His cock grows harder in his pants at the feel of your hand cupping his own, hips rolling into his palm. “I won’t hurt you because we’re being eager, though.”

“Aw, come on babe,” you whimper like a little child. “I’ll let you know if it hurts...”

You watch him hesitate for a bit, playing it off when his finger sinks into your warmth. Subtle and careful at first, focusing on the way your walls tighten around the thick digit. You’re sucking him up like he’s meant to be there, silent moans hanging in the base of your throat when he starts pumping inside of you, deliciously curling at your walls. “I see what this is about,” you say with an edge cut sharp, a moan already at the tip of your tongue when his pace increases. ‘‘You’re scared you’ll bust the moment you’re in deep.”

You’re obviously teasing him. Evident in the way your heavy eyes fall down on him with a slight curve at the corners of your lips. He scoffs anyways, your words getting to him whether you’re joking or not. “Please,” he laughs, a humorless chuckle thrown in your face. “We both know I got you creaming around my cock before I even get the chance to.”

You tug a little at his long, jet black locks that were slicked back so perfectly before. Watching as his head rocks back at the action. “Show me? Make me regret assuming.”

He visibly gulps, but not out of nervosity. No, Jeon Jungkook rarely gets nervous, especially not around the woman he spent a total of six years with. Instead, he wonders what to do with you and your crazy attitude. There is a quiet dare you’re exchanging and he catches on just as fast. Never being one to sit back down on a challenge. Especially not when it comes to you and your sneaky games. Though truth be told, Jungkook can be just as devious as you do it.

“Ride me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook’s green card causes your devious lips to form back into the familiar sweeping grin while your excitement flows straight to your cunt. You palm his cock in your hand, feeling as he gets harder in your hold at the sensation. Lining him up between your lips, Jungkook is found having a hard time keeping himself sane, watching you with thoughts drowning him as the head disappears in your tight pussy, already sucking him up like you’ve never taken him before. “Good girl. Go nice and slow for me.” He grunts quietly, fingers digging harder at your sides the lower you sink down and onto his cock. “So good to me whenever you want to, hm?”

Your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck and you feel him move with you, lips at your temples waiting in anticipation. Like he expects an answer. “I’m always good to you.”

“Whenever you want to,” he corrects with a sharp edge, hands roaming over your ass in soothing circles when he can feel your hot, short cut breaths in his neck, inhaling the fresh citrus smell of his fragrance just the way you’re used to. His own chest heaves up and down in hammered motions, cock deliciously brushing against your velvety walls when you take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Would’ve been much easier if you let me eat you out, sweetheart.”

“I can take it.” You whimper against his skin, stilling to let both of you adjust. Slumping down, chest against chest for a mere minute before you suck a sharp breath in when he reaches in between your bodies, thumb continuing to rub small and fast circles at your clit. “J- Kook,” you voice just above a whisper, his fingers circling with more pressure at your clit. “Kook...”

“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice vibrating at the shell of your ear when his lips are so painfully close. “Are you already starting to regret it? I knew you were bluffing, but damn, can’t even play pretend so soon?”

He’s mocking you with that annoying tone of voice, and everything in you wants to prove him wrong. To spare yourself the embarrassment of being caught slacking. Slowly, you start to move with his thumb still driving you insane at your clit. It’s a small and minor movement at first, making sure he feels every little drag of your walls around his angry cock before he gets the chance to open that big mouth again. Well, to be frank, it is open; pretty and plush lips slightly parted to let the moans die down on his tongue.

You remove your head off his shoulder just so you can catch the look on his face when you heave yourself up, only until his tip is inside you and the rest of his cock is already covered with your juices. He shoots you a look that tests your limits, but you’re not intimidated enough to back down and mirror him when you sink onto his cock once more. The familiar stretch of his thick shaft making both of you moan out in delight, blending perfectly together in the narrow space of his Benz.

“Fuck, Kook.”

His shoulders slump a little, eyes shutting tight and the sight of it only makes you bounce faster on his cock. His slight curve hits the sweeter, more sensitive spot with each roll of your hips and your head nearly falls back at the delicious feel. Sharpened nails dig into his blouse at the shoulders but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind the slightest, probably too lost in his own pleasure to even notice. His tattooed hand reaches out to tug at your nipple some more, sweet moans of delight filling the air almost instantly.  

Jungkook got his veiny arm secured around the small of your waist, keeping you close enough to him to the point your breasts are pressed against his chest. Bouncing on his cock the way you do it so gracefully, you let your head fall down his shoulder, where your breaths become heavier and more ragged. “So eager for someone you claim no longer to love,” he hisses, seizing the opportunity to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin at your neck, just beneath your jaw. “Isn’t that what you said, baby? That we no longer love each other?”

“I didn’t mean it,” you groan, uttering out the words as he bites down even harder, intensifying the searing sensation in the heat of your neck.

His fingers curl at your hips, guiding them up and down above him with a delicious stretch of his cock at your walls. “So what,” he drawls, jaw twitching when your pussy tightens around him. “You said it just to say it?”

One thing about Jungkook is that, even after all these years of being married to you, he never tells you what the deal is about. You said something you weren’t supposed to? Sure thing, but he needs you to figure out what you did wrong yourself. Being the business man at heart, he has taught himself since his early college days to be straight forward and precise. Straight to the point. A no-nonsense approach with an ability to cut through the fluff. It’s a dance you’ve become familiar with. Maybe all he wants to hear is an apology, some cue that indicates a hint of regret—he himself isn’t even so sure. Maybe he just wants to know if you meant it.

Between heavy gasps and angry moans, you manage to speak, voice strained with a mix of arousal and remorse. “I... I didn’t mean it in the way you think,” you pant, the words barely audible in between your entangled bodies. “I was angry... and lashed out.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping onto you in a way that makes your hips still with only the tip of his cock inside. Your pussy pulses around nothing, desperate for the release he’s been building up so effortlessly. “Yeah?” He huffs, hips lifting off his seat to buckle into you with harsher, deeper thrusts. You can barely breathe when his pace increases and the only sound that’s filling the car is skin slapping against skin. “You just had to have the last word, didn’t you? Baby couldn’t keep her pretty mouth shut so she spews shit like that out.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you argue back, lifting your head to meet him for a messy kiss you can’t keep up with. Not with the way his thrusts bounce you up and down his dick uncontrollably. Lips angrily dancing together like it’s your last time, moans molding together like it’s your last taste. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kook.”

Those slender, tattooed fingers run back down until he spreads your ass cheeks apart, gaining more control over you as you let him guide you throughout the thrusts. “Neither did I,” he says and you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. Rhythm becoming more focused than before, you notice his thrust seeming to slow down a little, though his dick reaches deeper, sweeter spots inside you that has you yelping into the tight air. “This pretty pussy about to cream my cock?”

You whimper with despair, head thrown back as he fucks into you from below. The tip of his dick reaches all your sweet spots each time his hips meet your ass, eliciting your head to fall back and exposing your velvety neck before him. “Fuck, yes,” Jungkook is quick to place his lips at your throat, soothingly swiveling his tongue around in circled motions. “You fill me up so well.”

“Do I?” He knows he does. Can feel how each drag of his cock in between your sweet, hot walls drives you a little more crazy. “Are you gonna make me dirty and cum all over me when I fuck you like this? Baby can’t take it?”

‘‘I can take it. Jungkook, please,’’ a lewd moan leaves your lips when his hand curls around your throat, heated and tight until he can feel you swallow against his palm.

Your pleads don’t fall on deaf ears when Jungkook firmly plants both feet to the floor, one hand tightening around your hip and the other around your throat. Lifting your hips until your warm walls are only wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pauses, locking eyes with you and keeping it there as if telling you there’s nowhere else for you to look at. He doesn’t give you any other warning before he’s thrusting into you, hips meeting your ass cheeks with force until he’s satisfied and buried to the hilt. “Keep your eyes open babe, want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He doesn’t move, keeping his cock deep inside you until you manage to pry your eyes open and meet his dark gaze, lips formed into a big O.

You do as he says, unable to get another word out when his hips draw back back, cock deliciously returning with another single, harsh thrust that got your tits bouncing up and down. It takes everything in you not to break eye contact, not to pinch your eyes to a tight close with the way he fills you so well. “Oh my God,” you choke out, barely audible as your hand wraps around his wrist by your neck, nails scratching against his sweet skin.

Jungkook sucks your whimpers up, watching your eyes grow heavier before he pounds into you again. Pace fastening with each thrust that becomes a little more precise and aimed to reach your sweet spot. Your moans grow uncontrolled and his name rolls off your lips with each thrust, the sound of your shaky breaths melting together with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slight curve of his cock so deep in between your walls, you have a hard time keeping it together.

“I said, eyes open. Keep them on me.” Jungkook rasps out in between his own heavy breaths when your eyes shut close again. “That’s it, my pretty girl.” Lewd whimpers fill the air and he’s loving every sound that comes from you, ego swelling at each whine and each sob you throw his way. 

‘‘Fuck, Jungkook.’’ Your moans fill up the tiny space with each drag of his cock hitting your sweet spots, you don’t know how much longer you can take it when he pounds into you so deliciously.

‘‘Shit, cum for me, baby. Cream my cock.’’ He groans out loud, reconnecting your lips in a breathless kiss as he doesn’t need to tell you twice. The wave of your orgasm running through you, body tensing as your juices coat his thick cock.

He’s panting now, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and as you coat him to the brim drives him insane. He pumps into you a couple times more before unloading inside. Your head falls back at the hot feeling of him filling you up, buried into you as he groans into the suffocating air.

It’s a funny thing, the way you and Jungkook operate.

Contrary to what many might assume, even after being together with the man for almost 7 years, you still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Finding yourselves grappling with a sense of uncertainty, far from a picture perfect commitment the way you’d think of marriage those years ago. It isn’t a pretty sight, but you figure either of you have gotten used to the same song, the same  rhythm that there is to your relationship, a dance of trial and error, where you stumble your way through challenges together, yet apart.

It defies logic when you put it that way. It isn’t a secret that you and Jungkook haven’t been able to make each other happy for quite some time, to put it plain and simple. Initially, the two of you were capable of hiding your worries beneath a thick blanket of luxury items and long office hours, and it’s not like much of that has changed, but the clock is ticking until Jungkook is leaving for his two-month business trip and you haven’t exchanged a word since the event two days ago. Since the heated sex in the driver’s seat of Jungkook’s Mercedez. Usually you’d just shrug it off, swearing no ignorant man of a husband is worth the wrinkles at your forehead.

So you’re not sure why you can’t seem to lift the weight of your shoulders off.

It feels wrong, that is. Wrong for Jungkook to leave you to fetch for yourself for two months without some sort of reconciliation. He tries to maintain some resemblance to your usual routine, you can tell. He continues to hold you during your sleep, an arm draped around your waist as you can hear the peaceful rhythm of his breaths. Though he isn’t close enough for you to feel his burning, bare chest against your back. He still brings back home dinner from your favorite Malay takeaway downtown, but doesn’t linger at the dinner table to make sure you eat everything to the last rice grain. He still surprises you with beaming jewelry you added to your wishlist months ago, but doesn’t stay to look how it adorns you.

Jungkook’s absence drains you.

It’s true. Not a fact you would ever admit out loud, but when push comes to shove, you might want him by your side every here and now. Yet at the end of the day, you’re a stubborn woman. Always have been and Jungkook knew it from the start. If he wanted to fix things between you before he leaves for his trip, then he would’ve done it by now.

‘‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’’ Your voice beams through the living room, Jungkook’s presence surprising you as you enter. Seated at the sofa, his back faces you as he’s dressed in his formal attire, elbows digging into his thighs as he’s typing away on his phone.

You linger at the arm of the sofa, gaze fixed at his side. There is a moment of silence that settles between you, filled by the quiet taps of his thumb against the screen. ‘‘My meeting got canceled,’’ he answers, voice tinged with a bit of weariness. ‘‘I only got a few hours before I have to get back.’’

The tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your guard remains there. ‘‘Oh,’’ you respond dryly, that being all you can give him right now, turning on your heel to grab your shoes and coat and move your way out of the house.

Slipping your shoes on with your coat hanging in the crook of your arm, the car keys rumble loudly in your grip. Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air, making you halt in your steps. ‘‘I was thinking we’d see Seulgi in the meantime,’’ He calls over his shoulder, barely turning around to see you eye to eye. ‘‘I just called and she says she got a gap free for us.’’

Your brows furrow and his words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes glue back to his screen, mindlessly scrolling through it and you wonder what is going on through his head. You saunter back to the sofa, weight leaning on one leg when you stand before him again. ‘‘Right now?’’ You ask, head tilting. ‘‘I’ve got things to do, Jungkook.’’

Jungkook sighs, setting his phone aside and clasping his hands together between his thighs. He musters a smile, though it seems more ironic than genuine. ‘‘Well, it’s kind of urgent, ___,’’ He smiles with closed lips though it seems ironic. ‘‘Considering the fact that I’ll be leaving in less than a week.’’

You stand there, feeling your feet glued to the floor. ‘‘That’s not on me,’’ you manage to utter, an accusation thrown in there. It’s almost like he’s shifting the blame on you. Like you were the one to tell him to get on that boat and leave for two months. ‘‘You were the one who wanted to go on that trip, Jungkook, not me. If you wanted to see Seulgi you should’ve planned it sooner because I already made plans for today.” You call, “I can’t just reschedule them.’’

You hold his gaze, your eyes conveying a mix of frustration and disappointment. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You realize that the disconnect between you and Jungkook runs deeper than this singular moment. It's a culmination of unaddressed issues and unmet expectations that have taken a toll on your relationship. ‘‘Can’t you see that I’m trying? I just want to make things right before I leave,’’ Jungkook sighs softly, ‘‘she already said she doesn’t do virtual sessions. You know this could be the last time in a long time for us to visit?’’

Your patience wears thin when your eyes meet. He looks at you like you get to cut through the ropes, which in fact, right now you do. But again, you're not the one to distance yourself for months on end. You can’t help but blame him. ‘‘That still isn’t on me.’’

You’re fast to turn on your heel, ready to leave him in that big house. But you don’t get far when a gentle grip takes your hand in his own. He takes you by surprise, turning to look at him when his eyes find yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold on to you, to keep you from slipping away. There’s a silent plea in his gaze, a plea for understanding and trying to make things right.

‘‘Why are you pushing me away?’’ His voice is quiet as he tugs at your hand, urging you to stand before him again.

‘‘I’m not,” you respond, your voice laced with a touch of defensiveness, giving up the fight to his gentle grip, where he guides you to stand between his legs.

“I’m trying to make amends,” he adds, his tone a little gentler than before. “I’m trying, but you won’t even tell me where you're going.’’

His words leave you a little hesitant, torn between the desire to hold onto your grievances and the flicker of hope that perhaps there is a chance for reconciliation. “I don’t see how it’s important where I’m off to,” you finally say, looking down at those big eyes that stare back at you. “I already made plans and that’s all there is to it.”

His grip on your hands tightens slightly, his thumb gently caressing the back of it as he searches for the right words. “It matters to me because I want to be there for us,” he says, his voice earnest. There is a vulnerability in his eyes, a genuine sincerity that tugs at your heart a little. “I leave in less than a week and I take full responsibility for that decision, but at least give me the chance to make things right before I leave.”

With a soft sigh, you release your hand from his grip and reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing up his cheeks as an amused, humorless smile paints your lips. “A single, last minute session with Seulgi isn’t going to ‘make things right’, Jungkook.” You mock him, softly pinching his cheek like he’s a child. You turn your back on him, gathering your things with your shoulder bag secured beneath your arm. “If anything, it’ll just make things worse the way we do it.”

Jungkook hears the chuckle that escapes your lips but can’t bring himself to crack a smile, unable to catch the joke at hand. Sharp eyes never leave your frame as you shuffle around the living room, collecting everything you need before getting out of the house. “Fine,” his voice booms through the room as he stands up with a huff, hands at his hips. “We’ll just sit here and talk if that’s the way you want to do it.”

“And then? You think that’ll do the trick?” You retort, bitter laughter escaping your lips. You can count the amount of times you and Jungkook could’ve just sat down just to talk and fix your issues on one hand. You’ve always been here, at the house, waiting for him to finish his shifts to do exactly that. Now his meeting got canceled and suddenly he got time for you?

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together, his own frustration rising to the surface. “I never said it would magically fix everything,” he shoots back, his tone matching your intensity. “But at least it shows that I’m trying, that I want to make things right before I leave.”

You scoff. “Trying? Is that what you call it?” Sarcasm drips off your voice when you finally turn to face him, seemingly ready to get your ass moving right then and there. “Fine. Let’s try when I get back home tonight.”

The haste kiss you place at his cheek nearly comes across as an insult, your lips barely lingering for a moment before you pull away. And just like that, you’re ready to fly out of the door, fueled by frustration and the desire to escape the argument that has consumed the room. Jungkook thinks you’re being childish, perhaps a little selfish when he watches the way you almost seem to float your way off. He understands that a two month business trip will only deepen the rift between you, but living like you’re strangers during your last days together, leaving with a packed suitcase on empty words—he doesn’t want to know what would happen in that case.

“What in the world could be a priority over an attempt to fix your relationship right now?” Jungkook’s voice rings just as your hand grips onto the doorknob, the frustration evident as his voice raises to catch your attention.

You pause on your tracks, still holding onto the doorknob with all you got. The impact of his question makes you halt, awfully familiar like you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Funny thing you ask that, considering I’ve asked myself that same question every time you head off to wherever you are needed at the time.” You retort, bitterness lacing on to every word. You hum like you’re thinking, “I never got an answer to that, by the way.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slump, his eyes searching for your understanding. “That’s because I’ve got a job. To provide for us, ___. You know that much so don’t go around acting dense, please.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the anger bubbling up inside you. “Oh, so now I’m acting dense? That’s how you see it?” The bitterness in your tone is impossible to conceal. “You can’t just use your job as an excuse every time it becomes convenient. Be fair, Jungkook, we wouldn’t even have this conversation if it wasn’t for your canceled meeting, so why make such a big deal out of this?”

His expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his face. “I do what I have to do for us,” he replies, voice tinged with frustration. “You’re right. I’m not always able to combine business and private matters the way I wish I’d be able to. But I try, and I work hard so we can live a comfortable life. Is that not important to you?”

Bitter laughter escapes you and echoes through the hall, watching as he reaches closer. “Of course it is, but I am not a second job to you. I refuse to be,” you’re quick to argue back. “We can have a talk, but it’s not going to be an easy one and we both know it. So if we’re talking, then it’s not going to be when you conveniently got a meeting that got canceled. You’re going to have to prioritize us and our issues if you really want it to work, Jungkook.”

“I’m ready to sit down and do exactly that, right now,” there is a fire that swims through his gaze as he says it, one that dares to tell you you’re in the wrong. The hesitation runs through yours, it’s all he can see the longer you lock eyes. “I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the day if that’s what it takes, ___.”

Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.

You can’t help it; his image flashes through your head without an ounce of control. Because right in this fleeting moment, the guilt chimes at your chest as Jungkook looks at you with expectant eyes.

Truth be told, the unfamiliar man had been on your mind ever since you talked to him at the event. It had much less to do with his good looks, his charming persona and much more to do with the topics you shared, the things he had to offer. Things you thought you had let go of a long time ago with a heavy heart and a hard pillow to swallow.

Modeling was no longer part of the game for you. It’s one thing you accepted a long time ago. The first night after the event took place, you managed to ignore that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, thinking that feeling would be gone in the morning, where all you had to worry about again was you and Jungkook, only to wake up and his offer being the first thing you could think of. You couldn’t get your mind off it even if you truly wanted to. Unable to help yourself, you couldn’t think of your meeting with Taehyung as much of a coincidence. Not when he was linked to your world of fame, to all the people you had let go of; the colleagues, the creative editors, the artists that you were once part of.

His card burnt the inner pockets of your handbag that night.

“Where are you heading off to that makes you want to say no?” Jungkook’s question pierces through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present as his voice brims with curiosity, his eyes searching for answers. Yet, you hesitate to respond, uncertain if revealing the truth would only complicate matters further.

“It’s nothing important, just personal matters.” You reply vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

The room descends into an uneasy silence, the tension thickening in the air. Jungkook senses your hesitation, his face contorted with frustration. “___, please,” he implores, voice tinged with hints of despair. “Personal matters? I’m your husband.”

Jungkook’s words strike a chord within you, the weight of his statement hanging heavily in the air. It’s not that you don’t want to tell Jungkook about Taehyung, about the session he promised you. It’s just that this is also something new to you. You don’t know what you want yet, you don’t know where this newfound opportunity with Taehyung might lead to. Discussing this with Jungkook only makes everything so much more official and binding.

“I met someone at the event—the photographer,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember him? His name is Taehyung,”

“Taehyung,” he repeats quietly, the question mark still visible at his forehead. His lips purse, searching your eyes for more clarity. “Yes, I remember him. What does this mean, ___?”

You can hear the impatience getting to him, the tension mounting between you both. “It means… we got to talking while you were networking with your coworkers,” you say, the statement leaving your lips a little saltier than you intended to. “So, the topic of modeling kind of came up in the conversation. Did you know he works with Minnie?”

“Minnie Chang? As in, your modeling agent?” His brows furrow, voice quiet enough for you to know this isn’t good news to him.

“Yes, her.” You nod along, unable to help the excitement growing at your chest. “Turns out Taehyung has been working with her on projects for some time. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, he still thinks I have some potential in the industry after all those years of neglecting it. He even gave me his card that night, says there’s no strings attached to it.”

“And now you’re off to a shoot with the guy himself,” he huffs as his arms fall limp to his sides, hands at his hips as he searches your eyes for something you can’t place. “I don’t get it, ___. I thought we agreed you were done modeling? You want to dive back into that world even though we got our own shit to sort out?”

“I know what we agreed on,” you argue back, taking a sharp breath. “It’s nothing big, Taehyung said so himself. It’s a one-time shoot and if I decide to do something with it, then I will.” His eyes tell you all you need to know, they’re sharp and dig into your skull. You drop your keys into your back with a sigh of disbelief. You can’t believe he’s doubting you right now. “But I know I won’t. It’s a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m looking for a fulltime job, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s frustration is palpable as he clenches his jaw, his voice tinged with bits of disappointment. “One-time thing or not, it’s about the principle, ___.’’ He says, more sternly than you’re used to when it comes to him. ‘’Seems like you’re ready to push our problems to the side this once. So why not twice? Or three or four times every time they'll call you in for another shoot?’’

You scoff, brow arching upon his daring words. Turning on your heel, you dart out of the door, beams of sun hit your face instantly. ‘‘You’re one to speak.’’ A humorless chuckle leaves your throat, the sour smile on your face still there even though it feels like it’s crumbling. ‘‘You’d finally know how that feels, then. When the person who is supposed to be there every step on the way just neglects you with a snap of the finger,’’ you angrily mumble, his own feet rushing after yours towards the car. You spin around once you reach it, feeling he’s hot on your tail. ‘‘It doesn’t feel good, I know, baby,’’ you say, voice laced with exasperation, ‘‘but you’re off on that trip in just a few days. Either of us are gonna have to get used to that feeling, whether we like it or not.’’

Jungkook’s footsteps slow down as he reaches to stand before you, towering over your smaller frame. ‘‘You can’t be serious,’’ he blurts, gesturing a hand towards his chest. ‘’Can’t you see that I’m making an effort? It’s not easy for me either, ___. I don’t want us to be apart any more than you do. So why push me away for some random shoot that just fell into your hands?’’

‘‘Because this,’’ a pointy finger swivels between your chests, emphasizing the growing divide. ‘‘This isn’t working.’’ The weight of your words press down on you, a heaviness settling in your chest. ‘‘It isn’t, and we’re still holding onto the last thread like it is. You and I need to come up with a new strategy or so help me God, we won’t last. Taehyung gave me an opportunity that night and I’m trying not to be miserable in this house, Kook. That’s all there is to it, I need distraction too.’’

You can tell he’s holding back. Can tell by the way he sucks in his tongue, jaw sharpening because of it as his lips turn into a tight line. ‘‘So this is it, then?’’ He asks, crossing his arms with a puffed chest. ‘‘Let’s stop trying and just hope for the best because you need a little something to distract yourself with. Correct?’’

“Don’t twist my words.” You snap, meeting his fierce gaze as the intensity of the moment grounds you both. “Fuck it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusing me of shit I didn’t even say,” you delve in your handbag, swearing you left your car keys somewhere in there.

You’re obviously hitting his last nerve. It’s clear, evident in the way he holds his index finger to his nose like he’s thinking. Frowned, sharp brows and a tight line of his lips as he weighs his weight to one leg. “We’re never gonna solve any of our shit if we keep running from it.” He says through gritted teeth, holding himself back from raising his voice at the driveway. “Do you want to make your point clear, is that it? Because I fucking got it. I’m a shit husband who puts zero time and effort into his relationship. I fucking got it. But I’m trying to get somewhere now,” he watches as you dig deeper into your bag, unable to focus on the task at hand with him fuming before you. “And now that I am, you’re feeding yourself into delusions because you want to be petty and are determined to make me feel the same way? Is that really what you’d rather do today, ___?”

“Please,” you repeat with a loud scoff, gaze burning into his. “Believe it or not, baby, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” you pinch his cheek in a mocking manner, not shocked when he’s quick to tear your touch off him. “Or at least, I’m trying not to make you my first priority, considering you’ve stopped doing that a while ago. If it taught me one thing over the years, it must be that it made me fucking miserable. Blame me all you want for not wanting to feel that way. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Baby,” he sings sweetly, a hand at your cheek as he makes sure your eyes stay locked together. He captures the fire blazing in your eyes, burning into his skull. “We can drop the big-girl act right now and head inside. I mean it,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Right now it’s your word against mine. I’ll pour us something to drink and we’ll sit down. Just you and me, that's all we need.”

You jerk away from his touch, the intensity of the moment still pulsing between you. Drop the act? You’re seething. Jeon Jungkook always finds a way to make the steam blow out of your ears. “I don’t need anything from you.” You snap without missing a beat, thankful for the way you’re magically able to find your car keys in one of the side pockets of your bag.

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, heavy with unresolved tension. You watch as his lips part, looking for words to argue with, but nothing comes out. It feels like a confirmation when it happens. You need to be anywhere but with him right now, and so does he.

Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.

It’s an obvious matter of fact which you can’t help but examine into detail. Taehyung’s fragrance fans you off in a refined way, a gentle and classy blend of notes that seems to match that charismatic, boxy smile he keeps sending your way. And while Jungkook usually dresses in formal designer attire, woody essence hanging in the crooks of his neck, Taehyung dresses not only to impress, but also to express his artistic soul. Loose button up tucked in black trousers that sway at his legs with each step, it comes to showcase his vibrant and flowy persona. The color palette, combined with that perfect set of teeth represents his chic, suave ways of working. It comes to contrast Jungkook entirely.

Maybe you notice it because you’ve nearly spent a decade with the man. By his side day in and day out with a commitment beautifully decorating your ring finger, straight to a point where you could no longer see through each other’s flaws. And maybe that is where Taehyung comes in as a fresh breath of air. Even now that you’ve only seen the man twice in a lifetime, you only seem to focus on all the ways he seems to differ from Jungkook.

Do you feel guilty about the fact you’re watching Taehyung like a hawk, the lens on him a little too focused to point out all the things Jungkook isn’t? Not really. Right now, you don’t really feel anything. You drove over to Taehyung’s studio with half a heart racing against your ribcage, all the things you and Jungkook told each other in the back of your mind even as you arrived. Fifteen minutes late and dissolved hair that seemed like a hand has been through it a couple times.

Taehyung didn’t question it and you’re thankful he kept quiet. The last thing you need to have on your mind is Jungkook. Not his angry words, not even yours. And the charming photographer did a great job at keeping your mind off him the first hour of the session, it’s not his fault.

“You hate them.” Taehyung declares at your side, the camera in his hands falling down to his lap in a defeated manner. He’s seated at the corner of the table, one leg dangling off it right next to your high chair.

“It’s not that I hate them,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the studio. Taehyung’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes holding onto a sense of curiosity. You feel the weight of his unwavering attention, and for a moment, Jungkook is all you can think of. “It’s more like I had forgotten how good this feels... all of this. Really, your shots are amazing. I guess I’m just kind of in shock.”

A tiny smile creeps up at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s only half the work with a model like you,” he snickers cutely, nudging at your side. “And I don’t want to make this an I-knew-it-better-moment, but... I kind of told you so from the start.”

You can’t help but return his smile. “I know, you’re a genius.”

“Your words, not mine.” Taehyung holds his hands up in defense, the smile that’s teasing at his lips enough to tell you he agrees. “So, what do you say? I’ve got a few empty portfolios in the back, we could print some of these photos out and make it yours.”

The wink he throws your way doesn’t go by unnoticed, his sneaky, encouraging grin filled with enthusiasm as he waits for you with a glimmer in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, lower belly piling with excitement at the idea of physically holding today’s shoot in your hands. Though the hesitation creeps at you, as if something stops you from letting that excitement flow out. “I don’t know, Taehyung…” You mumble, a toothy smile on your face even though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m gonna have to take that map home with me, and I’m gonna stare at those pictures for hours. It’ll drive me insane.”

Taehyung quirks a brow. “That’s the point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur quietly, and Taehyung is unable to pry his eyes off you, the grin from before now fading off and replaced with a concerned frown. “I know that’s the point. It’s just that... I don’t know. I’m going to want more.”

It takes a second before your words work through but the grin eventually works its way back onto his lips. Wide and closed-lipped with big effort, Taehyung fights hard to hold his toothy smile back, biting at his bottom lip to prevent it from happening. It’s cute how the little confession slips off your tongue and you’re so scared to see what the outcome could be. Taehyung shuffles at his seat at the corner of the table, shoulders relaxing. ‘‘I’ll give you more.’’ He says, and suddenly his cheeky demeanor is gone, looking at you like he’s closing down a deal.

You press your lips together but he can see the way you’re trying to hold your laughter back. ‘‘Taehyung, be serious.’’

‘‘I’m serious, ___.’’ He says, and it’s like he pronounces your name in slow motion. His pink lips pout a little as if he’s deep in thoughts, head tilting while your eyes lock. ‘‘I don’t see why not? You haven’t been on the job for years, the pictures obviously show that it comes to you like second nature… we’re a great team too, can’t deny that one.’’ He smiles charmingly, and it now results in you biting your bottom lips to prevent the cheeky smile from reappearing. ‘‘So, yes. I’d give you more if that’s what you wanted.’’

‘‘This is insane.’’ You nearly whisper, head shaking. ‘‘I mean, this is crazy, Taehyung. I’m not a model anymore. I can't just pick up where I left off, it’s been literal years and I probably just shouldn’t even think about it.’’

His shoulder leans into you, watching you ramble from beneath his black curls like he sees right through you. ‘‘Because of your marriage?” He asks, eyes shifting downward before he meets yours again and you’re uncertain where exactly they shifted towards, but it might be better if you don’t know.

You chuckle lightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. ‘‘I mean, sure. Jungkook’s my husband, he has some say about any of this.’’

‘‘Sure he does. But here’s a problem,’’ he says, a pointy finger in the air before it drops back to his lap. ‘‘You’re scared he won’t understand the purpose of it. Scared that he won’t be supporting you in all the ways you’ll need him. Right? Considering your husband is… sort of a prick. More or less.’’

You send him a scolding glare, one that’s not too hard on him looking at how you sketched Jungkook out to be that way in Taehyung’s eyes. ‘‘Tae,’’ you say quietly, ‘‘I know I mentioned some things about Jungkook back at the event, but really, he isn’t a jerk. Not a prick, or any of that sort. That’s only okay for me to say.’’ You add the lighthearted joke to keep the good atmosphere in the room. After all, you don’t blame him for thinking of Jungkook as a bad guy.

‘‘I get it, I’m overstepping my boundaries here.’’ He holds his hands up in the air, admitting defeat with that charming smile on his face. ‘‘But I’m just saying, ___. Relationships are important–marriage is important. But here’s the thing about you,’’ he pauses, voice lowering. ‘‘You have talent, undeniably so. I’ve captured it all today. And I truly believe that sometimes, you have to pursue your passions regardless of the risks. Regardless of anyone else if this is what feels right to you.’’ Taehyung holds his hands to his chest like he’s speaking from the heart and it makes you nervous how he says all these things like it’s so easy. So effortless to see the man you spend the last six years with as a risk.

Truth is, yes: Kim Taehyung sees right through you. He is right all along and you wouldn’t know how Jungkook would respond to making this whole ordeal a regular thing. Hell, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to react to it. With how shaky your relationship has become as of lately, how each one of your problems have circulated back to Jungkook’s office job some way or another, it’s hard to tell if the opportunity Taehyung offers you would truly work in your favor.

You take a deep breath, contemplating Taehyung’s words and the weight of them. The room falls into a brief silence though it isn’t pressuring, not trying to suffocate you for once. It’s not that you doubt the talent or passion that lingers within you, but you wonder if it’s worth anything if it means it would only dig your relationship deeper in the ground, especially when you and Jungkook are already trying so hard to climb out of that hole.  

‘‘It’s not something you have to figure out right now.’’ Taehyung shrugs, a reassuring smile at his lips when he catches him losing you. ‘‘I just want you to know you can always give me a call. I’d be down for anything going forward, ___.’’

You can hear the hope in Taehyung’s voice and you wonder why he tries so hard to make you understand. You appreciate it, though you wonder. You just figure he’s a good guy with a good heart.

‘‘You know, you can print those photos out.’’ You say, back straightening as you catch how it throws the guy off guard a bit, his brows rising. ‘‘I had these crazy ideas for the cover of my portfolio, anyway. Might as well put them to good use and take it home with me.’’

You even surprise yourself as the words spill from your lips, though you have no intention to take them back. You suppose this is what you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. Taehyung’s eyes almost seem to lighten up. ‘‘I knew you were a smart one.’’

And that’s how you’re ushering Taehyung towards the printer in the corner of his minimal studio before he can make any more smart comments. He reassures you some more time, sensing your absence as silence falls over you once more, insecurities still nagging at you even when you convince yourself this small step could lead to something good. Something bigger. At one point, it’s just the sound of the printer rapidly inking the paper as the both of you stand there on the side in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. But you’d say it’s rather an unfamiliar one. Taehyung never does anything to make you feel like a fish out of the water, he makes sure of it and you’re grateful for that.

Joy swells at your chest, leading to butterflies filling up your lower belly. Not because of Taehyung; even as you see right through his charming looks or flirtatious brown eyes, but because he saw something in you that night of the event that made a spark of inspiration flow. Thinking back at how easy it’s been with him, how you haven’t even met the man a week ago and how you’re now here, in his studio working on things you once called passion for—it drives you crazy.

‘‘You know what? We should celebrate,” he calls and the sound of his voice throws you off guard. “With some wine, I mean. You like red?’’

And that’s how you and Taehyung end up popping a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco in the middle of his studio. The curly haired man says he always has some sort of beverage stored in the back in case of celebration, and you believe him. His character is like a breath of fresh air. He goes with the flow, you can tell, that being all you’ve been doing in the past days you introduced yourselves to one another. One hand dug deep in the pocket of his voguish trousers and the next thing you know, you’ve finished up a shoot and are setting up your portfolio together.

You like Taehyung.

You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.

Conversation flows well, even after only a couple sips of the wine he poured you. Conversation has been flowing well since the start of today’s shoot, but now that you get to sit down, look him in the eye and get to know him better, you can tell you’ve got that chemistry. The air in Taehyung’s studio feels lighter, almost ethereal, as you sit comfortably at the foldable, rusted party table and squeaky chairs he pulled from the back. Only after apologizing a handful of times, his nearly empty studio only holding onto lightning and his required equipment as you sit in the middle of it. It’s not his day to day workplace, he told you, though you keep telling him there’s something to it. The minimal yet intimate air lingers and it makes you feel good on the inside.

There’s an effortless ease to your interactions, you’re not sure what it is that he does, but he does it. Taehyung’s laughter resonates in the room, infectious and sincere whenever he talks. You find yourself opening up to him, discussing your ambitions, as well as your fears. There’s a certain comfort in his presence, as if he intuitively grasps the struggles you’ve been facing and offers you a safe space to let it out.  

‘‘This is one of my favorites,’’ Taehyung leans back in his chair, one leg over the other as he brings his glass back to his lips. Your portfolio is sprawled out over the entire surface of the tiny table, resulting in you to lean over with your own glass in one hand. You follow his gaze, falling on the picture of you that’s taken from an upper angle, open palms directed to the camera and glued to your cheeks. ‘‘This one makes it seem like you never quit modeling–it’s probably something in the eyes. They’re captivating.’’

You feel your cheeks heat up as you peer at the photograph. It’s true, the image captures a certain intensity in your eyes, a spark that evokes passion. It reminds you of the days where modeling was your world, where it was your only ambition and when you were fully immersed.

‘‘I mean it.’’ He says when he notices the curl of your lips, unknown what to do or say next. ‘‘You’ve got the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in, don’t you know?’’ He enjoys seeing you so flustered, enjoys seeing how you turn in somebody new, so different from the woman he first got to know at the event. He almost feels proud for bringing this side out of you.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, Taehyung’s compliment leaving a cute flutter in your chest. You glance at the photo again, studying the intensity in your eyes like he described. ‘‘Thank you, Taehyung.’’ You reply sincerely, ‘‘I guess all of this is still kind of surreal to me. Didn’t think I’d find myself in a studio ever again, you know? It’s kind of a big deal to me.’’

‘‘I get that.’’ He says slowly, and you swear his voice drops a few octaves because of it. Leaning over the tiny table with folded arms, wine glass before you. Your eyes lock and neither of you care to say anything for another moment.

The afternoon carries on and shifts into an evening where the sun has already set before you can comprehend it. Taehyung’s squeaky party chair leaves an uncomfortable sting at your ass but you don’t mind, barely notice the feel when the nearly empty wine bottle sits there to stare at you both. A little liquid layer of red wine left over and waiting for you to finish as you hang onto Taehyung’s every word. Hang onto his tongue as he speaks of his experiences within the industry, speaks of everything you’ve been missing out on the past few years. You feel like that girl in highschool again, reading through Vogue magazines in between classes and cutting your favorite models out to stick it on to your moodboard when you were supposed to work on your homework.

Yes, you look up to Taehyung. It was inevitable from the beginning. You believe so, because Kim Taehyung’s the only connection you have right now who dives right back to that world. That world you’ve been dreaming of for so long and once made true. And not only that, but he was also the first person in a long time who saw you for anybody else than the wife of. Say you’re being dramatic, but it’s no more than the truth. Taehyung gave you an opportunity within the first ten minutes of truly knowing who you were. It says something about him. Something good that makes you feel like you can handle a lot more than you think.

You at 9.38 PM | Hi, I had a lil wine and I’m jus a little tipsy, but I probably shouldn’t be driving

You at 9.40 PM | do you think you can come over and pick me up?

Read at 9:40 PM.

You lay your phone flat on the table as you lean back into your seat with a loud huff. Copying you, his head tilts slightly. “I could just drive you home, you know that right? No need for him to drive all the way over here.”

“There’s that, but you’ve already done so much for me today.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “Really, there’s nothing you could do right now that would make me any happier.”

It’s true. Kim Taehyung made you the happiest woman alive today. 

It doesn’t take very long before you hear the shut of a car door right outside, followed by impatient knocks at the front.

“The one and only.” Taehyung murmurs with a teasing smile your way, lazily getting up from his seat before he moves to the door.

The door flies wide open and revealed behind it is your husband, hands at both his hips as his dress shirt stretches across his chest at the movement. He leans his weight onto one leg, analyzing the man before him. “Right here, sir,” Taehyung comes to stand beside him, stepping outside and pointing to something that’s out of your view. “I’ve got a doorbell. For future references.”

You catch the playful smile that’s tugging onto the corners of Taehyung’s lips and so does Jungkook. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly as he steps inside the small studio, fast to catch your eye from your seat at the table. “But I’m just here to pick up my wife.”

Jungkook’s steps sound heavy in the nearly empty space, leather designer shoes tapping against the flooring with a slight echo at each stride. He ends up in front of you by the table but doesn’t say anything, though you see his lips are pursed and cheeks are sucked in. Hands hiding in the pockets of his dress pants, you notice how his aura comes with a change of atmosphere. Let that be his body language, the strict look on his face, or maybe even the way you react to his presence—you know the change didn’t just come falling out of the sky.

You snap out of it when Taehyung closes the door behind him with a soft thud, followed by awkward silence. Your chair screeching against the floor comes next. “Taehyung,” you move around the table, coming to stand next to your husband and locking arms. “This is my husband, Jungkook.” The man on your side doesn’t care to return your touch. No arm at the small of your back, barely another look your way when he’d rather look anywhere else with pulled brows. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung. The photographer I told you about. He’s been doing such an amazing job at running today’s shoot.”

Being the bigger person in the room, Taehyung steps in to stretch out a hand, back curving slightly. “It’s good to meet you, I’ve only heard so much.”

Jungkook only provides him a nod of acknowledgment with each childish nerve that still runs through his body, ignoring eye contact like he’s still sixteen and his mama taught him no manners. You watch as Taehyung’s hand dissolves into a loose fist and falls to his side in defeat, you send him an apologetic smile to make up for it but he brushes it aside with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Alright, I guess we should leave.” You break through the ice, hand falling at your side as you roam around to search for your bag. You reach for the curly haired man once everything’s settled, and even though Jungkook didn’t care enough to return your touch before, you catch him tonguing his cheek when you reach out for Taehyung. “Thanks again. Really, I had a blast.”

“No more than I did.” He gives you his signature smile, the one that would leave many weak in the knees.

You bid your goodbyes, telling each other to get home safely as Jungkook watches from the side. You hug Taehyung tightly before you leave, an embrace where your arms are secured around his neck and his hands appropriately rest at your back.

It’s when you and Jungkook step out when you halt in the middle of the doorway, your portfolio that was secured beneath your arm now pushed into his chest. “Oh, Taehyung!” You turn around, hair sweeping against Jungkook with the sharp turn you take. Taehyung watches you with curious, slightly widened eyes. “Is it okay for me to give you a call later this week? I’d really love to repeat what we did today some time soon.”

His features relax, familiar grin returning. “You can always give me a call.” He smiles cutely. “Hit my line, I’ll have time for you, ___.”

Insecurity is not something Jungkook has had to worry about in the past, and certainly not now. Not when it came to you, not when you were entirely his, and he was entirely yours without any second thoughts. And he still trusts you completely, trust isn’t the issue. Insecurities aren’t the issue, either. And maybe, Kim fucking Taehyung isn’t what bothers him. Maybe it’s the way you seem to admire him, remembering that twinkle in your eyes from a long time ago. Remembering that smile you rarely save for Jungkook to see these days.

So, yes. Jungkook feels a weird tingle in the pit of his stomach like he’s being teased. Like it’s your first month of dating and he’s back in college again. Standing on the side like this, waiting for you to finish the conversation, the bitterness can only creep up on him at this point.

Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.

The drive back home is worse than when Jungkook came to pick you up. He isn’t saying a word and neither are you, but he seems to be the only one bothered by it. With one hand at the steering wheel, he catches a glance at you on his side. Your nose digs into the map Taehyung gave you to bring home and your focus holds so much, you don’t even notice him staring. He can’t see much of what’s on the inside, not with the sun that has already set and the darkness that has consumed his sight.

Once you arrive home, Jungkook makes a beeline to the bedroom and you don’t put in much effort to run after the man. You store the portfolio someplace safe, where you’re sure nothing could spill or damage it in any way. It’s undeniable how today’s events made you feel like an absolute doll. Maybe it’s the after effects, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re running your entire skincare routine with droplets of water from your shower still dripping from your wet hair. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve been feeling like a pretty girl all day and you want to continue feeling that way.

It’s evident in the way you choose to wear the prettiest slip dress you can find hanging in your closet, the satin material cutting off just beneath the swell of your ass. It’s a piece Jungkook bought you a while ago during one of his first trips away, coming home with a Dior bow wrapped around the luxury packaging and a boyish smile dragging up the edges of his lips. It’s been his favorite ever since. Always loved how the fabric hugged your every curve, the way your nipples seemed to pinch right through. The way his eyes were unable to rip his gaze off you.

It’s when you enter the bedroom as Jungkook’s broad back meets you, seated at the edge of the queen sized bed with his elbows resting atop his thighs. He doesn’t bat an eye as he feels the bed dip behind him. Your knees dig into the fluffed sheets as you reach closer, heaving a loud sigh like you’re calling out for him.

“You don’t like him, do you?” you hum sweetly, pausing when your front is pressed against his back, heat radiating between you. It’s obvious who you’re referring to, hands travel at his both sides before you embrace him from beneath his arms. “Taehyung is a talented guy, don’t be so hard on him.” You chuckle at his ear, leaving a single, soft peck at his cheek. “Maybe you should flip through the portfolio we put together. You’ll really see him in a different light then, trust me.”

Manicured fingers fumble around until they reach the lowest button of his blouse. Starting from the bottom, you undo it, and you can hear the subtle sigh coming from his nose, jaw set tight as his teeth grind together. You press a trail of wet kisses to his warm skin rather than commenting on it, right below his earlobe reaching lower towards the sweet spots in his velvety neck, nails teasing at his stomach as you continue to unbutton his shirt. Jungkook is holding back, you can tell by the way his head tilts your way and eyes close at the feel of your lips buried deep in his neck, tits pressing at his backside as your hands are all over him, eagerly fumbling with his shirt–not giving into your touch. Not yet.

‘‘You’re still in your work clothes,’’ you hum in his neck, as if it isn’t already obvious. His dress pants tighten around his thick thighs each time he sits down and it’s your favorite thing in the world, the outline of his hardening crotch a little more visible with each gentle nip of your teeth against his skin.

“Yeah,” he sighs. ‘’Just in case my tipsy wife couldn’t drive her way back home again and I’d end up changing clothes anyway,’’ Jungkook simply says, even if the bitter edge to his statement doesn’t go missed by you.

You chuckle cutely, the sweet sound roaming at his ear. Is that why he’s upset? ‘‘Okay, alright.’’ You breathe lightly, sliding the light fabric of his shirt off his broad shoulders, his hot and inked almond skin on full display when you settle for less, throwing the piece to the side. Playful pecks follow at his shoulder blade, tender and deliberate. You trail your fingers lightly along the curves of his muscular back until you decide you had enough, rounding him until you straddle him, both legs on his either side. Cupping his face, you make him lock eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry for the late night drive. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,’’ you confess softly, voice laced with a hint of mischief, hips carefully beginning to roll against his. ‘‘But I promise to behave next time, okay?’’

With his face cupped in your hands, you press your lips against his to pull him in a longing kiss, lingering a little longer than usual. You can tell he’s tired, that he doesn’t have much energy left over to deal with you, though your lips dance in unison anyway. Sweetly sucking onto your bottom lip like he’s hungry and you’re a free buffet. You watch as you detach from him, his eyes fluttering open after. “You’re in a good mood.” Jungkook hums with heavy lidded eyes on yours.

‘‘That’s because I had a good day.’’ You sing gently. Your wide, toothy smile would usually be one thing that he believes could halt anyone in their tracks. Though he beats you to it as you reach for another peck at the lips.

‘‘Hm, yeah?’’ He asks, head tilting. And even though his thumbs start caressing sweet circles at your exposed thigh, disappearing beneath the rich satin of your nightdress, all you can focus on is the tight line of his lips. The slight pinch between his brows. ‘‘My day was less fun, baby.’’

Your playful demeanor shifts at the seriousness of his tone, the straight face he gives you as he examines your every move unable to go unnoticed by you. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about the argument you had earlier today. It’s just that you’ve been in a position where you came as a second option to him all the time, so when the roles were reversed this morning, you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. Still, with a sympathetic expression, you lean in closer, a gentle whisper against his lips. ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ you ask, fully prepared to hear about all the ways he felt when you left the house like you haven’t been through it yourself.

He keeps his eyes on you for a minute longer and you can’t seem to figure out what is going through his head. Neither of you say anything and he keeps you in the dark for a moment, staring at you with those heavy lidded eyes that don’t bring you much further. “I’d drive around town to pick you up in the middle of the night, ___. You could call me at 3 in the fucking morning and I’d be there without another word.” Jungkook’s fingers tighten at your hips, gaze flickering to your lips. His voice is stern, like he’s preaching. You merely stare back at him with those big eyes of yours, like you wouldn’t have an idea where he’s going with this. “Late night drives don’t bother me at all.”

“Okay,” you pause carefully, head tilting to indicate you’re listening. “Then what does?” Two hands go through his black locks, pushing the hair out of his face as you begin to massage his scalp. The feel of your nails against his scalp is always so reassuring to him, even though not a hint of reassurance paints his face right now.

His lips press together. Why does he have to chew it out for you? You can’t seem to figure it out yourself and Jungkook’s patience is running on thin ice. It’s not a combination either of you like to see. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to keep employees on the job so long after business hours? It’s unprofessional, ___.” He drops the bomb, causing the fingers that are running through his hair to slow down. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t working, Jungkook.” You laugh, though his mood doesn’t lighten up. “Taehyung and I were celebrating–it’s my first modeling job in years. We kind of had to.”

“With wine?”

You halt at the shift in his tone, at his voice that’s laced with accusation. The single brow that arches up his forehead as if he’s searching for a reason to be angry, to find fault in your actions. ‘‘Yes, with wine,’’ you reply, maintaining your composure. ‘‘What’s the issue? You drink wine with your colleagues all the time.’’

The air in the room becomes tense as he continues to scrutinize you, eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. ‘‘At social gatherings, yes. Not one-on-one in a room the size of my kitchen cabinet, ___, come on. What are you even on?’’

‘‘What am I on?’’ You repeat and pull away from him, back straightening as your hands fall to your lap. ‘‘Jungkook, I'm not on anything. I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I was simply celebrating a milestone with a very professional guy. You do that all the time. Is that so wrong when I do it?’’

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression hardened. ‘‘It’s not about right or wrong,’’ he retorts, his voice sharper than it has been all night. ‘‘I’m just saying this guy is not your colleague, he’s not your coworker. He’s just some guy you met a couple days ago. I would have appreciated it if you had considered our relationship before indulging in a late-night celebration with another man.’’

Your eyes widen at his words, blood starting to boil when you cross your arms, jaw locked tightly. ‘‘Either you’re being very jealous and fucking possessive right now, or you’re making me feel like you don’t trust me.’’ You say, tone firm. ‘‘And it better not be the latter, Jungkook. Because we’ve been together for way too long to be worrying about this type of shit.’’

You watch him with anticipation but he doesn’t give you an answer right away. Just stares at you with those stern, dark eyes and raises a single eyebrow like you’ll have to figure it out yourself. ‘‘Oh my God,’’ you mumble in disbelief, flying off his lap and ripping his touch off you.

‘‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’’ he heaves a sigh, arms resting atop his knees as his hands intertwine. ‘‘I trust you, I always have trusted you. But him? I don’t know that guy, ___.’’ He points at the door with a flat hand. ‘‘And I’m not an insecure guy, you know that. I got nothing against him, but when you chose that guy to go to earlier this morning even after I told you I was ready to sit down and talk things through, then yes, it hurt my fucking pride. You just turned your back on me.’’

His words hang in the air as you stand there, his frustration and vulnerability obvious. ‘‘I’ve been in a position where I came as a second option to you before. Multiple times, Jungkook, don’t you forget that.’’ You scold him, keeping your voice calm. ‘‘You’re always scheduling meetings, saying yes to promotions and extra hours. Taking on additional responsibilities when you know our relationship can’t afford it right now… I’ve been ready to fix us for a long time, and I’d be the first one in line to give us all the closure we’re reaching out for.’’

You hover over him with the way he’s still seated, continuing. ‘‘But I’m not a puppet. You can’t just pull me out of the closet whenever it comes in handy, and you suddenly feel like talking things out. Like, you leave for that trip in four days and you feel like now is the time to talk things through?’’

He pauses, not uttering a single word for what feels like an eternity. His palms rub together like he’s in deep thought. And for a moment, you imagine what it would be like if your words finally seemed to work through, if they finally made an impact on him. You give him the time to process in silence, watching over him like a hawk, crossed arms over your chest.

‘‘Are you still going to see him while I’m away?’’ He finally asks, voice barely audible. His gaze fixates on a certain spot in the room, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

‘‘I don’t know, probably.’’ You huff, arms falling to your sides and losing all the hope you gathered before. ‘‘Are we still talking about Taehyung? I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation we’re having.’’

‘‘It’s important to me,’’ Jungkook asserts, standing up from his seat and sauntering up to you with deliberate, measured steps. He takes you by the hand, guiding you a few steps further into the bedroom until you both stand in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and continues to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘I need to know your answer before I give you your gift.’’

You blink slowly. A sense of weariness washes over you. ‘‘My what?’’

Jungkook holds you tightly, his front glued to your back like you’ll shrug him off anytime soon. His chest holds onto the same warmth it always has, radiating it to you and you’re instantly warming up at the feel. ‘‘You smell so good,’’ he digs his nose into a sweet spot at your neck, ignoring your confused state when he sniffs at your skin. Vanilla sugar scrub. The one he included in your valentine’s gift only a few years back, before you had gotten married. You had told him you loved it back then. And at first he thought you said it just to say it, up until the moment you started to swim in vanilla, only lasting a week or two with the product. Your brand new, shared bathroom permanently smelling like sweet vanilla and sugar, smelling like you.

You asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn’t tell. Don’t be such a guy, you told him. You had enough time in the world to run to the store and get it yourself. But he wouldn’t budge. Jungkook wanted to be the one to keep buying it for you. He wanted to be your guy; the one who bought you your vanilla sugar body scrub. And he has done it ever since he promised himself to become that guy. The one who made sure there’s a refilled bottle at your bathroom counter every month.

Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your collarbone. ‘‘It’d make me feel so good to have you on the trip, in my suite… smelling like this.’’ He says softly, veiny hands traveling over the thin, silky material of your dress until they get to slip underneath. Drawing gentle circles over your skin as you can only see the top of his head through the mirror with the way he buries his face in your neck. ‘‘I would be exhausted after working all day, but it’d be worth it. Don’t you think?’’

‘‘Jungkook…’’ He doesn’t give you much time to continue when his lips press against your skin. Wet, loud and lewd pecks left in an unfamiliar pattern down your neck.

Jungkook hums in the crook of your neck. ‘‘Maybe a change in environment would do us good.’’ His fingertips tickle you when they continue to feel you up, curling around the thin lace of your thong as he tugs at it. You’re unable to prevent the sweet gasp from coming out when it moves between your ass cheeks. “We’d get to be away from the house for a little while. To take all the time in the world to make up, to make sure we’re okay and ready to move on.”

You don’t stop him when his fingers carefully dip beneath the lace of your underwear, and you’re sure your brain has altered you from pushing him away. Altered you from standing your ground with two firm feet planted to the ground. Instead, you melt into him with the back of your own head prompted to his shoulder this time, bare neck on full display for him. You feel your knees getting weaker when he presses two fingers to your sensitive bud with a bit more pressure than you’re used to, his other hand holding onto you tightly to keep you standing.

It usually starts like this. One moment you’re arguing with him, pouring your heart out and laying yourself bare before him, and the next, you fall into him, forgetting what you were about to say next as you reach out for a breath of air. It doesn’t take long before you’re completely losing yourself in his arms, against his chest, two of his inked fingers dipping into your heat even as your walls begin to tighten around them. You don’t stop him, you love each drag of his thick fingers in your cunt as you stand on your tippy toes, tightly holding onto him at the nape of his neck while he fingerfucks you into another world. Jungkook sneaks a glance at you through the mirror every now and then. Once now, twice when he can feel his dick erect in his pants at the sight of your pinched eyes, your heavy breaths and your hardened nipples through your dress.

Jungkook brings you out to the bed when you nearly tip over without the heels of your feet supporting your weight. He lays you down carefully like you’re fragile, like you’ll break down any minute. Spreading your legs with your panties shoved to the side, he curses to himself when he laps at your sweet juices, coating his tongue as he sucks it up without a complaint as your fingers curl in his hair and back arches off the mattress. Pride is what he feels. Pride is what he feels when you tell him he’s wearing too much, when you tell him he could lose some and you wouldn’t mind. He does as you desire, taking off his dress pants as well as his already stained boxers to reveal the hard-on he’s been hiding. Red and swollen dick that’s so erect, it bounces back to his stomach. He watches as you eye fuck him, as your mouth waters only at the sight. At the ideas that swim through your head. It’s a tit for a tat, he tells you. A give and a take. You want him just as much as he wants you. It’s only fair you both get what you want.

It’s when you disregard your flimsy dress over the top of your head, tits bouncing back and hair splayed out over the bed when he feels like he starts to lose control. Fisting his cock in your warm, slick hand in between your bodies, you pump him up and down as he reaches for another kiss that leaves you breathless beneath him. He doesn’t mind you gasping for air every now and then, enjoying the feel of your chest rising up and down against his own. Hips thrust into your hand when your grip becomes a little tighter, a little more precise and a little more skilled, thumb reaching to tease at his tip. But he stops himself before he shoots his load right onto your stomach. If he’s coming anywhere tonight, it’s going to be inside you.

You know that’s exactly what he wants when you get to all fours for him. Knees digging into the made sheets, your face buried in the soft satin with your ass high up in the air just the way he likes. Jungkook’s hands are at your hips without hesitation, gripping onto your hips as he lines up to your sweet cunt. The first stroke is the one most careful. Even after being together for a total of 7 years, each and every time, you need some time getting used to his size. It doesn’t matter, whatever feels best for you, is what he has said from the beginning. After all, it’s all worth it when he gets to pound deep into you mere minutes later, skin slapping against skin as he watches your ass cheeks bounce back and forth.

He can’t take it. He needs to see all of you from each angle available. You’re not surprised when he gently tugs you up by the arm, though you nearly melt into him again and all your weight shifts onto him to carry back to the full length mirror leaned up against the wall. He pumps into your pussy there, making you watch as you get fucked from behind with a hand wrapped around your throat and an arm hunched around your waist to keep you glued to him. Your heavy breaths melt together the faster his pace increases, hitting your sweet spot with every pound of his hips into yours, with dirty thoughts slipping his tongue, with every drag of his cock into your dripping cunt while he consumes each plea coming from your lips. Begging him to fuck you until you lose it. Begging him to feel his cum inside you as you feel his every inch, feel his everything.

He does as you plead in the end. Jungkook comes undone inside you, your ass pressed against him while pretty whimpers leave your pretty mouth and he ignores his own panting to get the best out of you. His hips stutter when warm spurts of cum fill you up, leaving you like a mess hanging onto him with all the energy you have left over.

But he takes care of you after, like he always does. Jungkook lays you back onto the bed carefully, returning from the bathroom with a damp, warm towel as he cleans you up and hoists you back into your dress and beneath the slick sheets. He pushes your hair out of your face, pushes strands and pieces behind your ear and makes sure the sheets are pulled up to your shoulders. You lay on his side of the bed, eyes heavy lidded and ready to drift off. But he doesn’t mind. You’re exhausted, and for good reason.

‘‘Before you fall asleep, princess,’’ he begins softly, fingers gently brushing at your forehead to push off imaginary strands of hair, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly. ‘‘I need to give you my gift.’’

You had forgotten all about the gift.

Jungkook hovers over you, reaching for the envelope at his nightstand that has your name on it in that awful handwriting of his. He hands it to you and you take the piece of paper in your hands, fiddling with the corners of it as your eyes meet his again. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is that runs through your head, but your brows slightly furrow like you’re afraid to open it up.

‘‘It’s yours.’’ He nudges at your side, fist supporting the weight of his head next to you as he leans in closer. His voice is gentle, almost comforting, as if he wants to ease any worries you’ve been keeping from him.

You open it up, revealing another piece of paper inside of it.

First class passenger’s boarding pass.

He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction with those big eyes. ‘‘So, what do you say?’’ He asks impatiently. ‘‘Are you coming with me on that trip?’’

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[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Several therapeutic white boards were drawn on. Everyone reading was so good and normal about it. So were the characters, presumably.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Additionally: apologies to Adwen and Allmune on ao3, to whom I directly said I wouldn't do this; I lied. (Whoopsie).

Also additionally: Bonus fic snippet you may have missed

💚👻👽👻💚

“Are you hungry?” Danny’s new therapist asks, her fingers playing with her pen.

Danny shrugs.

Pretty quickly, they’d figured out that these sessions went…worse…when Danny was hungry. Hunger makes him upset. Being upset makes him want to speak less. Not talking ruins the whole affair.

“Want to talk?”

Danny shakes his head, and sprawls out onto the couch—he’s allowed to basically position himself however he feels comfortable in the room, and if he has a choice, he’d rather just hang out horizontal. Does it make getting back into his chair harder? Yes. Is there a lady with super strength right outside his the office door who is willing to pick him up at a moment’s notice? Also yes.

(It’s kind of silly, but, if his legs ever stop feeling so sore…Danny is. Well.)

(He’s kind of curious how tall he’d be if Diana held him piggyback.)

“Want to draw? Paint?”

Drawing is a high-stress activity. Danny tends to default to memories when he draws these days, and he’d rather not think about that right now. Finger-painting is another option, but it’s pretty messy…even if it would be fun…

Danny’s therapist (?) (he's pretty sure that’s what she is?) is a blonde woman, with a quiet face and piercing eyes. She’d probably be less intimidating if they knew each other’s language, if Danny’s being honest; usually these types of people try to talk their way out of being intimidating. Instead, Danny sits on her pinstripe couch in unbranded sweatpants and a thin white tee, and she wears a suitjacket over her tights.

It’s all very strange. It’s not more strange than his chaperone’s usual outfit of plate armor and tiara, but still.

“Want the language bócastréon again?”

…Danny hums in thought, hands crossed across his chest. He’s pretty sure they’ve tried building a thing that’ll detect his language, like, three different times by now, but every time it winds up like the Fenton Ghost Gabber: mindlessly repeating his words back to him, unable to make heads or tails on translation. At least these trials don’t end every one of his statements with I am a ghost, fear me.

Oh well. It’s better than nothing. Danny shrugs.

The therapist clicks the machine on from a switchpad at her elbow, and a blue holographic screen fills the air. Danny only spends a little bit of time batting at the display like a cat, watching the light play off his hands for his own amusement.

“Please begin,” the thing says, and the same text pops up on the screen.

“S’up,” Danny tells it, and grins when the little display starts its very, very, long, and very, very familiar, buffering process.

Danny already knows this isn’t going to work. He might as well have fun with it.

He talks about his day, he talks about his old bedroom; he talks about what he had for lunch, toying with one of the sucker-toys he woke up with ages ago even though he doesn’t know who gave them to him. He talks about his friends, because he loves them—not Tuck and Sam, who he’ll miss the rest of his life, but Mikey and Poindexter, and what school had been like for him. Quiet topics. Easy topics.

Normal topics.

…Danny isn’t’ sure he’ll ever have normalcy again, but…remembering it isn’t so bad either. He plays with his weird suction cup toy with both hands and he talks.

“…So I ended up getting stuck without the Speeder like a million zillion miles from the portal. I thought Jazz was going to kill me, since she needed it to take her girlfriend to prom the literal next night, so I had to run around for like forty minutes looking for someone to help me out— but at least Wulf was like ‘Ne estas problemo’ and he helped me sniff out the weird cheese Vlad had left in the center console of the Speeder the week before—“

The box beeps. “Lingvo identigita: Kryptonian.”

Danny bolts upright as fast as his limbs let him.

Danny was never as good as Tucker was with Esperanto, but—  But that’s Esperanto. Danny’s hung out with Wulf long enough, did enough Duodioma with the stupid little muppet bird mascot. The box didn’t call it the right thing, but—

—But—

The therapist looks at Danny, eyes wide. Danny can’t even look at her. He’s too busy staring at the discount-aisle Ghost Gabber.

“Diru ĝin denove,” Danny demands sharply. Say it again.

The screen automatically translates his words as he speaks—in Esperanto, and then into their own language, the two transcriptions populating side by side when Danny speaks.

At this point, the woman’s mouth is open. Danny would be right there with her, but—

Danny sits there, numb.

He has a language. A language that is mostly guesswork on his part and the occasional swears Wulf will teach him as a joke, but, still, a language.

A language made up by a doctor in Poland. In the eighteen…somethings. And these people with superpowers know it. And they know what it is.

And the therapist looks at him, stunned, with new eyes, as if she knows something new about him now.

…What the hell is Kryptonian?

*

There isn’t Kryptonian plural. Danny thought there there might be.

There isn’t.There is pretty much only one.

One. Singular. Kryptonian.

That feels worse, somehow.

*

Notes taken [DATE REDACTED] 2023, 22:37 UTC.

Participants are:

KE: Kal-El of Krypton, Codename: Superman. JD: Patient, John Doe, Codename: N/A. Patient file attached.

Note: Conversation was recorded in Kryptonian. Machine translation has been provided for convenience.

*Addendum: Yeah, I can get Jor-El on this, no problem –Supes

KE: This conversation will be recorded. Are you alright with that? JD: Conver…? KE: (Writing gesture) This talk. JD: Oh! Yes. KE: Good morning. My name is Kal-El, and I am of Kryptonian descent. On Earth, I serve as a protector. My title on Earth is Superman. JD: Superman? KE: Yes. JD: (Laugh) KE: Thank you. May I know your name? JD: (No answer) KE: Take your time. You may decline as well. JD: …I… (Pause). I do not… KE: That is alright. Do you have hobbies? JD: …What? KE: What do you like to do? JD: …I like to learn about space. I like to…when the fast child…we play games? KE: The fast kid? Impulse? JD: Impulse? (Incredulous) KE: That is his title, yes. JD: Why is his name Impulse? That is… Is that an insult? KE: I think he chose it? JD: (Stunned silence) KE: You like space? JD: Y…yes. KE: Tell me about it? JD: Do they not tell you about me? KE: I hear news. I have not met you face to face. JD: (Shrugs) KE: Not since you bit me, anyway? JD: I bit you? (Incredulous) KE: You were injured, and you were scared. I did not mind. JD: I am sorry! It was an accident! (Upset) I did not mean to! I do not remember— KE: It is alright, it is alright! (Placating) JD: (Cries) KE: Hey… (Touches shoulder) Oh, sorry. I should not do that. It is alright. My dog bit me yesterday, and my son bit me the day before. It is alright. You did not hurt me. JD: (Still crying, hard to decipher) You have a dog? KE: Yes! I have a dog! He is also from space. His name is Krypto. Here, I have pictures! (Takes out communicator)

*NOTE: pictures mentioned contain images of Superdog and Superboy(II)

JD: (Still crying) Are you supposed to ask me questions?? I have been here… I have been here for a long time. People want to know about what I am, and where am I from, and what I can do, yes? KE: Well…yes, but there is a lot of time. There is no limit. JD: (Wipes nose.) KE: All I am supposed to ask you today is if you have any allergies. See?

        *NOTE: List of potential allergens has been attached to patient file.

JD: (Takes list from KE) Allergi…? Oh. No. I am… No food makes me sick. I can eat all foods. I cannot take…there is a sick medicine. For a cough. I cannot take that. KE: Good to know! (Alarmed) I’ll tell your doctors. Do you like your doctors? JD: …Yes. (Shyly) They are nice. KE: Wonder Woman says that she already asked if you feel safe. Do you feel safe with your doctors? JD: I do. Everyone here is kind. I eat a lot. I get exercise. We play games. I take breaks. I see space. I do not worry here, unless I get scared by accident. KE: I am…very glad to hear that. (Chokes up.) My son is about half your height. If my son was far away, I would want someone to help him too. We only want to do our best for you, alright? Please tell us if something is wrong. JD: So I can fight? KE: Pardon? JD: I am meant to fight, right? KE: No, no—not fighting. Just healing. And resting. JD: And then after… I am supposed to fight? KE: No. No, not—you don’t have to fight. The only thing we need is for you to be healthy. We don’t need you to fight anyone. JD: Everyone wants me to fight. (Begins stimming with slime) There are many children here. They all fight. I am eventually going to have to fight. I know.

*NOTE: Slime was provided by Medical team for therapeutic use.

KE: (Pause) Who is everyone? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone make you fight, before? Is that why you were injured? JD: (Silence) KE: I am sorry if they did. That is not fair. You are not an adult yet, and even adults should not have to fight unless they enlist purposefully. You are a child. JD: No one thinks I am a child. KE: Who said that? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone hurt you? JD: (Pause) I do not want to talk. KE: Alright. Can you tell me why you do not want to talk? JD: (Silence) KE: Would you like to fight? JD: I am good at fighting. KE: That is not what I asked. JD: There is no choice? When there are bad things and bad people, someone has to fight. I am strong—when I am not injured, I am strong. I fight. There are people who are not strong, and cannot fight. I can fight. I fight. KE: (Silence) JD: This is why you are healing me. KE: (Pause) No, little one. That is not why. JD: (Pause) Oh. (Puts down slime) Am I…am I going to be data again? Are you going to test my body? KE: (Puts face into hands)

[PAGE 1 OF 4]

[Interview is to be reviewed by Black Canary and Dr. Pranathi Russo MD, Pediatric Psychologist.]

*

“It’s bad!” Clark says with a watery smile, because Clark isn’t Superman at the moment—in Bruce’s home office, as private as a place as the world can get, Bruce is only Bruce, and Clark is only Clark.

When Black Canary had suggested that their debrief happen somewhere private where Clark felt safe, Bruce had known that there would be bad news. Still, he pours a mug of coffee that Clark will metabolize all the caffeine out of anyway, and pours a long, thick cup of the stuff for himself, and settles back into his warm leather chair.

“Tell me,” Bruce says, not quite Batman, but not quite Bruce either.

“Bruce, he ‘knows’ we’re going to make him fight. He thinks we’re healing him to be a child soldier.” Clark’s laugh is half joke and half derision. Bruce thinks that he understands. “He thinks we’re keeping him here as—like property, where if we pick up something dumped on the side of the road, we can fix it back up and put it to work. Like an engine, or, or…or like a lawnmower. It’s awful.”

Bruce skips the creamer and goes straight to the Baileys beneath his desk for garnishing.

On the one hand, Dick has been flying out in Gotham since he was a preteen. There had been no question about training him; training was the way one kept their children safe, the same way that Alfred had taught Bruce how to shoot as a child—no matter how much Bruce had loathed it at the time.

On the other hand, Jason’s death plays out in his nightmares in technicolor around…once every few months.

The fires. The flames.

(The alien boy found in a wrecked vehicle outside the Kent farmhouse, curled up in fear.)

Bruce thinks about Damian, and how long it had taken for Damian to understand he could be loved as a child who loved animals, and not a future prince of Gotham.

…Bruce passes the Baileys to Clark.

The Kryptonian won’t absorb any of the alcohol in any meaningful way, but he dumps the remainder of the bottle into his coffee nevertheless.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

yow what abt twice mtls? confess first, fall in love, get jealous, fall out of love. great jeongyeon hc btw

Twice most to least likely: Get jealous

A/N: I feel some of these ended up sounding more yandere than jealous🙂‍↕️ but hopefully that’s just me😭hope you guys like it

Sana

She’s a huge flirt, she likes the way she can get people to be infatuated with her plus she likes to play hard to get.

Because of this she’s not used to people seeing her as a second choice so when she sees her partner having a good time with someone else when she’s available or even when she isn’t, it makes her feel strange.

It’s uncharted territory for her and she feels possessive immediately. After all what does the other person possess that Sana doesn’t. Why isn’t her partner yearning for her every moment instead of having a good time without her…

Nayeon

You’ll find Nayeon staring daggers at you with or without a polite smile. It’s really not a fun sight to witness because you just know you are in so much trouble later.

Nayeon feels very possessive of you. She’s someone who needs a lot of reassurance so you being clingy with anyone other than her doesn’t bode well with her.

Though she ends up feeling a bit silly after some time thinking for being so possessive she can’t help it, she wants you for herself and only herself.

Mina

Mina is a big introvert and she likes to stay indoors alot and keep to herself. But she knows she can’t really force you to do the same.

Nevertheless, she secretly wishes you would be that way. She’d prefer if she could have you all to herself. If it’s only you and her, all day everyday,

She feels sometimes she’s not good enough and that might make you drawn to others and hence gets her guard up immediately when she sees you being close with someone she doesn’t know.

Momo

You were happily chatting with your friend while waiting for Momo. You had known her for a long time, you didn’t take much notice of it when while laughing at a joke, she put her hand on your arm.

Soon enough, her instincts began to scream for danger and upon looking around, she spotted Momo a few meters away, glaring at both of you. “Is that your girlfriend?”…..

The journey back home was quiet. You realized how that might have looked out of context and were fearing Momo saw it differently. She was quiet though. “Everything ok baby?”, you ask her.

“Yes. But you need to sleep early and rest well”, she replies. “Huh? Why do I need extra rest?”, you question. “Well the couch isn’t very comfortable to sleep on is it”, she answers, unbothered, as she looks into the rearview mirror and applies her lipstick.

Chaeyoung

Chaeyoung and you were surprised to run into your ex at the mall. It was a bit awkward for the three of you but luckily there was no violence.

She hated how you and your ex became awkward because for her that meant you both saw each other and intentionally or unintentionally reflected back on the time you both were together.

She hated when while leaving, you both shared an inside joke which she didn’t know. Chaeyoung knew it’s just how these things go but that didn’t make her blood boil any less.

Tzuyu

Tzuyu is observant, she doesn’t always speak out, never mind her speaking her mind.

So when she was looking at your Instagram and spotted old posts of you and your ex, it just made her quite upset.

But she also knew it was the past yet she also thought you could have deleted it. After all wasn’t the ex was no longer part of your life.

Dahyun

Dahyun was watching you talk with the party’s host. It was normal. The two of you seemed to be getting along well.

She was standing a few feet away, getting something to drink when she suddenly heard the host make a suggestive flirty comment towards you. You didn’t realize it and just laughed along,

Dahyun though, gritted her teeth, it’s annoying that you always are so oblivious to these things. She’s gonna scold you for that later, as for the host…well, it’s a good thing her nails felt sharp right now.

Jihyo

Jihyo knows her worth and she knows you know it too. So she’s never really worried about someone else stealing you away.

But after watching some dramas, she got a bit influenced by them and began to worry that she didn’t like you as much as she thought or wanted because why wouldn’t she ever feel jealous. It was normal for couples to feel jealous at some point right?

And when she asked you to try and flirt with a cashier because she wanted to test something, you definitely felt it was a test. It took a lot of convincing from her and a promise that you wouldn’t get in trouble. Reluctantly you did it but when the cashier actually ended up giving you her number. Jihyo took your hand and dragged you out of the store without even buying anything. You were in big trouble.

Jeongyeon

Jeongyeon never has any real reason to doubt you. She knows you both love each other very much.

Of course, it’s inevitable that at some point either of you would get approached by someone else. It won’t be your or her fault if that happens.

But that’s easier to think when it hasn’t happened. When a fellow idol told Jeongyeon that she was lucky to have you and she should be careful you could get stolen. Though Jeongyeon was polite, her glare she ended up shooting at them later would have scared them silly.

[effervescentcvnt]

the protector of the forest - part 1

cw: dubcon, dendrophilia

it was just supposed to be a relaxing walk in the forest. adventuring is hard work, and honestly, all you want right now is some peace and quiet. it's a wonderful midsummer's day, birds are chirping, the sun is shining softly through the leaves, the entire forest seems to be in bloom. eventually, you stumble upon a clearing in the woods; in the middle of it grows an odd-looking plant - or, really, more of a massive pile of tangled tendrils and roots with the most beautiful, huge yellow flowers you've ever seen. there seems to be some pollen floating about in the air; it almost seems to glimmer in the sun.

you step closer cautiously, the place feels serene, almost sacred. there are tendrils covering the ground, too, and you're trying your best not to step on any of them. accidentally, though, your foot catches on a tendril, and you fall forwards onto your hands and knees. as you try to get back up, you feel the tendril wrapping around your ankle. above you, the strange plant awakens like an ancient forest god from their slumber.

the plant unfurls itself and bristles as if it's trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. it extends its roots and tendrils towards you as you try to yank your leg free. however, the plant proves to be far stronger than you, quickly overpowering you and before you know it, you're dangling mid-air, being held in place by the plant. desperately, you attempt to break free, but to no avail. then, you hear it: a voice, genderless and seemingly sourceless, until you realise that the plant itself is speaking to you inside of your head.

cease your struggle, sweet mortal. i will not hurt you.

some of the tendrils that aren't holding you softly caress your legs and arms in an attempt to soothe you. hesitantly, you steady yourself.

"what are you? why are you doing this?" you whisper to the plant, your voice laced with fear. you've encountered all sorts of creatures on your travels, but never anything quite like this.

i am the protector of this forest. i have been sleeping for so long, but you have awakened me. i hunger, though; will you help me sate my hunger?

your mouth falls open in bewilderment as you take in the plant's words. "you aren't going to eat me, are you?" you squeak, your voice rising in panic.

of course not, you silly thing. as i said, you will come to no harm. there's just something i need from you.

"and what's that?" you ask, after being assured you won't be devoured, you feel slightly less terrified, yet you cannot believe that your leisurely afternoon stroll has taken such a turn.

i feed on the pleasure of the creatures that i lure in with my flowers - creatures just like you. no one has found me in such a long time, though, and i feel quite... starved. will you be a dear and help me?

every word that the plant utters makes you feel more and more perplexed but the tendrils stroking you feel comforting, and as one of them gently caresses your cheek, you lean into it without even thinking. as the plant awaits your answer and continues its ministrations, there is another sensation as well; you feel a familiar heat starting to pulse between your legs.

i should mention that the pollen you've been inhaling all this time has quite an effect on humans; i use it to heighten the pleasure of those i've lured in. can you feel it already?

you certainly can, you realise, and the notion is as jarring as it is thrilling. your cunt is starting to grow wet and your thoughts are becoming slower, as if your head was filled with something sweet and sticky. you try to close your legs or perhaps rub your thighs together but the plant is firmly holding them apart. the heat in your cunt is starting to spread and intensify, and you desperately want to touch yourself to relieve some of it, but your hands are trapped. all you can do is hang there like a fly caught in a spider's web.

"i will help you...," you whisper.

thank you. you won't regret this.

----------

// thank you for reading <3 part 2 is coming soon!! it'll be quite a bit smuttier hehe

[foxy-eva]

Dancing in the Moonlight

Summary: Spencer gets creative in order to cheer up Reader

Request: could you please write about how sunshine!reader ends up having a bad day and grumpy spencer spends all day to no avail trying to cheer up the sunshine!reader. The thing that finally works is a little bit silly? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warning: Reader has a bad day and is upset but it's not specified why, mentions crying

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

Just like a sunbeam sneaking through black curtains you came into Spencer's life all those months ago. He would never forget the first time he felt the heat your presence radiated, warming even the darkest corner of his heart. After those long days of fighting evil, he craved nothing more than coming home to bask in your kindness. 

However, when he entered your apartment that night, Spencer immediately realized that something was different. Where he'd usually find excitement and joy, he only saw a fake smile on your face.

"What's wrong, my love?" 

Spencer found his place beside you on the couch, offering to pull you right into his arms. You hesitated, afraid that his touch might break loose the tears you so desperately tried to hold back. 

Instead of accepting his embrace, you just shook your head and answered, "I just had a bad day." 

Spencer knew that it must have been a truly terrible day for it to take away your smile. You were the most optimistic person he had ever met, always seeing the good in everything even when he couldn't. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make it better?" 

You just shrugged and leaned back on the couch, ready to simply wait until this day would be over. 

Spencer, however, decided to make it his mission to cheer you up. After giving it some thought, he realized that he had no idea how to do that, though. Usually your roles were reversed with you being the one to comfort him after a bad day. You were the one who – without fail – always managed to light up his life.

Now it was his turn to do the same for you. He just needed to figure out how. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered. 

You shook your head while sinking back further into the couch. Spencer reached out his hand to brush over your fingertips. His touch was soothing, so you opened your palm to take his hand in yours. He moved closer to you until his shoulder touched yours. 

When you locked eyes with him you managed to flash him a timid smile, not as genuine as usual but less fake than before. 

"Hey," Spencer whispered.

"Hi," you breathed. 

His lips found yours in a brief and innocent kiss. It wasn't enough to make up for what happened today but you appreciated his attempt to light up your inner spark again. 

Spencer quickly noticed that his nearness alone wouldn't be enough to cheer you up. 

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I could make you something to eat."

"I already had dinner earlier," you declined his offer. 

He got up from the couch to turn on the TV and put on your favorite show before disappearing in the kitchen for a few minutes. When he came back he handed you a mug with freshly brewed tea. 

"Thank you," you said while taking the beverage. "I really appreciate it."

It was true, you did appreciate his attempts to make your day better. It didn't work though. As he sat with you to watch the show while occasionally checking your facial features, he realized that, too. 

"You're still upset," he stated with a frown present on his face. 

"Sorry, I–"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted you. "It's not your fault. I just hate that I have no idea how to help you. You're always there for me and know exactly what to do or say and here I am… so…lost." 

"It's okay, Spencer. I'm sure it'll just pass. Tomorrow is a new day."

"No, don't you try to cheer me up!" He protested. "This is about you. I really want to make you feel better." 

You turned your head to look out the window. The sun had already set, all you could find was darkness on the other side of the glass. It almost felt like a metaphor for that day, as if all you could do was to wait for the next morning to let the rising sun warm your heart again. 

Spencer couldn't accept that, though, so he suggested, "We could go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help you clear your head."

It was worth a try. Chilly air met puffy cheeks when you stepped outside, Spencer’s hand immediately reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Walking side by side, you followed his lead, unable to make a decision as to where to go yourself. Soon you stepped into a park together, noticing how a mild breeze created a rustling sound as it met leafy trees.

Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the night sky. The moon was bright and big, almost looking unreal from your point of view. Although it was only borrowing its light from the sun, it still did its bet to illuminate your path. 

Very sudden and without a warning Spencer stopped his motions to step in front of you. He softly smiled at you when he said, "Dance with me."

Those were words you never thought you'd hear from him, so you asked in disbelief, "What?" 

He gently got ahold of your wrists to move them to his shoulders before he grabbed your waist. 

"Dance with me," he repeated. 

And so you did. 

At first you just swayed from side to side, not unlike all those kitschy prom scenes in teen movies. There was no music playing but that was alright, the sound of the wind was your beat while some sleepless bird sang the harmony. When Spencer made the first step, you simply followed his motions. 

It was clumsy and graceless but he didn't give up, not even when he almost fell over his own feet. The smile slowly forming on your face spurred him on to keep going despite his lack of skill. There was no holding back the laughter spilling from your lips each time your chests almost collided because you missed a step. 

However, after a few moments your body moved naturally with his, almost as if you had done that a million times before. Your smile grew bigger with each spin, making you slowly forget the sorrows of the day. And although the sunrise was still many hours away, just like that your inner light began shining again.  

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr

[f6bron]

sequoia.

pairing : iso x gn!reader

notes : mutual pining ? i’ll let the audience decide , might be ooc since i wrote this based on all of his available voicelines so far ( . — . )

The echoing clang of bullets hitting metal targets reverberated through the shooting range as you took aim alongside Iso, the new recruit to the Valorant Protocol. You’d been itching to get to know him better, and what better way to break the ice then some target practice?

“Clean shot! I should let Chamber know he has a rival now.”

Iso shrugged and chuckled, as an acknowledgement to your compliment.

“So, Iso… I heard you isolate your enemy into that domain of yours? Interesting…” you remarked, keeping your eyes trained on the target as you shot a bullet straight to the head.

Iso nodded shyly, his fingers still gripping the handle of his pistol. 

“Y-yeah… Just my way to secure a 1v1 duel…”

Oh, what the hell am I saying, Iso thought, mentally facepalming at his awkward response. He felt silly for acting awkward in front of you. To be honest, he finds you really, really beautiful. Maybe that’s the reason.

But to his surprise, you merely gave him a soft smile. 

“That is sooo freaking cool ~! Can you bring me there someday?” you asked, your tone playful and light.

Iso was surprised, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“Why would I bring you there? I don’t think having a gun duel with an ally there is a good idea–”

You giggled, which interrupted his words. “Not in a gun duel, silly. I just wanna know what it looks like in the dimension.”

Warmth crept onto Iso’s face, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment at having misunderstood your context. “O-oh… Yeah, sure. I hang out a lot there even though there’s nothing much… Mostly when I need alone time to read my books or… listen to music.”

“And, having company once in a while would be nice.” He smiled, his eyes glanced at you.

“Mhmm, then I’ll be waiting ~” you replied, your curiosity piqued. You adjusted your stance, firing a few more rounds with precise accuracy.

“Oh ! Talking about music,” you continued, gesturing to the earbuds that Iso always had whenever you saw him. “I always see you got your earbuds on all the time. I assume you’re a music enthusiast, yes?”

Iso nodded, his fingers fumbling with the gun’s magazine as he exchanged it. “It helps me to stay relaxed and focused. Music has this way of grounding me, you know?”

You smiled, appreciating his honesty. “That makes sense. What kind of music do you listen to then?”

As Iso put his pistol down, he began to list off his favourite genres and artists. You noticed the way his purple-coloured eyes lightened up. You were surprised by the variety of his tastes, from classical compositions to high-energy EDM tracks. Your conversation flowed seamlessly, as Iso continued geeking over his profound hyperfixation.

“So, do you have a favourite song?” you asked, genuinely interested.

Iso took a moment to think before answering. He has so many favourites, heck, he could create millions of playlist when he thought of it. Then, a song came to his mind, “There’s this one song that I find myself going back to quite often. It’s called ‘Helena’ by My Chemical Romance.

The name caught your attention, “Wait ! I know that song ! What’s the worst that I can say ~”

Iso chuckled, he continued singing along, “Things are better if I stay ~”

“So long and goodnight, so long and goodnight.”

Both of you started giggling, which lightened up the mood surrounding the both of you.

Iso started to fiddle with his gloved fingers, his expression softening. “To me, that song carries a powerful and cathartic expression of one’s emotions surrounding the loss of a loved one, so it has become one of my favourites.”

You were touched by his description and decided to make a mental note to listen to the song again later. As you both finished up with the training at the shooting range, you couldn’t help but feel a connection forming between you and Iso. He’s slowly getting along with you, no longer the quiet and reserved recruit. 

Someone you could genuinely relate to.

As the both of you left the shooting range, the two of you talked and laughed, not just about combat training but about music, books and everything in between. His giggles caught your attention, the way he would bring up his hand to stifle his laughs. 

Goddamn, he’s cute.

You didn’t expect the training you had with him could be the perfect time to bring you both closer. You couldn’t wait to explore Iso’s unique dimension with him, discovering not just his hidden talents but the beauty of the world he had specifically created for himself.

“So, about that dimension visit,” you teased, “When can we make that happen?”

Iso grinned, the embarrassment from earlier dissipating. “Whenever you’re ready. I’d be happy to show you around the place.”

“Can we make that a promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

(A/N): my love for iso is growing… he’s so cutie patootie… do u get me…

masterlist.

[ddreamywitch]

Chapter Three - Swan upon Leda

knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader

word count: 3.8k

a/n: things are warming up between princess and benji :)

warnings: the king is a terrible dad, mentions of complicated childbirth

song: Swan Upon Leda - Hozier

Marion is exasperated. Her hands fling through the air like a nervous little bird, desperate to get their point across and yet failing all the same. 

“You are out of your mind,” she cries. 

The jewels she’d been threading through your braids are long forgotten, a sparkling disarray on your vanity. You pick up a dark red ruby and roll it back and forth between your fingers. “If I don’t go, they’ll think I’ve abandoned them.” Your lips, painted a lush berry colour, pull into a pout that once worked exceedingly well on Ser Rodrick. “Please, Marion.”

Your handmaiden shakes her head. 

“It was a risk under the watch of Ser Rodrick,” she leans in closer, nervous eyes flitting to your door. “But with bloody Ben as your protector? He’ll have me impaled when he finds out.”

She whispers his name with fear, as though he would appear like some mirage at the mention of it. 

You’ve grown quite tired of this whole bloody Ben debacle. Benji, as he’s allowed you to call him, is less of a sword pointed at you now, but he still sulks, barely speaks. 

He doesn’t pose a threat, in this state he is in. You wonder if he would even notice if you let somebody else take your place. 

“He won’t find out,” you say, determinedly, even though you know it is to no avail. Marion is loyal and sweet but she is headstrong enough to not give leeway to every idea of yours. You love that about her, even if right now it is giving you a headache. 

She takes the gem from you and loops it into your hair with her magically talented fingers. “Maybe in a moon or two, when that lad doesn’t give me the collywobbles anymore. If that does ever happen.” 

“Alright then. But will you get word to them that I shall return soon?” You ask. Whenever you ask for things with Marion, you feel a bit childlike and silly. 

She smiles at you, the little scar in her lower lip stretching as she does. “Of course, your grace.” 

And then after a moment’s silence. “I am certain they forgive you.” 

You nod, but still you decide on a plan. A stupid one, irrational at the very least but a plan nonetheless and you were not really the kind of woman who enjoyed changing your mind. 

Though you had on Benji. In some ways. But that is different. 

You throw a glance at your reflection, decorated and done up. Your father is slowly losing it these days, his festivities growing in both frequency and size, one more ridiculous than the other and you cannot stand it.

You’d be a fool to live so lavishly and in such luxury and turn a blind eye to continue the pursuit of the only thing of substantiality that you’ve ever done in your life. 

Rubies to match the fiery shades of your dress today. 

Rubies found somewhere far away and shipped across stormy seas to find their place somewhere as ridiculous as your hair. 

You cannot stand it, your presentation at the high table next to your family, for everyone to gawk at and soon to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. 

As though she reads your mind Marion pipes up. “The son of Lord Whent is here tonight,” she says. “I hear he has great hair.” 

You scoff. “Yes, great hair and a great hunger for the brothels of the realm.” 

“You may find my lady, that such behaviour may prove itself of use to you.”

A low laugh rumbles from the door and both of you snap around, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. 

Benji stands, hands resting on the pommel of his sword and looking rather amused. 

“I do believe that is an improper topic of conversation,” he says. 

Your arm wraps around Marion’s midriff. “That you should speak of impropriety of all people,” you say. 

He is still a mystery to you. You do not know if he would not go and tattle on your friend if given the chance. 

But he shrugs. “Your brother says that you are to meet him in the court before sunset. Your sister is arriving.”

You gasp, sharp and loud, the quick inhale like a whip to your lungs. “Cordelia?!”

Your maid claps her hands together in excitement.

Benjicot looks a bit confused but he doesn’t scoff or roll his eyes so you presume that he really has decided to move on from his rather aggravating bit. 

“My god, she will hate my dress,” you say but the sheen of joy your face is dipped in betrays the negative nature of your words. 

“Out, Ser Benjicot. Womanly work is afoot in here,” she orders him, too fast with her tongue to worry about fearing him and forces you the other way again. 

He obeys. You see him bow in the mirror and  a small smile tugs at your lips. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be the biggest of your worries. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Marion is done with you at a speed that should be deemed witchcraft. 

Your hair is neatly pulled out of your face and braided, gleaming with red jewels like a dying fire. 

In general, you look like the roaring fireplace in the banquet halls, layers of shimmering red fabric falling around you. 

There’s a nice breeze today, it tickles at your neck and kisses your cheeks softly, as you await your sister’s arrival at the castle’s main entrance.

Your father is not here, occupied with what he claims to be kingly duties but you suppose is more likely related to the royal wine cellars. 

Your brother speaks in a hushed tone with one of the council members, no longer an oddity with the king occupied so frequently.

Your feet hurt in your new shoes.

Benji shuffles a little bit next to you.

You’ve noticed that he’s never still, a consistent motion in your periphery.

“How do you like my dress?” You ask him, quietly enough that your brother wouldn’t hear, though you doubt he would care to listen.

Your knight hums a little, almost laughs. You expect the jab, twist the sigil ring on your hand, pull yourself together waiting for it but it never arrives. 

“Red’s my favourite colour, Princess.” 

It’s not a compliment. It’s a statement and he says it with all the nonchalance he should have, because it isn’t a compliment. 

But the little flutter it sends down your spine has all the characteristics of being complimented. 

You almost thank him but then you think better of it and just nod to yourself. You would tell him what your favourite colour is, or that you enjoy red as well but it feels too friendly. You’re not even sure if anybody knows your favourite colour. You’re not too certain if you have one at all, now that the matter has crossed your mind. 

But you are certain that it is not the colours of your house, as it is the case with Benjicot. 

What a foolish thing to be racking your brain over, you think but luckily the horn serves as salvation from your faults. 

The gates creak upon to reveal your sister and her entourage, all of them in a royal shade of dark green. She married into the neighbouring kingdom, her blood now runs in their colour. It has been over half a decade but you cannot get used to the sight of it, her days spent draped in your house’s symbols are all gone. 

The courtyard is almost empty. Good. No need for formalities.

You fiddle with your fingers as the carriage swings open, lightning running through your veins. 

Her face is just as it always is and your sister, after stepping down with caution, at the sight of you, immediately opens her arms. 

Your brother laughs, wholeheartedly as you plunge forward, like a horse nudged on, gravel flying up beneath delicate heels. 

She smells different and she is older but she feels all the same to you, just as she had when you were a little girl hanging onto her skirts. 

Your giggling melts together, a vibration of both your chests. 

“Oh darling girl, how I have missed you,” she whispers, soft kisses pressed into your hair. “You’ve grown into a wonderful woman.” She cups the side of your face and you lean into it. 

“Alright, what about me,” Tristan calls out, arms out by his side. 

Cordelia grins at him and steps past you. “I imagine the heir to the throne gets enough attention as is,” she taunts but she greets him nonetheless, with the same affection she had for you. 

“There is never enough,” he says, before he says something into her ear. Quietly and quickly. 

She nods and then she regards your knight, now solely left behind, waiting to accompany you. “Ser Benjicot Blackwood, I gather?”

He bows his head, looks at her through that tousled mop of hair of his. “Yes, your highness.” 

She laughs. “Goodness, such decorum. I am Cordelia here. My queenship leaves me within the walls of my home.”

Benji nods but he does not correct himself. It would be odd, you suppose. He doesn’t even call you by your first name, why would he do so with a Queen. 

Cordelia gives your side a nudge with her elbow. “Quite handsome,” she says, much to your dismay loud enough for him to hear. 

Your cheeks begin to burn. “He is sworn to protect me, sister.” 

She just shrugs, indifferent to your embarrassment as siblings tend to be and then steps along. 

“I do hope there won’t be a scene made over my arrival,” she calls over her shoulder, you and Tristan hurrying along. “The maester recommended I do not subject myself to much ruckus, at my old age.”

It would be slanderous to refer to your sister as old. Your brows pull together. “What do you mean? Are you ill?” 

She whirls around to face you, one hand clutching her belly. “You could say so.” 

Your jaw drops and Tristan recoils next to you. 

Her face drops a bit. “Well, at least pretend you are happy for me.” 

“But with your last-.” Her hand flies up, in hopes of silencing your brother. 

“I will not dwell on the past. My husband wishes for an heir, as any king, any noble man would and I can only pray that this one will be a boy.” 

The sweetness of her visit is immediately tainted, it itches on your tongue to utter something at the monstrous prospect of having to witness your sister bear more children for the King of Arbormere near torturous but you do not speak it. 

You clear your throat. “It is good news. And we are happy that more babes will come into the world carrying your kind nature, are we not?” 

You look at Tristan, whose face has drained of colour but he nods still. 

Such is the fate of noble women. Made to squeeze out heirs for their highborn husbands. 

And such will be your fate one day as well.

Cordelia presses her lips together and inhales deeply. “Yes, I shall stay in our kingdom until delivery. My king thought it might help for an easier birth.” 

The good in this gleams through and you find it in you to be joyful. “At the castle?”

She nods. “Yes, a few weeks and then I thought I might go north, to mother's home.”

You clasp your brother’s arm. “Might I go with her then?”

Benjicot shuffles. Sometimes you think he is trying to speak this way, as though encoded. 

“No. Father won’t allow it. There are no suitor’s to be met in the north.”

You roll your eyes. “There are no suitor’s to be met,” you mimic, voice squeaky and high. 

Behind you, you can hear Benjicot fail to stifle a laugh. 

Cordelia extends her hand toward you. “We have a few weeks together, don’t we?”

Not enough. Never enough. 

“That dress of yours is ridiculous,” she adds, but she says it fondly. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The atmosphere at the banquet is odd. You cannot quite place it, but your brother won’t cease his whispering with various members of the court. 

Cordelia, though you’ve spent the better half of the evening dancing, has now begun watching everything the way a predator may watch its next meal. She does not look happy. 

Though, your father is as reliable as always. King Alexander is doing a wonderful job as presenting himself as the drunken decadent rake he is known to be, though Lady Cathcart has been brazenly replaced with what you can only assume is a common whore. 

You feel bad for her, you cannot imagine that it must be fun to spend one’s days entertaining men, let alone men such as your father. 

Benjicot is excused from his services for the night at your father’s command, he had lingered in a corner of the room for a while but he disappeared a while ago. 

You are pining for a good moment to slip out of the room, Cordelia’s power to protect you from annoying princelings and highborns only going so far. 

Lord Whent, despite having stayed true to Marion’s promise of having great hair, had spent his time talking to you staring down your corset and otherwise seemed to like himself a bit too much. 

“Cordelia?” You whisper.

She does not look at you when she replies, eyes still trained on someone in the crowd. You cannot figure out who it is when you follow her eye line. “Yes?”

You get up. “I shall be right back.” 

She nods. 

You do not stop for the formalities of bidding goodbye or greeting anybody you pass, the doors close behind you and with one quick scan, you begin to run. Your foot is bleeding, warm liquid gathering and you curse the cobbler behind your pain. 

Your feet carry you deep into the basement of the castle, the scent of darkness and dampness strong in your nose and then you finally reach your chamber.

Marion’s fiance had helped you set it up over the course of the past few years.

Scandalous as can be, you reach into your cleavage where your key is hidden and swing the doors open. 

You must hurry. It is much more difficult to find your way out of the castle without your maid by your side to guide you and you cannot waste time. 

You are a flurry of red rushing around the room, collecting all the herbs you need. A jar bangs to the ground and you wince at the noise it makes, wince even more when you realise that the last of your melted bear fat now seeps into the dirty floors. 

“Bollocks,” you curse but you cannot do anything, except hope that there will be a hunt soon. Though Ser Rodrick would no longer be able to retrieve it. 

“What in the name of god is this?” A voice rings through the small room and you almost cause more distraction, just quick enough to stop yourself from screaming. 

Your knight stands in the door, looking at you both confused and enticed. 

You swallow thickly. “Uh.”

Words have blipped from your head, your mind suddenly a blank sheet of paper.

Benji walks in, looks around behind him and closes the door. “I can’t imagine that this is part of your royal duties.”

Surely, there are some words you could say now. Anything really, would do. Just anything to defend yourself. 

He snorts. “Not in the talking mood?” He looks around. 

Dried plants hang from the wall, a cauldron stands in the middle of the room, jars are filled with various concoctions.

Oh this looks horrible.

“I do not practise witchcraft,” you croak out. 

“Sure does not look like it, princess.”

You set down the ingredients clutched to your chest. “It is medicine.”

He picks up a small vial, admires the brown liquid in it. “For who?”

“Nobody. For fun.”

He doesn’t believe you. “It gets boring.”

“So you go after your hobbies after nightfall? During banquets?”

You nod and go to take the vial from him, but he is quicker, arm raising above you. “Does the king know? Your brother?”

A scowl etches onto your face, your arms crossed. It is quite annoying how tall he is. “I don’t believe it is proper to keep my belongings from me, Ser Benji.”

“Is it proper to brew potions in the dungeons?”

“Why would you follow me?”

He shrugs. “You looked quite distressed. And it seemed unnecessary to spend a moment longer with those highborn leeches.”

You raise your eyebrow, grasping for some sort of higher ground. “Not even the ladies?”

Benji chuckles, a low rumble. You are close enough to think you feel it. “Do not take it to heart, princess, but I do not care for those puppets who care for nothing but appearances.” 

You huff. “Only a man would make such rude assumptions.”

“And yet it is a man who has discovered your secret.” He tilts his head. “Now who are you making this stuff for? Your maiden?”

You attempt to jump for the vial but it is no use. “I do not trust you.” 

“Who would I tell? I do not wish to have your surveillance become more intense. It’s annoying as it is.” 

The broken blister hurts now, and you are glad the shoe is red, otherwise you’re certain it would have been ruined by now. Frustrated, you step back and sit down on the nearest chair, lean back, arms dropped at your side and legs stretched out. 

It is a question of luck, but you don’t think he would let these matters rest without plausible explanation. 

“There’s a family on the outskirts of the city. I met them on one of those horrible charity visits. They couldn’t afford to pay for these aids and so I took matters into my own hands. And then they told people that there is a way to help and it kept going.”

You meet his eyes and you are suddenly struck by their warm hue of green. 

A beat of silence passes. “So you are…a secret apothecary?”

You shrug. “Maybe not adept enough to call myself such. Sourcing knowledge about it is quite tiresome and tedious. And I must do it in secret. It is frowned upon for women, but even more so for a princess. And I do not wish to be accused of doing devil’s work.”

“Well, the dungeon isn’t doing much to alleviate that connotation,” he says. 

Is he joking? 

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I suppose so.” 

You draw in a breath. “Please do not speak of this with anyone.” 

He nods and gives the vial back to you. That one is for Marion, womanly matters. You are glad now, that you’ve never taken up to label the things in here.

“How do you get them to the people?”

“Ser Rodrick and Marion.” The lie comes to you quick and easy. It is only half a lie. 

You bend down and take off your shoe. Normally, you would not, but having exposed perhaps your most vulnerable secret, you do not see any reason to feign dignity and suffer for it. 

“I must finish this tonight. There’s a case of colic rushing through town.”

He is watchful, like your sister had been, but with much less disdain, as you go on with what you had started. 

Diligently you powder up anise and cumin and add it to the broth that you had let simmer over the last few days. You do not have cormorant blood at hand but alas one must make due with what they have sometimes.

You walk barefooted, careful to mind the shards and to your surprise, Benji begins gathering them, lips curled as he does. “What the fuck did you keep in that?”

You offer him a bemused hum. “Fat from a strong bear.”

“Has it been there since the dawn of time? Why does it smell so terrible?”

“Only since the last hunt. Four moons ago.”

He shudders and tosses the gathered glass into the fireplace. Remnants of its content sizzle in the heat. 

Silence befalls you again and he stands closer now, right next to you, as you begin to fill five separate flasks. 

“Should I take it to them then?”

A stray hair falls into your face, like a curtain between the two of you. “That would be wonderful.” 

You don’t like the idea. It is not a happy freedom you got by sneaking out of the castle to tend to the frail, but it was a taste of true freedom nonetheless. And you do not like giving out the medicine without clear instructions. 

But there is no choice for you to make. 

“The last chapel before the city walls, behind it you will find Theo. He will distribute it. Tell him they who receive it, must take three spoons in the morning with a bit of bread. And then the same again at night, until they feel better. And if they have some left even though they are healthy, they can keep it, in case the disease returns. There’s wine in it, it won’t turn bad.”

“As you command, princess.” 

You tuck your hair back. “If you wish, you can call me by my name.”

Benji steps back and leans against the wall. He ignores your offer. 

Too soon. Too friendly. 

“Take that satchel. We don’t need the court thinking you’re a drunkard as the king is.” With the nod of your chin you point to where it rests on a shelf. 

Something flits across his features, the shadow of something left unsaid but it is gone before you can place it. 

He takes it and slings it across his chest. You hand him your work and the tips of his finger brush across yours but this time it feels different.

You stand before him barefoot, vulnerable, your faith put into his ability to be true to his word. It makes your skin feel raw. 

If he recognises the delicacy of the situation, he does not show it. 

“I should accompany you to your chambers,” he says. And you want to protest, but you do not. Instead you lean forward, close enough to feel the rise and fall of his breaths and pull at the bookshelf behind him. It swings open and reveals a narrow staircase. 

His brow raises as he turns his head. “Impressive. Though I am less and less convinced that you are not a witch.”

“Do not make such jests,” you chastise, but you say it with warmth. 

taglist:

@dancingbaek

@jhepolie

@knight-of-flowerss

@majoso12

@rebeccawinters

@poppyflower-22

@nixtape-foryou

@accidentpronedork

@xlittlefiend

@vqmpyrecult

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober day 15 - Moment of clarity, (childhood trauma)

I know I know, I’m late 😔 I had a tiring day yesterday and this fic wasn’t behaving and I was just staring at it and making ZERO progress, so I threw in the towel for the night. But it’s here now, in all its messy glory. sorry again.

Anyway, another prompt that only sorta fits, and having fun with an AU-ish thing. It’s not even that whumpy. Idk. also twilight princess freezards are awful and I hate them

Warnings: brief violence, hypothermia

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“I’m not a child.”

Wind had heard those words from Four several times on their journey, often said with an eye roll, a casual snort, genuine annoyance on occasion. Some of them were skeptical about the truth of that statement when they’d first met Four, but after hearing he’d been through three journeys and seeing just how responsible he could be, they eased off the incredulity. The short jokes kept up of course, but Four always ignored them, and never seemed terribly bothered at the fact that he was the smallest of them all.

And because of his repeated insistence that he wasn’t a child, nobody ever thought to ask what age Four considered children to be.

Wind certainly never thought to ask. There was something... about Four though, something that sometimes gave him pause and made him look a little harder at the little smithy. Something that ignited the big brother part of him, and reminded him of Aryll, for some reason.

But that was silly, since Four was several years older than Wind.

And at the moment, talking about ages or children or really much of anything was currently far from Wind’s mind as he and Four plodded through the icy cave they’d been dropped in, icicles on every available surface.

Sudden portal switches were no fun. Especially when they involved being separated from the others and dumped in a cold cave. Wind was lucky he’d happened to have stolen Warriors’ scarf right before they were all separated, but it was still awfully cold in here; he was shivering a little, and could see Four doing the same.

This cave was confusing too, twisting tunnels, long icy stretches, big blocks that they had to push. Wind had figured it was some kind of mini dungeon, but they hadn’t seen a single bad guy yet.

Which made him especially suspicious.

The open area they were walking through began to narrow, another twisting passageway up ahead. Wind and Four exchanged looks, then decided to take a quick break before heading that way, leaning against the wall and catching their breath from the icy slope they’d just walked up.

Wind looked up at the pale blue crystals on the ceiling, admiring the shapes while they paused, and glanced over at Four. The smithy had pulled his hood up, and looked much cozier than Wind felt. And small.

That feeling in the back of Wind’s mind itched again, but Wind ignored it as Four straightened, sufficiently rested.

“You ready?” Wind said, and Four hummed.

“Yeah, I think so. We’ve got to be near the end of this thing,” he said, and Wind agreed with a nod.

“I wonder if there’ll be a boss or anything,” Wind said as they plunged into the tunnel, following the bluish walls and shape of the stone. He thought the cave seemed a little colder this way, but maybe it only seemed like it because the tunnel was smaller. “It’s weird that this place has just had puzzles and nothing else.”

“Yeah, I know,” Four frowned, stepping over a rock. “But maybe somebody else cleared it out and the puzzles just reset.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Wind kept his sword in his hand just in case, though.

Four did the same, and they walked carefully through the tunnel, avoiding some loose icicles and small pits. Still no enemies came though, and Wind wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or relieved.

He and Four turned a corner and the tunnel opened up, leading to the top of a steep slope shining with ice. Daylight shone below them, and Wind grinned, nudging Four’s arm.

“There’s the exit! Looks like there’s no boss,” Wind observed, peering over the edge.

"Well that's nice, a break is always good," Four smiled, and Wind's grin changed to a smirk as he looked down at the slope again.

“...Race you down.”

“Hey!” Four protested as Wind jumped, and Wind cackled as he slid, crouching to increase his speed.

Four jumped down behind him, and the two whooped as they rushed down the icy slope, wind rushing past their faces. There were some small rocks and things to avoid, but it was mostly smooth sailing, and Wind laughed as he hit a small bump and caught some air.

Four edged ahead as they neared the bottom, Wind could only guess because of his pegasus boots, and he shouted as Four stuck his tongue out at him. That little miniblin!

Wind knew he had no chance of catching up, but he crouched down even more anyways, barreling towards the light at the bottom. Four was just too far ahead of him though, and reached the bottom first with a victorious cheer.

Which was why when the blast of icy air shot out, only Four was frozen solid.

“Smithy!” Wind yelped in alarm, and just barely managed to swerve away from the last bits of icy air. He careened towards the exit as he hit the bottom of the slope, but managed to stab his sword into the ground, halting his slide.

He yanked it back out as he whirled around, and came face to face with a huge icy beast, at least six red eyes scattered across its face, more ice blasting out of its jaws.

Four lay frozen right next to it, and alarm clutched at Wind's heart as he scrambled away from the cloud of ice. He quickly thumbed through his pouch for the item he needed, but it took him twice as long since he had to keep rolling out of the way of the icy monster.

It looked like it couldn’t really move, only swivel around, but because of that Wind couldn’t dart in and grab Four without getting frozen himself. The monster only paused to occasionally gather its breath for more ice, and Wind’s fingers finally closed around his bow.

Four still hadn't moved, too close to the frigid monster to unfreeze, and Wind bit his lip as the monster’s red eyes glared at him. It revealed a gaping maw full of icicle-like teeth and blasted more ice towards Wind, but he was just out of range.

Hold on Four!

Wind drew on his magic and pulled back a fire arrow, loosing it through a cloud of ice into the monster’s face. It roared, and Wind hurriedly loosed another, and then yet another when the monster kept roaring.

It took another three arrows for the beast to finally disappear, and Wind gasped in relief, scrambling forward and sliding beside Four. The smithy’s eyes were frozen wide open, his body encased in a solid sheen of ice, but right as Wind joined his side, the ice around him shattered.

Four collapsed, Wind’s heart skipping a beat when the smithy didn’t move.

“Oh geez— Four? Can you hear me?” Wind asked frantically, pulling Four up into his arms. The smithy was blisteringly cold in his lap, lips blue and skin frostbitten. He didn’t move when Wind gave him a cautious shake, and Wind’s stomach sank. Four hadn’t been frozen all that long.

Though... he had been right next to that monster’s ice breath for while.

Wind pressed his fingers over Four’s wrist like Warriors had shown him to do, and felt desperately for any sort of pulse. Right when he was about to despair, he felt a soft beat against the pad of his fingers, and gasped in relief.

“Oh Four, okay, okay,” Wind breathed, his breath coming fast. His eyes began to sting as he wrapped Warriors’ scarf around Four, and he hurriedly blinked back the tears trying to form. Oh come on, not now tears! I need to focus.

He quickly tugged Four up onto his back and stood up, surprised at how light he was. Four was small, but he was still a teenager, and Wind had expected more muscle. He was mostly a bit gangly, and Wind had to adjust him so he was actually secure on his back.

Wind then tugged Four out into the sunshine, pleasantly surprised at how warm it was outside of the cave. That monster must have been lowering the temperature. Wind had emerged into a forest that was just starting to turn into fall, the edges of the trees dipped in orange, lit brightly by the sun. It didn’t take Wind long to quickly find a safe enough looking spot beside a large tree, and he set Four down, hugging him close.

The smithy seemed so small like this, tight in Wind's arms.

Wind swallowed, and held Four tight, his stomach rolling. He didn’t really have any other way to warm Four up, aside from pulling out his and Four’s blankets, so he just kept hugging him, making sure the blankets and Warriors’ scarf were wrapped warmly across his shoulders.

Worry still clutched at his heart as he held Four, the smithy's head freezing where it was tucked in Wind's neck, and Wind held him even tighter. So tight in fact, that he almost missed it when Four abruptly stirred.

"Smithy?" Wind asked when Four groaned, and he sighed in relief as Four's eyes twitched open. "Whew, I didn't know when you were gonna wake up."

"...Wake..? What happen..." Four murmured, his brows scrunching.

Wind squeezed him a bit. "A big ice monster ambushed us, basically. You got frozen for a little longer then you probably should have."

Four slowly blinked, then shivered a little, his face suddenly paling.

"Oh. Right... I remember now," he whispered, his voice small. "Ice."

Four swallowed, and Wind frowned, unused to seeing the smithy so visibly shaken. "...Don't like ice, huh?"

"Don't like being e-encased in it, no," Four said, voice a little choked. "I was... my third quest..."

His voice began to shake too much for him to speak, and Wind felt a pang run through his chest, hugging Four tighter again. Four shrank into his hold, and Wind began gently petting Four's head, just like he always did for Aryll after she had a nightmare.

...Why was that my first response?

Wind shook aside the thought as Four leaned into it, and neither of them spoke for several minutes.

"Sorry," Four whispered after a while, taking in a shaky breath. Then he let out a wavering laugh. "I'm... ugh. It was months ago, but I’m still... sometimes it's hard to... y'know."

Wind smiled at that. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes it just... stinks."

Four snorted thickly, and curled a little tighter into Wind's arms. "Well, it's b-been better then my l-last birthday at least."

Wind froze, and stared down at Four in disbelief.

"What?"

Four stilled, and Wind could almost hear him thinking oops.

"Four, it's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me?!" Wind said indignantly, and Four shrugged, barely noticeable with how bundled up he was.

"I don't know. Not a big deal. It's not like eleven is an important age."

If the previous sentences had hit Wind like a brick, that next one hit him like an entire wall.

He stared at Four, the smithy lying very still all of a sudden, and repeated the words he'd just heard in his head a few times just to be sure he hadn't been mistaken.

"What?" he finally whispered, and Four swallowed, curling into a tighter ball.

"Never mind," Four said, muffled by the blanket he turned his head into.

"No, no not 'never mind', Four you... are you... I’m older than you?” Wind choked out.

Four gave him a tiny nod.

“Are you really eleven?” Wind asked, and Four didn’t say anything for a few long moments.

“Yeah,” he finally whispered.

Wind stared, flabbergasted, and Four stayed quietly huddled in his blanket, still faintly shivering.

He quickly reevaluated every single piece of information he had about Four, thinking back to conversations, random moments where Four had acted oddly childish that he'd brushed off, discussions of age that Four had always avoided. The way Wind’s big brother instincts always seemed to sharpen around Four more so then any of the other Links.

"Eleven?" Wind repeated in disbelief, and Four looked mildly annoyed.

“Yes. But I’m not a kid,” Four insisted, huddling tighter in his blanket. “Once you’re past ten you’re an adult in my Hyrule. Or at least, not a kid anymore. Young adult.”

“At ten?” Wind said in disbelief, and Four glared at him.

"You've said you become an adult at twelve on your island!"

"Not like a real adult!" Wind spluttered, beyond shocked. "Four how are you— you've been on three quests!" he gasped. "How old were you when you started?!"

"I was almost ten, stop yelling," Four grumbled, and Wind couldn't help noticing how childish he sounded. "Weren't you and Time just talking about being underestimated because of your ages?"

“Well yeah, but—”

“It’s not any different!” Four said fiercely, then was wracked by a violent shiver.

Wind watched him shake, then breathed out, holding Four closer again. Four didn’t snuggle up quite as tightly as he had been, but he didn’t pull away either, and the two sat in silence for a bit, sunshine warming their faces.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wind asked after a bit. “Everyone thinks I’m the youngest, why...”

Four looked away. “I... I didn’t want to. When I saw how everyone treated you, even after you told them off, how they kept underestimating you and treating you more like someone to protect rather than a teammate, I... I didn’t want all that to shift to me... I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It was cowardly of me.”

“No, it wasn’t, I... get it,” Wind sighed. “I probably would do the same. I can only image how they’d all react with the news that you were ten all this time.” Twilight would probably explode or something.

Four grimaced. “Yeah. They’d be insufferable.” He hesitated then, and looked up at Wind, grey eyes looking silvery in the sunshine. “Could you... not tell them?”

“What?” Wind startled, staring at him. “But...”

“Please?” Four pleaded, eyes wide, and he looked so much like Aryll in that moment that Wind found himself physically incapable of saying no.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, visions of finally not being treated like the youngest abruptly silenced. “I won’t say anything. But you can’t keep this a secret forever, Four.”

“I know,” Four said quietly, and set his head against Wind’s shoulder again. “It’s just... nice being treated like I’m capable for once.”

Wind sighed, and leaned back against the tree. “Yeah. I get it.”

Silence fell over them again, and Wind watched a few orangey leaves drift by, catching the sunlight and glowing like embers from a fire. Four’s shivering was easing more and more, and Wind had to resist the urge to begin petting his head again.

“Can we at least tell Wild it’s your birthday? Even if we don’t tell him what age,” Wind said after a bit, still watching the leaves. “Maybe he’d make you a cake.”

Four perked up at that, and Wind laughed at the expression on his face.

“I take it that’s a yes.”

“Absolutely,” Four nodded, smiling brightly. “I’ll risk dozens of age questions for some of Wild’s cake.”

Wind and Four both laughed, Four’s a little weak still, but hearty enough that Wind wasn’t too worried. But as Four curled up again with a yawn, Wind looked down at him, and made a promise.

Wind would look out for him. Subtly, and he wouldn’t be overbearing like Twilight or anything, but... he would keep an eye on him. Stick a little closer. Watch out for the smithy.

After all, he had a feeling Four would do the same for him if their roles were reversed.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part IX

Word count: 2900+

Warnings: mentions of torturing, SA, fight and blood, some swearing

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

This one is a bit more brutal and not the last such scene in this series, but I hope you'll like the moment Eris appears. Hopefully you'll see what I saw while writing it, the Lord of Autumn Court in full glory (I'm so tempted to draw him btw)

Part VIII | Part X

Eris was mad with rage, running faster and faster through the castle and its grounds like a fire breathing demon, leaving a havoc behind. He literally turned his estate upside down, not leaving a single thing on its original place, but Y/N disappeared without a trace.

Killian had never seen him like this. Right now he reminded him of their father, Beron, more than ever. Eris barked at everyone who came empty-handed, threatened and intimidated every aristocrat who lived in the castle and had ever expressed the slightest objection against him or his choice of wife. Even Killian didn't dare to get in his way. Every person in the castle was looking for Y/N day and night without a break to no avail.

"My Lord," a shy voice snapped him out of thoughts on his way to Eris's office.

Killian halted looking down on a small trembling lesser faerie that served in the kitchens.

"Yes? What is it?"

Even though he spoke softly, little faerie shivered like a leaf in the wind and nervously fidgeted with her fingers.

"I- I think I saw something suspicious the morning Lady has disappeared."

Killian's brows shot to his hairline as his eyes widened. Finally something that might be helpful. Quickly, he looked around, checking whether someone heard them and then gestured toward the closest empty chamber. The maid nodded and walked in. He closed and warded the doors behind.

"And now tell me everything." He turned to her with high expectations, urging her to speak.

"I was washing a lettuce near the well when I saw him."

"Who?"

"I-I don't know, my Lord," she sobbed.

"It's okay," he reassured her, forcing himself to speak calmly. "Tell me what you remember. Anything. Any small detail."

"I saw him only from behind. He was tall with long, dark brown hair. He carried a big bag on his shoulder. It was too big, that's why I found it so strange. As soon as he got out from the wards, he winnowed away."

Narrowing eyes, Killian nervously bit on his lower lip, his brain running at full speed. If that male could winnow, it meant that he was a high fae, but list of names was still too long.

"Did you notice anything else? A scar, unusual clothes, accessory, anything that could help me to identify him?"

The maid thought about it for a moment. "He.. he had a sword slung across his back. Quite long one. I think I saw some big gems on its hilt, but I'm not sure about the colour."

"What about its scabbard. Anything special?"

She shook her head. "It was just black with gold details I think."

Killian breathed out deeply. "Why haven't you said something sooner?"

The maid uncomfortably shifted under his piercing gaze. "I-I was scared. His Lordship was so angry when he stormed through kitchens like tornado. I thought that he would burn me down, if it turned out to be irrelevant.."

He laughed and ruffled her short auburn hair. "Silly girl! Go back to the kitchen. And not a word to a living soul, do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord," she quickly bowed and disappeared.

Killian didn't waste time and headed to Eris's office.

"Anything new?" he asked in his usual mocking tone as soon as the doors closed behind him. Eris was pacing around the room, the flames roaring in his veins caused that the air around him rippled.

"Do you think I would be here if I knew where she is?" he barked.

Killian lazily walked over to the window and leaned against the cool glass. This room was insufferably hot. It was a miracle that it hadn't caught fire yet.

"One little bird whispered to me that a certain lordling was here and when he was leaving he carried a human sized load."

In a blink of eye, Eris was on him, fisting the front of his tunic, his fingers burning holes into it.

"Who are you talking about?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm talking about a boring lordling with ego bigger than entire castle, who likes to brag about his stupid sword and wears it 24/7. I'm sure that he even takes a shit with it. Do you get it now?"

Eris's eyes widened with understanding. The blood froze in his veins. If that male kidnapped her, they didn't have much time to find her, especially if they hoped to find her alive. "But that bastard was banished from here after he took Volkan's side. So how did he get in?"

"Yeah, he was and I have no idea. That's something we will have to worry about later though."

Eris nodded. "Y/N is priority now. We need to get her back asap. Do we know where he is now? What does he do?"

Killian pressed lips into thin line. "No. We have no news about him nor Volkan ever since they left, unfortunately. If they are together, which certainly they are, they can be anywhere."

Eris swore, feverishly thinking. He ran hands through his hair, making it even messier than it already was. It could take weeks even months to find them and he didn't have so much time. There was no other way. He had to use his smokehounds once again. Only they could find her fast enough.

He stormed out from the office, heading to their chambers. He opened the doors to his wife's bedroom and looked around. There were no combs, no hair accessories. No jewellery she often wore. All clothes were washed. Everything was neat and clean, not a single hair left behind.

If he wanted to find her fast, he would need her blood or anything she often carried around and preferably nobody else had touched. He started to search the drawers, returning everything to its place. This room was like a sacred place to him, he wouldn't dare to make a mess here. However, the commotion drew attention of one of the girls Killian brought for her as her maid and companion.

"My Lord?"

"Where are all her personal things?" he asked while he rummaged through the mostly empty drawers.

"I'm afraid she doesn't have any.. She brought just few dresses with her. The only thing that could count is a necklace his Lordship gave her for birthday, but she wore it all the time. She had it on her even when.." she couldn't finish the sentence.

Eris shook his head in disbelief. "What about .. I don't know.. some diary? Handkerchief? Anything!" The girl just shook her head sadly.

"She lives here like the poorest priestess. Why none of you bothered to let me know she's struggling so much? I thought that you were supposed to take good care of her. I hoped I expressed myself clearly when I said I want her to have anything she wants or needs." Eris ran hand through his hair, barely suppressing the anger.

"She never complained about anything nor expressed the desire to have things.. We asked her at least thousands times, but she said that she didn't need anything. That she was satisfied with what she already had.." The girl started to cry, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Why do you talk about her in the past tense?" Eris growled lowly, his heart clenching in pain. "She isn't dead. She can't be.. not yet.."

The girl started crying even more and apologised again and again. It was clear that she sincerely missed Y/N and feared for her safety.

"Forget that," he growled angrily. He didn't have time for this sentiment right now. His patience was wearing thin. He needed to move on. "Where is her nightgown?"

"In laundry room I think." Eris closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Would maybe the dress from the birthday party be of any help? It's stained with her blood, but she insisted on keeping it."

Eris sharply turned to her. "Bring it right away!"

You woke up with a headache and a strange, unpleasant after-taste on your tongue in a dark room, lying on the cold stone floor. As your last memories cleared up, your heart raced up and you tried to sit up. You barely managed to stop the scream that almost escaped you as the ropes cut into your skin. Trashing you managed to roll to your side. You were terrified.

The sound of snap of fingers bounced off stone walls in the distance and the torches lit up. When your eyes got used to the bright light, you realized with horror that you were most likely in a cave, the room carved in stone reminding you of your former home. Steps echoed in the hallway and the door swung open.

You cried out with relief when you saw flash of red hair, pale skin and a glimpse of amber eyes, however the person who entered was unfamiliar. He was lazily stalking closer, hands in pockets, watching you like wolf observing the future meal.

"So this is the whore he's chosen over a pure blood." The raspy, cold voice of the male made you shiver in fear. This person wasn't here to help you.

"I told you, didn't I?" Another male who you hadn't noticed before, snarled from threshold. That one had dark brown hair. You doubted that you had ever seen him. You would remember the ugly scar that just miraculously missed his eye, stretching all the way down to the corner of his mouth, giving him a permanent one-sided grin.

The red head crouched before you and painfully squeezed your jaw, turning your face from side to side to get a better look.

"It's not too bad. My brother's taste isn't so horrible after all. Maybe we could have some fun before we get rid of her. There aren't any females to fuck around here anyway. What do you think?"

"Please.." you sobbed almost inaudibly, but they only laughed. No matter how much you would plead with them, it wouldn't work. It never did with this type of males. So you just pressed your lips together, determined not to make another sound.

The first tears slid down your cheeks as you were shivering there, completely in mercy of those two strangers. They could do with you anything they wanted. You wouldn't be able to protect yourself, anyway. They were much bigger and stronger than you. And there was no one who could come to rescue you in time.

"What are you staring at?" The redhead snarled when he stopped laughing and hit your head on the ground with such strength the room again darkened for a brief moment.

You wanted to scream for help but you knew it would go unanswered, more over you would only enraged them, provoked them to continue.

"That whore doesn't even plead anymore. It seems that she enjoys it," the other one laughed and came closer.

The redhead stood up, then he picked you up by your hair and punched you. The pain shot from the cheek to whole your body and more tears welled up in your eyes. During the months you spent in your husband's castle you'd almost forgotten how much the beating hurt, but it wasn't any worse than what your father did to you.

"Not even a small noise. This is going to be such fun," the redhead snarled delighted.

They started to punch you and kick you around without a break until you couldn't take it anymore and cried out. They seemed to be pleased with it and continued using you as a punch bag. Only once you weren't able to move even the slightest, your body aching so much you hardly could take a small sip of air, the redhead began reaching for the hem of your skirt.

You were already at the end of your strength, hardly perceiving what was happening to you. The darkness was reaching for you and calling you to its emptiness when a real inferno had began.

At first there were only shouting voices and sounds of fight, then the entrance exploded in the flames, hot air fanning over your face and making already labored and painful breathing even harder.

Out of the all consuming fire a figure in silver armour with bright red cape stepped out, unaffected, unbothered by flames licking his body. His eyes were burning even brighter than the fire around him, his face twisted with rage. The moment he saw you on the ground, covered in blood and bruises, a deafening roar broke through from the depths of his chest and he turned into bloodthirsty demon.

"Volkan!" Eris snarled, the ire dripping from every syllable. "I'll burn you down to ashes with my own hands for this!"

The other scarred male ran away as soon as Eris appeared, but the redhead stood up to him, eager for fight.

"Let's end it here and now, brother," he spatted out the word with utter disgust. "You shouldn't have become the High Lord. You aren't suitable for that. You aren't enough ruthless and cruel for that. With such, you can't rule the Autumn."

"You are wrong," Eris snarled with wild grin. "I can and I do rule the Autumn Court. You had to hide in the Middle to survive. You aren't suitable for ruling. Remember? You are the one who was never enough."

Whatever Eris referred to, the redhead reacted to that with a battle cry and charged towards him with a sword made out of fire.

You didn't recognize your husband. He was like a beast released from the hottest depths of hell and he fought like that, too.

The fire met the fire in such a fierce fight that stone walls cracked and the whole mountain shook. Somewhere above you, you heard collapsing ceilings. The sounds of fight outside the room instantly stopped, replaced by shouting men trying to evacuate the place and save their lives. However, two brothers hadn't faltered and continued their merciless fight, determined to kill each other.

The stone walls of the room you were in, shook for the last time and started to collapse. The redhead cried out in pain as part of ceiling collapsed at the place where he stood, burying him under the stone. As the rest of the ceiling began collapsing, Eris lunged at you and in the last moment winnowed you away.

Darkness and unpleasant pull were replaced with fresh, cool night air that filled your lungs as you found yourself lying on your back in the middle of the courtyard of Forest House surrounded by dirty, tired and hurt soldiers. Everyone was panting, some even groaning, several needed to sit down or leaned for support against the closest wall.

Your eyes found the stars above, winking down at you, unchanged, their cold beauty soothing some of the worst pain. With difficulty you were fighting the darkness lurking at the edges of your mind, but you needed to see him, to make sure he was alive. You couldn't even count how many times in your life you were beaten to blood, how many bones were broken in the process, yet it had never been so bad as now.

Small whimper escaped you as you were trying to turn your head to the side where you felt his hand holding yours. The rope you were bound with, disappeared while you were winnowed from that place. The armour screeched against the cobblestone as groaning Eris pushed himself up into a semi-sitting position and bent over you.

He was dirty, a trail of blood running from his hair line to his chin, another from the corners of his mouth. A bruise was starting to form under his left eye. Silver lined his eyes as his gaze roamed over your face and he reached for you stopping just an inch from your skin, afraid to touch you.

You smiled at him, every muscle in your face protesting. "You came for me." Tears slid from your eyes, cooling the hurting flesh on its way.

"Of course I did. I couldn't leave my wife in hands of those bastards. You can't even imagine how worried and scared I was when you disappeared. I was going crazy-"

His words were cut off as Killian with smaller army of healers rushed from the doors, interrupting whatever Eris was about to say with his strong voice.

"Take care of the wounded," he shouted the orders and immediately was at your side. At first he noticed his brother and paled.

"We need one healer here," he shouted out.

"Or rather three," he added when his gaze fell to you. "I'm so relieved to see you alive, dear sister."

He reached for your hand, but just like Eris, changed his mind half way through and his hand halted, awkwardly hanging in the air. Eris growled.

Killian cleared his throat. "Easy. I don't want to hurt her. What happened?" he demanded. "Is he dead?"

"I think so," Eris grunted, his eyes never leaving yours. "But I'd love to be sure he's gone for good. Also, that bastard Nair escaped as soon as he saw me."

Killian nodded. "I will send someone to check on it and look for Nair."

"Give them rather shovels and pickaxes. They will need them."

Killian blinked in confusion, but before he could ask why, bunch of healers shoved him aside, examining Eris's and your injuries. Eris refused to let go of your hand that he was still holding, snarling at anyone who tried to reason with him. In the end, healers figured that it would be much easier for you both if you took a nice, deep nap and so they put you to sleep with a single flick of wrist. Eris collapsed as first and you followed right after him.