#because they know it's not their term to use

[lilhawkeye3]

A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman

Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.

Let's start with the first visual we get:

UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic.

Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:

THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.

This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.

Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.

The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.

THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.

The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."

TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.

STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...

DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.

NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.

SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.

ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...

"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.

So what does Kendrick say?

IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.

40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.

THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.

NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes.

TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!

GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…

In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[clemworld]

self described tme person makes a list of "shit transmisogynists do"

includes shit that has nothing to do with transmisogyny in it and just shows youre kinda an ass

going to start using this for every dipshit post i see on here

[headspace-hotel]

The idea of Pleistocene rewilding, even though it annoys the hell out of me, is so interesting in what it implies about ecosystems.

If we accept that North America's ecosystems are "incomplete" or "impoverished" because of the extinction of Pleistocene megafauna, that implies there is a "complete" state of ecosystems. In the absolute sense, of course ecosystems don't ever have a "complete" state, but is it possible for an ecosystem to be relatively incomplete? What does that even mean?

Could an "incomplete" state of an ecosystem be recognizable without knowing what used to exist in that ecosystem, for comparison? Could a researcher tell that they were in an environment where an animal had gone extinct, without any direct evidence of that animal or knowledge of what it was? Who is to say how many taxa of a kind of creatures "should" be in the ecosystem?

Say we accept, then, that North America's ecosystems after the Pleistocene (but before European colonization, which involved intentional destruction) were "complete," in the sense that researchers couldn't detect any obvious "dysfunction," whatever that means.

But 10,000 years, compared with life's history on the earth, are nothing--- the blink of an eye. There hasn't been very much time for entirely new types of animals to evolve.

So it would imply that ecosystems have a LOT of plasticity and ability to re-arrange to absorb shock, and that animals can quickly expand their ranges and change their niches to adapt to the new state of existence.

...this, in turn, implies something strange about the introduction of new animal species to a continental mainland: that "native" and "non-native" animal species probably won't be distinguishably different in their impacts in the long term, because the ecosystem is chaotic and constantly changing to begin with.

Introducing new animals to islands is a disaster, because it's introducing an animal with a niche that didn't exist before at all, such as terrestrial predators or large herbivores. Introducing plants is a disaster in a small and unpredictable sample of cases.

But in the example of horses in North America, the impact could range from positive (horses used to be here, and their extinction "damaged the ecosystem," therefore horses being introduced "fixes" that damage) to neutral (the ecosystem adapted to not having horses very fast, therefore the ecosystem can likely adapt to having horses again very fast). Saying that horses are invasive seems to require us to believe contradictory things: that the ecosystem has changed so much since the Pleistocene that horses no longer belong, and that ecosystems can't adjust to change quickly.

Then, why indeed should we not introduce camels, or cheetahs, or lions?

Well, this is where "Pleistocene rewilding" gets on my nerves: it sees North America as fundamentally impoverished of animals, and at the same time, somehow treats different species of animal as weirdly interchangeable. We don't know if the American lion was closer to a lion or a tiger, and we don't know some important things like its hunting behavior. The "American cheetah" was not any more closely related to the African cheetah than to the cougar, and might not have been a specialized fast runner like the cheetah.

So this might apply to the horse just as well: the species of horse in Pleistocene times might have been so different from today's horse that they don't have the same role in the ecosystem. Well, is it better to be horseless or horsed?

I don't think that introduced species are inherently bad. This isn't a extreme position. Among plants, very few introduced species actually become invasive, and even some of those considered "invasive" are not actually harming the ecosystem in a way that can be demonstrated. I don't think I would recommend the introduction of a plant purposefully, though...or would I? With climate change occurring rapidly, I am in favor of moving species to areas where they can survive.

One philosophy of biodiversity is that the more biodiverse the ecosystem, the more ability the ecosystem has to absorb shock and adapt to change. Introduced species could have a range of potential to adapt different from native species, and could raise the shock absorption potential of an ecosystem. But they would also disrupt existing relationships and cause a shock to the native species that already exist.

Range expansions are an alternative to extinction for some species. We will probably HAVE to consider introducing species to new areas in the future. Well, imagine in the future we put Zebras in Arkansas, and the Zebras outcompeted the white-tailed deer in that area. Is that good or bad? Both species get to keep existing, but the deer's range is a bit smaller. Is the measure of biodiversity more important in a local area or in the world?

Makes my head hurt...

[salemlunaa]

𓆉 ˚∘YOU ARE NOT BOUND TO THIS REALITY࿐

stop acting like this place is your home, it’s not. Same thing with those trying to manifest things. You’re manifesting a new body but You believe that your home is the reality where you hate your body and that you’re doing something grand and groundbreaking by trying shift from that. You want your dream life through the void state. But you believe this reality you’re experiencing right now is your home. Your base point. Your starting ground. And you think that because you are so tied to this reality by scripting and shifting to a new life you’re doing something crazy and out-of-body like.

Let me tell you something. You aren’t. This is going to sound insane but you are as close to this reality as you are to your dream life. You are as bound to the reality where you have your dream green eyes than you are to the “current” where you have blue eyes that you don’t want.

The only reason that us bloggers use the term “current reality” is because this is the reality where your consciousness lies. I will say this again: there are multiple different versions of you reading this that you aren’t aware of and they’re probably not aware of you. Think of the country you live in right now. There’s a version of you that is from somewhere else and may know nothing about the place you call home and haven’t even stepped foot there. It’s so trippy to think about but what i’m trying to get at is that this isn’t your home. It’s nothing to be scared of, shouldn’t it be empowering and comforting to know you could be anyone you want to be?

like this is literally you:

(found this from @shiftinglea)

It’s so easy to shift your consciousness it’s not something you need to mentally prep for, there’s nothing to do. As soon as you want and intend the shift, it happens, regardless of what you’re seeing. You aren’t stuck here, and it pains me when you guys speak about circumstances as if they’re permanent. They don’t have to exist at all. There is no journey, it’s just immediate teleportation. Think as if. Think of your “desired reality” and your current. Place your awareness there.

The reason you have so much resistance is because you believe you have to. Deep down, you believe effort is needed to leave, you believe you need some extravagant journey as you’re leaving the place you felt bound to all this time. You don’t, you’ve left. you’ve shifted. You can’t grasp that nothing, absolutely nothing needs to be done to enter the state of pure consciousness, your literal naked self.

You believe it needs to be hard because it’s too good to be true.

Leave that belief behind. You aren’t far from your life. The life you intend to have. In fact, you’re right there. Think of all these realities like your children. All of them are related to you in the same way. You don’t have one child that you’re absolutely bound to, assuming you’re a good parent with no favourites. They’re ALL close to you in the SAME PROXIMITY. They ALL have the same relation to you. It’s YOUR BLOOD aka YOU running through their veins, all of them, the veins of all these realities, even the ones you aren’t conscious of yet. You aren’t just bound to one.

So you don’t need to work super hard for that body, that shift, that face. When we say it’s yours we aren’t just trying to be encouraging it’s just facts. I’m not the most well versed marvel fan, but does Dr. Strange have a hard time shifting or does he just know where he wants to go and opens those portal thingys? Be like him. Know where you want to go and leave.

Wash your hands of what you don’t want and think as if. Thinking as if = placing your consciousness in desired state = you are in desired state = 3d will follow.

This isn’t home base. There isn’t a home base. Take that into consideration when you’re struggling to truly “just be” while trying to induce the void.

THESE REALITIES ARE ALL THE SAME. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS DECIDE WHERE YOU WANT TO BE ࿐

[highvern]

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists.  Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away. 

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger. 

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too. 

It was fun. 

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on. 

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted. 

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times. 

“What the fuck did he do this time?” 

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?” 

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.” 

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.” 

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call. 

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?” 

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away. 

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences? 

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day. 

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe. 

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic. 

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.” 

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears. 

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.  

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin. 

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge. 

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you. 

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.” 

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza. 

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into. 

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been. 

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go. 

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his. 

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance. 

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much. 

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command. 

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat. 

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers. 

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth. 

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh. 

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does. 

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you. 

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears. 

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh. 

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease. 

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo. 

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask. 

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it. 

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes. 

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.  

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm.  “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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[armpirate]

The Vows Between Us || Jungkook

pairing: JK x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, unprotected sex, teasing, edging (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: For Jungkook, marrying you was a calculated move -a necessary step to secure the company that was rightfully his. But also a move to know you'd be his after years of looking at you from afar. For you, it was an escape from the gilded cage your family had locked you in. What neither of you anticipated was the spark that would ignite in the ashes of your arrangement. But in a world where every touch felt like a promise and every whisper hid a secret, falling for him was your first mistake. Because just when you thought his heart might truly be yours, you uncovered the truth. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

The air inside Jungkook's office was warm and suffocating despite the minimalistic modern design and large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Berlin's skyline. You stepped inside with measured steps, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. Jungkook was already there, leaning against the edge of his grand wooden desk with his long tattooed fingers wrapping around the pen that kept swirling on his digits every few seconds, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're early," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something smug.

"I prefer to get unpleasant things over with quickly," you replied, your tone cool and detached as you slipped off your coat. "I assume your father told you why I'm here."

Jungkook chuckled, swirling the pen one last time before putting it down. "Oh, I know. The future Mrs. Jeon wants to 'discuss terms,' right? Sounds like a business merger already." his dark eyes gleamed with interest as he looked you up and down, deliberately slow. "But I'm curious, why did you finally agree? You seemed so determined to avoid me before."

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Not everything is about you, Jungkook. My reasons are my own."

The smirk faltered for a split second before returning, this time tinged with something bittersweet. "Fair enough," he said, straightening up and taking a step closer, his voice dropping just slightly. "But you'll have to get used to things being about us. At least, that's what everyone else will expect starting next weekend."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to show it. You kept your expression neutral, tilting your head just slightly. "Let's get one thing straight, this marriage may be inevitable, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Jungkook smiled -slow, dangerous, and entirely too pleased. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

That sentence alone had you rolling your eyes, trying to control yourself from slipping your tongue on how disgusted you were by that whole thing.

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the strap of yourbag. "As long as you understand where we stand, this arrangement might work. We'll play the perfect couple for the public. But behind closed doors, we keep our distance until we sign the divorce papers. Simple."

Jungkook stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to make your breath hitch. His cologne -warm and spicy- wrapped around you like an invisible trap. "Keep our distance?" he repeated, his voice low, almost amused. "Is that what you want? Because that's not what it looked like back at that business gala... when you couldn't stop staring."

As much as you wanted to deny it, your eyes were indeed on him the whole time. He was charming and captivating, it was impossible to move your eyes away from him. But that hypnosis lasted until his family came up with the idea of imposing that marriage on you. He lost all his charm just at that moment.

You narrowed your eyes. "I was staring at the disaster unfolding around me, not at you."

Jungkook smirked, tilting his head. "Right. That's why your eyes followed me the entire night." he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "You're good at playing it cold, Y/n. But I wonder how long you can keep that act up once we're married."

You refused to back down, your voice calm despite the spark of irritation in your chest. "I've dealt with men far more intimidating than you, Jungkook. Trust me, keeping you at arm's length won't be a challenge."

A flicker of something darker crossed his eyes -something almost dangerous. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

"Good," Jungkook finally said, his voice a whisper. "Keep trying to resist me. It'll make it that much more fun when you fail."

Your jaw tightened, and you took a step back, reclaiming the distance. "You're delusional if you think I'll ever fall for you."

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amused awe as he took on the challenge. "We'll see, future Mrs. Jeon. We've got a lifetime to test that theory."

You turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected you. But as you walked toward the door, you couldn't shake the feeling that Jungkook was right. The real challenge wasn't staying distant -it was making sure you didn't get burned by the fire between you.

"By the way, you mentioned divorce... didn't you?" your tracks stopped the second he mentioned that detail, hearing his heavy steps behind you as he approached his body.

Slowly, you turned to him, unable to back down on your stance "That's what we agreed on."

"Some deals suffer changes as they have to meet different necessities, don't you think?" the way his eyebrows arched, while his lips pursed on a mocking grin almost had you losing your patience. "Divorce was ever on the plate? Because I don't think it was one of my conditions".

"No, it was one of mine" you spat back. "Either sign those divorce papers on good terms, or I'll drag you from one trial to another" Jungkook loved the challenge, he loved the way your eyes fixed on him to make sure he understood everything you were saying.

"What if I don't want to sign them?"

"Then you'll have to find another dumbass to agree to get married to you" you rolled your eyes, thinking that would be the end of your conversation, but his fingers hooked on your elbow to stop you from walking away.

You weren't sure exactly when he got so close, but you could feel the warm air escaping his nostrils on your cheeks.

"Don't try to throw a fist at me" he stopped you. "You're so used to getting what you want, don't you? You pout a little, you act a little bitchy and daddy gives you all you want. Let me give you a spoiler: that won't work with me. The moment you're my wife, you'll do as I say. And if I say I don't want to get divorced, then you won't get those fucking papers".

Your eyes started to water: rage, sadness, frustration... All those feelings were building up as you realized you got to a no-exit stop. Your plans were crumbling down, all your ideas were getting ruined, and all you could do was tighten your lips and open your eyes as much as possible so tears wouldn't escape with a blink.

Daddy's girl? He had absolutely no idea. If you were living in such a perfect place, you wouldn't have agreed in the first place, but the fact that your parents -or people who gave you shelter when you needed it- agreed on engaging their daughter with a complete stranger for money should've given him enough of a hint of your reality.

"Your choice" you managed to get rid of his grip. "Either sign those papers, or I'll make sure to tell everyone what all of this is about".

"You won't. And you wanna know how I know?" he took one step closer to you. "I'll make your life a living hell if you do".

"With what power?"

Your mocking tone was the last straw before he moved his hand from your elbow to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and slamming your body against the wide door.

"I don't need any power for that." his eyes were dark, his threat becoming a promise "Even if it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret ever messing with me. So you better come with a pretty dress and the best of attitudes next weekend". He let go of your throat slowly, calmly placing his shirt properly "I know you'll make the best decision" he finally said.

Your eyes were fixed on him, confused at how easily he let you go. And, somehow, his words were even scarier than his actions, because you could see the threat through them.

The grand hall was filled with muted whispers and expectant gazes, the air thick with anticipation. The soft hum of violins played in the background, their melody delicate but almost haunting. The guests sat in rows beneath an arch of white roses and crystal chandeliers, their eyes flitting between the tall doors at the back of the aisle and Jungkook, who stood at the altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, waiting.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stole a glance at the watch, sliding the sleeve of his jacket just a bit far up.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

You weren't there.

He told himself you'd show up. You had to. But with each passing second, doubt sank its claws deeper into him. His heart pounded, and the polished facade he wore so well began to crack. Was this your way of backing out? A silent rebellion against a marriage neither of you had chosen? Were you actually telling the truth when you said you wouldn't show up if he didn't promise you a divorce?

The doors remained closed, and Jungkook's jaw tightened. His father, seated in the front row, shot him a warning glance -one that practically screamed "Handle this".

Then, just as his patience teetered on the edge of collapse, the heavy doors finally creaked open.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

You stood at the entrance in your wedding dress, the long veil trailing behind you, catching the soft light like a halo. For a moment, the room seemed to blur around you, everything fading except the heavy thud of your heart. You could feel every eye on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down on your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your feet felt like concrete as you took your first step. Hesitation rooted itself deep inside you, your body caught in a battle between instinct and obligation.

Jungkook watched you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His dark eyes flickered with a thousand questions. You couldn't miss the way his shoulders tensed or how his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Step by step, you made your way down the aisle, but each step felt heavier than the last. Doubt whispered cruelly in your ear. "You don't have to do this" you told yourself.

Your fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You forced yourself forward, your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet Jungkook's eyes until you stood just a breath away from him.

"Finally," Jungkook muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

There was relief in his tone, but it was wrapped in a layer of frustration.

The officiant began to speak, his words echoing in the cavernous hall. You barely registered them, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. Jungkook's eyes never left yours. His expression was calm on the surface, but you could see the storm raging just beneath it: fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing.

"And now," the officiant said, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind, "if the bride and groom would like to exchange their vows."

Jungkook went first. His voice was steady, but the practiced words carried an unexpected weight, laced with sincerity that caught you off guard.

"I promise to protect you," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "To stand beside you through whatever comes next. No matter what happens... I'm yours."

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes -just a flash- but it was enough to send your heart lurching in your chest.

Then it was your turn. The officiant turned to you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came.

A heavy silence hung in the air. It stretched long enough to make the guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even the soft melody of the violins seemed to falter.

Everything you had prepared so mindfully disappeared at the feeling of being so watched, as if you were under watchful eye. You were sure it'd be obvious you weren't feeling either of the words you were pronouncing.

Jungkook's fingers curled slightly at his sides, his eyes searching yours for a sign, for anything.

The officiant cleared his throat. "Do you, Y/n, take Jeon Jungkook to be your lawfully wedded husband?" his tone was insistent, as if he wanted to get any words from you to get all of that over with.

The pause that followed was suffocating. You felt Jungkook's breath catch, his entire body coiled tight, ready to unravel.

Although he hoped you wouldn't humiliate him that way, he saw you completely able to do it.

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

Your voice was barely audible, a breath more than a declaration. But it was enough.

Jungkook exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the war waging between the two of you. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jungkook hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before leaning in. Your head immediately threw back slightly, enough for him to know you didn't want that kiss and make it seem like a shy move for the rest of the assistants. His hand found your waist -firm but not forceful- as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, calculated for the audience, but the heat of it lingered far longer than it should have. Jungkook had been daydreaming way too long about it to waste that chance.

His lips were warm against yours, but there was something else beneath the surface. A question. A challenge.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours once more. He didn't smile. Neither did you.

The applause from the crowd felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely.

As the two of you turned to face the audience, Jungkook leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"We're just getting started," he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

You kept your face neutral, your expression unreadable, but your pulse betrayed you, thudding wildly in your chest.

The reception was a spectacle of luxury and elegance, just as expected from a merger of two powerful families. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand hall, where hundreds of guests mingled, sipping champagne and exchanging polite congratulations.

You smiled and nodded your way through countless conversations, always keeping one eye on Jungkook. He was never far, and every time you saw him start toward you, you slipped between groups of guests or ducked behind another table.

You had managed to avoid him all night. At the cake-cutting ceremony, his hand had hovered near yours on the knife, holding tighter over your skin as you threatened to let the long sword slide from your fingers to his throat. And for a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, yet he only smirked and moved closer to you. You were quick to turn away, disappearing into the crowd the moment the applause broke, trying to get away from him.

Jungkook, however, was nothing if not persistent.

The moment you saw him again, his dark eyes locked onto yours from across the dance floor. This time, there was no escape. The crowd parted just enough for him to make his way toward you, his strides deliberate and confident.

"Running from me again?" he said when he reached you, his voice low, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You lifted your chin, forcing your expression to stay composed. "I wasn't running. I was... mingling with the guests."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Mingling." he offered his hand, palm open and waiting. "Well, it's time for the first dance, Mrs. Jeon. You wouldn't want to disappoint our guests, would you?"

Your stomach tightened at the weight of his words. There was no getting out of this. Not without causing a scene.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you couldn't help but notice how easily they fit together.

The lights dimmed, and the soft melody of "You Are the Reason" by Calum Scott filled the air. A sweet, tender song -one that felt far too intimate for the situation, as if it was meant for two people who loved each other.

Jungkook led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand resting gently on your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse stutter.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up today," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. His eyes searched yours, the teasing edge gone now, replaced by something far more serious. "You made me worried."

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a split second before meeting his again. "I was... thinking things through."

His hand tightened slightly on your waist. "Did you change your mind at the last minute?"

For a moment, you didn't answer. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. The song swelled around you, the lyrics wrapping around your heart like a bittersweet lullaby.

You knew hell would be nothing compared to your life if you didn't show up to the wedding. Not because of Jungkook or his family though, but your adoptive parents. The moment you twisted all of their plans, there would be no escape from it.

At least with Jungkook you wouldn't owe anyone anything. Instead, you'd be the one they owe something to.

Jungkook's eyes softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you had, I would've waited. I would've found another way."

Your breath hitched. His words caught you off guard -unexpected and disarming. For the first time that night, the wall you had so carefully built around yourself began to crack.

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

"I'm here now," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "That's all that matters."

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. You're here."

The music continued, the world around you fading as you moved together in perfect synchrony. His touch was light yet grounding, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a fleeting second, you forgot about the crowd, the expectations, the tangled mess of your circumstances. It was just the two of you, swaying gently beneath the chandeliers, the lyrics of the song weaving a story neither of you was ready to admit aloud.

As the final notes faded, Jungkook leaned in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

"You can keep running all you want," he said, his breath warm on your skin. "But sooner or later, you'll stop. And when you do... I'll be right here, waiting."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. There was no smirk, no mask, just him.

The applause from the crowd broke the spell, and you quickly stepped back, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. Jungkook let you go, but his eyes stayed on you, dark and unreadable, as if daring you to run again.

And maybe you would. But for the first time, a small part of you wondered if running was really what you wanted. No, you stayed by his side, answering to his challenge with the same power he was showing off.

The party blurred into a collection of clinking glasses, polite congratulations, and watchful eyes. Despite the sea of guests surrounding you, you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time. So when Jungkook leaned close and whispered, "Let's get out of here," you didn't argue. If he hadn't said it, you probably would've escaped by yourself.

Now, the two of you sat in the back of a sleek black car, the hum of the city filling the silence between you. The driver navigated the streets with ease, the warm glow of streetlights flashing across the car's interior.

Jungkook sat beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept drifting toward your hand -the wedding ring glinting softly on your finger. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was staring.

You caught him once, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, something unreadable flashed across his face. "No," he said quietly. "Just getting used to the sight."

You turned your hand slightly, the light catching on the diamond. The ring was beautiful, of course -a complex design that was probably picked out by your parents and Jungkook's father rather than by either of you. It felt foreign on your finger, a constant reminder of the deal you'd made.

Jungkook's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft, almost contemplative.

You said nothing, turning your head to watch the city rush by through the window. Jungkook simply smirked, knowing that your silence was better than a sassy response from you.

When the car finally pulled up to the luxury hotel, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air brush against your skin. Jungkook followed close behind, his hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching.

The suite was exactly what you expected -grand and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Brandenburg Gate. A bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolates waited on the marble table, while a large king-sized bed sat at the center of the room, draped in crisp white linens.

You set your bag down and turned to Jungkook, folding your arms across your chest. "I'll take the bed. You can sleep on the couch."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "The couch?"

"It's comfortable enough," you said, nodding toward the plush, oversized sofa near the window. "Plenty of space."

Jungkook took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "We're married now, remember? Sharing the bed won't kill us."

You scoffed lightly, crossing the room to stand by the couch. "Not happening." You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Fine. You take the bed. I'll sleep here." you rushed to say, feeling your energy consumed by the small talk you made with all the guests.

"No." his response was immediate, his tone firm. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then am I sleeping on the floor?" you arched an eyebrow "Because I won't sleep with you in the same bed".

You stared at him, daring him to argue further. But to your surprise, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Alright. I'll sleep on the couch."

His sudden surrender caught you off guard. "Just like that?"

He smirked faintly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

You watched him for a moment, suspicious of how easily he gave in, but ultimately decided not to push it. "Good. I'll get ready for bed."

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Jungkook sank onto the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions. He glanced at the wedding ring on his own hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. For all his confidence and charm, there was something strangely grounding about the weight of the band.

As much as that wasn't the way he wanted you to be by his side, it somehow made him feel good.

When you returned, dressed in something far more comfortable than your wedding gown, Jungkook was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Comfortable?" you asked, standing by the bed.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "I've had worse."

You rolled your eyes and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around you. For a few moments, silence filled the room, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the windows.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, you heard Jungkook's voice -quiet but clear in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

You hesitated before responding, your voice soft. "Goodnight, Jungkook."

Neither of you said anything after that, but sleep didn't come easily. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away.

The distance between you felt both vast and dangerously fragile. And as the minutes stretched into hours, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would stay that way.

The morning started quietly -too quietly. You woke up, blinking against the soft morning light spilling into the room, only to find Jungkook already sitting on the couch, his phone in hand. His jacket was gone, and his dress shirt, slightly wrinkled from the night before, was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the night on a couch after your wedding.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes flicking to yours the second you stirred. His voice was calm, but there was something smug lurking just beneath the surface, as if he was already one step ahead of you.

You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself to sound composed. "Morning."

A few beats of silence passed, too long to be comfortable.

"You were tossing and turning last night," Jungkook said casually, stretching his arms behind his head. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine," you lied, standing and heading for your bag. You could feel his eyes on your every move, sharp and assessing.

"You sure? You sounded restless." his voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You froze, giving him a flat look. "Were you listening to me sleep?"

He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's hard not to when someone mutters 'This is a mistake' at 2 a.m."

Your face heated. "I did not..."

"You did." his smirk widened. "I thought about waking you up to ask what you meant, but I figured I'd let you dream about it instead."

You crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. "Thanks for your consideration, Jungkook."

"Anything for you, love," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate sarcasm.

"You've really mastered being annoying, haven't you?" you shot back, heading toward the closet.

"Years of practice," he said, standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "You'll get used to it."

You rolled your eyes, yanking open your suitcase with unnecessary force. "God forbid."

Jungkook chuckled under his breath, walking over to lean casually against the wall beside you. "You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like this."

You turned to glare at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "The bickering. The back-and-forth. Admit it, it's fun."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jungkook, not everything is a game. And if you think this -whatever this is- counts as fun, then we're going to have a very long, very difficult marriage."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "A long marriage... Sounds like you're planning to stick around. It does sound really good to me."

"Oh my god," you muttered, turning on your heel. "I can't do this right now."

You stalked toward the bathroom, determined to get a moment's peace.

"You're already giving up?" he called after you. "We've been married for less than 24 hours, Y/n!"

"I'm not giving up. I'm taking a shower," you snapped, slamming the bathroom door shut.

The water was a relief, washing away some of the tension, but your frustration lingered like a storm cloud. And then, halfway through shampooing your hair, you realized something.

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask Jungkook for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

Jungkook's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

But before you could escape back to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were warm, firm, and far too steady for someone who was enjoying this way too much.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, Jungkook."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

He leaned in just slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "Then prove it. Get changed right here." His gaze dropped for a split second before meeting yours again, his voice barely a whisper. "Unless you're shy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either.

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it.

Two could play that game.

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. Jungkook gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second.

You didn't need to do anything, just that stare and the sight of your body alone was enough to awaken the most primal needs. His body responded to you, even if it had been just a second he saw you. Your humid skin, the way some drops fell from your hair and rolled down the curve of your breast to get to your hardened nipple. His mouth was watering just with the need of tasting you.

Jungkook blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious.

His hand moved to his left, grabbing the fabric to hand it out to you. You put them on torturously slow, covering your lower half to snap your fingers and asking him for your bra. Placing the strips on your shoulders, you turned to him, your body fitting perfectly in between his semi-parted legs as you silently asked him to tie the clasp.

Shivers ran through your body at the contact of the reverse of his fingers on your skin, his touch holding on longer than necessary, just because he liked the way you felt as he touched you a little bit too much.

You didn't need to ask, because Jungkook moved to the next item the moment you stepped away.

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet Jungkook could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not.

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, Jungkook felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again.

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you.

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response.

He was insufferable.

The car ride to Jungkook's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. Jungkook sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his house, your eyes widened slightly. House was an understatement. It was a sprawling modern estate with sleek glass panels, sharp architectural lines, and an air of quiet luxury.

"Home sweet home," Jungkook said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," Jungkook said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

He glanced back at you with a grin. "You'll get used to it." the mockery on his tone, knowing damn too well you were used to all that luxury and more, shouldn't have been as funny as it seemed for you.

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to avoid his gaze. The tension from earlier was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was muted now, replaced by an odd sense of anticipation.

"Upstairs," Jungkook said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

Jungkook nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

Your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had fully expected him to make some smug comment about sharing a bed -or worse, insist on it. But there he was, offering you something you hadn't dared to hope for: distance.

"Thanks," you said quietly, stepping into the room. It was beautiful -spacious, with a king-sized bed, soft cream-colored walls, and a large window that overlooked the shared garden of the building. There was even an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a deep soaking tub.

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat.

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered.

Jungkook stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," Jungkook said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with Jungkook, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. Jungkook always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out Jungkook filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when Jungkook nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

Every day felt like a test of who could push the other further without breaking. The house, despite its size, felt stifling. His presence lingered in every room -a constant reminder that your marriage was nothing more than a cage disguised as luxury.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, Jungkook! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

"Maybe because you keep running away instead of facing things!" his voice dropped, low and sharp. "You're so obsessed with shutting me out that you can't even see when someone's trying to meet you halfway."

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

In your room, you grabbed a coat and your purse, your hands trembling with frustration. Your eyes caught on your wedding ring, glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it only fueled the fire burning in your chest.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

Jungkook was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, Jungkook didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have.

The bar was harmonized with a low hum of conversation and soft music filling the air. You had no plan when you walked in -just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but at that house. You found a spot at the bar, ordering a drink and savoring the temporary escape it promised.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with Jungkook. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

Jungkook's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way Jungkook's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, Jungkook."

His eyes darkened. "You're right. I don't. But I'm still your husband. If you disappear in the middle of the night, I'll come looking for you. And if some creep thinks he can hit on you, then I'm going to do something about it."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Jungkook!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"Jungkook, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. Jungkook carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

Jungkook slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, Jungkook finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jungkook stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, Jungkook didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and Jungkook had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

It wasn't your kind of crowd. Polished executives and their equally polished partners swirled around you, exchanging pleasantries and hollow laughs. Being the accessory of the main character of the party wasn't your thing at all. You stood near the bar, sipping your drink, counting down the minutes until you could escape.

That's when you saw him, Jungkook, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

She was standing beside him, too close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. A striking woman in a sleek red dress, her eyes sparkled with something far more than professional interest.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, Jungkook didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

You turned your back to him, willing yourself to focus on the conversation happening nearby. It was meaningless chatter, something about stock prices, but you latched onto it, pretending you didn't notice the way your pulse was racing.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" Jungkook stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced.

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

Jungkook chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

Your pulse jumped, but you refused to let him win. "Trust me, I don't." you narrowed your eyes while looking at him "Just be careful of how you behave in front of everyone. We're still married. In private, do whatever the fuck you please".

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You couldn't stop watching him: laughing, smiling, always with her by his side. Each glance felt like a deliberate push, a challenge to see how far you'd let him go.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" Jungkook's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," Jungkook said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice".

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. Jungkook's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

The tires crunched on the gravel as the car came to a stop in front of the building. You didn't wait for him to say anything -didn't even glance his way as you pushed the door open and strode toward the front entrance.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when Jungkook's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

Jungkook smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

Jungkook tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

Jungkook's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

Jungkook stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

But then he turned, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were measured, each one bringing him closer, the air between you thick with electricity.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

The space between you disappeared in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The kiss was anything but gentle -wild, desperate, and filled with every bit of frustration and desire that had built up between you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing grounding you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore.

His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before deepening the kiss. You gasped when he sank his tongue in your mouth, quickly meeting yours at the same time he cornered you on the wall next to the door, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before moving it back to your neck.

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell.

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," Jungkook whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your silence as the perfect answer, smirking to himself before he linked your lips together again. His fingers sank in your hair at the back of your head, twirling them on some locks to pull from them and throw your head to the side as he kissed you down your neck.

"You're absolutely everything I've ever fucking dreamed of" he heavily whispered on your skin. "I want to admire you, worship your body and make love to you so you'd meet a devotion you had never seen in your life. But hell... when you look at me that way..." his thumb brushed over your cheekbone "I want to ruin you so bad, show you no one will fuck you so good to make your ears beep so loud you won't be hearing your own pleas when you ask me to stop".

Your kiss grew more passionate, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, when he kissed you again. His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your back, the swell of your hips. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sent a thrill through you, craving for something you didn't know you were desperate for. You moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against him, at the same time his hands held your hips to keep your body glued to him.

Jungkook broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you.

When he looked down at you once again, his hands moved down to the zip of your dress, his thumb brushing on your skin while his other fingers slid the material down. He didn't need to ask you, he didn't need to tell you, you helped him take off your dress.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him.

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. Jungkook had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through.

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though.

He lowered his head all of a sudden, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth through the lace of your bra. You gasped, your hands fisting in his hair as a way to control your own self. He teased and suckled, his other hand cupping your breast before he dragged his fingers down with the fabric, exposing the flesh, his thumb rubbing against your nipple before he pinched it with his index. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for more.

Jungkook slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He lifted his hips to help you, his jeans and boxers coming off in one swift motion. You looked down at him, your eyes widening at the sight of his hard length. He was thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips when a sudden urge to taste him overwhelmed you. Was it how sexy he actually was? Or how bad you wanted him to beg for you and finally accept you were in control? Maybe both?

You leaned down on your knees, not wasting a moment before taking him into your mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue swirled around him. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down at a tortuous speed. You could feel him getting harder, his hips thrusting gently. You took him deeper when he pushed you lower, your nose brushing against his skin to look up to him.

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He pulled you up with one swift motion, your lips still parted to the size of his length when he crashed his lips against yours again. Your back slammed against the door, and your head banged against it the moment he pulled your panties down and slid two fingers in you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, slowly, which was opposite to the way his curved digits moved and rubbed against your walls.

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more.

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him.

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him.

"My love" he almost sang when he felt the way your walls clenched around him and your clit throbbing "I've only been yours" his digits squeezed your throat tighter, unaware of how that dragged you closer to your orgasm.

Your body squirmed and folded under his grip when that hurricane hit you, yet he didn't stop. His movements were more delicate and slower, but he fingered you through your orgasm until he felt your breathing settling again.

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. Jungkook barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it.

You were so addictive.

Jungkook picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom.

When he let you down on his mattress, he couldn't help but admire the way your naked skin stood out so clearly while lying over his sheets, dying to twirl his fingers on those locks spread over his pillow. You brought in him a feral attitude he didn't know was so strong.

You looked up to him, eager for what was to come, your body ready to jump as he kneeled on the bed and crawled to you. His hands parted your legs easily, resting your calves on his thighs when he redirected his length to you.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, making your moan. "You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Will you let me fill you up? Hmm?" he looked up to you while still rubbing himself against you "Let me mark you now that you've finally accepted that you're mine".

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod.

He slid into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He felt big, bigger than you could've guessed when you took him in your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, until your hips met and you both moaned with relief.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the two of you time to get used to each other before he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing around you. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit at the same time his lips found your mouth. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He continued to move, his own body tensing as he chased his own release. You felt him getting harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. With a final thrust, he groaned, his body shaking as he came deep inside you, his load hitting a deep spot.

You lay there for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths ragged. He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. And as much as that feeling felt foreign, you didn't push it away. Instead, you snuggled closer to him.

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. Jungkook softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

It wasn't love -at least, that's what you told yourself- but it was something dangerously close. You found comfort in his presence, in the late-night conversations you shared after you agreed on sharing bed with him, the stolen moments of laughter, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

The night he was officially named the head of the company, the entire building was alive with celebration. People congratulated him left and right, raising glasses in his honor, praising his charm, his brilliance, and his unstoppable rise to power. You stood by his side, smiling softly as he greeted his investors and thanked his board.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. Jungkook was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was Jungkook's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Eunwoo's, you realized after a second.

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

Jungkook let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Eunwoo asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," Jungkook said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

Your vision blurred, your mind racing to process what you'd just heard. Every moment you'd spent with him, every touch, every whispered word in the dark -it had all been a lie. A calculated move in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever Jungkook tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. Jungkook's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. Jungkook sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room.

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

Jungkook froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, Jungkook. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, Jungkook? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

Jungkook's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But Jungkook wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," Jungkook said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, Jungkook," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" Jungkook snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that Jungkook never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well.

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, Jungkook. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It wasn't soft or sweet -it was raw and consuming, a war between his frustration and desire. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin.

You tried to fight it, to remind yourself of everything you'd just overheard, but your body betrayed you. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It felt like drowning, like falling too fast and too far, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

When he finally pulled back, your hand slapped across his face, making it turn. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, until he finally moved his head back up, his eyes searching yours, dark and unreadable. "You think I don't care?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're wrong."

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this".

Not when you couldn't trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings.

It was too much.

Jungkook's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

"I don't want to be near you" you let go of his grip once again. "You disgust me. I can't even stand being near you right now. Who knows? Maybe it had always been like that and now that the reason that kept us together is gone I can be honest with the two of us. Be honest with yourself, too".

The next afternoon, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow across the marble countertops. You sat at the kitchen island, quietly picking at your lunch, your mind still tangled in the events of the previous night. Sleep had been elusive -every word, every touch, every kiss replaying in your head on an endless loop.

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until Jungkook appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" Jungkook said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

You looked up at him, stunned into silence, your fork frozen in mid-air. His eyes were like shards of ice, his usual warmth completely gone. He looked almost... victorious, but underneath it, you could sense something else, some of his vulnerability was still obvious in his eyes.

"Jungkook, I..."

"You don't need to say anything" he interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. "You made it clear last night that this marriage means nothing to you. So, I'm giving you what you want. No more pretending. No more games."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

Jungkook crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Eunwoo. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

His eyes flickered with something -surprise, perhaps, or regret- but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same infuriating calm. "So, that's what this is about," he muttered. "You overhear one conversation, twist it in your head, and suddenly I'm the villain?"

"I didn't twist anything," you said, your voice shaking. "I heard exactly what you said. That I'm just a pawn in your game. That sleeping with me was just part of your plan. Hope you enjoyed the bit of control you had while you fucked me."

Jungkook laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

Your breath caught in your throat, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear down the walls he had so carefully built around himself in less than a few days. But instead, all you could do was stand there, your heart breaking all over again.

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

Annoyed, you reached for a pen, signing up the papers next to him, slamming it against the table before getting up and walking away, leaving the papers on the counter in front of him. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house, and for the first time since the start of your marriage, you felt truly alone.

[azdesertwillow]

As much as I love writers using various Spanish and Italian pet names for Rookanis fics, I find it interesting that Lucanis doesn't actually use any in the game especially compared to, like, Emmrich; the contrast being strongest for their words of encouragement ("Wonderful, darling!" versus "Beautiful, Rook!").

I wonder if this is either due to the slow burn nature of the Rookanis romance and that he's just not gotten there yet—

Or if it's just not in his nature in general because of Illario. The first time we get to see an Antivan pet name used around him is The Wigmaker Job and it's Illario saying "caro mio" to a slave that he plans on killing in order to leave no witnesses. I wonder if Lucanis has seen Illario drop just about every pet name and term of endearment into the ears of unsuspecting marks. Knows that Illario does it to hide the fact that he's forgotten this latest fling's name. Lucanis has seen them all and now he finds them all insincere or tainted.

He calls you by your name because to him that's the most sincere form of affection and respect he can think of.

[kiragecko]

I decided to do this for the Batfamily. (Preboot version, because I disagree with DC's modern decisions.)

If the Batfam were queer, how would they talk about it?

Dick - awkward and tentative. No clue when he picked up the terminology he's using, but it's probably pretty general/balanced¹. He's not going to be using microlabels, but may have done a reasonable amount of research on whatever term he's accepted. Possibly the most ashamed out of everyone? Look, people haven't been very gentle with him about his romantic, sexual, or personal choices. And he's internalized that. I could see him EVENTUALLY being comfortably open about his identity, but that would be a long journey.

Babs - only talks to romantic partners, if she can help it. Clinical. Probably also prickly. Maybe dismissive. More focused on how it will affect their relationship than on how it affects her, or on specific terms. But also the most likely to explain the split attraction model, or pull up a graph? Possibly she'd shift tactics based on what her partner was comfortable with. Probably it would be to tactics her partner was LESS comfortable with? Babs, make things easier for yourself!

Jason - What flavour of fanon are we using here? Or canon? Using slurs that the people he grew up used for themselves could be accurate. Reading up on all the latest terminology so he can support the street kids seems in character for some versions. (He sounds like he's reading from a brochure, but like he's a counsellor reading from a brochure for your benefit!) Not having thought about it at all because he's been 'somewhat' distracted for most of his life seems VERY likely! Jason contains multitudes.

Tim - avoiding this conversation at all costs. Refuses to use labels. Might describe his experience, awkwardly, if he needed to, but would get distressed if you tried to give it a name. He might be able to accept BEING some flavour of queer, but openly talking about it in ways people can use against him? That might affect social standing and job opportunities? That might disappoint authority figures? No. Most likely to use a fake identity to explore. Has almost certainly done all the research, KNOWS current terminology, and will use it for other people. Just don't suggest he applies it to himself.

Steph - Would probably get extremely attached to language when first accepting it. Maybe to the point of policing things a bit. Because she's defensive and has spent her whole life being policed and judged! MIGHT sound like she was reading out of a college brochure. Possibly DID read it out of a college brochure!

Cass - summarizes complex topics into a 2 or 3 word sentence, and if you aren't following along, that's on YOU. Might like listening to someone else explain their extremely nuanced identity. Might be impatient. It's a toss-up, depending on how obvious she thinks things are, how much you seem to be overcomplicating it, and how much she's picking up from HOW you're saying it. I hope she figures herself out before she learns TOO much terminology, because later Cass respected words a bit too highly, and I want her to be able to understand the fluidity of self without thinking it NEEDS boxes.

Damian - okay, preteen Damian doesn't WANT to know about any of this, thank you. Many preteens do! Damian does not. Damian wants to join in on every rape and hate crime investigation, and also thinks kissing is gross. Wrangling and protecting Damian is a challenge. Older Damian would probably use microlabels, if any applied. (And he felt safe saying anything.) Accuracy is always to be desired! Also, they fit his worldview of exceptionality and isolation.

Duke - I think he'd be pretty comfortable with general, broadly understood, terminology. But he might struggle if that stuff didn't fit. Feeling compelled to explain the nuances of self seems like something he'd find really uncomfortable? So I can see him casually talking about himself if it was easy to talk about, but struggling to be open otherwise. Also, he might get pretty stuck on not being SURE about his identity. How can he talk about it if he might be wrong?? (Tim and Dick might struggle in a similar way, but it would be less obvious because of their other issues.)

Bruce - Extremely likely to used old-fashioned or clinical language, especially if it lets him sound like he's reading out of a psychology text-book. Most likely to accept the language without internalizing the identity. (It might be accurate, but that doesn't mean he needs to ACT on it.) Also most likely to have accept-ED some term 25 years ago and then just never brought it up again or acknowledged it in any way.

Alfred - wouldn't talk about it at all. Relationships are private. If it was important to do so, would use euphemisms like 'close to', 'cared for', 'did a small amount of exploration', etc.

-

¹ I kind of think of modern queer identities coming in 3 broad categories:

general - uses language like 'queer', 'LGBT', 'nonbinary' - commonly understood umbrella terms. Prioritizes fluidity of identity and connection with community over precise description

balanced - prioritizes connection with people of similar experiences, uses broad subcategories like 'gay', and 'trans', or combines broad terms together to suggest more precision, like 'nonbinary lesbian'.

microlabels - breaks down identities into more precise subsets like 'greyace', 'fem-aligned androgyne', 'genderfae', etc. Precise understanding of self prioritized over other people's understanding or connection.

'Microlabels' as shorthand is often used to mock people, so I thought it helpful to explain where I'm coming from.

he would not fucking say that but it’s he would not fucking talk about his queer identity like he was reading out of a college campus lgbt center brochure

[literallyjusttoa]

I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Simon taking care of a child with medical issues when her bio dad is a deadbeat (✿◡‿◡)

I can just imagine Simon would be so good with a little girl who has type 1 diabetes. (There's a little bit of explaining of different medical terms so you're not left hanging) BUT TRUST ME HE WOULD BE SO GOOD FOR THE BOTH OF YOU

You had gotten pregnant with your little girl, Annabeth (Beth for short), a year after being married to Ethan. He seemed ready to be a dad, but once he found out Beth has diabetes, he cares for her less and less. He went to classes with you two, learned how to calculate her bolus (amount of insulin needed at meals) and basal (baseline amount of insulin for the day), but never did them properly. She'd end up with high blood sugars all day, sometimes getting ketones (breakdown of muscle in an attempt to breakdown sugar when there's no insulin) because he wouldn't give her the right amount of insulin. She'd puke and cry from how bad she felt, and he still wouldn't take care of her properly.

It would cause you to have to come home in the middle of work to give her the insulin he wouldn't, or if she got ketones, take her to the ER. You'd constantly get into arguments that would end with him going to the pub, and you crying. He wouldn't change, no matter how many times you explained that she could die from improper inulin dosage.

Other times, he'd give her too much, and her blood sugar would drop so low she could barely drink her juice. He'd call you, saying she's barely able to move, she's sweaty and the color from her face is drained, that she's crying, and he doesn't fucking know what to do.

The divorce ended with you having full custody, you allowing small visitations that are supervised. You can't trust he will take care of her how she needs.

NOW

When you start dating Simon, you explain to him why you got divorced, and how important your baby's health is. Even more so that she's so fragile. He assures you he's nothing like your ex-husband and would go strictly by your instruction if you allow him to be a part of her life.

The first few times he was around Beth, he payed close attention to how you took care of her. One time, at the park, Beth played a bit too hard, and her blood sugar dropped. You had 2 juices with you, but she went through those so fast. Once her blood sugar went back up, she played too hard again. Without telling you, he had already brought a few juices in his car. That was the first time he took care of her.

The second time was then you had asked him to pick up her prescriptions from the pharmacy. He waited for her insulin, but they only gave one vial. He explained to them that she uses two a month and that she needs the other one. They said that was all that was ready, so he waited 2 hours until the other one was ready.

What made up your mind was when you were called into work under an emergency, and you had no one to take care of Beth. You hadn't slept well the night before so when Simon offered to watch her, you hadn't thought to explain her dosage formula to him. It wasn't until the end of your shift that you realized and sped home (definitely going over the speed limit). Rushing through the door, you were greeted with the sight of Beth laying on Simon's chest, sound asleep. How was she not sick from no insulin?

"You told me her basal, so I gave her tha'"

oh

"What about the food she ate? Did she eat? What insulin did you give her?" You asked, extremely confused.

"I looked up no carb to low carb foods so I wouldn't have to worry about tha'. She had a cheese stick with some almonds and a lil bit of mashed blueberries with cinnamon mixed in, wasn't very hungry though so she didn't really finish it" he says softly, petting her hair, "told you I'd take care of her, mama"

oh

He really wasn't like her dad.

So, it wasn't really unreasonable when after she was put to bed, you pushed him to your bedroom and took care of him too.

(All of the information in this is coming from me, a type 1 diabetic. Everyone's diabetes is a little different, so this is based off of how mine affects me)

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image ID: Post from spiders-hth-is-an-outlier reading: I was at DragonCon one year when Avery Brooks was on a panel, and a Black dude stood up and talked about how the year DS9 came on, he became the sole custodian of his small son, and he was *terrified* and felt helpless, because he hadn't really had a father himself, and he didn't really know any Black fathers he particularly wanted to emulate, and no Black single fathers at all. He talked about how every week he'd put his kid to bed and sit down and watch Deep Space Nine, and think to himself, "Okay, this, I want us to be this kind of father and son," and how, silly as it might sound, the idea that Ben could be there for Jake, all the time, successfully, and earn his admiration and trust, was the only source he really had of inspiration, the only voice that was telling him he could handle this job.

I swear to fuck there was a whole auditorium of people in tears by the time he was done, including both him and Brooks. It was one of the most beautiful moments I ever saw about the sometimes bloodless-sounding term "representation," and about fandom in general, and I will never forget it. /End ID]

Don't let anyone tell you that seeing someone like you on television isn't important.

[hilacopter]

the word zionism should have never left jewish spaces. people took what was already a highly discussed and debated upon topic among jews and turned it into a glorified slur to call us. it is not a word you should be using willy nilly because you're parroting whatever other leftists tell you, it should not leave your mouth if you haven't learned about it's history and complexities from jews who are knowledgeable on the subject. if you're a goy and you tell me you're an anti-zionist, a zionist, or anywhere on that spectrum, chances are no you fucking ain't.

[queerculus]

@gemder I'm gonna take it at face value that you hadn't started paying attention to politics much yet and lay out a series of events because I think a lot of younger people on this site don't know about it. This is not to put you in particular on blast, this is to try and educate people who genuinely were too young/politically disconnected to know about it.

During the first term of the Obama administration, there was a bad bird flu outbreak. Not as bad as the one we're having now, largely because the Republican party had not yet devolved into a total obstructionist shitshow and worked with him to prevent it from getting worse, but still pretty bad.

In the aftermath of this, Obama formed a Pandemic Task Force because it had become increasingly apparent that at some point in the near future we would encounter another severe health crisis. This effort took several years, a lot of resources, and cooperation from Republican lawmakers to put together.

During the first year of the Trump presidency, the pandemic task force was completely dismantled. Like totally ripped out with no replacement. The reason for this was because it was something Obama did, and Trump's entire first two years were about destroying every program Obama started.

Because a significant amount of our emergency response planning had been rewritten with the pandemic response task force as a central figure, the incompetence and malice of the Trump administration left a gaping hole in our public health response plans. When covid came, that became extremely apparent and over a million people died.

The Biden administration attempted to resurrect the pandemic response task force, however Republican obstruction of literally everything they tried to do made this incredibly difficult and they had to choose what goals were possible to accomplish in the time they had and which ones were not. Lack of political momentum made this pretty much a guaranteed flop to pursue, so it was put aside for more viable goals.

I'm not saying Biden was perfect at all. His handling of the pandemic when he took office was not good in many ways. But that said, this is not a "both sides" issue. Republicans intentionally gouged out a chunk of our public health crisis response plans and it killed over a million people, and has recently spawned two new outbreaks because their obstructionism prevented us from rebuilding these systems. Their grievance politics has and will continue to kill people through mismanagement, incompetence, and zero planning for our future.

So like I said before:

Trump disbanded the pandemic response team and we now we have bird flu and tuberculosis outbreaks

and to add on to that:

Trump disbanded the pandemic response team and over a million people fucking died.

Keep your messaging simple:

“Trump fired everyone in charge of airplane safety, and a week later planes started crashing into each other.”

That’s it. That’s the messaging. Don’t get bogged down disputing Trump’s false claims. Just blame him, in short and repeatable sentences.

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[oobbbear]

I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times

Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use