#but i just saw this and i was instantly going insane

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 6 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel and Y/n are idiots in obsession and perfectly matched in lust.

Warnings: Azriel & specs, Azriel's chest, delusional Azriel, smut towards the end, minors please stay away.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel was always an early riser. He would wake up at five in the morning religiously. The only exceptions were when he’d visit his mother or his two moronic friends. 

Today, however, was an exception because he had woken up at. . . what time was it? 

He felt quite refreshed but in many other ways than what sleep could do to him. 

He blinked a few times and took in his surroundings. 

Why was it still dark? Had he slept through the entire day? 

Azriel took his phone from the nightstand and checked. Midnight had just passed. 

He kept his phone back and turned to the side and saw a silhouette under the light of the moon. A woman. 

Azriel took his phone back and switched on the flashlight. It was a woman. Her back, to be more specific, but a woman nonetheless. 

He quickly sat up straight. 

He had to bleach himself. 

Out of what insanity or desperation had he invited a woman into this apartment? 

This apartment that he’d purchased solely for attaining his goal of making Y/n his?

He had to buy a new apartment now. 

Or a new building.

Wait. 

He had to go purify himself first. 

And then he could only hope and beg and pray that Y/n would still accept his adulterous self. 

Y/n, I have committed an unforgivable sin. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. 

Now, what did people do to cleanse their sins?

Repentance. But before he could do a Google search on how to regain his virginity, the woman beside him stirred. 

Azriel didn’t even want to know who it was. Knowing would make it even more real. 

He had to go to a temple, shave his head, and become a monk for a while before he became chaste enough for Y/n. 

What if Y/n saw this woman leave his apartment? She’d instantly reject him as a potential husband. The horror of it made it increasingly difficult for him to breathe.

How did people repent for infidelity? He had to know immediately. He had to make Y/n his and be hers in this lifetime. 

Maybe he should just go over to her apartment and beg for forgiveness already. Azriel could already see himself kneeling and apologising and begging Y/n to marry him.

He took a quick look behind him to see the woman’s face. 

Y/n. 

Y/n?

This beautiful goddess with the lovely figure was Y/n?

Was she real? Or just a figment of the uncountable number of fantasies and dreams he’d had of his woman? He calmed down a little. 

Azriel hesitantly poked her cheek. Fuck, she was so adorable. 

And then he pinched his cheek and pulled it until he felt the pain. 

Oh. She was real. 

Y/n was real. 

He nearly melted into the bed, now watching her carefully. 

Thank fuck he hadn’t cheated on her lest his conscious haunt him forever and beyond. 

Memories of the previous night flashes before him. Kissing her. Undressing her. Devouring her on the dining table. 

Fuck, fuck, that pretty mouth had been so good for him, taking his cock so well. And he’d tasted her again and then, he’d found himself inside her. 

How was it that he’d lost himself to this world again and again, only to find himself with Y/n? Was this what home meant? 

Her hair spread behind her in soft dark waves. Such lovely hair. So easy to grab and pull so that he could manoeuvre her body. 

Azriel dared to move closer to this ethereal being. And as if she’d sensed him, she snuggled closer to him, as if she was seeking him out. 

He checked whether they were wrapped properly in the blankets and watched her. Her legs were pushing and poking his own, trying to be sandwiched between them. 

His hand on her back felt like a dream. Such supple skin.

She was so beautiful, he had to tell his mother of his intention to marry her. 

He felt his brain become mushy as he watched her. 

His perfect Y/n. 

Such brilliance. 

Such a blessing. 

His phone began vibrating and Azriel suddenly felt murderous. 

Who the fuck thought they would interrupt his time with his woman and get away with it?

It was Rhysand. 

Of course, it was Rhysand. 

The asshole had no consideration about the time difference ever since he was hell bent on acquiring Hewn Inc. 

Azriel’s Umbra Industries and Rhys’s Velaris Corp. were all set to acquire Hewn Inc. and they were mapping out all their plans for its future. 

The acquisition was on its way with their lawyers working on it but when Rhys had an idea (which was usually a brilliant one), he also made it a point to be a menace. 

He cancelled the call and texted him. His arm was already missing Y/n’s skin from when it was draped over her. 

Why did he have to hold a device when Y/n was sleeping next to him? This was utterly ridiculous.

Rhysand’s reply was interesting enough that he left the bed, took out his laptop, and returned. Now, he was absolutely determined to get this done before he could return to holding Y/n. 

And if the sun rose before he could get in a good amount of cuddling time, he’d definitely thrash Rhys.

****

Y/n had woken up feeling rather refreshed. Her body turned and stretched on the bed itself before she properly opened her eyes and. . . where was she?

This wasn’t her fluffy furry blanket on her. The windows bringing the moonlight were on the wrong side of the room. There was another source of light in the room coming from the other side of the bed.

She turned around and saw a toned body lit up by the screen of a laptop. 

That body, inked in swirls and patterns unknown, belonged to Azriel. 

She looked up at that face and found him wearing glasses. 

So, overall, logically speaking, her neighbour, this man, had nice abs, tattoos, tanned skin, a perfect face, curly dark hair, and glasses.

Y/n buried her face under the sheets quickly, knowing that the movement would definitely catch his attention. 

Because she couldn’t look at him for too long. 

She’d faint. 

Of course, she’d faint. 

Why was this man so ridiculously, otherworldly, erotically, fictionally hot?

This should be illegal.

But when she realised that he hadn’t initiated a talk with her, she shyly took a peek. Only to see Azriel’s face close to hers. 

Y/n squealed as she hid under the blankets again. 

He was still wearing glasses. So unfair. 

“Y/n?” What was with that bedroom voice? 

Was this man determined to not let her breathe in peace? 

Could he take a break from being so hot?

“Sweetheart?” Somebody, have some mercy already. Lord or Lady or Satan, somebody better help her soon else she’d die of bliss and fuck off to the afterlife. 

Nesta. 

Nesta. 

The only one who could help Y/n right now was Nesta. That woman could manipulate men whereas Y/n was definitely the opposite if anyone could see her right now. 

And what the fuck was that world-rocking, toe-curling, mindblowing sex?

Did anybody warn her that her endlessly handsome neighbour, with a build as if the devil had personally sculpted him, was going to be some kind of a sex god? 

The man had literally picked her up like she’d weighed nothing and thrown her on the bed. 

He’d thrown her. 

The goddess of dark romance and smut had finally, finally, answered her prayers and blessed her. 

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank–

“Y/n?” While she was busy with her gratitude, Azriel had pulled off the blankets from her. 

She looked up at him, embarrassed at her own behaviour. “Hi?” 

“Hello.” And he wrapped the blanket over her excluding her head. He was now laying sideways, resting his head on his hand with the elbow propped up. “Why were you hiding?”

“Nothing.” And she moved to turn her body but Azriel grabbed her waist, pulled her closer, and secured her. 

“Nothing?” Why was his delicious chest in front of her? She shut her eyes tightly to control herself. Do not lick. No matter what happens, do not lick his chest. 

Y/n felt him closer as he laid down properly, his arm now extended and placed beneath her head. The other hand played with her love handles, gently pinching and poking them. 

“Sweetheart?” His voice was sincere and affectionate and Y/n couldn’t help but look at him. Under the moonlight, Azriel looked like he adored her the most in the world. “There’s my girl.” 

The hand on her waist trailed up to her side, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast before the hand came to cradle her head. Azriel leaned in and kissed her forehead softly. 

Once again, Y/n felt a veil fall on her. She didn’t understand what it was except that she felt immensely comforted. “Az?” 

“Hm?” He stroked her hair. 

“Mhm.” Y/n snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. “You’re so warm.” Yes. Focus on the warmth and fluffy things. Cleanse thyself from filth. 

“You like that?” Y/n had read this line in a smutty romance. Jesus had probably abandoned her after seeing her reading list. 

“Mhm.” She snuggled deeper against him. A few minutes of contented silence passed before Y/n realised why she’d woken up. “Az?”

“Hm?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Oh?” Y/n could hear the filth in his tone and she pinched his arm. 

“For food.” She added, hoping to heavens because she definitely needed more energy before even kissing him. 

Azriel kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw, and descended to her neck. “Sure I can’t convince you otherwise?” 

“I really don’t have the energy. And I didn’t have anything after lunch.” At that Azriel stopped his attempts at seduction.

“What do you want to eat?” He sounded quite serious. 

“Do you have some snacks?”

“You’re a healthy eater, sweetheart. Will snacks be enough?” It wouldn’t. He knew her eating habits by now. 

“Cooking sounds tiresome.” She caressed his cheek. Gods, this man was so warm, she’d keep him as a personal heater. 

“Then let me take you somewhere.” 

“To that place you said earlier?” He did mention that right after they’d started kissing against her front door. 

“You paid attention to that?” The hand that snaked around her waist did not have any innocent intentions.

“Food, Az. Or I might faint.” Y/n desperately wanted to ride this man while he wore specs. Gods, that was a wonderful fantasy. 

“When we return, I’m having you all to myself.” Azriel grumbled, not liking the idea of being away from their cuddling session. 

Who was she to say anything when she was least interested in leaving bed where he was keeping her warm?

Once they’d somehow escaped the temptation of a warm bed, Azriel told her to dress warm and borrow his clothes as needed. 

He grabbed his keys and they were in the car, en route to some place her hot neighbour did not divulge. 

They reached a quaint fast food outlet from where they had burgers and fries and finally moved. 

****

“Tell me we’re going home.” Home? Gods, he loved hearing her say that. Home. What a beautiful place to be. But he was already home since she was next to him. 

“Not yet. I wanted to show you something.”

“Those mouthwatering burgers weren’t it?”

“I planned to bring you there anyway but this is something else.” They were headed towards the outskirts of the city. At some point, Y/n had fallen asleep. 

Such an adorable woman. He really needed to marry her. 

They’d reached their destination soon. He stepped out of the car, opened the door to the passenger seat, and gently shook her to wake her up. 

“Y/n? Sweetheart?” And she mumbled something incoherent and weakly pushed his arm away. He tried again and again and again before she finally woke up. 

“Az?” It was the softest he’d ever heard her. Now, how difficult was it to get a marriage certificate? It was certainly not difficult but Y/n and his mother would team up to kill him if he tried that. 

“We‘re here.” And it was a viewpoint in the outskirts of the city from where the city and the stars were an incredible sight. He watched Y/n as she admired them, awe on her features. 

“They’re so pretty.” She sighed, her head against his arm. “When did you find this place?”

“I went on a midnight drive a couple of days ago. Thought you’d like it.” 

“I do like it.” She affirmed. Azriel noted that. He needed to tell his PA to search for properties in the area. They leaned against the bonnet of the car for all of five minutes maybe before Y/n yawned loudly. 

“Let’s go back.” 

“But we came all the way here.” She protested sleepily. 

“And you’re sleepy. We need to rest. We’ll come back another night.” 

“Promise?” She was so fucking adorable.

“Promise.” He pinched her cheek. 

Azriel helped her settle in the passenger seat before entering the car himself. Y/n had once again fallen asleep on the way home. 

He had to wake her again since it would’ve been difficult to carry her and punch in the security code for the building and then open his door. 

During the elevator ride up, she stretched her arms like a cat waking up from sleep. By the time they reached their floor, Y/n was more awake than she was downstairs. 

They made it to the bedroom and Azriel knew they would undress. He knew they would go to bed. And yet, as she removed his jacket, he was consumed with need. 

If he removed his pants right now, he’d lose restraint and definitely beg for another round. He watched as she gathered her hair and secured it with a hair clip, claw, whatever that was. 

And she then removed the shirt he’d lent her for the night. It was one of his favourites but it looked so much better on her. Y/n gracefully removed it, giving him a spectacular view of her back and neck. 

The purple blots on her neck felt like his personal branding on her. Pride bloomed as he noted those hickeys. Those hands deftly unclasped her bra and she turned to keep the clothes on the chair. 

And Azriel, being the man that he was, was a goner as soon as he caught sight of those plentiful breasts. He was hard. And with good reason. 

And then, Y/n saw him staring shamelessly at her. She raised a brow. “What?” 

The plan was to reach the bed. 

The plan was to cuddle and sleep. 

The plan was no more. 

The new plan was to get her naked and fuck her silly. “Don’t seduce me if you’re not going to do anything about it, Y/n.” 

How stupid did he sound? She was undressing. Just as he knew she would. She wasn’t even fully naked and he was already aroused. The bulge on his pants was enough proof of his lust and shamelessness. 

Y/n was tired. Or was she? Since she’d been stretching in the elevator. But her gaze right now. As she watched him and her own eyes mirrored his desire. “Or what?” 

It was a challenge. 

Maybe his woman was not so sleepy after all. 

Her nipples were already hard and ready for his mouth and Azriel was looking nowhere else.

He marched over, a hand rising to her throat and the other playing with her breast, fingers pinching her nipple. “How about we see if you keep behaving like a brat once I’ve edged you for some time?” 

“Or shall I go to bed and you can take care of that in the bathroom?” She touched his hand on her throat and brought it to her cheek and leaned into his touch. 

Oh fuck. 

That confidence of hers did things to his belly, all of which shot straight to his cock. 

“And you’ll just sleep?”

“Maybe I’ll take care of myself here while you’ll be occupied with your cock.” 

“Really?.” Azriel lifted her and carried her to bed. He removed her jeans swiftly and sat right next to her. “Should I come on your tits?” Azriel kissed her, moving so that he was hovering over her. He moved to suck on her nipple and remained there for a while. 

“Or on your belly?” He kissed right above the pelvic bone. Her hands scratching his neck and back was a wonderful sensation. With that much, he was ready to fuck her. 

Azriel moved to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. “Or inside that pretty pussy?”

“Are you going to wear all that to bed?” She lazily asked, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. His clothes were cold against her topless body. 

“No. I think I like being naked around you.” He responded with a playful smile. 

“Then, strip.” It was at this moment that Azriel once again realised that he was entirely fucked. 

He thought he was wholly hers from the moment he saw her but there were more parts of him. Parts that submitted to her when they kissed. 

When he ate her out. 

When she touched his cock for the first time. 

When he thrusted into that warm cunt. 

Every single time, a new part of him he didn’t know about became hers. “You’re making this hard for me.” 

“Your cock is hard for me?” She coyly rephrased and shot back, a sultry smile gracing her lips.

**** 

The way she wanted this man to rail her hard—it was honestly not funny. At this point, Nesta would be more proud of her sexual enthusiasm than Azriel.

“Yes, it is. And what a fucking temptation you are.” He grabbed her throat and kissed her. It was heavenly—the feel of his mouth pressing wet kisses to her neck.

She caught hold of his hair and let her nails through the scalp as Azriel brought some relief to her nipples with his mouth. 

For all her hunger, Azriel gave and gave and Y/n really wanted more and more. She sighed. “Az.”

“I know.” He growled. Frustration didn’t even begin to cover this. 

Azriel brought her leg above his and slowly thrusted into her, eliciting a moan. Her body curved, neck exposed for his mouth. 

“Now, sleep.” Wait. What?

He pressed a wet kiss to her throat. 

“Can’t sleep.” It felt so warm. And now that his cock was inside her, she couldn’t help her need. 

“It’s the only relief.” He kissed her shoulder.

“It’s not.” She whimpered. It was torture not to be fucked by that perfect cock. “Please.” 

“Like that?” Azriel thrusted once. 

“Oh yes.” And he thrusted again. The slow thrusts began, pace never faltering. Y/n was feeling more and more and she wanted to take more. 

“Dirty girl. I thought you were tired.” Azriel was now setting a slow, steady pace. 

“I thought that too.” She sighed. “Az!” She nearly shrieked his name when he sped up for a few seconds. “Wait.” 

Azriel paused, examining her face. “What happened?”

Y/n bent her leg and pushed herself up so she was now straddling Azriel. 

“Fuck me.” He sighed, hands coming to her hips.

Y/n felt her sensuality bloom. It felt good to know her effect on him. To know she had control. She rose and descended on his cock twice. “Like this?”

She then rotated her hips and rose and descended. “Or like this?” 

Azriel’s eyes were shut tightly, grip on her hips tightening. “Fuck.” 

This was liberating. To be sexually empowered. Especially when Azriel made his pleasure known, thereby making her feel like she was good. She felt wonderful. And she felt beautiful and sensual and so many things.

“Or like this?” And she willed herself to clench on his cock. 

Azriel opened his eyes instantly and moaned—moaned. 

Pride zapped her in the chest. To know that she could pleasure her man and find pleasure in it was such an empowering feeling.

And when she loosened her hold on him, he pulled her by the hand and let her fall on his chest. “My dirty girl.” 

Azriel bit her ear and Y/n felt him move his legs. His thighs moved and her face was suddenly pushed closer to his. “Az?”

“Prepare yourself.” That was the only warning she received before Azriel thrusted into her like that. He was now rigorously thrusting inside. 

Y/n then realised that he’d planted his feet on the bed for this position. She lifted her neck, floating high above the clouds in pleasure, waiting to fall and shatter. 

She couldn’t control her sounds. Whether it was a man or sigh or a groan, neither of them cared. She loved that both her and Azriel made their pleasure known and loud. 

Her head fell against his shoulder, incoherent cries leaving her as she tried to beg Azriel. She didn’t even know if she wanted him to stop or continue. 

Everything felt too good. The feel of his skin against hers. The sweat. The sounds. The hurried kisses. The grip on her hips. Being on top. And most of all—his cock. 

The harsh slapping of wet skin against skin contributed to her pleasure, reminding her again and again exactly what was happening. With a lewd moan, she found her pleasure.  

Azriel continued his unrelenting thrusts, his grip tightening as he came. He began stroking her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. “My perfect girl.” 

They laid there in silence before Y/n began shivering. She was on top of him with no blanket covering her and the cold was getting to her. Goosebumps rose and she shivered before Azriel came out of his post-orgasm haze and realised what was happening. 

He immediately pulled the blanket over them, ensuring she was covered and she snuggled against him like a cat. 

Gods, she’d keep this man. 

Not just because she had real feelings for him or because the sex was fucking fantastic but because he was a great source of warmth. 

The warmth was a cosy feeling but his body in general was quite like a pavement. So once she gained her strength, Y/n moved to the side, choosing to settle there, curled against Azriel. He turned and caged her in his arms.

“What are you doing to me?” Azriel whispered against her ear. 

Y/n looked him in the eye and replied. “Probably whatever it is that you’re doing to me.”

****

Taglist:

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[tunguszka20]

Okay so I was watching @anniflamma's God Games animatic (the Hera one) for probably the 100th time, and I paused at one point for whatever reason, and I noticed a little detail.

This is when Athena says "Never once has he cheated on his wife", and I see the cocky expression on her face, like she knows that she won with that... BUT if you look at her hand, you can see she's like... Squeezing her upper arm a little?

Now I know basically nothing about art or how you portray stuff so excuse me if I'm wrong somewhere, but I think this might be like... Athena being a little nervous or something? Maybe? I'm not sure, but I really wanted to share this little... discovery.

These animatics are So. Freaking. Good.

[eggmeralda]

I need a massive sudden hyperfixation shock to happen again

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.

[dankovskaya]

Okay apparently its from 3 weeks ago and i jst now noticed but i watched ff7 rebirth final trailer and what the fuck

[monstersflashlight]

Imagine werewolf bf x werebunny(?) with a predator/prey kink and werewolf bf chases her in the woods and it’s just total smut and filth.

Hope that makes sense

Hi! <3 I hope you like this, it turned out to be a bit more fluffy than expected.

Little rabbit, bad wolf

Werewolf x fem!werebunny || predator/prey kink, chasing, dirty talk, knotting

It started as a bet. If he caught you, you were supposed to be his bunny maid for a week, costume included. But if he didn’t, he would build you a nice burrow for your heat. It was a good deal, and you were sure you could outsmart him. He gave you a head start, just a few minutes, but you thought it would be enough. So you took off your clothes and ran. You ran as fast as you could and found the perfect little spot to hide your quivering body.

When you agreed to play this with him, you weren’t expecting to be so fucking turned on. You thought it would be fun, but the heat pooling on your lower abdomen, and the slickness between your thighs were a new development. The idea of him running after you, him chasing you… it was driving you insane.

A thousand and one ideas were running around your mind as you hide. What would he do when he found you? Would the big bad wolf eat you? Would he go feral for you? Would he grab you by the hair and pull you to his cock? Would he make you get on all fours and ride you until you were panting and drooling over the forest floor? So many possibilities that were only making your breath faster, harder. You needed to calm down if you wanted him to lose.

He had to look for you for more than ten minutes if you wanted to win, just ten minutes and then you won a new burrow. At least five minutes have already passed when you heard a sound close by.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” You could hear his rapid breathing and his joking tone as you hid. “You can’t hide from me, little bunny, I can smell you.” You tried to be quiet, covering your mouth to stop the whimper that wanted to come out, his harsh voice making your pussy tingle.

You thought your hiding spot was perfect, but you didn’t think about your rapid heartbeat, so fast and so loud in your ears that you were worried he was going to find you soon. You didn’t think about your smell, and how good werewolf noses really were. You saw him pass a few meters away, thanking whoever it was up there that he didn’t see you. He kept walking and you lost sight of him, breathing a sign of relief.

Feeling in danger of being caught, you ran again. Bad choice, you realized instantly. You could hear him running behind you. The fire in your veins and the heat in your pussy was making your body push itself beyond anything you thought possible. He was fast, but you were a bunny on a mission. You wanted that damn burrow. But you wanted to get caught so badly, you wanted him to ravish you completely. But you kept running. You wouldn’t lose against a dumb predator, you might be the prey, but you were faster. Or so you thought.

At some point, you stopped to listen, your big ears twitching. You couldn’t hear him anywhere, the forest completely quiet. You should have guessed that was a bad sign. “Here you are!” An arm darted towards your body, you tried to escape but failed. He grabbed you by your fluffy tail and pulled you to him, making you scream. You could feel the heat pooling down on your abdomen. “I caught you. Now I get to eat you, bunny.” His voice was predatory, and you had no doubt you were going to enjoy whatever eating he did of you.

He didn’t give you time to react before you were on your back and his head was buried between your legs. He made out with your pussy messily, all drool and eagerness, pulling on your tail every once in a while. He was so good at that, he ate pussy like a champ and you could only moan as he did so, your mind going blank with pleasure.

You came twice before he growled and launched at you. He manhandled you into your stomach, his big body covered your back, pulling at your hips as he pushed your torso down. You were face down, ass up, when he pounded into you, fast and hard. You were the bunny in the relationship, but he was the one fucking you like a piston, so fast and so hard you couldn’t even scream, your throat raw, your mouth open in a silent scream, drool falling off as you panted.

“Are you going to be a good maid bunny for me?” He asked, you could feel the smirk on his voice. “I bet you will. And you’ll like it. You like to be my little servant, don’t you? You like when I order you around and make you do whatever I want. I bet I could make you suck my cock every evening when I get home. I think I’ll do that. I’ll have you kneeling on the floor and you’ll suck my big fat cock as soon as I get in.” Your pussy twitched around his hardness at that. “I felt that. You like the idea, don’t you? You like the idea of me having total control of you…” You whimpered, his words affecting you more than you thought.

He kept telling you every little detail of all the things he was going to make you do when you were his bunny maid. His words so filthy against your ear, his dick so hard as he pushed into you over and over that you lost your mind completely. He was hitting all your erogenous zones at once and you couldn’t hold back the noises you were making. When his knot started to stretch you out, you screamed. He chuckled and pushed deeper. Grinding his knot against your G-spot. You didn’t see stars, you saw whole galaxies as he made you come over and over. When he finished, he came so deep you could feel it in your sternum.

When he pulled out you felt his cum leaking out, your pussy slick with the mixed juices. “Look at that. Your pussy looks so good all messy with my cum.” You groaned, his words making some aftershocks ran through your body. “Looks like the big bad wolf caught the little rabbit at the end.” He chuckled at his own joke and you moaned, too tired to say anything. “Come on, bunny, let’s go home.” He picked you up and cradled you against his furry chest.

He made good on his promise and you had to suck his cock every day as soon as he got home. He also built you a good burrow so he could fuck you properly during your heat, claiming it was more for him than for you, but you knew better. Your boyfriend liked to chase you down like he was going to eat you, but he was very much in love with you. As you were with him.

[tan1shere]

Bite It Lick it Spit It

Billie Eilish x female reader

A/n: I don't think I need to say anything here lovelies, enjoy !!

Summary: Billie is excited to show you this new song shes featured in, reciting her lyrics to you. Until she's recreating them on you.

Warnings: smut, mdni ! Spit ?? Eating out, strap usage, orgasm denial, squirting !! Think that's it <3

Masterlist ... extra ;)

"Babyyy."

You hear your girlfriend say, coming into the bedroom you both shared. She had her phone in hand, obviously about to show you something.

"Everything alright?" You ask setting your book down. It was currently 7 pm, she had been in the small studio downstairs. Working away on something. "More than alright. I want to show you what I have so far on this remix I'm doing." You smile at her as she sits beside you on the bed, excited to hear this. You always loved listening to the songs she'd make or was in. And you were so incredibly proud that this was going to be with another big star.

'Don’t have to guess the color of your underwear

Already know what you’ve got goin’ on down there'

She chants and you smile just enjoying listening to the lyrics.

'It’s that lacy black pair with the little bows'

That reminds you of a pair you own.

Wait...

'The ones I picked out for you in Tokyo'

Now she has your full attention. Sure you were listening to the lyrics beforehand, but now you're really listening. Her eyes were still on her phone, reading off the lyrics. Until her eyes met yours.

'I saw them when you sat down, they were peekin’ out'

Did she really write this about you? You had a pair of underwear exactly like the one she's talking about, you wore them alot actually. They were your favorite. Especially when she mentioned Tokyo. That was incredibly specific as that's where the pair was from. She had bought them for you as a gift when you traveled there for your birthday last year. Both yours and Billies eyes lock onto one another's. But she didn't stop there, keeping that eye contact alive.

'I'm gonna tell you right now, they're all I'm thinkin' about'

"True." She then whispers. Your brows furrow, feeling nervous at the insanity of this moment. Her eyes bore into your own, making you shift a little bit. Your eyes avert her lustful ones.

'I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, spit it. Pull it to the side and get all up in it'

You hadn't even realized she sat her phone down on her bedside table, and was inching closer to your body. "You wanna guess who that song is about." She speaks softly into your ear. You gulp, her voice delicate. Holding such filth at the same time. You don't answer for a second, trying to gain your composure. "Me....?" You question. She only smirks and let's out a small hum. Her body moves to hover over your own, instantly leaning down to kiss you. "I saw a photo of you on my phone from a year ago today. And that's what inspired me." She mumbles against the skin of your neck, as her kisses move all over the place. "Your crossed legs, in that skirt." You swallow thickly. Remembering that photo. You had your arms up in the air, sitting on a random beautiful fountain.

"That's why I mentioned how the straps were peaking out.. those baby pink bows." She bites down on your neck, making a gasp escape your lips. Your eyes shut in instinct as she continues on. "'Kiss it, bite it, can I fit it?'" The only thing you manage to get out was. "Fuck me."

She glady took that offer. Making her way down your body, getting to her destination. She pulls the pair to the side. "Wish it was the black ones." She trails off, slowly revealing your wet, sticky folds to her. Her eyes becoming drowsy, full of desire for you. She bit her lips slightly, grabbing the underwear by the top. And pulling them down, off your body, discarding them somewhere. Her favorite thing, on display for her. She had to admire for a little bit. But that just made you grow impatient. "Billie-" "shhh." She says, as her finger comes close to your puffy heat. She then quickly licks a small stripe up the middle, before she pulls back contemplating.

She spits directly onto your cunt, letting it slide down slightly. The big bit of saliva staying there for a second, before her face is directly infront of it. Her tongue sticks out and straight into your weeping, aching hole. Pushing the spit inside you. She pulls back to look at the mixture of wetness. And she did both. She managed to get you that wet. It was her spit now deep inside you. God she was proud at the thought. However she wasn't even done with penetrating your pussy. Her face is back in its original spot. Her lips make contact with your own, sending your head back into the pillows. Your hands eventually move to her silky hair, gripping as she speeds up her pace, her tongue entering you also.

It all felt amazing, when she does something unexpected. Her teeth sink into the lip of your pussy, biting and sucking all at once. It felt incredible. Why hadn't she done that sooner. "Bil.." You breathe, moaning on and off. "Feels so, good." You blab, still having your eyes shut. Feeling her lips move into her famous smirk, knowing that boosted her ego entirely. Your high was approaching and fast.

"Nooo." You then huff. Feeling her tongue move from you. Looking down at your fucked out body. Her smirk is ofcourse still visible at your little frustrated pout. "You're so annoying." You breathe, sinking into the sheets again.

"You won't be saying that in a second." Your head shot up again to look at her, but as soon as you do that a loud moan is being ripped out of you. How the hell did this woman put her strap on so quickly. She really wasn't kidding when she said 'in a second.' Impressive. A little hot in a way. Your mind turns into mush though, almost her whole length inside of you. "Had to get you worked open babe, yet you're still so tight." Another moan was to be heard, letting your eyes flutter close again, back instantly arching. Only thing visible in your brain are the lyrics to that song, and how she's recreating them all. "Guess I can fit it huh?" She then says, coming close to your face. "Speak." She orders you like a dog, when you don't respond.

"Y-yes.. feel so full." Her smirk returns to her face, picking up the speed. "Good. Just how it should." You let out another gasp again, feeling her thumb playing with your clit. This makes her chuckle, maliciously. She continues to fuck you relentlessly, beginning to let her hands roam over your skin, she pushes the baggy t-shirt you were wearing up, exposing your tits. They move in time with her thrusts. Her mind overflows with every disgusting but amazing fantasy. Your breath hitches as you feel cool metal on your breasts, looking to see her hands kneading them. How well they fit in her hands as she squished.

As her fingers move while doing so, you feel that same cold metal on your nipple making a shakey, content sigh leave you. It eventually turning into a moan as she squeezes again. She comes down to your face, your eyes were closed. "Look at me." She speaks, grabbing your jaw. You immediately open your eyes looking at her dark ones, which was always such a shock as they are so bright. Her face inches down towards your ear, she gives it a soft kiss before she's whispering. "Wanna make you squirt." Your eyes widen tremendously. If you weren't flustered before you really are now.

As you go to respond it was cut short, her thumb resumed on your clit, her thrusts are deeper, her ring covered fingers gripping your jaw. Her lips on your neck only adding to that, as she used the fuck out of you. You feel it coming, that tight knot. But you didn't have to say a word. She knew. She could feel it. It getting slightly harder for her at the way you're tightening, but that was a challenge she wanted to conquer. Obviously succeeding, she hits that gummy spot inside you, sending your mouth to fly open. "B-bil-" Yet another gasp was being pulled from you, it being loud in her ear as she continues to fuck the shit out of you.

Her pace never falters. Her thumb even speeding up as she sucks and bites your neck. You wanted to tell her you were close, as if she didn't already know. Your hands make their way to her arms, gripping as it's coming faster. "Fuck!" You screech out, you couldn't hold it any longer releasing within an instant, feeling her smirk into your neck. "And boom." She says into your ear, her voice husky. You hadn't even noticed it, but she actually did make you squirt. Your fucked out expression gives billie all she needs to know.

"Guess I'm just, that. good."

[girlokwhatever]

can i request a paige smut where like the reader had pissed her off BADDD (in whatever way you see fit) and so paige fucks her with the strap BUT the reader keeps like pushing at her abs and ahitbtryna het her to slow down which in return pisses her off more…pls :)

i love you 😭

₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘ you can take it,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

“i don’t wanna talk to you dude.”

paige was absolutely furious. you missed one of the biggest shots of her career— a score-tying buzzer beater that ended up saving her team and securing them a win in overtime— all because you were talking to a guy in the stands. she was so excited to talk to you about it, for the both of you to share that excitement. so you could imagine her disappointment in hearing that you didn’t see it.

“paige are you serious? i’m sorry alright? i got to see it on the replays, it was really good.”

you try to reach out for her but she shrugs you off again, and now you’re pissed too. the guy was your classmate that spotted you in the crowd and wanted to say hello. you had apologized about a trillion times for missing the shot, still affirming to her how awesome it probably was in the moment.

it only made her feel worse when the guy approached you again at the end of the game. hadn’t he taken enough of your attention already?

“just leave me alone. if you want to be entertained just go talk to that guy again anyway. let him stare down your shirt for all i care.” paige throws her shirt into a corner of your room, littering her sweaty garments around your room.

“is that was this is about? a guy?”

she rolls her eyes, flopping onto your shared bed. she scrolls through her phone to avoid your gaze because she doesn’t want to say something she regrets. her legs are spread, creating space that in any usual situation you’d gravitate towards.

you stupidly decided to tease paige after finding out the true root of her anger. half-naked, you crawl towards her legs on the bed and seat yourself right on her lap. your hand pushes her phone away for her undivided attention.

you were probably going to regret this later.

“you know what we were talking about?”

she knows she shouldn’t give in just by the look in your eyes, but she does anyway. she’s a sucker for you.

“well he kept asking if i wanted to leave with him. i told him i had a girlfriend but he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” you lean closer, lowering your voice, “you know what he told me paige?”

“what?” she’s near breathless, anger still lingering because this guy seems like a douche.

“he told me he’d fuck me so good if i left with him. said he’d fuck me better than you ever could.”

“fuck off. don’t fucking piss me off.”

“he was cute. maybe-”

“paige!”

she’s rutting into you relentlessly, the same way she has been for the past hour. you’ve been squeezing around her strap like a vice the entire time from one position to the next.

after you teased paige earlier all she saw was red. she knew it wasn’t true, but the fact that you even uttered the words had some insane affect on her. she instantly had you on your back, purple strap heavy between your thighs. ever since then she’d been thrusting into you, never stopping or letting up unless she was finding a new angle.

she’d effortlessly coaxed you through three orgasms already and you were definitely feeling the effects. your thighs shook as she held them flush to her body, eyes glued to your face that was twisted together with pleasure.

you were so fucked out you hardly realized your girlfriend’s hand trailed down to the heat between your legs. her thumb rubbed sloppily against your throbbing clit, your eyes shooting open with a pornographic moan. the feeling was overwhelming and made your body shake even worse because, how many times had she done this?

“oh fuck- paige i can’t..”

“yeah you can baby. want you to cum for me.”

your orgasm feels different this time, sensitivity heightened and you can’t control it. she’s so deep and she’s filling you so good, thrusting hard and with so much purpose.

“bet that guy couldn’t make you feel this way huh?”

you’re nodding at her words because she’s right. no one has ever or could ever make you feel better than she does. she knows it.

paige continues stimulating your already over-sensitive bud, pressing harder and faster to match the pace of her hips. you moan out a high-pitched screech and mumble incoherently as your back arches off the bed so much paige has to push you back down. the pressure on your stomach sends you over the edge, sheets tight in your grasp as you finish.

she soothes your sides by running her hands up and down your body, slowing her thrusts but never stopping. you’re attempting to push your body up the bed but her grasp on you is firm and bruising.

“one more baby.” you’re still delirious from the last orgasm and she’s already speeding up her pace.

fuck her and her cardio.

you finally let go of the sheets, reaching out to push at your girlfriend’s abs. “paige please, i can’t. s’too much p.”

she’s immediately pulling your hands away, pushing them above your head as she leans over to whisper in your ear, “you can take it.”

she’s offended that you even suggested you couldn’t. her large hands find your hips again, pulling your body further down the bed and onto her silicone dick. your mouth fell open with a moan and you didn’t know if it was from the feeling of her splitting you in half or her persistence. probably both.

“tryna push me away,” she groans, “don’t be stupid baby.”

she pulls your legs over her shoulders with urgency as she snaps her hips against your own. the burn is finally catching up with her but she doesn’t even care because all she can focus on is you and the way you’re moaning her name.

you gush around her, cum dripping and soaking your sheets. the shake of your body vibrates against paige and encourages her to thrust impossibly faster, a whine escaping past your lips. she’s too good.

the all-too-familiar feeling forms deep in your abdomen again. you shift your hips, chasing your release as your hips angle down. paige’s last thrust makes you cry out, the bubble of anticipation for your orgasm popping. even paige moans as she stills because she swears she can feel you throbbing around her.

a sigh escapes you when paige pulls out. you feel incredibly empty after being filled for so long, a quiet whimper sounding through the room at the new feeling.

paige slips the strap off quickly. once she does, she resumes her previous position between your legs. she’s being gentle as her hands glide over your skin to massage the ache away. it’s a large contrast to her harsh thrusts only minutes ago.

“you did so good, ready to go again?”

“again?” you’re in disbelief as her legs slot with your own, leaning back ever-so-slightly so her pussy meshes with your own. the feeling makes your legs twitch and you’re already moaning at the barely-there friction.

“you didn’t think that was it, did you?”

₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘

i hope i did this request justice!!

actually partially spell-checked this time 🤗

[sweetnans]

"I just hope that one day, we both can laugh about it, when it's not in our face, won't have to dance around it. Don't drive yourself insane. It won't always be this way" - Skin. Sabrina Carpenter (quote inspo)

Bakugo knew nothing about love. Well, that's what you thought when you first met him.

At the tender age of six years old, he had this habit of pulling you by your arm to drag you around when he wanted to show you something, his little fingers leaving marks in your skin.

When you were ten years old, he started putting his feet in your way so you would stumble and sometimes kiss the floor while he parted himself from laughter.

In the beginning of teenagers' age, thirteen, he used to put his arm on top of your head to make fun of you because he was actually getting tall while you were stuck in your pre-adolescence height.

At sixteen, he ghosted you.

Yep, that's what you read. He ghosted you because he felt this funny feeling growing in his tummy every time he saw you.

Katsuki never knew about love. You thought crying in your dorm because your best friend wasn't acting like your best friend anymore.

You actually believed it.

It all began when you two got into UA. He was excited, having someone to actually compete with? You learned a lot from him (almost against your own will), but after a few years, he considered you a fair opponent.

The feeling inside his guts happened instantly. One day, both of you were returning home from classes, in the train he was behind you, protecting you from all the people that were squeezing into their spots. A baby caught your attention immediately. She was smiling at you, and you couldn't help but make her faces, smile, and bat your eyes at that little baby, gaining a few giggles in return.

Katsuki found that amusing.

He started to see you with other eyes. Helpless eyes. That feeling that woke up one day to another got him desperate, pacing around, fighting with his own thoughts in a manic state.

He had never felt that before. He knew nothing about love.

So he did what he knew best. Ignore.

But we all know him, he isn't the kind of guy who can just let something (someone in this case) go...

He watches you from afar. He has studied your antics, your movements, how you express yourself with other people, with your classmates, with the teachers. He learned about you just by observing, and now he could easily read you. That was something that kept his mind at ease. Without talking to you, at least he could know what happened in your mind by just looking at you.

A few days later, you came down from your dorm with puffy eyes. He knew something was off. No one noticed because you made a pretty good job hiding it behind makeup, but he could tell, and he was about to figure out what happened.

You were preparing your breakfast. Something quiet shitty, Bakugo thought, but it wasn't his priority in that moment.

"What's wrong?" He asked directly.

He hasn't talked to you in months, so you were impressed that he decided to share space and air with you, let alone ask something so private.

"What do you care?" No one could blame you for your response. The bastard has ignored you after spending every day with you since you both were six years old. You didn't need his sympathy.

"I care," he said, leaning in the kitchen table, looking at your eyes. They were red and swollen but beautiful too. He had forgotten how you looked like up close. The butterflies in his stomach woke up instantly, but he didn't fight them this time.

"I'm not having a good week, that's all" you explained pouring some artificial cereal on your bowl.

He took that from you and exchanged for granola and oatmeal.

"I hate seeing your face like that. After class, I'm taking you to that ice cream shop you like, " he said nonchalantly like it wasn't one of the biggest gestures that he had done since you came to UA.

You couldn't help but smile. Maybe you could fix your relationship after all.

"It's winter, Katsuki," you stated, testing boundaries.

"Yeah, as if that had stopped you before" he rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead.

In the end, after he grabbed you by the arm and tossed you all the way to the ice cream shop, you came with the conclusion that Bakugo Katsuki knew about love in his own way and you were more than ready to explore that path alongside him.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[gyusrose]

➵ how they would punish you during sex -> hyung line

lost this request my bad!!! but here it is :)

✎ smut! (mdni)

⚠︎ spanking, degrading, denying orgasm, nicknames like good girl, baby etc. , hair pulling, cursing, blowjob.

summary: while it’s fun acting like a brat, regret swallows you whole soon.

( hyung line x fem.reader)

heeseung -> this man would NOT let you cum for fucks sake. heeseung is very determined, even your glistening tears rolling down your cheeks, begging him to let you come would not change his mind.

he knew you did it on purpose, acting like a brat all day, even in front of his friends. he had to put you in your place. as soon as the both of you got home, he was already balls deep inside of you, knowing that’s what you wanted, what you didn’t know though is that he would pull his fingers away from your pussy as you were about to reach your climax, how he would retract his cock as soon as he saw you about to cum, this lasted for hours. it turned into to something you would usually enjoy to complete torture.

“please hee i need- please i need to cum.” you said desperately. barely being able to form a sentence.

“aw is my little baby frustrated? should’ve thought about that before acting the way you acted today huh?” he chuckled, he’s come many times so he doesn’t mind keeping you like this.

“please please i promise to be a good girl, please i just need to..”

“just because you apologized, cum baby, cum all over that cock.” you didn’t have to be told twice.

jongseong -> jay is normally a very passionate lover when it comes to sex, gentle and sweet, making it all about you. yet when you start acting up, he knows how to fix that.

he becomes a lot more aggressive, spanking you over and over as he fucked you from behind. leaving his hand marks tattooed on your throbbing red asscheek. pulling your hair making sure he could see you fucked out face. he would not allow you to touch him in any way shape or form. even when he switched positions, now fucking you in missionary, your hands would automatically got to his biceps and back, jay instantly smacked your hands away earning whining from you. you needed to touch him, and he sure as fuck knew that. his face cold and emotionless, a complete different person than he usually was.

“aw fuck!! a-ah” another slap on your ass echoed through the room, you know damn well you won’t be able to sit tommorow.

“that’s for flirting with that asshole, acting like a slut in front of me.”

“please baby, let me touch-“

“what did i fucking tell you? no touching, or do you not want to cum?” your fingers tangled through your head in frustration.

after though, jay knows you’ve learned your lesson, and his kind, gentle persona comes back, making sure to run you a hot bath and making you something to eat after.

sunghoon -> please sunghoon would be so cocky. after wearing the skirt he explicitly told you now to wear in front of the other guys, he knew you wanted to tease him. he could not handle the stares his friends would give you when you walked. they all wanted to fuck you. you knew that. having sunghoon and you leave early and pretty much throw you into bed, manhandling you like a rag doll.

this is what you wanted, right? wrong, completely wrong, this is not what you expected at all. sunghoon was thrusting painfully slow. taking his sweet time entering inch by inch. going in and out of your cunt slower than a snail, driving you insane. you had very little patience, sunghoon, on the other hand did.

you tried moving your hips, trying to fasten the pace, but sunghoon gripped them, stopping them. you groaned, begged even to the point of tears. wanting, no, needing more. sunghoon only laughed in amusement. he rarely saw you like this, so submissive.

“hoonie, i’m begging please, just move a little more, please please i can’t take it anymore!” you begged for maybe the 100th time.

“awe, since you asked so nicely baby, i’ll grant you that wish.” he said before he slammed into you full force, fucking deep into you, sending you into oblivion. you could see stars.

“promise you’ll never act like that ever again.” sunghoon said.

“no hoon, i’ll never do that again, ever!” you’ll probably do it again.

jaeyun -> he normally wouldn’t punish you but, jake still knew how to frustrate you and ruin sex for you. when he saw you laughing so closely with his friends while practically ignoring his existence, he couldn’t wait to get you home, gagging on his cock, gasping for air as he fucked your face.

and that’s exactly what he did.

it was a lost cause, you felt his tip at the back of your throat, making you gag, while jake would normally not push you all the way, he did today. not caring that you obviously couldn’t take him whole and just using your mouth as a hole he could fuck into. the lewd noises of your gagging and moist from all the saliva around his cock drive him insane. but that wasn’t it .

while sunghoon moved slowly, jake would not move at all. making you do all the work. at some point it was alright, but you started giving out later. jake knew how to hit the best spots, you couldn’t yourself. while riding him, your thighs were burning, not being able to keep up. you collapsed on jake’s body, more tired than ever. you had yet to cum but your body could physically not do it.

“is my babygirl already tired? “ jake said in a mocking tone.

“mhm please baby, help me.” you said breathing heavily in his ear. sending that you’ve reached your limit jake finally moved his hips into you. soon grabbing your waist as he thrusted deep inside you, sending you over the edge in just a couple of minutes.

“you’re only mine, got that? don’t ever ignore me again, it’ll be worse the next time.”

[makedamnsvre]

sorry about having issues disorder

[merakidoll]

i’ve been having insane thoughts about nerd!geto and what immediately came to my mind was ball sucking. also - of course the readers a bimbo 🙈

i imagine his balls to be so sensitive. let me paint the picture, his pretty bimbo princess looking so pretty, and so lost, as he explained you how to do calculus. your eyes wide already knowing the answer but wanting him to tell you because he just looked so good in his glasses, and getting a tad bit frustrated. “you gotta pay attention princess. i can’t stand next to you and give you the answers during your test,” he brushed back the bangs that fell from his ponytail going over the answer again. and when you finally decide to be good and say the correct choice - he praised you.

“that’s my girl!” he kissed your cheek which made you moan because you were just soooo needy. your pretty sound went directly to his dick- and balls. and you saw the very obvious print in his ironed khakis; so you had to help! “n-no baby- shittt,” while hallowing your cheeks you too notice on how his balls looked so lonely, you of course wanted to fix that. so taking him out, that granted whines; you scooted down on the bed so you were between his legs better.

engulfing one set him over the edge, his balls so sensitive that your warm, wet, mouth had him seeing starts and saying incoherent words; glasses fogging up by his heavy breathing. cum flew everywhere, coming down on your face. it didn’t help geto that you still kept him in your wet tunnel while he came. your feeling‘s were hurt at how you barely got to have any fun with the big ball - how it being your first time getting to play with them; so instead you moved to the other. “enough princessss! g-god you’re gonna b-be the deathofmeee FUCK!”

starting to swirl the round body part in your mouth: you, yourself began to moan. you felt like a slut - well you are one, this was different. how you could feel the prick the small hairs made to your tongue. or how they pumped in your mouth, you gargling them; spit dripping from you at how were eager to please. geto subconsciously started to jerk his cock, his body shaking when he would squeeze himself, pre cum pumping out and falling all over himself making a mess. when the second orgasm came you both were just so dumb.

you so into rotating both balls trying feel the pumping sensation, it making you go - dumber that you hadn’t registered the rain of cum again. geto hands instantly letting go, his cock hurting by how hard he came; glasses falling off of his face as he pushed you away backing up on the dorm room bed. he took deep breaths looking at you like you were insane; stray tears falling from his pretty eyes slowly.

what could you say? you reallyyyy liked balls.

[workingwhileidream]

Okay Burrow's End had me thinking some thoughts... So here are my favorite Dimension 20 moments that rotate like a rotisserie chicken in my brain (in no particular order other than the order I thought if them).

- Riz goes into the butthole of the Corn Ooze Monster (Fantasy High). The first absolutely insane shenanigans move anyone makes on D20, setting the tone the show will have forever.

- Raphaniel kills Queen Pamelia (Ravening War). I think I saw Brennan's soul leave his body briefly when he got that How Do You Want To Do This from Matt. Time was an absolute flat circle that day.

- Hank convinces Brennan to let him role savvy instead of sneak (Mentopolis). Hank is one of the most famous content creators, having him on the show was phenomenal to begin with. Then right out of the gate, he pulls this move in his first episode. And it just works. Hilarious, instantly iconic.

- Jet Dies (A Crown of Candy). When Lapin dies, it is shocking but I wasn't attached to him as a character. Lapin was a bit antagonistic and his death happens early in the season. On the other hand, Jet is instantly likeable. Emily and Siobhan are amazing as siblings, their performances this campaign are some of my favorites. I have siblings and I am very close to them, so this hit me like a ton of bricks.

- The entire epilogue of Burrow's End. "Are you pitching and Air Bud ending?" is one of the instant hall of fame quotes from this show. I started crying I was laughing so hard.

- Ylfa's bottleneck and the TPK (Neverafter). There are so many close calls for total party kills in Dimension 20 history, but this is where it finally happens and it's only 3 episodes in. I was on edge, expecting another TPK at any turn, for the rest of the campaign.

- 3 nat one initiative rolls for the battle that literally opens the season (A Starstruck Odyssey). The beginning of a new season is always full of excitement. This season was extra special, having everyone back in the dome after the pandemic and the season being based off Brennan's Mom's comics. The zoom energy is still in the air and I still think about this season opener a lot.

- Mother Timothy Goose breaks Snow White's concentration with a cantrip (Neverafter). Only Ally Beardsley could and we all damn well know it. Still didn't stop me from being so far in disbelief that all I could do is laugh.

- Hob's "You will never know another lonely day" speech to Rue (A Court of Fey and Flowers). I will still cry about this if I think about it for too long. Rue and Hob's romance is the heart of this season to me. I won't be over it ever.

- Gertrude convinces Nyruth to give the Questing Queens very powerful boons after the Queens tried to rob them only a few hours earlier (Dungeons and Drag Queens). The fact that this season exists drives a level of serotonin into my brain that is unimaginable. This is the definition of a big swing and when Bob rolls well, Brennan has no other choice than to honor it. This is one of the moments I have made a meme of. I cannot wait for season 2.

- Wuuvy shows up to the duel and she did not come to play (A Court of Fey and Flowers). Aabria has talked about how Wuuvy is one of her favorite NPCs and I feel the same. Wuuvy and Rue's relationship has such a great arc and this moment is so pivotal.

- Fabian's no good very bad day (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). An iconic moment in D20 history that was truly wild to watch live. For everything to go so fantastically bad for Fabian and Lou was unprecedented. There is a reason why people still talk about this moment to this day.

- Amathar survives being pushed off the castle (A Crown of Candy). Brennan tried to kill Lou so many times in this campaign. I really thought Brennan had gotten him with this one, my stomach sunk. But Lou pulls it out and Amathar lives once again.

- Pib plays "Smoke on the Water" (Neverafter). "I stepped out to play 'Smoke on the Water' " is also a hall of fame quote to me. This list could be all Pib moments if I'm being honest, he's my favorite Zac character. And the fact that Zac doesn't roll well makes this moment funnier to me.

- Buddy Bear gets planted with the All Blossom (Dungeons and Drag Queens). Jujubee and Brennan owe me a therapy session for this one. I sobbed. My cat is my baby and I will be ruined the day she leaves me, so I get it. I really do.

- "Eat your dice, Brennan" (Fantasy High Sophomore Year). A great bit made physically possible by Siobhan. I hope Siobhan gives him gummy dice or something like that so that Brennan can continue to eat his dice for Junior Year.

- Orange Top Hat Fairy (Neverafter). It's a horror season and the cast is doing bits about how hot a mini is the entire finale and the Adventuring Party that followed. I felt the stress and off the walls energy through the screen. The Smooth Criminal pin was the first piece of Dimension 20 merch I bought.

- Viola's epic takedown of Phoebe (Burrow's End). Watching Rashawn absolutely crush it her first time in the dome was amazing. I loved Viola from the jump, her arc was so satisfying and fun to watch. Also the idea of a tiny stoat kicking a gun just the right way to get it to fire is hilarious. No notes other than please have Rashawn come back on every season she possibly can.

- Evan Kelmp warns the Rosemont student not to duel him (Misfits and Magic). Brennan's deadpan warning matched with the reactions of the other players and Aabria really make this scene. An underrated Brennan moment for sure.

- Stacey Fakename turns out to be real (Mentopolis). This was such a good reoccurring bit, so to have Stacey be real at the end of the story was too funny. In a season of bits, tropes, and puns - this one has the most payoff to me and is definitely my favorite.

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[jj-one]

HOW JUNGKOOK WOULD TREAT HIS BIMBO GF 🍥

pairing: established relationship, bf!Jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader genre/tags: smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, an*l, oral (m receiving), t*tty f*cking, drooling, use of the word daddy (only once)

**old repost from my deleted blog (05/24/23)

- Having a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend was a given for Jungkook, he loved the fact that y’all were both smoking hot and turn heads everywhere you go

- The stark contrast between your appearances drove him insane

- His aesthetic was more dark and mystique, is also heavily tattooed while you always wore pink and pastels, having bare skin

- Is so enamored with the idea of you being the total opposite of him, he always feels like he’s corrupting your sweet innocence

- Kinda treats you like you’re his eye candy anywhere he goes, has you wrapped up on his arm like it’s a leash

- He’s been debating getting an actual leash for you since you constantly trip and fall whenever you’re out with him

- You were just so ditzy and clumsy… it was your character flaw yet Jungkook saw it as an endearing quality

- Also loved that you were an airhead, clingy, and always wanting his attention ;( makes the joy of him coming home to you all the more thrilling <33

- Always buying you pink and girly thingsss

- Whenever he sees something hello kitty or barbie related he instantly thinks of you and buys it

- CONSTANTLY wants to spoil you, omg this man would spend every dime he could on you just to make you happy

- He looooves taking you out shopping because that’s your favorite activity !!

- He splurged on you the other day, buying you any color of that Dior lip oil that you were obsessed with, it was worth it since he’d be the one taking it off your lips afterwards

- Jungkook enjoys watching you try on skimpy outfits for him, the shorter the skirt the better— don’t get him started on the way your hardened nipples peek out the fabric of your shirts…

- Likes to play dress up with you like you’re his personal doll

- He’ll put you in a pink lace slip dress one night and the next he’ll have you wear white see-through lingerie for him; that is only when you two are in private of course

- Frequently teaches you new things so you keep up to date with current news and other events, he knows you aren’t the brightest but you have a heart of gold and do your best to comprehend everything he tells you !

- When watching movies you often pause to ask questions about the film because you don’t get it

- Jungkook made you watch ‘Inception’ with him one time and it absolutely rotted your brain

- He enjoys explaining the movie to you in a babying way, dumbing it down for you to understand it as your mind is blown away by all the knowledge he drops on you

- Laughs at your inability to comprehend the plot and pats your head while teasing you

- “Awww, you poor little thing…can’t even understand the simple concept of a movie.”

- It really really really turns him on when you wear high heels, the higher the heels the higher the tent in his pants grew

- You wore the sexiest 6-inch stripper heels for him and he fucked you out completely while you had them on, he thinks he might have a heel fetish or something

- Absolutely adores your bright & bubbly personality !! Will praise you any time he hears you say something smart

- “Did you know that Sloths can hold their breath longer than Dolphins???” You would ask him randomly.

- “No I didn’t, but thanks for the fun fact babe. You sound so cute when you talk about things you’ve discovered.”

- “It was on the back of my Snapple cap, how cool is that?! See look!!”

- He will never not be impressed by your lack of awareness, you lived in your own little bubble and he wanted to shield you from all harm and scary things

- Is sooo completely obsessed with your body

- Your bouncy tits, your curvaceous hips, and your cute plump butt was the perfect sight to send the blood rushing to his cock

- Loves. To. Fuck. You. So. Dumb.

- Uses your hole like it’s a fleshlight and loves cumming inside you repeatedly

- Dumping all his cum into your little bimbo cunt was the only thing he needed in his life

- Often catches you drooling at him, when you do this he scoops it up with his finger and puts it back in your mouth

- His favorite part of sex with you is seeing your fucked out face

- The stare you give him while you deepthroat his cock was enough to make him combust

- “Look so pretty with my cock stuffed in your mouth, such a pretty little slut for me..”

- The way he would degrade you but praise you in the same breath confused you in many ways yet you enjoyed every minute of it

- Your makeup would be all smeared, mascara would be runny, the Dior lip gloss he bought you fully transferred to his cock now

- Can never choose between if he likes doggystyle or cowgirl more since both positions he gets to look at your assets with a nice view

- Lots of titty fucking, loves having your big round tits around his cock, making a mess all over your chest once you milk him clean

- He owns all your holes, he likes to use your tight little ass from time to time

- After lubing it up nice and gently, he would go to town on your ass just pounding into your fuck hole viciously

- “What a fucking whore you are, gonna keep fucking your tiny hole until I pump every last bit of my seed in you.”

- Turns him on so fucking much when you start babbling and unable to speak proper sentences

- You’d whimper and hiccup with frustration from the way his cock made you feel

- His love language will always be making you feel so low. So small compared to him that you don’t even feel worthy of his presence at times

- “Can’t stop drooling all over yourself? Already too dumb and fucked out to continue, hmm?? Oh never mind, you’re already dumb…just shut up and take daddy’s cock like the good little slut you are, you were made for taking cock anyway.”

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."