#choosing nibs

[zoobus]

The nice thing about being a dilettante is you get an appreciation for the less glamorous efforts that go into work generally recognized as a one person's creation, assuming anyone gets any recognition at all.

Typesetting is work! Cleaning comic pages is work! Hunting for the right idioms and expression to try (try) not to lose the original meaning? It's so much work!

I notice this in every hobby/fixation I pick up. There's always an endless trail of unsung heroes working to make that thing you're using. If they're doing their job right, it's unlikely you'll ever think of them.

[lemongogo]

dancing.walking . rearranging furniture

[marvelfilth]

Sweet dreams (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: dubcon, smut, fingering, somnophilia, praise, restraints, blindfold

Masterlist

You shift on the bed, slowly stirring into consciousness, your mind still heavy with sleep. You curl deeper into the pillow, desperately chasing some remnants of sleep.

There was a party at the Avengers tower last night - one of Tony's best, some might say - and it left you pleasantly buzzed and bone tired. Natasha made you stay in her room, choosing to spend the night with her girlfriend, right across the hall. You couldn't say no even if you wanted to - making it all the way to the other side of the city to your own apartment sounded like the worst thing last night, and the promise of sleeping in Natasha’s bed, in her clothes made you giddy enough to stay. Even if she spent the night in the arms of another. Even if you have feelings for the said another.

God, you're such a mess, falling in love with two of the most unapproachable women.

You have no idea what time it is - your sleeping mask prevents you from seeing anything and you're glad for that. You would've been up already with the sun shining right in your face.

You sigh deeply, and float back into unconsciousness, dreaming of soft touches and gentle hands, of warm breath over your neck and wet kisses pressed to your shoulders. Your hips move, buckling back in search of friction, your heat leaking with arousal. You whine in your sleep, wishing for the touches to move lower, to sink into your warmth and make you come undone.

And then there's a bite. A gentle nib, teeth scraping against the slope of your neck, and you realize with a start - you're fully awake, and the warmth on your hip is still there, wet lips are still on your shoulders, and oh…

There's another pair of hands.

You tremble, squeezing your hips tight, and inhale deeply. Soft hair tickles your face and you try to move, but strong arms keep you in place from both sides, two bodies trapping you in place.

Before you can even think about speaking, fingers trail down your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Another hand tugs your shirt up, revealing your underwear. You know it's drenched, but you still try to hide it, wriggling your body to the side.

A husky chuckle makes its way to your ears, teasing your neck with a hot gust of breath.

Natasha.

You moan, your legs spreading on their own violation.

“Good girl,” she husks, her palm settling on your lower stomach possessively.

Another voice hums, and then someone cups your breast under your shirt, tracing circles over your nipple before pinching it, sending sparks down your body right to your aching clit. You whine, reaching to tug off your mask, but you're stopped. Your shirt is pulled up, exposing your breasts, your hands near the headboard bind by it.

“Don't move.”

Wanda.

You cry out pathetically, almost coming from the sound of her voice. Hot mouth leaves your breasts wet with spit, lips leave purple bruises on the tender skin.

“Touch me, please,” you moan, arching off the bed. “Please.”

Another husky chuckle, another pinch to your nipple and then… a finger slides over your clit, then moves to the side of your panties, up and down, up and down, and you whine, trying to grind against her hand. An arm wraps across your stomach, keeping you in place. Someone - Wanda - burrows her face into the crook of your neck, marking.

Natasha leans over you, and finally, finally, plunges three fingers inside, and, oh God, you have no time to adjust because Natasha thrusts deep and fast, curling her fingers. You moan, trapped in place by two of the most beautiful women, your pussy swallowing Natasha's fingers, the wet sounds making you blush.

You can feel your wetness dripping to leave a stain on Natasha's bed.

You pant, orgams approaching. Wanda slides her hand off your stomach to play with your clit, circling it rapidly, her breath hot on your neck, her body molded against your side.

Your sleeping mask is tugged off right when you start clenching around Natasha's fingers. You blink against the blinding light, barely managing to focus on Natasha's dark eyes and Wanda's slurty grin.

“Wanna see you come, pretty girl,” Natasha smirks, pushing deeper.

You throw your head back with a moan, body taut, your walls clenching hard, and when Wanda presses firmly on your clit right when Natasha’s fingers curl inside you, you cry out loud enough for everyone in the tower to hear.

“Good morning,” Wanda whispers against your lips, swallowing your moans as you come.

[monstersflashlight]

Male on male, centaur on human vore, cock, anal or oral, fatal, none fatal any of them is fine

Hi anon! Hope this fills your request, idk if it’s good, but hopefully you like it! <3

Centaur x male!reader || tw: vore, human sacrifice

You fantasized about them so much and so often that it was almost like your second nature. You thought about them at every awaken hour and at the end of the day you are so worked up that you can only ride your monster dildo until you fell into a messy puddle of your own come. So when they choose you to be the next sacrifice to the centaur people, you were elated. It was considered a great honor between your people to be consumed by them. But above all, you had a deep desire to be with them, to become one with the centaurs that you worshiped for so long.

The day they came to take you with them, you dress in your best clothes, surrounded by your family and friends, some of them crying, some of them looking as proud as ever. But nobody says a word when one of them grabs you by the waist and hauls you to mount him. They ride along the coast until you arrive at the temple. It’s such a beauty that you feel tears blurring your eyes. But that’s not all that surprises you, what takes your breath away completely is the magnificent centaur waiting in front of the big doors.

He’s the definition of tall, dark and handsome. His black mane blowing in the wind as you stare, open mouth and teary eyes. He’s magnificent.

And you are going to be consumed by him.

They talk in a language you don’t understand, but they leave you two alone and you know what that means. He strips you slowly, caressing your body like if you are a fine piece of art. He kisses and nibs, tells you all the pretty words you didn’t know you needed. Fills you with affirmations and caresses, and compels your body into submission, no by force, but by tenderness.

He works you open with care and patience, you cry out and ask him to go faster, to take you. But he just chuckles at your eagerness and pats your hair, softly kissing your neck as he works another finger inside of you. He gets to almost a whole fist inside of you the first time you orgasm, clenching around him so hard you hear his rapid intake of breath and his tiny moan behind you. He tells you how good you are, how good you are doing, and you melt into a puddle of contentment and joy.

He manhandles you into position, his giant cock against your stretched hole, and starts pushing slowly. Your monster toy doesn’t get even closer to him. The feel of him inside of you mixes pain and pleasure until your throat is sore because of the screaming and he’s built a rhythm that makes your teeth clatter as he groans behind you. Your whole body is at his mercy as he uses you like his personal fleshlight. It’s intoxicating.

It lasts for hours. His fucking and your orgasms mixing in a continuous state of pleasure. Your brain is foggy by the time you feel his teeth on your neck and the pressure of skin tearing. He fucks you harder and he takes you in every way possible. Your hole filled and your body being taken away. Being consumed by him, completely and utterly, gives you the biggest pleasure you ever felt. With each pull he takes from you, you are transported into another height, into another dimension of joy.

When your time finally comes, the last thing you notice is how he holds your body against his front, both arms holding you thigh as your light disappears and your last energy is spent into a soft smile.

[alphabetboyluvr]

LANDSLIDES - 002 | GUILTY AS SIN - JJK

part title credit: guilty as sin - taylor swift

these fatal fantasies giving way to laboured breath... they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly... without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. (part one link)

warnings: slow burn (emphasis on slow, emphasis on burn), miscommunication, missed opportunities, missing jungkook, inappropriate mentions of masturbation between friends, frustration (sexually and emotionally!)

wordcount: 18K

note from holly: this was supposed to be a 30k chunk but the 1000 paragraph limit told me no </3 so instead, this is part 1 - part 2 will come tomorrow :)

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

When Jungkook comes to stand by your desk, his freshly pressed suit unspoiled from his morning commute and with a coffee in either hand, you know he must be up to something.

"Let me guess," you hum. "You dipped your nib in the company ink again and need me to do damage control?"

It wouldn't be the first time, and the new secretary has been ogling him ever since she started just before the Chuseok break. You've joked about it a few times, but you really wouldn't put it past him.

Popping your coffee on your desk, Jungkook toys with his tie a little, smoothing it down. "Why do you always think so little of me, you little gremlin?"

His pouty whine would be believable if you didn't know him as well as you do. Glancing up from your screen, you're greeted with a smirk. Even he can't keep up his pretence of innocence. "You know exactly why."

"I'm a good boy," he promises. "Got you coffee and everything this morning!"

"Because you want something," you laugh. "I wasn't born yesterday, Jungkook."

"Can a friend not get a friend a coffee just because?"

"Yes—but you don't."

In fact, Jungkook normally waits until midday for his first coffee. Treats it like a reward for getting through the morning without any caffeine. He's gone out of his way today—or just ordered coffee to the office to make it look like he has. Regardless, an effort has been made.

He takes a second. Purses his lips. Narrows his eyes.And then he smiles. "Fine. I need a favour."

"See, I knew it was too good to be true!"

"Oh, c'mon!" He laughs. "I'd get you coffee if you asked."

"I asked last week when I was running late, and you told me to wake up earlier and get it myself!"

"Well, it was your own fault for being out until arse o'clock in the morning!"

Your fault, you think but don't vocalise. It's not like you'd been out with him. You'd been on a date. Another with Mingyu. Hadn't stuck to your word of cooling things off. Spooked yourself with those dreams about Jungkook. Needed to bring yourself back to reality.

If he hadn't asked you to dogsit, you never would have gotten so caught in the domestication of it all. It's your biggest weakness and he damn well knows it. If anything, he should be thanking you for choosing to realign your focus instead of leaning into silly little thoughts about him. It also helps that in the cold, harsh light of Monday mornings, the thoughts just make you cringe more than anything.

"Sorry, Dad," you roll your eyes. "Didn't realise I had to ask your permission."

Jungkook's lips purse in the gentlest of ways, corners upturning ever so slightly. He shakes his head. "You're cranky this morning."

"And you're up to something," you reply. Have barely even had a chance to look over your weekend emails yet, let alone prepare yourself for Jungkook being a nuisance. His department is two floors up. There's no need for him to be here.

In the corner of your screen, an email pings through. Though your glance is quick, it connects a flurry of dots together.

Subject: International Food Expo - we're in!

The company you work at is the head office of a chain restaurant. Jungkook works in franchising—negotiations, specifically. Gets the restaurant placed in the best locations. Recently landed a spot in Starfield Mall. Got himself a nice little bonus.

You're over in the interior design team. It's a small cohort, just three of you, but you're responsible for ensuring cohesion amongst all the spaces. It's up to you that customers get the same feel whether they're in Seoul or Sokcho.

Both starting the job at the same time, directly after graduation, Jungkook had approached you with a strategy in mind. Roped you into creating the interior mood boards and mapping out the spaces before they'd even been acquired. Gave life to them that made it so much easier for investors to imagine.

It had been seen by management as a waste of resources before then—why waste time creating hypotheticals?

They just hadn't yet experienced Jungkook, and all of his charm, pitching for them, using your content to tip negotiations in his favour. It's a partnership that works. Is a practice now adopted by the company across the board, thanks to the pair of you. It's why you work together so often, even if you're on completely different floors and dealing with such vastly different tasks.

"I've been asked to go along," he says, nodding towards the screen. "Little old me is our brand ambassador for the week."

"Congrats," you beam, knowing that Jungkook is the best man for the job. He loves the company. Really believes in the restaurant. Clicking into the email, you scan the details. "A week of schmoozing, huh? However will you cope?"

He's about to joke about how tiresome it'll be, but then you hum in confusion.

"Jeju?" You question, looking at the location. You scroll, just to check you aren't imagining things—but there it is, clear as day. Location: International Conference Center, Jeju. "All the way in bloody Jeju?!"

"It's for international markets," he says, putting his best guess out there. "Seoul's been done a hundred times over for different Expos. Busan, too. I think they're trying to attract more foreign companies—and would the CEO's rather send themselves on city breaks or island getaways? Anyway, that's actually the favour I wanted to ask you..."

It all sort of clicks into place, now. "Bam?"

With a sweet nod, Jungkook offers a gentle smile. "You know there's no one I'd rather look after him. The trip is four days, Tuesday to Friday. If it's too much, I can book him into a kennel, but—"

"No," you shake your head. "Don't do that. You know I'm happy to look after him."

"Sure?"

Jungkook would rather die than leave Bam at a Kennel for the week. He doesn't trust anyone with his baby unless they've proved themselves, but the way you happily cuddle up with Bam on the floor of Jungkook's apartment on any given day of the week is proof enough to him that you love him, too.

If he's gonna trust anyone with his most prized possession, it'd be you.

"One condition," you bargain, 'cause you know that you can. Jungkook'll do anything to have you agree.

"Go on..."

"Have you replaced all the cheese I ate last time I looked after him?"

He narrows his eyes. "Yes."

"Good," you beam. "And could you be a babe and make me some of your pad kee mao? The sauce at least? I can do the rest."

If there's one thing Jungkook will never fail to impress you with, it's his cooking—but your favourite of all of his dishes is his Thai drunken chicken noodles. He imports the special basil needed for it. Goes an extra mile to make sure it's just right. You haven't been to your favourite Thai place since you learned just how well he makes the dish. Will just send him a text when you fancy it, and end up at his place an hour or so later with beers from the convenience store and ice cream sandwiches to chuck in his freezer for dessert.

"That it?" He laughs. "Cheese and noodles? God, you are easily pleased."

"I'm a woman of refined tastes," you say, pompously poised.

Jungkook knows you well enough to know you're no such thing, but he needs this favour, so he doesn't bite. Just says, "And you're sure?"

"I'm sure," you promise. "Now leave me alone. I've got work to do—and thanks for the coffee."

He nods, that little smile of his affecting you far more than it really should. You can't help it. The lighting in your office is far nicer than the rest of the establishment. Makes him look... well, makes him look like himself. Like 'home' Jungkook. The same one who hangs out with you in sweats and messy hair on Sunday mornings, not the suited and clean-shaven Jungkook who swaggers through the corridors of your workplace.

Three of you work in your specific office, and you're all interior designers. Changing the bulbs was one of the first things you did. Lea, your manager, is the most senior in your team. Below you is Jiwon. A fresh graduate, she's still learning the ropes, and as much as you like her, you really wish she wouldn't go all heart-eyed over Jungkook every time he enters the room.

It's not her fault. The warm bulbs just bring out all of those terrible, intrusive little stars in his chocolatey brown eyes. They're terrible, 'cause they're stolen from other people; intrusive, 'cause as he walks away and your gaze follows him, it seems like they've landed in your eyes, too. A secret shared that neither of you even realises exists.

"How do you do it?" Jiwon sighs once Jungkook is out of earshot. "I'd melt if he looked at me like that."

"He looks at everyone like that," you deflect. "And trust me, he's just as disgusting as he is charming. Don't let the tailored suits fool you."

It's been a little while since Jungkook last used the copier room for indecent affairs that would have gotten anyone else into a meeting with HR. Workplace violations are far easier to get away with when you're doing them with someone from the HR department, after all.

Jiwon joined the team just as Jungkook was curbing his bad behaviour. Granted, you know about more of it than most, but everyone who was lucky enough to grab his attention for more than five seconds used it as bragging rights for months.

One thing that you did enjoy about Jungkook's slut era was the lack of women he ever took home. Didn't want to introduce new people to Bam, if they were only going to be fleeting endeavours.

But you're his friend, not a casual fuck. He knew that bringing you into the fold wouldn't be fast nor fleeting. It'd be a lifetime kinda thing.

Which is what makes you feel so guilty as you stand by the water cooler a little later that morning, daydreaming about being back in his space again. Silly little thoughts about facetime calls when you were wrapped up in his sheets, and he was back at his parents' place in Busan. Memories of lazing the days away with Bam, and the look on Jungkook's face as he finally arrived home after a few days away.

You've seen him at home a million times over, but there was something different about him then. Serene. At peace. You know that he was probably just happy to be back with his baby, and tired from driving, but the lazy smile that had hung off his lips, round glasses framing his equally round eyes, just seemed... new.

Your thoughts are cut off by your boss—not Lea, but your actual boss, Mr Seo—calling you into his office. A little flustered, you realise that you've been running the water for too long. Your bottle has overfilled, and the excess tray is almost full, too.

"Hi," you greet him all rather pleasantly, waiting to be told to sit before you actually do so. "What can I help you with?"

A burly man in his late 50s, he built the brand from the ground up. It's been his life's work, and so he's selective with his staff. If you aren't pulling your weight to make the company a success, then he doesn't want you tying your name to it.

When you and Jungkook started going rogue in the early days, he hadn't been happy—but Jungkook had blagged a probation extension for the pair of you. Had told Mr Seo he'd work for free, if he could just prove his strategy would work.

In the version of events Jungkook tells you, he pretends that Mr Seo agreed without docking his pay. Filed away in the back of his cabinet which houses his contracts, past and present, Jungkook has a written agreement with Mr Seo, and a month's worth of missing wages in his salary from that year.

Your pay was never docked, though. Jungkook's a damn good negotiator, and was just as competent back then, too. He was the one that got you into that damn mess in the first place, so it was only fair that he keep you as clean as he could.

What you do know is that you both cut it incredibly fine to losing your jobs before they ever really began. While Mr Seo respects you both for what you've done for the company since then, it still scares you a little bit.

"I trust you've seen the email regarding the Expo, yes?" He says, nodding towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

You take it in a hurried fashion, quickly sitting down because, quite frankly, it feels like your legs are jelly. "Yes, yes. Very exciting! I'm sure Jungkook will bring the company great results."

He nods. Agrees. "And I also trust you've been making plans for our stand?"

You learned of the expo approximately fifty minutes prior. Like fuck have you made any plans.

"Oh, of course!" You bullshit. "As long as we can work out the logistics with shipping our materials to the island in time, it should be brilliant."

How the fuck you're supposed to plan a stand at an Expo for a week's time on a different bloody island is beyond you.

You'll get it done. You always do. You'll just be incredibly stressed about it until the event begins.

"Naturally," he nods. I know the turnaround is tight, so we'd like you to go with Jungkook to oversee the preparations. He arrives on Tuesday, but the event doesn't start until Wednesday evening, so you'll have a day to finalise things."

"Oh," you say, unable to hide your surprise.

"Flight and accommodation will be covered by us, and Jungkook's getting a healthy bonus for any deals signed at the Expo—I'm sure we can make a cut for you, too. After all, you two are our very own dream team."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You want to go. Of course you want to. A trip to Jeju with one of your closest friends? Under the guise of work? All expenses paid? Who wouldn't want to go?!

But without you in the city, there's no one to look after Bam. Sure, Jungkook could take him to a kennel, but you know what he's like. He'll spend the entire time stressed. Won't be able to relax and engage with people in such a way that deals will be cut. Punters usually like him for his carefree nature. Without it? Well, you're sure they'd like him all the same, but you don't want to tempt fate.

"Mr Seo," you awkwardly begin, uncertain which answer will slip out of your mouth. "I'm afraid I already have commitments in the city that I can't cancel. I'm not available."

Silence lingers for a moment. Just a second. It feels like an eternity.

"Very well," he accepts.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologise, knowing that you probably look like an ungrateful employee. If there's one thing you are, it's a fixer, and so before you can even comprehend what you're saying, you're throwing solutions into the void. "But I know Jiwon is just itching to get more involved with different sides of the business. I can get her on board with my planning this week and coach her on Jungkook's strategies. I'm sure she'd be eager to work hard, if she were given the opportunity."

Mr Seo mulls over your proposition—one of you which you already regret—then nods. "Alright. I'll trust your judgement. Can you send her down to my office?"

"Sure!" You say with a little too much glee, before you retreat back to your office with your tail between your legs. Lea is at a meeting, so once Jiwon has been sent on her way, it's just you, your water bottle, and a whole lot of regret.

Laying your head on your desk, you let out a little whimper.

It's for the best. For the company, for Jungkook, for you. For the sanctity of your friendship. For your sanity.

A message dinging through on your work chat interrupts your self-pity party. Glancing up, head still on the desk, you see Jungkook's name in the corner of your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: oi you little gremlin

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: i could have booked him into a kennel

"Shut up," you groan at your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: it would have been fun :(

Sitting up with a sigh, you poise yourself to send a message back. Find that nothing wants to come out. Your fingers hover above your keyboard with uncertainty. Takes a full minute before you can muster anything up.

Two floors above you, Jungkook is slumped in his desk chair. Has an office of his own, 'cause it's easier for the amount of meetings he has.

In the background of his screen, an email thread with Mr Seo details how Jungkook was the one to ask Mr Seo if you could join him. Explained how it just made sense. Offered part of his bonus package up with it. Said he'd cover the extra expenses if necessary, but that he thought it would be beneficial to the company to have you there, too.

While you're the person Jungkook trusts the most with Bam, you're not the only one. He could always ask Jimin or Taehyung before resorting to a kennel.

As your reply comes through, another email from Mr Seo is delivered, too.

RE: IFE JEJU, Interior Des. Department

Jungkook—

Have spoken with Jiwon. She will accompany you.

Any problems, let me know.

Mr Seo

With a sigh, Jungkook shakes his head. This isn't what he wanted at all.

And when he checks your message, he only frowns even deeper. Unlike you, he's renamed your contact details on his list. Everyone else still has their work-focused username.

Gremlin: It's your lucky day

Gremlin: You get a hot young thing to keep you company instead, wooo

Gremlin: HR if you're reading this, ignore it

Gremlin: Try not to be too miserable without me

He sinks down a little further into his chair. Purses his lips. Would far rather be alone than with anyone that isn't you.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he decides that maybe this is for the best. While he does think it would be good for the company, he knows that isn't why he suggested it. He just remembers what happened last time he spent more than a weekend away from you. Is scared it'll happen again.

Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe he wants it to happen again. Just you and him, away from the confines of life as you know it.

Thing is, you'd have to return home at some point. If anything ever happened between you both, it'd change the very fabric of your friendship. He doesn't want that.

So instead, he decides to reply in the same way he would have done maybe a year or so prior.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: She'll fall in love with me

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: They always do

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: Don't say I didn't warn you.

In the warm lighting of Jungkook's living room, the main light is off, lamps providing you with just enough clarity to go over the files on his coffee table.

Over by the sink, Jungkook is washing up your plates from dinner, while Bam leans against his legs. Your overnight bag is still by the door, and Jungkook's glasses are in your hair, keeping it out of your eyes. Highlighter in hand, you're picking out key markets for Jungkook to make contact with over in Jeju.

"Avoid Babiyeo," you tell him, switching over to a thin red pen, putting a star next to their name.

"As in the leisure centres?" Jungkook hums, familiar with the company but not well-versed. The soft melody of his playlist carries a tune around you both, keeping your thoughts connected and in sync.

"Mhmm," you say, flicking over to the next paper. "The CEO's son is in legal trouble at the moment. They're keeping it fairly well covered up, but to do that they're making huge expansions they can't afford. Keeping the news positive, things like that. I reckon they'll go bust before the end of the year."

"Shit," Jungkook lets a breathy laugh escape his lips. Had no idea—but you've both got friends working in various industries. Have your arms dipped into numerous grapevines. Drying up the last of his bowls, he turns to face you and is unable to continue on with his words.

He gets it. Understands why domestication is your biggest vice when it comes to feeling things you shouldn't.

"Acorn Limited are also bad news," you add, putting a little star next to their name.

"Yeah?"

Jungkook puts the now-dry bowl on the counter and walks towards where you're sitting on his living room floor. He joins. Sits on the opposite side of the table. Lets Bam clamber over his legs, and encourages him to sit, too.

"Yeah," you nod, then look across at Jungkook. "They're a hot-shot protein company. Are trying to get themselves partnerships with different restaurants. The guy running it is some twat from Singles Inferno. Company'll be done by the next quarter."

"Some of them do alright, y'know. Reality stars are raking it in—"

"He's besties with the Babiyeo CEO's son," you tell him with a knowing smile. "Kept getting pictured together outside clubs. Whatever baby Babiyeo has been up to, I'm willing to bet the acorn guy has been, too."

Jungkook presses his lips together. Accepts your expertise. Nods, then sighs, "You should be coming on the trip. I can't do this without you."

Yes, he can. He's more than capable. Has closed more deals than most people have had hot dinners.

What he means is that he doesn't want to do it without you, but admitting such a thing verges on territory that Jungkook doesn't feel comfortable entering.

In the house he likes to call his mind, he's bolted the door of the annexe. Occasionally, he will sit and stare at the locks. Wonder if maybe he made a mistake locking you—or more specifically, the idea of you—away in there.

But then he watches Bam choose to shuffle around to your side of the coffee table, and watches as he rests his head on your leg. His snout is by your knee, sniffing at your bare skin with his wet nose. There's something familiar about you. Safe. You don't smell like Jungkook, but you still manage to smell like home, in a way.

"Bam would be even more lost without me," you softly say, scratching behind his ear, and it does admittedly give Jungkook a little solace.

"True," Jungkook accepts, then sighs.

It's getting late and he's got to be up early for his flight. Is leaving for his flight at just gone 3AM, so you're staying over. Crashing on the couch, 'cause having a home gym was more important than setting up a spare room. Thankfully you've never known a couch to be so cosy. Have fallen asleep on it a dozen times over, and it's yet to make you ache in the mornings.

It's all very normal, how you set into a routine. He lets you wash up first. Sorts out Bam while you sort out yourself. Doesn't need to, but writes you out a list of feeding times and emergency numbers. Grabs a spare blanket—one Bam hasn't slept on, but by the morning definitely will have—and turns the sofa into something that really does resemble a bed.

"Sure you're gonna be alright out here?" He asks when you come back through.

He ignores the teeny tiny shirt and even tinier shorts you like to call pyjamas. Or at least he does as much as he can. Doesn't mean to look at your ass. Does it regardless. Four times.

"Yeah," you promise, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge. There are containers full of his speciality noodle sauce and enough cheese to keep you very happy for the next few days. He got an extra block of the one he knows you like the most as a thank you. "Go to bed. Get your beauty sleep, uggers."

"Hey, you need it just as much as I do," he assures you, then tips his head and makes a small click with his tongue. "C'mon, Bammie, bedtime."

The sound of his paws tapping across Jungkook's hardwood floors is ever-so-soothing. It's hard to be in a house with a pet and not inherently feel like home, you think.

"Night night, Bammie," you coo after him. He turns back. Tilts his head, just like his daddy. Trots on over to you for a few more scratches behind his ears. Doesn't leave until you tell him, "Go find your daddy."

Glancing up to Jungkook with a sweet little scrunch of your nose, you hadn't called him that name to take the piss for a change. The scrunch of your nose is actually an outward display of your inward cringe. Jungkook just scrunches his up right back.

"Gross," he whispers, then holds his hand out for Bam to sniff. "Night, Gremlin."

"Night, Kook."

The sharp sound of Bam's bark snaps you awake. The room is dark, but enough light bleeds in through the blinds for you to see Jungkook awkwardly trying to shush him. Rucksack slung over one shoulder, he's holding a bag with his other hand.

"Leaving without saying bye?" You sleepily mumble, rubbing at your eyes with a yawn.

"Didn't wanna wake you," he whispers. Bam, apparently, had different ideas. "He knows I'm leaving."

"What time is it?" you ask, still totally out of it.

"Just gone three," Jungkook says. It'll take him an hour to get across to Incheon, and even though he knows it won't take him much time to get through security, he still likes to be on time. Would have been easier if he was flying from Gimpo, but he's guessing Incheon must have been cheaper.

Nodding, you adjust your body to sit up, and reach out for one of the files on the coffee table. Hold it across for him.

Popping down his bags, Jungkook takes it with great interest.

"Here. I was having a think before bed. Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him," you mumble, thoughts not really cognitive, but you've written it all down for him regardless. "Talk to him about the K-league, or something, I dunno. I reckon Mr Seo would shit his pants if we expanded into stadiums and sports venues."

Jungkook flicks over the notes. Nods. Doesn't know how the fuck you manage to find out half the shit you do, but knows you're wasted on the interior design department.

"See," he softly whines. "This is why you should be coming with me."

"You'll be fine," you promise him, then yawn a little bit all over again. You woke up at the worst possible time.

"You can take my bed, y'know," Jungkook offers. "I'll be gone in a minute or so. It's all yours."

Would be weird getting into his bed while it's still warm, you think.

Shaking your head, terribly covering a yawn, you insist it's fine. He begs to differ, so you double down—until all very suddenly, your notes are tossed onto the sofa beside you, and Jungkook is pulling you over his shoulder. Yelping from the surprise, you don't have time to cognitively respond, let alone demand to be put down.

He wouldn't listen anyways. Instead, he walks you across to his room, and tosses you down on his half-made bed. It's a little haphazard, he finds himself leaning a little too far forward. Almost ends up on there with you. Finds that his blood pumps just a little faster through his veins for a nanosecond.

God, he wishes he wasn't leaving.

Or that you were coming with him, at least.

Can't bear to tear himself away from you when you're all sleepy and sweet and—Oh get a grip, man.

"There," he says triumphantly, pushing his thoughts well out of reach. "Now, go back to sleep, alright? I'll let you know when I fly."

Sitting up on your heels, you find yourself unsure of how to say goodbye—and so you don't really say much at all. Just mumble, "Fly safe."

"Will do," he nods, then exits his room to give Bam a farewell that is just as rough and tumble as yours had been. "Be good for the gremlin, Bammie."

"Fuck off!" You call through, knowing that you'll forever be known as a gremlin, even on your deathbed, you're sure. Tucking yourself under his duvet, you're secretly comforted by how warm his bed still is. Smells just like him, too. "Bye Kook."

"Sleep tight!"

With that, the door slams shut, and everything feels a little colder. Bam whines by the door. Scratches at it a little. Begs for Jungkook to come home.

"Bammie," you call through. "C'mere!"

The way he excitedly bounds through Jungkook's apartment and jumps up onto the bed is borderline comical. He's not used to people being in the house after Jungkook goes out. Thought he was alone—but now he knows he's not, he's quite content. Nuzzles his snout into the duvet and flops his body down on yours. Doesn't realise he's not still a puppy, but you don't mind.

Moments like these make you realise that you definitely did make the right decision.

But moments that come a little later fill you with regret—like the picture that is sent to the office by Jungkook on the work messenger. Working hard or hardly working? He captions it.

The photo is of the booth that's been set up to look like a beach house version of the restaurant. The intention was for it to look like a 'Jeju' branch, of which you're yet to open— but it looks bloody fantastic. How you were able to wrangle contractors and suppliers in such a last-minute rush was nothing short of a miracle.

And yet—

Good work guys!

Wow, looks great!

Jungkook and Jiwon, doing us proud!

Dream team! Good luck!

It's that last one that really bothers you. Dream team. Exactly what you and Jungkook have always been called in the office—but you're easily replaced, apparently. It's your own fault. You're the one who said she should go instead.

It doesn't stop you from walking around with a face of thunder for the whole day. Not a scrap of work gets done. All you can do is lament your choices.

Still, you get to go home to Bam, and that does admittedly soften the blow.

"Show me him," Jungkook immediately whines when he calls later that evening.

You shake your head. "Tell me about the day first."

"That's so not fair."

"Quicker you tell me, quicker I show–"

"Fine," he scowls at you, but softens his expression almost immediately. Yawns. His shoulders press up to his ears as the rest of his face scrunches up. He's lying down on his hotel bed, the crisp white sheets not too dissimilar from his ones back home that you'll be curled up in later that night. "The set up was fine. Most of the vendors are here already. I'm so mad we didn't manage to snag a slot in the catering tent, yanno? Give people a chance to try our menu, but whatever. There's always next year, right?"

"Right," you nod. Yawn, too—and then adorably so does Bam. "It's our first year there. We're just making our presence known. Bigger and better things next year."

"Exactly. Now show me Bam."

His impatience makes you smile. You're just about to tap the switch camera icon, when a sweet, feminine voice echoes through your speaker.

"Did you say something, Jungkook?"

He glances over the sound of the voice, and then flicks his eyes back to you. Gets a read on your face as quickly as he can before you flip the camera, 'cause you're not really sure how much your face is giving away, but you know your surprise wasn't hidden.

"Er, no," he says to the girl. "Just checking in back home—"

"Oh, is that your puppy?" the voice, of which you know all too well, squeals. There's a slight ruffle of sheets as Jiwon tucks herself beside Jungkook. Hair a little damp, the straps of her top are loose against her skin. "Oh my gosh, isn't he the sweetest."

"Isn't he just?" you reply with a smile so fucking fake that it's a good job the camera isn't on you. There's a look on Jungkook's face that you don't really understand. He almost looks guilty—but there's nothing to feel guilty about. He can do what he likes. "Gonna take him for a walk in a bit, then I'm just gonna pop out for half an hour to see Mingyu."

"Are you taking Bam with you?" Jungkook asks, brows a little hard, the ridge between them nicely defined.

"Hadn't planned on it," you chirp, your face just as hard as his. "But I can take him to meet Mingyu, if you like?"

Jungkook swallows. Tries to pretend as if his jaw isn't tense. Is incredibly stern when he says, "Rather him not meet new people when I'm not around."

"Sure," you say, then flick the camera back to you. Are pleased to see nonchalance sitting prettily on your features, no matter how perplexed you might feel."I should be off, though! Call me if you need anything."

"Wait!" Jiwon says quickly, clearly unaware of the weirdness between you and Jungkook. She sees you bickering all the time, so must just figure this is what you're like when you're not ripping each other's heads off. "Just wanted to say thank you—I'm so glad I'm here."

Jungkook's eyes focus on your face as Jiwon gives even more thanks. He doesn't understand the sudden attitude you've developed. All he wanted was to see Bam, but you've a face like a slapped arsed and are trying to hang up. It's fuckin' rude, and if Jiwon wasn't there, he'd tell you so.

He lets you hang up. Doesn't ask you to stay.

"She alright?" Jiwon innocent chirps after you go. "She seems a little..."

"Just tired," Jungkook dismisses. "I woke her up at like, three this morning when I was leaving."

"Oh? She was at your place?"

It's really none of Jiwon's business, but Jungkook chalks it up to her being young, and unaware of when to keep her mouth shut.

"Yeah," he states definitively and plainly, ending the conversation. Heads to the bathroom to clear his head. Turns the shower up to just as hot as the one at his house has been ever since you left his apartment the last time.

'Cause Jungkook's been lying to himself.

There's no lock on the damn annexe. Or at least not from the outside.

The annexe has everything he needs. He's been sitting there, inside, quite comfortably with you for a little while now.

He really did think you were gonna call things off with Mingyu.

Is unaware that Mingyu got left on read four days ago after another dull, fruitless 'how was your day', 'fine thanks, and you?' conversation. As hot as he may be, he doesn't challenge you. Excite you. Anger you. Make you feel any kind of passion.

Which is funny, 'cause you find yourself reaching for a bottle of wine that you know is far too expensive for a Tuesday night glass, just to piss Jungkook off from afar and well in advance of him ever realising what you've done.

Just like you mentioned going to see Mingyu just to get a reaction out of Jungkook.

Childish as it may be, you feel threatened. People praising Jiwon in your place already made you feel insecure at work, and now she's in his hotel room in a state of near undress? Something about it just irks you.

It shouldn't.

It shouldn't, it shouldn't, it shouldn't.

But it does.

And so you spend your evening on Jungkook's couch with cheese, wine and Bam. Put Love, Rosie on, 'cause it's your favourite guilty pleasure film and you think it'll cheer you up.

Instead, you end up silently sobbing by the halfway point, Bam only snuggling into you even further. Can understand that you're upset. Comforts in the only way he knows how.

Sleep is hard to come by that evening. You're full of wine and cheese, so it should be easy. Lights out as soon as you close your eyes—but you toss and turn, and with every move, the scent of him wafts even deeper into your senses. Any further and it might just enter your bloodstream. Seep down into your heart.

By the time morning comes, you feel even more rotten than you did the night before. Have slept on it all. Know that he hasn't done anything wrong, which only makes you feel even more stupid for being so annoyed.

You've also slept on the idea he might have slept with Jiwon. It wouldn't be out of character, but it would be the first person in your department he's shagged. It's always been out of bounds. He knows this. For the same reason you wouldn't shag anyone he works closely with. It'd just be weird. Make meetings uncomfortable.

When you call on your walk that morning, you half hope he won't pick up.

But he does. He always will.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly. A towel is whipped over his shoulder, sweat dappling his skin. There's something so devastatingly beautiful about mid-workout Jungkook. "Sorry, didn't think you'd call."

Almost as if you're looking for reasons to be annoyed, you take offence to this.

"I always call?"

"Well, yeah, but you were so fuckin' weird last night," he laughs, heading out of the gym and into an empty corridor of the hotel.

"I wasn't anything," you reply back with a scowl—and realise how terribly you're hiding your annoyance. Flick the camera over so it focuses on Bam as he trots along the path. "Just tired."

It's the same excuse he bullshitted to Jiwon. Knows you're talking bollocks.

"Even Jiwon asked what was wrong with you—"

"Oh, well I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you, Jungkook," you snap, completely unjustified. It's too late, though. You've started. Have to see it through. "But if you don't mind, I'm responsible for your pet right now and I'd rather not be having this conversation when I need to be focusing on a million other things at once."

"Fine," Jungkook snaps right back. All he wants is to see Bam, but he doesn't want to be having this conversation either. "But you know what? Don't bother calling back until you've taken that stick out from up your arse."

You shouldn't be surprised when Jungkook hangs up.

But you are.

For the second time in as many days, you find yourself crying. 

Oh, it's all so pathetic! And stupid! There's no need for it, you think.

Thankfully you're not too far from home—Jungkook's home, that is—so you can cut the walk a little short as long as you come home at lunch to check on Bam, too.

You don't even really understand why you're fighting with him. Wish you weren't.

When Jungkook zips open his suit bag as he's getting ready for the Expo opening ceremony, he finds himself wishing just the same.

Tucked on top of his blazer is a brand new tie; one of which he most definitely did not put there. 

An incredibly muted bronze and black paisley pattern swirls over the material, and on top rests a note.

Jungkook rubs his face with a flat palm. Rakes it through his hair. Swallows back the awkward heat prickling at his eyes and the tickle in his throat. Doesn't wanna bawl.

But then he reads the note, and he just can't stop himself.

Dad!!!

You're gonna do great!!!!

Come home soon tho :(((((

Woof woof!!!!!!!

Your Bammie <333

P.S. I'm colour blind but the gremlin said this one is the same colour as me!!! Do you miss me??? I miss you!!!!!

The first time you had ever learned of Jungkook's tattoos was in a dive bar a few blocks over from work. It was just after you'd pulled off your first deal together—the one that set your working relationship in stone—and you'd both been blowing off steam.

The walls were red, and so were your cheeks, blushed from the heat of what it felt like to sit beside him in a tatty booth.

So used to sitting across from him at meeting tables, something about it changed your dynamic. Any threats of being on opposing teams were whittled down to nothing more than a life that could have been.

He had your back. You had his.

Blazer off, his sleeves were rolled up. You didn't ask him about a single one of the tattoos, like he half thought you might. 

Instead, you just accepted him as he was. Didn't stroke your index finger up his arm, tracing the lines, like most girls do as an excuse to get better acquainted with him.

That night he made a promise to himself to never ruin the working relationship you have together.

You work too well to jeopardise it. He has goals. Knew, even back then, that you'd help him achieve his aspirations, like some sort of twin flame type of shit he didn't believe in.

Didn't. Past tense.

These days, when you think of Jungkook and his tattoos, you always think of the snake. It's the one you see most frequently for it's so close to his wrist. Have always understood snakes to represent change.

Jungkook is yet to shed his skin. He's still just the same as he always was, you think, as you get in the lift and head up towards your office floor.

Just 'cause he hadn't hooked up with anyone from the office in a while didn't mean that he'd changed his ways. More fool you for thinking that he might've.

And it's not like it even matters at all. Who he lays down with is none of your concern. You've never cared before. Not really.

It's just that you've been going to sleep in his sheets. Eating dinner he prepared in advance for you. Waking up to his pup excitedly doing zoomies around the room, 'cause he's ready for his walk.

When you get home, you put Bam's leash up next to your coat, which is hung on top of Jungkook's. Kick your shoes off by a pair of his. Use his shower gel when you get washed, and wistfully tuck yourself up into the armchair you helped him pick out for his bedroom. It's tucked in the corner. Is perfect for watching the world roll by.

You know you should have just called him this morning. Spent the entire walk stubbornly hoping that he would instead, but he's just as childish as you are.

You've bickered with him a hundred times over since you first met him, but never like this.

The elevator dings to a stop, pulling you from your tiresome thoughts of Jungkook. Pulling your body from its slumped leaning stature against the mirrored walls, you trudge into a place that endlessly reminds you of him.

Impossible to escape, is Jungkook. Perhaps that's it. Maybe you've just had enough of each other. Need a little time to breathe.

Everyone else who started at the company around the same time as you has already left. It's just you and Jungkook still here from the small pool of fresh graduates that had been taken under Mr Seo's wing.

But you like it here. Like your job. The salary you earn is great—far more than you would get anywhere else.

Again, you don't know this, but Jungkook's always negotiated on your behalf behind closed doors. He makes the company far more money, and does admittedly get a pretty huge bonus every year according to the amount of deals closed.

That being said, he also stomps down to Mr Seo's office in the fourth quarter when news of the next fiscal year's raises are shared. Will demand that your base salary is matched to his. Has threatened, on numerous occasions, to call for a pay disparity audit from external forces if your wage isn't boosted up, even if it means his is cut down to make up for it.

You went out on a limb trusting him in the early days. This is how he repays you.

That's just friendship, though, he thinks. You help him, he helps you.

He also knows you'd probably be annoyed if you ever found out he meddled with things like that.

The girls in the accounting office always think it's so lovely whenever they see the pay increases. Yours and Jungkook's are never quite what they should be, and they know exactly why. It's why they always ask you how he is whenever you go to drop off inventory reports and materials lists with the lead accountant.

You think they just fancy the pants off him.

Which is also true.

And it's also why a couple of them are curiously standing outside your office space, giggling like school girls as you approach it.

"Morning," you smile, then laugh a little too at their giddy excitement—but when you turn the corner and realise what they're so smitten over, you're a little lost for words.

Sitting on your desk is quite possibly the largest bouquet of flowers you've ever seen. Peonies, you think from afar. Pretty and pale pink, they're in a glass vase. Two dozen easily, if not more, blooming just for you.

"Oh," you hum, because it's hardly what you expect to walk into on a Thursday morning.

Mingyu flashes through your head, but you haven't heard a peep from him since you last let your conversation dissolve over the weekend. He has no reason to send you flowers.

But nor does anyone else.

"We tried working out the message," one of them admits. "But whoever your secret admirer is, they're hell-bent on keeping it secret!"

Shameless, you think, suppressing a well-natured laugh. They've got balls to admit that they've read the note.

Walking to your desk, you see it sitting atop of the flowers, and read it for yourself.

Anyone reading the note who knows a single non-superficial thing about the mystery sender would know who it is in a heartbeat. All it takes for you to know is to see the name of who it's addressed to.

Bammie—

She's right. It does match you. When I get home we can dress you up in my new tie.

Tell the gremlin that you deserve head scratches.

And extra treats.

And that I miss her.

Glancing over to the girls, who desperately want gossip, you simply shrug. If they've never heard Jungkook talk about Bam before, then they clearly don't know him at all. If he wanted his name on the note, he'd have put it there.

He could have gotten them sent to his apartment. He chose here. But he also chose anonymity.

And so you give him a little grace.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you bullshit with an apologetic smile that no one believes.

Lea just looks at you from across the room with a raised brow. Waits until the girls leave, then says, "That's not the kind of bouquet you send a colleague."

She already knows you're looking after Bam. That being said, she hasn't read the card. Has no idea what it says. Just knows that there's only one man you ever talk about with such warmth to be deserving of those flowers from.

"Apparently it is," you shrug, all but confirming who sent them with a coy smile.

"I hope he lets Jiwon down gently," Lea sighs, knowing just as well as you do that she's got a bit of a thing for Jungkook.

What she doesn't know is that it's the exact reason you're fighting with him.

Hell, even he doesn't know that!

So deep in your denial, neither do you.

"Why would he need to?" You downplay it all. Lea doesn't know about the awkward call Jiwon inserted herself into, or the fact you've already decided that he must have fucked her. "Like I said, apparently these are the kind of flowers sent by just a colleague."

Lea shakes her head. Has been observing you and Jungkook for years. Was waiting for a Christmas party, or one of those nightmarish summer tennis tournaments for the pair of you to finally figure it out. You're just as thick as two wooden planks when it comes to all of this, or so it would seem. A little push might be needed.

"Colleagues don't send flowers just because," she tells you with an air of authority. "And if I know anything about the stories you've told me, Jungkook doesn't send flowers full stop."

Just like that, you're thinking of those damn tattoos again. The snake, specifically.

Maybe, just maybe, he is changing.

And if you weren't confused before, then you sure as hell are now.

During the summer months, Jungkook often goes home to see Bam at lunchtime. It's not uncommon for you to go with him. In the winter, when the temperature of his apartment is less of a worry, Jungkook probably only goes home for lunch once a week or so.

Walking up to Jungkook's apartment in the middle of the day without him feels a little bit wrong. In one hand, you're holding a peony by its stem. In the other, you're clutching your phone just in case he calls.

In all honesty, you had planned on taking the entire vase back, but it was bloody heavy. You'll wait until he's back in the office.

It might just be paranoia, or the misplaced assumption that everyone is obsessed with what Jungkook does, but you swear there have been far more people passing your office today than usual. People you've seen maybe once or twice in your entire lifetime.

Lea was right. Jungkook doesn't send flowers. 

Has a repeat order going monthly for his mother, but that's it. And even then, he's kind of forgotten about it.

You've debated it with him before; flowers and their presence in relationships. 

He thinks a potted plant would be far more practical, but if he was really going to get someone something, it'd be herbs. Maybe a potted mint bush. Something useful that they could enjoy together.

A few weeks ago, you had told him he'd make an awful sugar daddy.

"Well, yeah!" He'd just laughed. "I save my money for myself. Me alone. If someone wants nice shit, they can get their own job."

"Oh, so you'd never treat a girlfriend?" You'd scoffed, forgetting the fact he never really has girlfriends. Just flings. "Never get her nice shit?"

"Well, that's different," he'd said. "It's not transactional."

"Everything in life is transactional, whether people like to kid themselves it is or not."

Jungkook looked affronted when you said this. You'd had differing perceptions of life for as long as he'd known you, but you'd always been a romantic. Always believed in the prevailing nature of love.

Bam had adjusted in his sleepy position. Curled up a little tighter, then stretched right out. Rested his hind paws on your thighs and tucked his nose into his chest.

"Bam disagrees," Jungkook assured you.

"You trained him using transactions," you reminded him regardless. "Rewarded him with a treat every time he did as you asked. Transactional."

"Okay, but this?" He gestured to where Bam was curled between the pair of you on his sofa. That's always been a rule of his. No sofa for Bam—he's got all the beds he could ever want! But when Jungkook is on the sofa, it's the only place he wants to be, too. "He knows he's not supposed to be on here. He knows he won't get a reward, so why is he up here? It isn't transactional. He just—"

"Is playing you for a fool," you had laughed. "He wants to be on the sofa, so he lets us pet him in return for us not shooing him off. He's the one setting the transaction up. You're the one getting the reward. He's playing you at your own game. Aren't you, baby?"

You'd cooed a little, scratching at Bam's thigh. He shook it ever so gently and readjusted, but didn't stop resting against you.

It was a curious thought; the way that nothing in life ever comes for free. Even the favours you do for Jungkook by dog-sitting are transactional. You get just as much out of those days as he does.

The conversation had mellowed into something else, 'cause Jungkook didn't want to get into a debate. Knows that you can defend your point until the cows come home—has been in enough meetings with you to know as such. Likes being on your side 'cause you always win—and with a negotiator like him to seal the deal, it's always so much sweeter.

As the calling screen of Jungkook's contact details takes over your screen, phone resting against a wine bottle on the coffee table, you wonder how transactional this is.

He gave you flowers, and now you're giving him a call.

Anyone with a rational mind would surely ask: is this not how romance works?

But when he accepts your call, and you're met with a stern face that's desperately trying not to smile, you're reminded of what he really is: your best friend.

Neither of you wants to be the first one who cracks and gives in first, even if you both know this is all so stupid.

You reach over to pick up the peony. Hold it in front of your face. The petals have bloomed so spectacularly that it almost eclipses you.

Jungkook's face scrunches up a little, his terribly hidden smile slightly distorted but ever so hard to hide.

"Will you stop hating me now?" Is all he says.

"Never hated you," you grumble, bringing the flower a little lower, but still in frame. Sitting on the floor, your back is to the sofa and Bam is behind you, right where he's not supposed to be.

If Jungkook is bothered by it, he doesn't mention it. "I missed him this morning."

The guilt that crawls into your stomach and makes itself at home is rancid. Anguish is her name, and she loves nothing more than ruining a good thing.

The frown that steals the pretty smile from your face isn't one that Jungkook enjoys seeing on you, no matter how cute it is when your eyebrows pinch together.

"I should have called," you acknowledge, knowing that it was cruel of you not to, even if you were fighting. "I'm sorry."

Jungkook just smiles. "I assumed the stick was still up your arse."

Narrowing your eyes, you're pleased that he's joking with you; that things feel normal.

"It's fine," he dismisses regardless. "Last night was the opening event so I was a little worse for wear this morning, and then Jiwon was rummaging about at fuckin' six in the morning. Took her fuckin' hours to get ready."

And there it is; confirmation that she's been sharing his bed.

Though you don't frown, there's a stupor to the muscles in your face. The brightness you were looking at him with fades—and very quickly, Jungkook becomes the one who looks unhappy, now.

"What?" He says, genuinely a little confused.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

You just shake your head. Dismiss it. Flick the camera around and lift your phone to focus it on Bam as you give him a little scratch behind the ear.

"He's been good as gold," you begin to waffle on. The ridge between Jungkook's brows deepens. "Best boy in the doggie park, aren't you? There's a new couple who have just started walking a Yorkie. Yappy little bugger. I don't think Bam's a fan."

"No," Jungkook supposes. "He doesn't like yappy dogs—and I don't like it when you deflect. Show me your face, gremlin. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" You insist, but don't flick the camera back. Just get a little more boisterous with Bam, and while it does make Jungkook smile, he can't shake the horrible feeling that's building in his diaphragm.

Your Anguish has a cousin who goes by the name of Confusion, and she adores wrapping herself up in men who fail to communicate in a way that is healthy.

"C'mon," he softly says. Flicks his camera around. Shows you an empty hallway of the convention centre. Says, "I've left Jiwon in charge at the height of the day just so I can answer your call. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You didn't have to answer," you grumble.

Jungkook is smarter than most. Will have clocked the time of day and knew it was lunch. Definitely assumed you must be with Bam. It must be why he picked up.

Flicking the camera back on himself, Jungkook is almost at a loss for what else he can say to get you to open up.

A little honesty is needed.

And so you pout. Mumble, "They're calling you and Jiwon a dream team in the office."

Jungkook's frown intensifies as his dewy pink lips rest ajar. You'd say he looks distressed, but that's far too intense of an emotion for such a childish qualm.

He just knows that if he heard your partnership with another colleague—especially one in his department—being referred to like that, he'd take offence. It's you and him. You're the dream team. Always have been.

Shaking his head, Jungkook doesn't hide his contempt. Scoffs. "Fuck off. Dream team? She's using your strategies at a booth you designed, and even then, she's barely doing that—you know Acorn guy? The one you said to steer clear of? She's gunning for him—"

"Oh, you're kidding me," you gasp in disbelief. You warned her that he's bad news, multiple times. "Him?!"

"She's young," Jungkook says with a little judgement. Is scared of turning thirty, but definitely doesn't understand people who are closer to twenty. "He's just some hot guy on TV, to her. Doesn't realise his business is gonna tank. She isn't thinking about it long-term."

Which is funny, 'cause Jungkook never really used to think about things long term, either.

Sure, with investments and saving his money, he's always been a little cautious. When it comes to the business, though, it's someone else's money he's playing with. He takes risks. Does dumb shit and it gets rewards.

He really is incredibly good at his job, though. It's part of the reason the women love him, you always think.

It's not.

They like him because he's kind and also so bloody hot he should be on billboards, not in boardrooms.

You like him because he's competent.

In fact, you think there's nothing hotter than a competent man who just knows how to get shit done. And when said competent man can cook like Jungkook? Cares for his dog in the way he does? Looks like he does?

Sigh.

You ignore the way he looks a lot of the time, but you've a pair of eyes and a part of your brain that recognises attractive men. It's hard to ignore all of the time.

"Anyway," he shakes his head. "Not important. She's perfectly fine if not a little misguided—but she isn't you. So, stop worrying about it."

You take a second before you reply. Flick the camera back to you.

It surprises Jungkook, how Confusion has travelled through his bloodstream. Her bony fingers toy with his heart, and he's taken aback by just how sharp her nails are.

Looking at you never used to feel like this. He's not sure why it does now.

You muster up a little courage, even if you can't bring yourself to look at him properly. Let out a deep sigh. Now or never. You run the risk of causing another fight, but if you don't come clean, it'll only dirty everything.

"I just thought we kind of had an agreement, Kook," you eventually whine with an ever-so childish pout.

The hands that have been tearing at his heart migrate through his bloodstream. Get into his brain. Get into his house. Opens doors. Begins moving the furniture.

Stay out of the annexe, his thoughts hiss at Confusion.

Still he seems perfectly calm when he asks, "Watcha mean?"

He's not making this easy for you.

In fact, you'd say he's making it difficult. It would be far easier for you if he just acknowledged what he's already done.

"Well, just..." you take a moment or so to think about how it can be phrased with any dignity—and then you think fuck it. "She's in my department, Kook. I always thought you wouldn't fuck anyone I have to directly work with. It just makes it awkwa—"

"Woah, woah woah," he interrupts. Confusion sits on his shoulder, now, with a twisted smirk on her greyed-out face. "Wouldn't fuck anyone? What the hell do you think I've been doing?!"

"Well, I mean, it's less what and more... who," you joke a little too flippantly.

You don't think he's ever looked so offended in the entire time you've known him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

If anything, you're a bit surprised by just how offended he is. Jiwon is an incredibly pretty girl. A little young for him, granted, but not abhorrently so.

"What?!" You reply, equally confused, then relay everything back to him. "She woke you up this morning getting ready? Was in your room when I called you? Fucking got on your bed right in front of my face and cosied up with you to look at Bam."

Admittedly, that last one was said with a little venom. It annoys you the most.

"She woke me up this morning from across the room," he counters. "Was in our room because we were a last-minute addition to the convention, and it was the only room left within a ten-mile radius—twin beds, may I add! If I don't even share my bed with you when I'm at home, then what the hell makes you think I'd share one with her?! Yeah, the call thing was weird. I'm not gonna lie, it was, but I answered when she was around because I didn't want either of you to get the wrong impression."

A smile wobbles on your lips, as you try to remain stoic. Either of you. You know that you apparently got the wrong end of the stick—but you're not entirely sure what he means by either of you. You wonder what impression he's trying to give her, then decide it's not important.

You clasp your hands together. Lean forward. Put on your best noble old man voice, and say, "Well, it appears that it might have just happened, regardless."

Confusion's perch on Jungkook's shoulder is knocked loose when he laughs, though those sharp nails do claw onto his back. Leave scratch marks that will take a little while to heal—what's important is that they will.

One day, this awkward misstep will be something you laugh about. Kind of like he is, now. You'll forget your tears, but you won't ever forget the strange feeling of weight lifting off your shoulders, mind eased by Jungkook.

"You're a fucking idiot," he laughs with such fondness it almost doesn't feel like an insult. "Seriously? You thought I fucked her? And was then, what? Trying to brag about it? C'mon, you little gremlin! Give me some credit."

Never before has 'gremlin' ever sounded so kind. So warm. So much like 'darling', or 'mon amour'. Secret code for unspoken words.

"I don't know," you whine. Bam shuffles a little bit on the sofa behind you, turning his face away from the noise. You reach back to scratch his head as an apology. Jungkook smiles. Your care for his baby is so innate that you don't even realise you're doing it. "Her hair was damp, and she was practically falling out of her top—"

"Oh, but what I am supposed to do?" He laughs. "I can't tell her to cover up in her own damn room, and even then I just ignore it. I didn't sleep with her. I'm not going to sleep with her. Okay?"

He's not even thought about it. Feels nothing when he looks at her. No excitement. Even if she is attractive, he doesn't think his body would work properly.

Hasn't been working as it should do for the best part of a year now.

Or maybe it would better be referred to as 'malfunctioning'.

'Cause it seems to work okay when he thinks about you.

He 'malfunctioned' earlier on that day, as a matter of fact. Was just showering. And he missed you. And was thinking about those damn pyjama shorts. How smooth your legs had been when he'd hoisted you over his shoulder. How pliant you'd been as he chucked you down into his sheets. Your sleepy eyes and the 3AM husk to your voice. Fuck.

Even thinking about it in a dingy hallway of a convention centre, with your pretty face smiling at him through his phone, is making his heart race. If he doesn't get a hold on it, he'll go into cardiac. Might just flatline.

"Look, I gotta get back, okay?" He softly says. It's not a lie, but it is more sensible than he wants to be. "Have to make sure Jiwon hasn't sold the company to the acorn guy. There's a networking event tonight, so I can't call during Bammie's walk, but I'll check in at some point."

"Alright," you nod, a little sad to see him go, but understanding of it. "Hurry up and come home. Bam misses you."

"I miss him, too," Jungkook pouts. "Show me my baby before I go."

Phone angled to fully capture Bam, you indulge Jungkook for a few moments before he really does have to go. He lingers for a second or so after you say goodbye. Can't muster up anything good to say to make you stay.

Holding the stem of the single peony you'd taken home with you, you roll it between your thumb and fingers. Watch the petals twirl.

"What should I do, hey, Bam?" You wistfully sigh, eventually getting up to pop it in a glass of water. Jungkook has no vases, for he's never had any need for flowers.

The peony isn't the only thing blooming in his kitchen these days, though. It hasn't been for a while.

Work passes slowly that afternoon. You want to get home. See Bam. Finish off the wine you opened so that Jungkook doesn't scold you for letting it turn into vinegar when he gets back. And then you wanna sleep—just so you can wake up the next morning and take Bam on his walk.

It's not like that isn't part of your agenda tonight, too. It's just that Jungkook won't be around for that one.

Instead, his evening is spent in fancy rooms with men in even fancier suits and women who take a fancy to him, too. A whisky is in his hands at all times, his pretty lips embroiled in conversation. He talks so much he barely has any time to drink.

People gravitate towards him; those who feel threatened by his charm gravitate towards Jiwon. Mistake her for a prize he's trying to keep. Don't realise his unbothered facade is anything but a facade.

It's gone midnight by the time he's kicking off his shoes with a little wobble as he gets to his hotel room.

"I'm being serious," he almost giggles, phone between his shoulder and his ear as he loosens his cufflinks. "It's a wig. I'm positive."

280 miles away, phone on your tummy, loudspeaker on as you gaze up at Jungkook's bedroom ceiling, you're laughing too.

"It can't be," you protest the current topic of conversation—Mr Acorn (as he's now affectionately known between you both) and whether or not his hair is real. Jungkook had left Jiwon to continue her poorly judged perusal of him, in favour of checking in with you instead. There was no one else at that party he wanted to talk to more than he wanted to talk to you. Laughing and joking about stupid shit, he's glad you answered. "He went swimming on Singles Inferno!"

"So?!" Jungkook snorts, tapping his phone over to loudspeaker too and tossing it down onto his sheets. A little haphazard, he's unbuttoning his shirt. Is a little tipsy, but not enough to warrant any huge issues. "Maybe he used industrial strength glue."

"Surely he'd rather people just know he was bald? Start a trend?"

"Maybe he's got a terrible head tattoo," Jungkook theorises, tossing his shirt across to a chair, before finally discarding his pants, too. Is just in his boxers now as he clambers into the sheets. "Bald eagle. An ex's name. I dunno. But I'd take chemical burns over that."

"You'd never get a girl's name tattooed on you," you laugh in response. Legs tucked up, heels to your ass, you let your knees gently sway. Bam is curled up in his own bed by the foot of Jungkook's. You're not on facetime, mainly 'cause Jungkook clicked the wrong button, but it's also nice not using poor Bam as an excuse to talk to you.

"And I'm also not balding, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Are you not?" You hum, just to wind him up. "I swear there's a patch of missing hair—"

"Shut up," he cuts you off, voice just as fond as it is stern. "I will swim all the way back to the mainland and speed run up to Seoul just to shut you up. Don't speak it into existence. I have great hair."

"Mmm," you hum. Sinking a little further into his sheet, you turn on your side. Take him off speaker. Hold your phone to your ear. Look at the empty side of his bed and wonder what it'd be like if he were here. Know better than to indulge it. "And you are just so modest, too. Absolutely no ego whatsoever."

"It's why the ladies love me," he jokes, not realising just how true it is. Jungkook takes a moment before he says anything else. Is comforted by the silence you leave for him, totally unaware it's because you're not sure how to respond. "Not that it matters."

Though his delivery is soft and airy, like feathers falling from a well established nest, it lands in your chest with a heavy thud, like a stone from a bridge. You couldn't swerve in time. It shattered your windshield; plummeted straight into your heart. 'Causes a pile up on the freeway, all your thoughts held behind a tongue that cannot speak.

"You tired?" Jungkook hums down the speaker when a response never comes. "I'm sorry, I can let you go?"

"No," you say incredibly quickly considering you've been leaving your side of the conversation empty. "No, sorry. Just can't believe you're actually behaving yourself. Who are you, and what have you done with Cassanova that normally takes a hold of you after a few drinks?"

He's right here, Jungkook laments, knowing better than to act on the way he's been feeling lately. Just says, "Maybe I'm maturing."

"I find that hard to believe," you tell him. If the tiktok psychology gurus who have taught you everything you know about modern men are anything to go by, his brain should have finished fully developing about a year ago.

And while Jungkook would tell you to get fucked and that his brain was already fully developed, he knows that if he sat down and really thought about it, maybe it'd hold some merit. Afterall, it's been about a year since those first thoughts about you started creeping into his mind house.

It's only recently that he's been flirting with that damn annexe door, but he's been aware of someone in there for a while, now.

"What?" He smiles down the phone, resting an arm on his bare abdomen, looking up at the dark ceiling of his hotel room. "Maybe I am. Maybe shagging random girls doesn't excite me anymore."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"Yes," you insist, but there's a smile on your face.

There's something about his denial you enjoy.

It's why you're arguing against him. You wanna hear him deny it again. Tell you he doesn't care about other girls. You don't necessarily want him to care about you beyond what he already does. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

"No," he simply replies back. "I'm not."

"So if Jiwon—"

"Why are you bringing her up again?" He's smirking, now. You can hear it in his tone. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?!"

"Yeah," He insists, just like you had been earlier. "You don't like the idea of her sleeping with me."

Incorrect. You don't like the idea of him sleeping with her.

"Well, no," you admit. "But because I work with her—"

"That's not it," he fights against you. Knows that you didn't go and see Mingyu when you said you would, and also now knows you said you would after you thought he'd slept with Jiwon. He might not be able to read women's minds, but he's learnt your M.O. pretty well over the years.

"You're drunk," you whisper, trying to hide behind the alcohol that both of you have in your systems. Neither of you are in any position to make sensible choices.

"Tipsy," he corrects. "And so are you. Go on. Be honest. Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Yeah, there is," he whispers, his words far braver in sentiment than they are in sound.

You swallow. Can't work out if he's just teasing you or not. "There's nothing."

The silence in the room around you is deafening. It's like all you can focus on is Jungkook, and the way you imagine his lips pouting together at the end of each sentence he speaks. Pretty and pink and—

"So you've never thought about it?" He interrupts your thoughts with a question you're unprepared for. 

"What?" You reply a little dismissively, as if it's an outlandish think to consider.

But Jungkook doesn't buy it.

Has been driving himself insane.

Knows he can't be the only one—and if he is, then maybe he really is insane.

"Us," he replies as if it's water off a duck's back. Simple. Easy. "You've never wondered what it would be like?"

"Kook..."

It's like playing chicken. Both too scared to cross a line for fear of it changing the entire fabric of your lives.

But you can acknowledge something without acting on it. Confirmation means nothing; it's the choices that follow which really mean something,

"Yeah?" He husks. His sleepy eyes are pressed shut, his voice a slow drawl. "What is it, huh? You want me to admit it first?"

You almost laugh at how dumb this whole conversation is. You're friends. Have been for years. Colleagues. Just... Well, just you and Jungkook. He's never thought about you like that. You're certain of it.

Yet still, you ask, "Well, have you?"

He doesn't reply immediately. You half think he's drifted off to sleep, proof that he'd had too much to drink to be having a conversation like this.

But then you hear his breathy little laugh through the speaker. You know he must be nibbling down on his bottom lip as he smirks. The sound is so familiar you can picture it. You wish he was here. Want to see it. Feel it.

Fuck, you curse yourself out. This is not good.

And Jungkook's only gonna make it a whole lot worse.

"Yeah," he quietly admits, keys in one hand and padlock in the other as he stares at the annexe door in his mind. Wide open, there's no going back now. Only forward. "I think about it all the time."

Bam nuzzles the side of his head against your tummy as he adjusts into a slightly more comfortable position on Jungkook's bed. The sheets are a mess from all your tossing and turning, your body plonked right in the middle of his mattress. There's no his side or your side anymore. You've made it yours, and Bam has joined in.

He shouldn't be on the bed. You know this, he knows this. You're both disobeying Jungkook. Are in this perfectly innocent sin together, and will face the wrath of Jungkook as a unit.

There's never really much wrath that comes from Jungkook. He's the type to smirk and laugh in the face of the people who've wronged him. Believes in karma. Fate. He draws the lines at horoscopes, though. Thinks they're bollocks. Smiles, still, when you blame shitty things on Mercury.

The only time you've ever seen him angry—nostrils flaring, jaw tense, agitated beyond compare—was when some guy wouldn't stop hitting on you in a bar. You'd told him no a dozen times over and he just wouldn't listen.

It still pisses you off that he listened to Jungkook without hesitation, but you also know it looked like Jungkook was gonna break his nose. You're far less intimidating when you're annoyed. Jungkook laughs at you whenever you get frustrated. Says you're cute—or at least as cute as a Gremlin can be.

You've got a similar look on your face now, all perplexed and bereft. If he were here, he'd be teasing you, trying to make you crack a smile.

Annoyingly, you know he'd be able to.

You're staring up at his ceiling, early morning light seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The world you wish to ignore today rudely intrudes on you regardless.

It's his karma, you think.

You disobey Jungkook, the world disobeys you.

With one hand resting on Bam, the other is tightly clutching your phone. For the past five minutes, you've been locking and unlocking it like a wind-up toy drummer.

To call, or not to call, or whatever Shakespeare said.

The faint hum of a wine-induced hangover buzzes between your ears, but it isn't so bad. Probably because you didn't really have that much to drink.

If anyone asks, you'll say you had a bottle.

And by anyone, you mean Jungkook.

If Jungkook asks, you'll laugh— We had a call? Are you sure? —and he'll laugh too— Yeah, we were both pretty drunk —and you'll both pretend like he didn't say the words that he did.

Pulling the pillow he usually sleeps on across to your face, you press it down. Scream into the padding. It's not loud enough to alarm Bam, but it is enough to make him cock his head.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it had only been Jungkook's lips that were loose last night.

The issue is that yours were, too.

You wish you didn't remember all the words you'd said. The way you'd told him to shut up.

The way he'd hummed, "Oh, come on. You know you think about it, too."

The way you'd said, "I do no such thing."

He had laughed. Said you were a liar.

You'd protested. Said it didn't matter anyways, 'cause you both know it'd never work.

"So you have thought about it," he'd teased.

"Briefly."

"How briefly?"

"Like a matter of minutes—"

"Okay, rude," he'd pouted through the receiver. "I last way longer than a couple of minutes."

"You're disgusting," you'd laughed at the way he'd made it all about sex.

For all he knew, you could have been talking about a relationship—but you're right. You both know it'd never work, so of course this is about sex.

"You the one who's thought about it, though," he'd flirted through the phone. Biting down on his bottom lip, the darkness of his hotel room had slipped him into a fatal state of hedonism.

There was a beat of his heart. One. Two. Still no response from you.

He knew you were thinking about it. Thinking about him. Decided to push his luck. Had almost whispered, his fingertips trailing down his torso, as he chanced, "Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?"

Silence continued to linger for longer than it should have, until you finally just whispered, "Kook."

"Yeah?" He'd smirked.

"You can't ask things like that."

But he can, and he did, and your lack of an answer was an answer in and of itself.

He wasn't even really after the truth. He just wanted to get under your skin; burrow himself down into the deepest, darkest, most depraved corner of your brain. Revenge, he thinks, for that damn annexe you've assigned squatters rights to.

You set up home in him? Fine . He'll do it right back.

"So this is what I am, huh?" You'd replied, with a little faux chip on your shoulder, trying to deflect from yourself. "Just another office girl for you to fantasize about?"

There's always been a challenge to you that Jungkook has liked. You're sparring partners. Will bicker and argue and end up laughing over it all. It makes for excellent brainstorming meetings, 'cause you're always trying to win. You bring out the best in each other, even if it is in a bid to do the opposite.

Jungkook had sighed. Weighed up his options. Rested his hands over his boxers, only to find himself far too entertained by the conversation. It wasn't a surprise, nor was it unwelcome.

The frequency of his thoughts about you had been doubling, tripling, quadrupling ever since Chuseok.

His bed has become a pit of sin in recent weeks; nobody but him in the shrouded decay of a mind-house he's been neglecting in favour of the annexe shared with you.

He already knows just how bad it's gonna be for him when he returns home, and the pillows are dented by your crown, the lingering scent of your perfume wrapping around him just like he knows his hand will be around his cock. Tight. Strong. Firm. It's your name he'll whine, just like it was when he was in the shower earlier that morning.

God, it's gotten so bad.

He needs to stop before he ruins everything.

It's not like sex is an uncommon topic of conversation between you both. Casual vulgarity had been a tool used to bond with; a taboo way to tease one another. It's always been casual. Uncalculated.

It's different, now.

In the darkness of midnight, the stakes were raised almost as high as your heart rate.

"You think so poorly of me," he'd whined, a teasing smile on his lips. It wasn't rare to hear Jungkook address you so playfully. In fact, it was a common occurrence—yet it felt strange, this time. "You know you're not just another office girl."

"Do I?"

"You should."

"I don't," you'd shrugged into his sheets. "Tell me, how am I different?"

The distance between you made a flirt like this safe. Immediate consequences were null and void, and the alcohol in your system didn't seem to care for it either.

"I can't tell you."

"Sure you can."

"You don't wanna hear it," he'd promised.

"Try me," you'd challenged.

And then Jungkook admitted something he knew far better than to confess, but couldn't seem to help himself. He just wanted you to know that you were special. That you were different.

That you are different. Are special.

"None of the office girls have ever made me cum in my own bed."

It came out far less sweet than his brain had told him it would, but it was still a compliment, he thought.

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

The way you both kind of shrieked at each other only amplified the shock of the confession, but also did well to hide the way it excited you, too. Got you hot beneath his sheets. Aroused.

"Don't say things like that," you'd scolded him with a laugh, playing it off as a joke. "I'll report you to HR."

"You'd do no such thing," he'd smirked down the line. Matched your energy. Played it off as an incredibly obscene, vulgar joke. Will turn his nose up if you ever ask him if he was telling the truth. "And anyways, the HR girls love me. You'd be fighting a losing battle."

"You're awful," you'd told him with such a tenderness that suggested you really didn't think that at all.

And so he smiled. Decided to cut his losses. Agreed. "Yeah. That's me."

The conversation dissolved into casual chatter until you both made excuses about being tired, or needing to sleep off the alcohol.

Yet both of you would spend the next hour awake, staring at your respective ceilings. Occasionally, you'd look to the space reserved for him in his bed. He'd do just the same. Would look at Jiwon's empty bed and lament the fact that it wasn't you on the trip with him.

He never should have asked you to watch over Bam—but there really isn't anyone else he'd rather have in his apartment.

Then he's thinking about you all over again, in his home, hair claw-clipped like it so often is, and how cute those little pyjama shorts of yours would look peeking out from the hemline of one of his shirts. He wonders what you're wearing; if it's your bare skin against his sheets. Wonders if he sleeps naked after he gets home, if it'd feel like your arms are wrapped around him; if the scent of your perfume would sink into his skin.

It doesn't take long for the thoughts to become lewd. He thinks of your lips, and how they'd part with a gasp if he were to stroke your skin with his fingertips. Thinks of your waist, and what it would feel like to hold. Thinks of your body in a way that really ought to get him fired.

How his lips could drag across your skin; the wet pink of his tongue learning where you liked to be touched. How he'd guide your hands. The words of approval he'd use— Yeah, like that. Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that, baby. You're so good at that aren't you, huh? You know how many times I've imagined this? You're so much better. G'na make me cum, babe. Keep going. You want my cum, yeah? Yeah, you do. Oh, fuck—

"No," he sharply scolds himself, tearing his thoughts from you and his hand from his thick, impatient cock. "Fucks sake, man. Get a grip."

Wanting you like this is selfish, he thinks. Selfish and stupid and— God —so fuckin' dumb.

He also thinks it's your fault. You're an interior designer, after all. Have made that stupid annexe feel more like a home than the rest of his head ever has. Added candles and cushions. Hung pictures on the wall; turned off the main light in favour of warm lamps that just make him wanna curl up and fall asleep with you on the sofa.

It's so different, this little annexe in his brain, to the apartment that he actually lives in.

If he were to assess it thoroughly, he'd realise that the annexe looks just like your apartment.

But he hates your place. Has never been shy about telling you so. Hates all your nicknacks. Hates the clothing rails you use instead of a proper wardrobe, and the way your beside table is actually just a stack of books you're yet to read. Hates how there's always a cosy blanket within touching distance, and how it always smells like black cherry candles. Hates how firm your mattress is, even if he's only ever slept on it once, fully clothed after you'd both had way too much to drink after a tight work deadline.

He also hated how he didn't wake up with an aching back like he usually does. Hated how sleeping in his own damn bed began to feel wrong, and how nowadays it only feels right during those first few days after he returns from trips; when it still smells like you and the rings you take off your fingers in the night are still tucked beneath his pillows.

Kind of like they are now, as you finally decide to stop being a miserable cow and just get up. You're normally the one who calls him, and it's typically always when you're walking Bam. Last night had been an anomaly. There's no reason for him to call you, now.

It's when you're showering that your phone lights up. Only briefly. Messages, not calls.

JK: can't call this morning, gotta head to the exhibition hall early

JK: give my baby a head scratch from me

JK: send me pics!!

JK: of bam

JK: none of you

While the vomit emoji he adds onto the end of the final message is a little uncalled for, it's actually kind of a relief that he doesn't want to call. Having to face him right now, when you're in such a sorry state of confusion, would have only made the situation far worse for you.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

Your face when you walk into the office, and the state of despair Lea seems to find you in, would suggest otherwise.

By half past ten, you've managed to wrangle Jungkook into conversation eight times.

It's not until you mention him in relation to Jiwon that Lea seems to notice.

"Okay, so?" She laughs. "Everyone knows you and Jungkook are like a package deal. She isn't taking your spot—plus, you're her senior . If she tried to undercut you, do you think anyone would want to work with her?"

It's a good point, but you don't really care to listen to reason right now.

"But it's not undercutting," you pout. "You saw everyone in the group chat. Dream team. "

The way your voice heightens in pitch and nose turns up as you utter the phrase is nothing short of hilarious, and Lea makes sure to let you know.

"You're being a big old baby about this," she laughs again. "Jungkook's gonna come back, relay all of the deals he's set up, and then he's gonna whisk you up to his office to spend the next two weeks drawing up plans. I doubt I'll even see you!"

Admittedly, in the busy periods, you'll work at his desk. In the big chair. The special one he got after his first bonus. The one on his side of the desk. He'll work on the opposite side—the client side—with his laptop.

It's caused a fair amount of confusion before, whenever people have come to his office. Your nonchalance about it all makes it seem totally normal. Most people don't question it anymore—and if they do, you just say the programme you have to use runs better on his computer than it does on a laptop.

Which isn't a lie.

But you could always just work at your own desk.

The issues is that Jungkook likes to keep you close when he's working. Makes it easier for the random questions he blurts out that you're always ready to answer. Annoys him to no end when you're not there and he has to go off and find you.

By the time he finds you, the question is always half gone or you start blathering on about something completely irrelevant and he forgets it anyway. It makes him antsy not having you close.

Neither of you seem to realise it's not normal.

"Look," Lea sighs, minimising her tab so that she can give you her full attention. "You're the one who suggested Jiwon should go. It's just work! You're acting like a jealous girlfriend—"

"No, I'm not!" You gasp. "Don't be absurd!"

"Well, whose apartment did you wake up in?"

"That's hardly—"

"Whose?"

"I mean— Well— His, but —"

"Who was the first person you spoke to this morning?"

"Okay, that's not fair. I'm looking after his—"

"Who was the last person you spoke to last night?"

You pause. Narrow your eyes.

Lea just smiles.

"At least tell me you're in the spare room and not his bed," she jokes—but when she notices the look on your face, her smile drops. "Oh, you're kidding me! You know what you're like when it comes to domestication ! You're bloody nesting , aren't you?!"

"Oh c'mon," you scoff. "I'm not an animal!"

"Uh, yeah," she says, dumbfounded. "You are. That's the issue with humans. Too many bloody primal desires—"

"I do not have a primal desire for Jungkook!"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never thought about it."

"I haven't!" You assert, eyes locked on hers. It's almost believable. Or at least it is until your lips begin to twitch. The look of shock on her face is borderline offensive. "Oh my God, shut up!"

Lea's face scrunches up in revulsion. Shoulders to her ears, she whispers, "He's a whore !"

"Okay, that's not nice."

"But it's true!"

Sighing, you slump into your chair. Push your pout up to your nose, and then sigh even deeper than before.

Looking across at Lea with such perplexity anyone would think she's just asked you to design interiors for a rocket ship, you decide you absolutely cannot let this confusion get the better of you.

"It's fine," you assure her. "He's coming home tomorrow evening. Once I'm out of his house, I'll be way more rationable about things."

"You sure?"

No.

"I'm sure."

As Jungkook places his rucksack down beside a bar stool in an airport lounge, he can't help but feel like he's doing something wrong.

It's dark outside, and the dim lights of the bar give way to a seedy intimacy that he's always loved about places like this—how fleeting they are. The casual embrace of a stranger's stare can linger for hours afterwards, consuming his thoughts for an entire flight.

Yet the only people he's even looked in the eyes of tonight have been the airport staff checking him through. Even as he asks for a whisky, he barely registers the woman behind the bar.

Placing his phone down, he also discards the lanyard that's been around his neck. He forgot to take it off before heading to their airport, and just popped it back on after going through the scanners.

It's not like he needs it now. The conference centre is miles away.

He's still in his business suit. Left quickly. Just confirmed with Jiwon that she didn't mind him catching an earlier flight and in all honesty, it suited her better. Jungkook had been so annoying about Acorn guy the entire time. Kept telling her it was a waste of energy, and no business would come from her pursuit of him. She wanted the chance to prove him wrong; to achieve something by herself.

"Are you Leaving early, too?" An American accent drawls from beside him, immediately grabbing Jungkook's attention.

A burly man with greying hair takes a perch on the stool beside Jungkook. Nodding towards the lanyard, he holds up his own. Mitch Ellis his tag reads, and instantly Jungkook is reminded of the folder you had handed to him before his departure.

"Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him."

The opportunity hadn't arisen. Jungkook barely even had time to breathe, let alone seek out some elusive American businessman—yet here he is, in the flesh, approaching Jungkook.

Sucking a little air between his teeth, Jungkook nods. Laughs. Says, "Got a family to get back to."

What. The. Fuck.

He doesn't know why on earth he said that, he just knows he can't take it back. A family. For Christ's sake! It's not just the abandoned house in his brain that's rotting—it's the whole damn thing. Stupid .

Pursing his lips in approval, Mitch nods. Lends an expression that Jungkook can only assume means he respects the answer.

"Family man," he says. "Don't see many of them in the industry these days."

Jungkook shrugs. Continues on with his bullshit. "I love my job, but home's where the heart is." Or at least, it's where his dog is. Of course, he loves Bam more than he cares to articulate—but a man and his dog surely don't constitute to a 'family'. "You off early, too?"

"Wife and kids tagged along for the trip," he nods, then quickly asks the barmaid for a whisky, too. "Promised I'd take them to Lotte World tomorrow."

Jungkook grimaces. "Ooft, on a Saturday?"

"The crowds that bad, huh?"

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook tips his head from side to side, then says, "Get magic passes for the family. It's worth the extra price. Trust me."

He'd never dream of going to Lotte World on a Saturday.

In fact, he doesn't dream of it full stop. Grew up going to the Busan franchise, and would opt for it any day of the week. Everland would be his second choice if couldn't be bothered for the drive. But never the Jamsil Lotte World. It's always rammed .

"I swear, kids—" Mitch shakes his head "—All they do is bleed you dry."

Jungkook smiles. "I'm yet to reach that stage, but I can imagine."

Mitch looks appropriately confused. Did Jungkook not just make up a bullshit imaginary family? Surely he hasn't faltered already?

Jungkook clarifies, "Going home to my girl and my dog. No kids—or at least if I've acquired one over the last couple of days, it'll be a surprise."

He doesn't know why he said that.

My girl.

Oh, God. He's going insane. He must be. This is ridiculous.

Those stupid dreams of his had already started migrating into daydreams. Now, they're being spoken into reality. This is terrible. Really, truly, awful.

Mitch has an easy ten, maybe twenty years on Jungkook.

His hair is greying, and there are lines embedded into his skin that tell stories of the life he's lived.

While it's his career Jungkook would typically be envious of, he finds himself jealous of Mitch's personal life. Wife. Kids. God, he hates the conformity of it all, but there's an ache in his chest when he thinks about all that he doesn't have.

And it only worsens when he thinks of you and Bam.

"Ah, young love," Mitch nods, again seemingly in approval of Jungkook and his 'choices'—which is bizarre, because Jungkook wants to punch himself in the face. "Make the most of it. You'll be longing for the good old days once the kids come."

It's too late for Jungkook to correct himself. Too late to admit to the truth. To say 'lol, jk, im single, just fancy the pants off my coworker.'

The thought of it all makes him want to hurl. Fancy.

He's never admitted his crush before, not even to himself. Oh, this is all so awful.

And so Jungkook panics. Says, "Hopefully we've got a couple years before then. We're both at the same company, so we're trying to figure it all out before doing anything we can't take back."

What is wrong with you?!

"Oh?" Mitch chirps, encouraging Jungkook to continue.

"Were interns at the same time," Jungkook begins to overexplain, as if it makes it any better. He's speaking a crush into existence that he isn't even sure exists, and declaring it as love of some sorts? Oh, this is really barbaric. He might throw up. Maybe if he pretends to faint, he can get out of this situation. He thinks it would be less mortifying. Yet, still, he continues! "Have gone up through the ranks together, but are different departments."

Why is he still talking about you?!

Oh God, his head is gonna explode. It's like you're building an extension on the annexe. He never gave you planning permission, and yet there you are, concrete trowel in one hand, a brick in the other. You're so pretty, he thinks.

Get a grip!

"HR nightmare," Mitch laughs, then leans a little closer. "Truth be told, it's how me and the missus met—I worked for her Daddy's company. Thought I'd be fired on the spot when we told him."

"But I'm guessing...?"

Mitch nods. "I'm now their longest-serving employee and am set to take over in the next five years," he laughs. Thankfully, it all worked out. Hopefully, the same'll be said for you and your missus."

Jungkook's lips curve into a tight-lipped smile. Decides he has to change topic, or otherwise he might just self-implode. "Yeah. Fingers crossed—anyway, I don't think we had a chance to speak at the conference, did we? What's your company?"

As if Jungkook has earned a gold seal of approval, Mitch nods his head over towards a couple of chairs that overlook the runways. Picks up his whisky. Begins to walk away. Says, "I was about to ask you the exact same thing. What did you say your name was again? Let's talk."

"Jeon Jungkook," he grins, picking up his whisky, finally forcing you out of his brain. "Yeah. Let's chat."

"Bammie," you whine into Jungkook's pillows when the sound of his paws excitedly clattering across the floorboards wakes you. You can't have been asleep for very long. A couple hours, tops. "It's not time for walkies yet."

Burrowing yourself deeper into Jungkook's sheets, you try and drown out the noise–but it's fruitless. Not only is Bam too cute to ignore, you worry that there's something wrong.

Sitting up, eyes all beary, the dark nothingness around you clues you in on the fact it's definitely the middle of the night. Pushing the duvet off your body, you swing your legs over the side of the bed as your phone begins to vibrate. Jungkook's face takes over your screen, and a frown takes over yours.

Part of you wants to ignore it. Wonder if maybe you've already slept through it ringing out, and that's what woke Bam up.

At this time of the evening, Jungkook should be at the afterparty. It's unofficial, and not endorsed by the convention, which only means one thing: people are getting legless.

He'd sent you a message earlier on in the day saying that Jiwon was still trying her absolute hardest to bag the Acorn man, after an unsuccessful attempt the night before. You wonder if he's wing-manning her.

Bitterly, you wonder if she's cut her losses. Turned her attention to Jungkook, instead.

He's probably shitfaced by now.

Part of you worries he'll want to continue the conversation from the night before. You're too sober to even consider flirting.

Sliding across to answer, you hold the phone to your ear and you begin to walk in the direction of wherever Bam may be.

"Yeah?" You croak down the phone, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"You sound chirpy," he teases.

Bizarrely, you think he sounds sober. "Fuck off."

"Charming. Undo the bolt on the door," Jungkook demands down the line, but there's almost an echo, as if he's just in the other room or something like that.

Your feet softly pad into the living room, the darkness not much of a hindrance. You know his apartment like the back of your hand; the veins, the freckles, the grooves dappled in your skin below your knuckles. All it takes is a couple of steps for you to reach the light switch, and absolutely zero thought for you to flick it on.

"Hm?" You mumble a confused sound as light bursts into the room. Your eyes squeeze together, a groan catching in your throat. Blinking once, twice, you adjust quickly. Spot Bam by the entryway, looking up at the door expectantly. One of his paws taps at the steel, a soft whine trembling on his lips. Turning your attention back to Jungkook, you say, "What?"

"'I'm home, gremlin," Jungkook softly smiles down the phone. "Let me in."

"But it-" You begin to protest, knowing that his flight isn't until tomorrow.

Jungkook doesn't care to explain himself. Is just as tired as you sound.

"Let me in."

You don't need to be told twice.

He's home.

It shouldn't make you feel the way that it does, all warm and content.

But it does, and for a moment, you let yourself indulge in the sensation of welcoming Jungkook right back to where he belongs.

Hanging up, you place your phone on the kitchen counter, reaching out to scratch Bam's head when you get to the door.

"Is it daddy, huh?" You ask him as he continues to paw at the door. There's a small metallic click as you unthread the bolt, which is quickly replaced by a robotic beep as you press the easy-release button for the latch.

Before you can even properly open the door, the handle is being pressed down from the outside. The sound of Jungkook's hushed voice echoes into the hallway instantly as he coos over Bam just to wind him up a little before he can see him.

"Who is it, Bammie?" He asks through the door, and you already know exactly what he looks like—smile so large it takes over his entire face.

You help to push the door open, and find that there's sunshine in the middle of the night in Jungkook's hallway.

"You're home," you sleepily smile as you watch Jungkook crouch, arms wide and all-encompassing as he greets Bam in the most boisterous of ways. He's not making any sense. Isn't saying any words. Just lets noises rumble from his throat, of which Bam somehow seems to understand.

In a way, you understand it too. The mental translation is a bit patchy, but you know it's something along the lines of, I've missed you so much Bammie, Daddy's home now, let's never spend time apart ever again.

Glancing up to you, that daylight smile hanging off his lips, Jungkook's got a glisten in his tired eyes.

Maybe you haven't adjusted to the light as well as you think you have, but there's something different about Jungkook. Something that's making your weary heart work overtime. It's all a bit strange. All a bit lovely. All a bit terrifying.

"Yeah," he tenderly agrees, hands scratching behind Bam's floppy ears as his eyes fondly meet yours. How could he ever stay away? "Home."

part three to be uploaded tomorrow <3

[kxlitz]

Hiiii! Hope you’re having an amaozng day! I was wondering if you could make SFWand NSFW headcanons for 2023 Bill? (Also I see him as a switch but more on the dominant side so if you could incorporate him being a switch in them that would be awesome!) (also for the SFW can you do some casual dominance hc’s aswell?) it’s absolutely fine if you don’t want to do this request just have a lovely day and keep on being an amazing person! 🫶

⭑ ࣪˖2023! Bill Kaulitz NSFW Headcanons pt.1 ˖ ࣪⭑

Ah! I love this request sm!! I already wrote a bunch of SFW 2023 Bill Hcs here so I focused on NSFW, but if it doesn’t satisfy you feel free to request again !!

࣪⭑Now, I wasn’t sure on how spicy to make this so the part 2 might be more graphic, it’ll depend on feedback :’))

- Meryl

2023 Bill. 2023 BILL. 2023 BILL KAULITZ.

What a man. Really.

A couple years back he always said that he considered himself to be pretty vanilla, but I believe that with time he discovered more about himself and what he enjoys in bed. Especially now that he’s found the right partner;)

Thank you Kaulitz Hills, for a bunch of the facts I gathered up for this.

Let’s start with the less sinful, Bill is and has always been a romantic.

On days that he’s craving you he will go out of his way to prepare the ambiance. Lights up candles, puts on a dim and warm light in your bedroom, takes out your finest black silk sheets and puts on his best attire to welcome you when you come home.

On some days that he’s hornier than others and you’re away he will definitely send you some nudes with the brattiest texts.

He has a thing for undressing you, which may sound odd but the act of carefully tearing off every piece of clothing off your body is so arousing and artistic to him.

Bill takes the time to caress and kiss every inch of your body. No matter how many times you do it he simply can’t get enough of you.

Listen it’s 2023 Bill. You can not tell me that this man doesn’t have an entire drawer dedicated to his fine lingerie collection. Lace, silk, satin, leather. He’s got it all.

CORSETS?!?! I’m foaming at the mouth don’t mind me.

He would look so good with high stockings. (The thought of Bill in lingerie does things to me) (Looking at you, Zoo magazine photoshoot)

Bill also makes sure to purchase matching sets for you :)

He might love being the dominant one but he secretly has such a big fefish for you in dominatrix wear. Nothing too exaggerated but you know, latex/leather corset or bodysuit, tall boots, dark makeup, a whip- Anyway back to lingerie sets.

Even if they don’t match his own. He simply enjoys spoiling you and what’s better than something he can dress you up all prettily in to then rip it off your body.

“I bought this and I can buy you another” as he literally rips off your strappy bodysuit.

He’s obsessed with your chest. No matter the size or shape, he loves it so much and spends so much time on it. Licking every inch of skin, kissing your cute nipples before twirling his tongue around them. Will occasionally nib at them if you’re not behaving.

Bonus points if you have nipple piercings. As long as you take care of their hygiene of course!

Give him the same treatment on his nips when you take control while we’re at this.

Bill confessed that his most erogenous zone is his ears so, if you want him to become putty in your hands nib at his earlobes, lick behind his ear and massage them with your hands. ESPECIALLY while you ride him.

Toys, Toys, Toys.

On you, On him

A drawer on his bedside table is dedicated purely to his toy collection. He’s got it all from bullet vibrators, to lovely wands he loves to use on you while he pounds into you, to dildos of every shape and size. Glass toys because he’s fancy. Handcuffs, silk restraints, blindfolds. You get the drill.

And of course, a strap for you.

He is that bf that will drag you to the sex shop with him so you can choose a new (and weird) toy to try out together.

Don’t forget lube because even the messiest of messes needs some oil eventually.

Bill did say that he doesn’t like dirty talk when it’s forced (Loveline radio interview) so he won’t push it. Expect it to be very natural when you’re at it with him. It doesn’t make it any less exciting.

“Good girl/boy, taking me so well. So deep” whimpered in your ear as he thrusts into you.

“My pretty angel, you look so pretty when I fuck you” As he holds your pretty face in place with his slender hands.

SO MUCH PRAISE!

Also, it’s Bill we’re talking about, you never expect what’s about to leave his mouth. Sometimes it can turn into a laughing fit real fast or simply leave you wondering for a minute.

He’s also so communicative! He wants to know what makes you feel good and how you’re feeling at all times.

He does the thing of holding your chin with his hand and rubbing your lips with his thumb. Makes you suck on his fingers sometimes.

Speaking of fingers. His fingering game is so good.

Knows every spot that makes you shiver under his touch. He loves to ravage your spongy walls with his digits.

Sometimes does it because he’s bored. Watching Titanic for the 24th time this year and you want to sleep? Dw, Bill’s got you covered.

Literally covered, he will overstimulate you til you’re dripping.

Unfortunately I can’t see him being into large messes though. Won’t hate it if you’re a squirter or big creamer, but he tries to keep things “under control” lmao. (But it’s sex so no, it’s never under control)

He takes your leg and kisses painfully slowly from your ankle to your inner thighs and continues onto your navel.

Not without teasing you over your underwear.

If you have tattoos he will take his time to trace them over with his fingertips or his nails, even lick over some of them just to see how it gives you goosebumps.

Bill wants to get you as riled up as he possibly can. He loves to see you loose control on him.

Which leaves you an open end to take it out on him.

Remember when I mentioned a strap? If you don’t have a dick of your own, peg this man ffs. GO TO TOWN. He loves it.

It was probably a spontaneous discovery too.

It’s no secret that Bill is into both sexes, he was curious around the idea of pegging but didn’t bring it up til he was very drunk and sharing about his sex life, as he does.

He becomes such a whiny mess, this man WHIMPERS.

PULL HIS HAIR! He does it with yours so, payback.

Really though. When you take control it’s also a way to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Oh my when you ride him?? He loves it so much.

Especially because cowgirl is such a versatile position and has so many sub-versions. AND, it works for any power dynamic. If he’s dominating, he will control your pace by your hips. Gripping on them hard. Boping you up and down, rolling them. He will leave handprints.

But when you’re the one in control, you really go to town on him. Hands on his beautifully tattooed chest for balance, riding him painfully slowly and staring into his hungry gaze.

It’s a crime that I haven’t talked about oral yet. But this post is getting WAAAYYY too long so, I will shamelessly cut it here and start working on a part 2 right away <3

If there’s something to know is that I value quality over quantity, so believe me when I say I work on sequels to my works. I really put time to think of them to make them as detailed as possible ₊˚⊹♡

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Cat, my ask is inspired by 'care- @yourheartonfire' I really hope you like it!

Please write a married!! villain who religiously indulges in their skin care, and a hero who really can't care less what they put on their skin. One night after them spending 2 rounds in horny jail, they're both up at 4am and after cleaning themselves, hero observes the villain indulging in their skin care routines, and upon spotting their lovely spouse the hero, they find their new target to perform skin care at.

Just when they remove hero's bath gown to apply body lotion (after much convincing ofc) they notice the array of hickies covering their entire body after 2 religious rounds of them in horny jail. Villain now needs to resist the hero, and take care of the hickeys and their hero's poor skin, but notising the way hero melts when they get their face massaged, and the little shivers passing thru them even after being for hours in hot shower, villain cant help but go for round 3 in horny jail!! and tho hero makes them promise no more hickies, they happily let themselves get carried away with their villain.

Well I hope ur comfortable writing this, absolutely no pressure :D I read @yourheartonfire 's care so many times its actually one of my fav!! But I would love to see a bit of your touch to it, really hope you don't mind and write a snippet like this one (with all your own touches obv)

Original :)

“I’ll be sore in the morning.”

“That’s the goal.” The villain’s smirk was undoubtedly of vicious nature. They could be quite sweet with all their big date plans and expensive vacations but the hero knew them by heart, knew their darkest sides and usually, the hero was the one in charge.

However, today, the villain seemed to be yearning for more than usual. Which wasn’t a bad thing, obviously.

But it made the hero wonder.

“Is this some new scheme of yours?” the hero asked as they got pushed back into the sheets. The villain found their neck and tried gentle nibs which, despite the carefulness, made the hero squeak in pain. The villain drew back and tried another spot, choosing kisses over teeth.

“Love, believe me. I would find kinder methods to stop you from working. I know you love this job,” they mumbled. “I can’t take that away from you, I’ve learnt that a long time ago.”

For a moment, they just stared at the hero and the hero really, really felt lucky to have married someone so diligent. The villain was always eager to do more than was expected of them. Their goals were beyond reachable which was exactly why it could be quite frustrating to face them in battle.

The villain’s fingers ghosted over the hero’s collarbone and then, very sweetly, they kissed the hero. It reminded them of their first kiss. Very innocent. And it intensified the feelings they’d had for this entire evening — not only lust but also gripping love.

“You tell me when it’s too much, alright?” the villain whispered. The hero recognised guilt in the question and it squeezed their heart a little too hard.

“Of course,” they answered. They let their thumb brush over the villain’s bottom lip and then added this just to tease them. “I’m not someone who comes home injured and bleeding all over my spouse during sex.”

“Oh, come on. That was one time,” the villain said and let their hand slide down to their thigh.

“It wasn’t fun.”

“I know, I apologised.” The villain had already reached their destination with their hand and the hero was truly astonished that their spouse was doing so much today. It felt like heaven, sure, but the hero couldn’t help but ask themselves if everything was alright.

Growing up in a…troubling household had left them anxious of every micro change in their spouse’s mood which, no matter how hard both of them tried, wouldn’t go away.

“I’m just worried about you,” the hero said. “I’m really worried sometimes.”

They went through the villain’s hair several times, letting their fingers comb through it carefully as the villain’s kisses travelled lower and lower.

“It’s okay, I can take care of myself, love.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing. You don’t…” They wanted to say more but the villain had found a sensitive spot. They breathed in, breathed out and tried to concentrate. “…you don’t have to.”

The villain started to use their tongue and the hero’s mind couldn’t comprehend their surroundings anymore. But they wanted to make a point, they remembered. They pulled the villain’s face up and guided them back to their mouth.

“Sometimes…I just wish you could talk more with me. We’re a team. Maybe not at work but…at least at home.” What a cruel sentence to say but the villain seemed to understand. “You don’t have to carry around everything.”

“Yes, you’re totally right. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be a burden,” the villain said. They tried to get back down but the hero’s grip on their jaw held them in place.

“You’re not a burden,” they clarified. “You never have been, okay?”

“Okay,” the villain whispered and for the first time today, their shoulders seemed to relax. “Okay.”

They kissed the hero yet again very softly but the hero knew this wasn’t it.

“They’re sending me on a mission next week,” the villain said softly. “Some say it’ll be suicide.”

[redgoldsparks]

I did a short interview for an alumni spotlight on the CCA website. You can click through but I'll also just copy my answers below the cut.

Maia Kobabe (e/em/eir) is a nonbinary/queer/trans author and illustrator, a voracious reader, a k-pop fan, and a daydreamer. You can learn an astonishing number of intimate details about em in Gender Queer: A Memoir and in eir other short comics, published by The New Yorker, The Nib, The Washington Post and in many print anthologies. Gender Queer won a Stonewall Honor and an Alex Award from the American Library Association in 2020. It was also the most challenged book in the United States in 2021 and 2022.

Maia shares more about eir life as a full-time artist and activist, fighting to protect diverse literature and the freedom to access information.

1. What is your current practice/business?

I am a full time cartoonist. My job consists of days working at home writing and drawing mixed with days speaking out against book banning and censorship, and in support of the freedom to read, the freedom to teach, and the freedom to access information. I spend a lot of time talking with other authors, teachers, and librarians about protecting diverse and queer books from the current wave of conservative attacks. The first piece I drew for the comics journalism site The Nib was about the rise of fascism in the United States; my later writing about queer, trans, and nonbinary identities has led me into consistently political territory.

2. Why did you choose CCA?

I chose CCA because I was looking for a MFA Comics program, of which there are very few, and I wanted to stay in the Bay Area. Because I'm a local, I was able to meet the majority of the MFA Comics faculty before I applied and felt immediately welcomed into their community. The fact that a majority of my professors for the first year of the program were queer was a huge draw as well.

3. If you could share one piece of advice with current or future students, what would it be?

Every single person has a story only they could tell. No matter what media you are working in, do your best to tell the story which is uniquely yours. If you aren't ready to tell it yet, just keep making art until the time to share that story arrives. No time spent creating is ever wasted.

4. What's your secret to staying inspired and creative?

I realized fairly early in life that my very favorite way to spend the day was drawing while listening to music, a podcast, or an audiobook. I like making things! I would rather be making things than doing almost anything else. I created a life in which I can spend a lot of time creating things and even if I don't particularly know what I am making, I am happy.

5. What do you have coming up?

My second book, Breathe: Journeys to Healthy Binding, written with Dr Sarah Pietzmeier, is coming out in May 2024 from Dutton. It's a nonfiction comic about chest binding as an aspect of trans healthcare. I'm currently drawing my third book, Saachi's Stories, written with Lucky Srikumar; it's due out from Scholastic Graphix in 2026. I am also working on adapting Gender Queer: A Memoir into an audiobook.

[wordsinhaled]

something something established relationship shenanigans ~*~ there was more i wanted to add to this, but i had to wallop a pretty impressive bout of imposter syndrome into submission to post this, so i'm just gonna let it float off down the river the way it is <3

-

Hob wakes up with his mind already on Dream.

He pictures Dream getting his morning coffee—holding the steaming cup, lid off, the “M” in “Morfius” scribbled on the side peeking out from beneath his grip. They do tend to misspell it, Hob's noticed, in some occasionally tragic ways.

Dream would scoff and say, “This is precisely why I tell them my name is Murphy..." Hob would get his pen out of his shirt pocket and correct Dream's name for him. The ink would feather on the styrofoam, of course, and he'd probably need to tune the nib later, but it'd be worth it for the lift in Dream's forlorn expression, for the tiny satisfied smile it earned.

Hob’s thoughts drift to Dream during his lectures, too.

He remembers how they’d sat up in Hob’s bed together one evening earlier in the week while Hob skimmed through the assigned reading and marked pages in the book with sticky note flags to correspond to his discussion questions. How Dream had said to him, eventually, “You should not do your work in bed, Hob. Beds are to be used for sleep.”

How Dream’s hand had wandered up Hob’s thigh under the covers and curled around his hip, and he'd rubbed small circles there with his thumb, until Hob had looked over at him, and put down his book at last, and said, amused, “Your mind seems a bit far from sleep, love."

He'd found Dream’s eyes sparkling at him, mischievous and starry-dark, before Dream leaned over and took his reading glasses from his face, and said, “Beds can be for other things as well, of course.”

(In the end, Hob was in fact no longer doing that sort of work in bed, so he guesses Dream won that one.)

There’s a knock on Hob’s office door around noon.

Hob is expecting a student, or a colleague, but instead it’s Dream—his Dream, but not quite the same as ever: longer- and wilder-haired, leather-jacketed, taller than usual, an assortment of earrings and studs glinting in his ears.

Hob lights up.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your thoughts have circled me rather insistently today,” Dream says, “and there was not much to do in the Dreaming. I thought I might visit.”

Hob knows there is always something for Dream to do in the Dreaming—knows Dream is, effectively, taking an actual break if he is here now. It makes his heart feel full to know his lover is choosing to share this scant, stolen time with him—and even more so to know Dream has, for once, done something for himself, however small.

He walks around his desk, kisses Dream hello. Dream tastes, impossibly, like the cinnamon latte Hob had imagined he'd have ordered that morning. He has to kiss him again to make sure; and once more after that, slow and indulgent; until he remembers he has actual work to do, and then he pulls back and touches his fingertips to Dream's choker. “This is new, darling. What’s this look, then?”

“I am... experimenting,” Dream says, the tiniest bit smug. Hob gives him the kind of thorough once-over that he hopes communicates his appreciation raucously enough.

“I’ve been attacking my emails,” he says, going regretfully back to his chair, “they’re never-ending, I swear. And I’ve got a Zoom with Liam about his writing project at two. But I hope you’ll stay anyway? Sit anywhere you like.”

“Of course,” Dream says. “I would not dream of keeping you from your tasks, Hob.” 

Hob just raises his eyebrows at him, pointed, until Dream laughs—a sound that used to be so rare, one Hob is still getting used to being able to evoke. It's an odd little noise, different every time; today it’s pitched low, somewhere between a cat’s purr and a human chuckle, and the vibration of it strokes a gentle but insistent warmth down Hob’s spine.

He expects he’ll accomplish remarkably little, if things go on this way.

Sit anywhere you like proves to be a difficult invitation. Hob’s office is largely taken up by his desk and his bookshelves on the best of days; his bicycle and umbrella vie for one corner. Most of the remaining space is currently occupied by a massive box, which contains Hob’s most recent order of secondhand books. Seating for visitors is almost an afterthought at the minute.

Yet Dream accepts Hob's challenge with aplomb, settles on the unopened box as though it is as good as any throne to him, and Hob returns to clearing out his messages.

He can feel Dream watching him, but whenever he glances up over the top of his computer, Dream has his nose buried in some tome or other plucked from Hob’s shelf. The afternoon passes like this—all through Hob’s Zoom call, during which Hob listens more distractedly than he'd like to Liam's latest additions to his thesis draft, and sweats lightly under the heat of Dream's gaze.

The moment his meeting is done, Hob snaps his laptop shut, the resounding click making Dream look up from the copy of Women's Libraries in Late Medieval Bourbonnais, Burgundy, and France he'd been perusing.

"Want to get out of here?" Hob asks.

[petermorwood]

This popped up on my YouTube the other day and not to brag, but...

Oh, why the hell not? It's a small brag, but satisfying. :->

I posted about refilling the Pilot Vpen (IRL-UK) / Varsity (US) - and adding how-to links - about 4 years and then again a year ago.

Here are the how-to links; I'm glad to see they're still active.

This one, like the video, calls for pliers and suggests removing the nib:

This one doesn't use pliers or separate the nib from the feed.

*****

Bragging aside, I'm pleased to see Brian Goulet of Goulet Pens giving this hack a higher profile (and Kudos for it, too - as a retailer it's more in his interest to sell them than refill them!)

His reason is very sound: those cheap little pens (usually about 3-to-4 local currency units whether €, $ or £) are ideal for FP-curious newbies or as no-loss-worries when travelling or no-damage-worries loaners.

They also have much better nibs than the price would suggest. Indeed that seems common to all the inexpensive Pilot pens I've tried, which includes every nib size of MR / Metropolitan.

In addition, IMO the notion of "disposable" fountain pens goes completely against the principal FP virtue, where once you've bought the pen, all you USE is the ink.

So in the US at least * buy that ink from Goulet. They've got one or two to choose from and a selection of samples in vials or sets...

( * In Ireland, with Pen Corner in Dublin now gone, I get mine from CultPens or Penstore.)

*****

I should mention, for completeness, that some "starter" fountain pens have prices not much more than these disposables and, refilled by "proper" ink cartridges / bottle-refill converters, don't involve anything like this trouble.

Just saying...

*****

It just so happens that one of my two Vpens was about due for a refill, so here are some pics of the process.

I scrubbed the markings off the barrels a long time ago so I could see what was inside, since refills mean the ink in the pen often has nothing to do with its colour-indicator cap.

First, disassembled and washed in changes of warm water until the water stays clear.

Here's the nib and feed: they've always come out of both Vpens as a single unit, with no need for pliers. Since the nibs show no desire to come off I've no desire to force the issue and maybe break something; those little ink-guide fins are delicate.

The filler is a small syringe begged from our local vet. I also use it to refill cartridges with custom ink colours (yup, I sometimes roll my own...)

Its "needle" is plastic tubing (an empty Pilot gel-pen cartridge, appropriately enough) which fits the syringe perfectly, and a pointy end made by stretching the tube over a candle-flame then snipping to length. If it gets too stained - this is nearly there - just chuck it in the recycle bin and make a new one.

The ink could have been any of the 30-odd I have at the minute, or something mixed specially, but I chose this one - a nice dark green - for the same reason @dduane had me buy it.

It's a very cute bottle... :->

*****

And here's the "disposable" pen refilled, reassembled and re-writing.

It really does have a better nib than you'd expect from a supposedly single-use pen...

*****

It sometimes takes a while for the ink to work its way by capillary action down from barrel to nib, especially if everything has been left to dry after washing. Put the cap on the pen and be patient.

Or speed things up by taking the cap off and running a thin stream of hot water over the barrel for 30 seconds or so. This increases internal pressure, forcing the ink along the section fins.

NB, this step is only for a refilled Vpen / Varsity. Don't try it with anything else, and in case it's not obvious, do this at a washbasin or sink, because You Never Know.

Now use a bit of kitchen paper or loo roll to blot the water which has got on the nib. This has a mild "suction" effect, and when you see ink on the paper (you might need to wet the nib again) your refilled pen is ready for use.

This wet-and-blot nib step can be used to encourage any stubborn fountain pen to get back in action, but the hot water trick, once again, is Vpen only.

Anyway, done.

[kumerish]

Hi — I love Blind Alley so so so much. It feeds my soul in a way I don't think anything else really has. I particularly love the mix of sweetness with creeping uncanny/"something's wrong here" vibes. Where did you get your inspirations from for Blind Alley in terms of the ideas and tone and story? It's kind of slice of life but also with a clearly defined story behind it that we're just kind of uncovering, with a cutesie style that has something dark at its core. How do you create Blind Alley and your art -- is it all digitally drawn? If its drawn on paper, do you ever sell any of your original drawings? Do you have a favourite character to write for? My FAVOURITE character is Oliver — they're so sweet and kind and I think so underappreciated. Do you model them after anyone specifically?

Thank you! It means a lot to me that this strip means anything to anyone. It's hard to say specifically where the idea came from. I've always wanted to draw a daily style strip. My first idea was a sorta Peanuts meets Lord of the Flies thing that I quickly veered away from it once I actually started drawing the strip. In general, I was inspired to make a strip that felt like Peanuts but also had a memory and a plot that happens around the periphery. When I first started Blind Alley, I wanted the characters to age in real time but that just didn't feel right in practice. Lately, I've been describing Blind Alley as Twin Peaks meets Peanuts and I think, while reductive, that does a pretty good job of presenting what I am going for and what has inspired me.

Blind Alley is drawn on paper with a g-pen nib. I scan it into the computer and add the tone digitally. I haven't sold any original Blind Alley art yet but am open to doing so one day.

I do not but there are some characters that strips come more easily for. Ten, Lula, and Kaye are easy and fun to write. I couldn't choose a favourite though - I love all my weird kids equally. None of the characters are based on anyone.

[kinkyrafe]

Strap On Fun

Kinktober 2023 # 1

There he is. Rafe Cameron tied up, right in front of you. Fully naked. All yours to play with. You still cannot believe how lucky you are that this beautiful man not only turned out to love subbing but also turned out to be your sub.

Disclaimer: bondage, sub!rafe, strapon sex, praise kink

_

There he is. Rafe Cameron tied up, right in front of you. Fully naked. All yours to play with. You still cannot believe how lucky you are that this beautiful man not only turned out to love subbing but also turned out to be your sub.

You tied his wrists together, attached the restraints to the headboard of your bed and pulled his hips as far down the bed as possible, so that now, he is spread out on your bed, arms bound, no where to go.

You let your hands run over his outstretched arms, feeling up his muscles, feeling them tense under your hands. You watch his face, completely relaxed, anticipating what you have in store for him, his eyes watching your every move in return. Your fingers travel down his biceps, his triceps, over his arm pits which makes him wiggle for a second.

He laughs.

“I should tickle you some time,” you tease him with a smirk, “And you’d just have to take it.”

“Evil,” he replies and the way he says it, you know it is a compliment.

You grab his chin and kiss him. You kiss him tenderly at first, lovingly, nibbing at his lips, letting your tongue explore his mouth. He responds easily, kisses you back. Your kisses become rougher after a while and he knows that he just has to take whatever you offer to him, so he lets you do to his mouth whatever you want. “Beautiful,” you whisper against your lips once you are done with him. That he was, with his lips wet and swollen now, still staring up at you, expectant. Beautiful.

You let your hands explore his body again. You explore his face, his throat, his shoulders, his chest, his nipples. You stop there. He is so responsive. His nipples for sure are more sensitive than normal. You love playing with them. You roll them between your fingers, you let your nails scratch over them, you kiss them, you lick them, you suck them. Each of your touches drag a sound of pleasure out of him, each of your touches go straight to his dick. If it wasn’t so hot, it would be ridiculous. “I love how sensitive your nipples are,” you tell him because he deserves to know how much that turns you on.

Once you have wound him up enough by simply playing with his chest, you let your hands travel further down. Over his chest, over his muscles, down his sides, towards his stomach. By the time you reach his legs, he is trembling and his dick is fully hard and ready to play with. You choose to ignore it a little while longer though. You let your hands run up and down his inner thighs, alternating between the soft touch of the tips of your fingers and the rough touch of your nails. He moans loudly.

“Look at how turned on you are and I haven’t even touched your dick,” you praise him.

“I’m excited for what’s to come,” he replies.

That makes you laugh. “You don’t even know yet!”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. He was literally born to sub to you. So far, there was not one thing you did to him that he did not like – and you are a domme that pushes hard.

“Alright,” you say softly and suck on his inner thigh, making sure to leave a mark so that he had a little keepsake from today’s session.

He moans loudly.

You get up to get lube, two different plugs, your strap on and a dildo of your choice. With a soft smile that he can’t see, you attach the dildo to the harness.

Then you turn back to him and continue to work him up by kissing down his torso. You take your sweet time, making sure he gets hot all over and relaxes completely.

You guide his legs up so that you get a better access to his ass. “There you go,” you whisper softly, slicking up your fingers with lube and without another warning you suck down his dick and circle his entrance with your finger. He gasps. You are just starting.

You tease his dick with your tongue, your lips and your whole mouth while you’re pressing down on his hole, working first one, then another finger inside of him. He opens up easily, the result of having his ass played with on a regular basis. When he is ready for it, you lubricate the smaller plug and push it in in one go. His whole body trembles when the thickest part glides inside. “Ugh,” he groans, his face twisted in discomfort for a short moment.

You choose not to comment on it but continue playing with his dick, riling him up further. Stroking him with a slow but steady rhythm, your fist closed enough to apply firm pressure, you bring him to edge of an orgasm before you stop. He knew that he wouldn’t be allowed to cum just yet but he still puffs out a short, clearly disappointed gasp when you pull your hand away.

You grab the second plug which is bigger than the first one, it is not thicker by much but it is longer for sure. You hold it in front of his mouth. “Stick your tongue out,” you order and he does complies. You rub the plug along his tongue, carefully pushing it inside his mouth. “Suck it,” you order next and he complies again, closing his lips around it, sucking the toy that will soon be in his ass.

“Good boy,” you praise him. He smiles at you, his eyes a little dreamy already.

“Pull your legs up,” you tell him next, “Knees to your chest.” He does and you use one arm to push his legs further onto his torso, exposing his ass.

What. A. Sight.

He moans when you pull out the small plug. You quickly replace it with two of your fingers. It turns you on to feel the difference to before. You finger him for a little while, bending your fingers to find his prostate. He moans again. Much louder this time. “That’s it, huh?” You ask, working your fingers inside of him, again and again, rubbing against his prostate.

“Yeah,” he whimpers.

“Am I good to you then? Am I making you feel good?” You ask teasingly.

“So good, mistress,” he drawls. You let him have a couple of moments of this before you decide, it’s time to change that.

You pull out your fingers and drizzle more lube on his hole – such a trivial thing but yet so intimate and sexy. He hisses at the coldness of it. Then you start to push in the bigger plug. It takes a little while longer to work in than the first one but he still takes it ease.

“That’s a long one,” he pants when it enters him completely.

“It is,” you agree but it also makes you smirk because you know what you have in store for him and that would be a lot bigger.

You keep your arm at the back of his thighs, pressing them down against his chest. Without much force, you hit his ass with your open hand a couple of times – not necessarily to inflict a great amount of pain, but to make him feel the plug that is nestled deep inside of him. Even though he is used to more severe spankings, he hisses at each hit. It makes you smirk.

You let go of him and his feet come back down to the mattress.

You step inside the harness of your strapon and then move to kneel over his face. His eyes lighten up immediately when he notices what is about to come. “I will sit on your face and I want you to make me cum with your mouth, understood?” You ask and he nods, eagerly eyeing your pussy already.

You fasten the strapon as he gets started and you cannot believe how good he is at this. He flicks his tongue in just the right way, sticks it inside of you just how you like it and drags it over your clit at exactly the right time. You wish you could say that you trained him like this but this was all him. He is really good at learning what a new partner likes.

You bend forward, using his legs for support and let yourself have this.

“So good,” you praise him. “So, so good.” You thrust your hips a little and he immediately sticks his tongue out so that you can slide your pussy over it in the rhythm you desire.

It does not take you long to cum even though you could spend hours doing this. He licks you through your orgasm and sucks in your clit when you are nearly coming down, drawing out your orgasm like this. Your legs are shaking with it and you love it.

You swing around so that you can actually see his face and start kissing him as a reward. You are both panting with exhaustion and you can taste yourself on his lips and it is just so incredibly hot you really want to do it again. “Such a good boy,” you praise him when you pull back, looking at his face with awe. “Making me cum so hard.”

He smiles up at you. “Thank you for letting me eat you out,” he tells you.

“Your turn now,” you tell him and wiggle your hips with a sweet smile, the strapon soundly attached to it now. His eyes widen when they fall on the dildo.

“This is huge,” he says incredulously.

“It’s not,” you disagree. “It’s big and the biggest I ever made you take but there are bigger ones out there.”

He swallows.

“How about you put that mouth to good use again?” You push your hips forward so that the tip of the dildo is not far from his lips. “Get it all wet and get a good feeling for it before I fuck you with it.”

He swallows again and looks up at you for a second but then decides to just do what he’s told to do. He opens his mouth and just like with the plug before, he just goes for it, licks it, sucks it in a way that would make every man cum deep down his throat.

“Good boy,” you praise again and let your finger run through his hair. You scratch his skull a little and pull his hair gently, just like he likes it. Immediately, he moans around the dildo. “So predictable,” you tease him but keep doing it.

When you pull out the plug and replace it once again with your fingers, he tilts his hips so that you can enter him more easily and you just know that he is ready to be fucked properly – no matter how unsure he is about the size of the dildo.

You kneel between his thighs before you push his knees up again, once again holding his legs against his chest. Then you drizzle a generous amount of lube on both his hole and the toy and bring the tip of the strapon to his entrance. He hisses as you begin to push in. You go slowly but determinedly, stroking his cock while stretching him open inch by inch. “It is so big,” he whimpers when about two thirds are in – which is probably the size you normally peg him with.

“It is,” you agree again, “And still, you will take it all the way and I will make you feel good.”

He nods and takes in a big breath, breathing through the stretch.

“You’re taking it so good,” you praise him, “So, so good.” You let your fingers pulsate around the head of his cock which is something that always makes him moan. Just as this time.

It takes a while until you are in all the way but you manage to keep him hard the entire time which is a win because it makes everything so much more exciting. Even though you love to inflict pain you love to provide pleasure even more.

“There you go, all the way in now,” you say and you keep your hips really still for a while to let him get used to the feeling. Stroking his dick steadily with one hand, you take your other to let it run over the back of his thighs and his ass. You notice that the more he gets used to the strapon the harder his dick gets and the more frequent get his little gasps of pleasure. You knew he would love it.

You bend forward which makes him cry out as the strapon shifts inside of him but you keep bending forward until you can kiss him. He kisses back immediately. “Good boy,” you say against his lips, kiss him once more before you mouth down his jawline to his neck, finding sweet spot after sweet spot and using it to work him up.

When his dick is fully hard and throbbing and Rafe is whimpering and on the edge of cuming before you even had the chance to fuck him properly, you pull back so that you are hovering over him.

Slowly, you start moving your hips. His back archs immediately. “Do you remember,” you say softly, thrusting your hips gently, stroking his hips in rhythm, “When I first put my finger up your ass, I promised you I'd fuck you with a dildo as big as your cock.” He moans obsenely and you are not sure whether it is from your filthy mouth or your strapon or your hand or everthing all at once. “Here we go. This strapon is just as big as your own cock.” Your thrusts get less gentle now. “How does it feel?”

“It’s big, mistress,” he rasps, but immediately after his lips fall open with pleasure.

“But am I making you feel good?” You keep asking.

“Yes, you are, mistress,” he replies and you love how he only addresses you as ‘mistress’ when he is really worked up and in the right headspace.

You continue to thrust into him, slow and steady. “I’m not even sure whether you deserve to feel this good.” He whines and you continue to talk to him. “How many girls did you fuck in the ass without stretching them properly before?” He whines again and deepen your thrusts. “Did you just make them take it? Maybe I should have done that with you, huh? Just make you take it.” His cock is throbbing against your fingers now. “Do you think you deserve to come from this dick? Or will it teach you more of a lesson if I just wind you up, edge you and then leave you there, all stretched open and hard but not allowed to come?” You take your second hand to massage his balls and press against his prostate from the outside at the same time.

He cries out at a particular hard thrust at just the right angle. “No,” he begs, “Please don’t do that. Please, let me cum.”

You let your fingers pulsate around the head of his cock again, making him arch is back again. “That’s it,” you praise him, “Arch that back for me. Show me, how much you want to be fucked.”

You slide the strapon in and out of him in a nice steady rhythm now. Both of you are panting heavily, both enjoying it so much. You can feel his orgasm build up just as much as he can feel it himself. There is a layer of sweat on his skin, his breathing is ragged and his voice is all husky when he asks, “May I please cum, mistress? Please?” and he sounds so fucked up that you almost want to let him cum right now.

“Not yet,” you answer firmly and bend forward again to take your free hand against his throat, grabbing it tightly, fucking him harder and deeper at the new angle. "I'm still not sure whether you actually deserve to cum," you tease him.

He whines loudly.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, mistress," he chokes out, arching into your movements, pressing his ass down on your strapon.

"Why?"

He nearly starts crying. "Because," he pants, "I did everything you wanted me to."

You nod. "That is true," you tell him and squeeze his dick a little harder.

He cries out with each thrust. “Please, mistress, please let me cum.” You squeeze his dick to hold him on the edge.

“Let yourself enjoy this a little while longer.”

“Please,” he continues to beg, “Please, let me cum, please, please, please.”

After a couple of thrusts more, you realize that you really can’t keep him from cumming any longer, so you decide to let him.

“You may,” you just say and he immediately cums with a shout. He cums and cums, shooting hot streaks of cum all over your bodies. You fuck him through it, your strap deep in his ass, your fingers firmly around his dick.

When he comes down from his orgasm, his body goes completely still, only jerking every now and then. "Such a good, good boy," you murmur softly against his lips and give him gentle kiss that he does not have the energy to return. You continue to praise him as you pull out the strapon, step out of the harness and get some wipes to wipe his cum off of both of you. He doesn't do much but lay there, a small smile on his lips.

[wanderstarr]

𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬 : 𝐈𝐈 ‧₊˚✩彡

wanderer x gn! reader

[[ prologue || ao3 ]]

2. Your thoughts seldom matched his own.

This was no overstatement, nor was it an exaggeration, mind you. The Wanderer could not for the life of him understand the way you came to your conclusions, why you made the decisions you did. He didn't understand how he saw himself in you, when you couldn't be any more different to what he was, as a person. Of course, this was most likely accredited to the simple fact that you were of different natures, he'd decided.

He never expected to see you again after what happened at the Zubayr Theatre. Well, he didn't expect to see you again before that either, but you had a knack for surprising him like that.

Regardless, he's been avoiding the Grand Bazaar like the plague, choosing to coop himself up in the Sanctuary of Surasthana instead. On the rare occasion he did leave, it was only to submit his papers to the Vahumana Darshan, and he immediately left once he was done. It's not that he was afraid of confronting you, or being confronted by you; nonsense, he was just… focusing on his duties, as an efficient aide should.

Buer didn't share his ideology.

"You haven't gotten me Candied Ajilenakh Nuts in a while." she says one day, in that matter of fact tone of hers. He was writing at the time. He's been doing it more often lately.

"You didn't ask." he replies, and dips the nib of his pen into the ink jar.

"I never had to ask before." she muses, and sits down next to him with her tiny arms folded on her lap. The Wanderer sighs. When Buer sits down like that, it usually means a particularly lengthy lesson for him.

"I forgot, then."

"You didn't forget." Buer shakes her head. "Is something the matter, Hat Guy?"

"No." he says, staring intently at the paragraphs in front of him.

"Does it have something to do with the person who brought us Havalmadz?"

"I-" he presses down too hard, and ink sprays all over the page. He groans. "Lord Kusanali, have you been spying again?"

"Not at all!" Buer smiles innocently. The Wanderer can never tell if she's bluffing it, whenever she pulls that look. "It was just a guess. Was I right?"

He says nothing, though that in itself was answer enough for Buer.

"I see. Did you two disagree on something?"

"..something like that." he sighs. He can never hide anything from Buer for too long when she gets curious.

"Sometimes, a Rishboland Tiger might eat a fox and get diarrhea. You can't really tell whether the diarrhea was caused by eating the fox itself, or something inside the fox's stomache." Buer says all this in a rather contemplative tone. "Does that make sense?"

Not at all. A little bit? He just tends to lose focus whenever Buer chooses to use nature's digestive waste as a subject for her analogies. He's yet to find it in himself to talk to her about it.

"I don't see how a Rishboland Tiger has anything to do with me, Lord Kusanali."

Buer gives him a look. He winces at his mistake; he only ever called her by that name when he was keeping secrets.

"Well," Buer smiles, "The Rishboland Tiger wouldn't know why his belly is upset, but you could find out, couldn't you, Hat Guy?"

Buer stares at him. He stares at her back.

He looks away first.

His quill and parchment lay abandoned on the table, and he finds himself locked out of the Sanctuary for the rest of the day.

He clicks his tongue. What does it matter if the Rishboland Tiger doesn't know, anyway? It would still have to suffer for its foolishness, in the end.

He summons a rush of Anemo, and heads in a direction completely opposite from the Zubayr Theatre. He was no tiger, and you were no fox, and he certainly wasn't having an upset stomache from eating you. He wasn't about to open that can of worms any time soon, thanks.

Surprisingly, he does not hear Buer's chiding voice in his head. Really, that should have been his first hint.

He goes where the rising winds lead him, and when he lets his feet touch the ground at last, he finds himself on the outskirts of Vanarana. He doesn't enter the forest, and instead treads on its borders.

And because fate most definitely has it out for him, who else would he find but you, standing in the distance. Surrounded by Rishboland Tigers. Because of course life would shove this kind of thing, this painfully obvious lesson on morals or whatever, in his face.

He wonders if Buer knew. A faint giggle in the back of his mind tells him she most definitely did.

He calls on that familiar rush of Anemo once again, and races headfirst towards you.

He should have known better than to underestimate your capabilities. You mow through all three of the beasts before he even reaches you, pummeling them into submission. You move with the elegance of an elephant traipsing through a field of mice – that is to say, none at all. But what you lacked in grace, you made up for in sheer ferocity. Your vision crackled with a wild glow when you fought.

As relieved as he was that he didn't need to save your ass from danger, he's starting to regret rushing in, because now you've turned around and spotted him too.

"Oh." you shuffle your feet, lowering your weapon. It still amazes him, how quickly your demeanor shifts. "Hello, wanderer."

Has the air always felt this suffocating?

He wants to run. He wants nothing more than to return to his life behind the walls of the sanctuary, safe from whatever's stuck in his damn chest that goes wild in your presence. But he can't. Not when you looked so.. disappointed.

"Hello," he says, and mumbles your name.

"What brings you to this part of town?" you try to joke, but it comes out rather depressingly. He winces.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You sigh. "Y'know, just gathering wood and stuff. For the.. puppets."

You say the word like it's forbidden. You both fall into momentary silence.

You speak quietly, tugging on your satchel. "I could still show you them. If you want."

"...okay."

You smile just a little when he nods. You open your bag, and gently pull out a wooden doll, no bigger than your torso. The clothes it wore were dyed in soft hues, and it looked a little bit like you, he thinks, a warm smile carved into its face.

"I made this for a family member." you tell him, cradling the puppet with care. "They're not around anymore."

He doesn't speak, and steps closer towards you. His fingers reach out to brush against the puppet. You don't make any move to stop him.

Buer was right. He would never admit it, and he would continue to argue with his own opinions, but she was always right. Foolish little feline, Rishboland Tiger he was. A hypocrite, for ever shunning you, the way his creator shunned him. For something you didn't do.

"I don't know why I upset you the other day," you whisper, "But I'm sorry."

He thinks you were as much of a fool as he was, for accepting him. For apologising when he should be the one to do so. Your mind, your heart, far too kind, too human for him to comprehend.

But perhaps something could be forged in your differences. Buer once said he wasn't as heartless as he thought. Perhaps she could be right.

"..don't be," he whispers back, "..it wasn't your fault to begin with."

©wanderstarr

they made up finally!! also hehe new header

[asexualbookbird]

Another Ohuhu vs Copic Post

I'm not the first to compare the two, and I won't be the last, but I have opinions and I love foisting them upon the void of the internet so here we are.

I have a mishmash of 16 copic grey tones and one pastel purple (BV11 Pale Violet), and the 96 Honolulu B Pastel set from Ohuhu, and even though I've only had these Ohuhus for a few hours, I can already tell you I have OPINIONS!

Let's get the obvious out of the way. The seventeen (17) copic markers I've acquired over the years cost more than the ninety six (96) set from Ohuhu. Lol. Lmao even. Everyone knows it, copics are Pricey and that's why everyones looking for an alternative. So yeah, I've been excited about ohuhu for a while! They're been a good competitor, even more so since they added brush tips and refillable markers! For real, while copics have been ridiculously priced, I've resigned myself to just buying a few here and there because it felt like a better investment in the long run. But now? I HAD TO KNOW! What are ohuhu markers like to USE?

Kind of nice, to be honest. They have next to NO smell, especially compared to the copics. Even my prismacolor markers are stinkier than the ohuhus. Love that. I'm not hotboxing myself out of my room every time I want to do a color. Amazing, no notes. Well, one note. I think the reason they aren't as stinky is because they aren't NEARLY as juicy as copics. Maybe it's the color set I got? I'd like to revisit this with a more bold color set to see, but the pastels feel almost Dry. So I wouldn't be surprised if the juiciness results in more stink. If that's the case, then yeah I'll go into the hot box.

The juiciness is probably also the reason ohuhu doesn't blend as easily. They still blend nicely, but the copics were SO smooth. Here's some blending I did with each set. The colors aren't compareable, because the copic colors I have go much darker than the ohuhu pastels, but the blending is the same.

Ignore the one on the top lol that's when I decided I needed More Colors and got the Ohuhus. The bottom cloud is the copics (the brights are prismacolor markers that are not part of this because they're about 20 years old at this point and not alcohol based anyway). It was my first attempt at blending, but it was easy to get a nice gradient! The hardest part was choosing colors and that's on me!

Here are ohuhu clouds! I noticed the paper had some texture so I did the little blob on the right to compare with the first cloud. It did blend a lot smoother on the smoother side of the paper, but I still had to use the darker copic marker to even the blend out. I don't mind that too much, to be honest, I think they work VERY well together! I did find myself needing to layer the ohuhus more, but I really do like the result.

THE NIBS! LETS TALK ABOUT THE NIBS! Copics big thing was always HEY WE HAVE REPLACEABLE NIBS! So when your nib inevitably gets Nasty, you don't have to buy an entire new marker. But now. Guess what ohuhu has done. REPLACEABLE. NIBS! Not only that, but most of the nibs are INTERCHANGEABLE! So if I decide I don't actually like that I got a brush/bullet combo and want the chisel, I can replace either with a chisel! HOW NEAT! I don't know if copic nibs are interchangeable, but they have always been replaceable.

Ohuhu has more different nibs and nib combos. They have brush/chisel, brush/bullet, chisel/bullet, something called a tri nib??/chisel, slim chisel/bullet, and wide tip. The tri tip is. So interesting to me. I'm not a chisel fan, if I want to cover a lot of space I can do that with a brush tip. But this tri chisel?? looks like you get more control over the line width. It's fascinating. I'd love to try it some day, but I don't think it fits the art I generally enjoy making. Like. I don't think I'd use it a lot. It's why I chose the Honolulu B, they have a brush and a bullet nib.

Copics have fewer choices, brush/chisel (sketch), brush/bullet (ciao), bullet/chisel (classic), and Wide. Biggest thing about these, though is that everything but the ciao are refillable. This is the other big draw to copics, especially considering ohuhu doesn't offer open stock. If your favorite color dries out, you'd have to buy a new set with that color in it. Ohuhu has started offering refills for some colors, and I can only hope that means they'll eventually offer refills for every color they offer. Both set of nibs are fine. Copics are a little more squishy, but I think that has to do with the juice once more. They aren't different enough to affect me in either direction.

Color choices are close enough, ohuhu honolulu series offers 363 colors, thier oahu has 320 colors, copic sketch offers 358 colors, all of which have refills. Ohuhu offers 50 colors on their website. Again, I really hope that since this is so new, it just means they'll offer more refill colors in the future. Still, a win for copics. I also love that copics allow you to buy empty BARRELS along with refills, which means you could theoretically make your own colors. Also, if you price it all out, in the long run, buying empty barrels and the ink refills and filling the markers yourself is cheaper than buying individual or sets of copic markers. I hate that. Lower your prices.

Overall, I like them both! Are copics better? Yeah, absolutely, I'm not denying that. But the price is SO outrageous and ohuhu is fighting for that affordability market. They're perfectly fine markers, and I WILL be buying some brighter more saturated colors. I will also be slowly (very slowly) buying copics too. They're so smooth, they really are the quality they're known for. If you want to try out alcohol markers and don't want a commitment, go for ohuhu. They have so many sets, and a wide price range, and still everything is so much more affordable than copics. It all comes down to that. If you want an investment and can drop a lot of money at once, then yeah absolutely go for copics. I am doing all I can not to say They're Worth It, because I hate that price I HATE IT! A single marker shouldn't be six dollars (and that's the Discount Price at Blicks). But I can't deny their quality. I'm going to continue doing what I'm doing, which is getting a large set of ohuhu and supplementing it with copics and hopefully one day copics will take over.

Did that help?

PS ohuhu caps clip on to the end of the barrel. Copics do not (unless you get the ciao).

[babyanderson]

scary movies

it’s a brisk september morning, and according to abby, it’s spooky season! she brings down all the blankets, pillows, stuffies and leans down over your sleeping body, placing a little kiss on your cheek.

“baby? gotta wake up now, sweetie,” she whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. you blink a couple times, looking up at abby’s freckled face.

“hi, mama,” you sigh, sitting up with a scrunched nose. “what we doin’?” abby smiles down at you, kissing the top of your head. she had a feeling you’d wake up small. over the years you’ve been together, she sometimes realised before you did.

“gonna have a lazy, movie day, angel. sound good?” abby picks you up from under your arms, placing you on her hip, walking you both downstairs. you rub your eye with the back of your hand, trying to fight off the sleepiness.

“sounds good, mama. what we watchin’?” you say quietly into her neck, holding onto her shirt tightly. she shrugs and lays you down on the sofa, handing you the remote.

“want you to choose, baby. gonna make us some breakfast. pancakes? or waffles?”

“both, mama!” you giggle up at her, still rubbing at your eyes.

“both? you’re sure? you’re really really sure?” abby giggles back. you nod quickly, and she kisses your forehead again, nodding back at you.

“of course, little angel. pancakes, waffles, whipped cream, sprinkles, the whole lot, yeah?” you nod even quicker and she walks into the kitchen, leaving you to decide on a movie.

as she walks back in, plates and a bottle of milk in hand, he looks up at the tv and stops in her tracks. the blue haired girl in front of the big pink house caught her by surprise. coraline.

“sweetie, sure you wanna watch this? know it scares you when you’re small..” she sits down next to you, handing you your plate.

“‘know, mama! but like it!” you exclaim, giggling softly. abby shakes her head, still smiling.

“whatever you say, baby.”

45 minutes later, empty plates on the coffee table in front of you, you were hidden in her chest, having abby cover your ears.

“it’s okay, baby! want me to turn it off?” she whispers, biting back a laugh. you shake your head, peeking out and whimpering when you see ‘the other mother’ on the screen, hiding back in her chest.

“mama..wan’ watch bob burgers ‘stead..” you whisper, nibbling on the nib of your bottle, looking up at abby.

“of course, baby. wanna watch a halloween episode?” she asks, eyes widening as you quickly pull away, nodding quickly, bottle still in your mouth.

halfway into the episode, your bottle is empty and your eyes feel heavy, and abby notices.

“wanna go to sleep, angel?” she whispers, running her hands through your hair gently. you hum softly, eyes closed. abby takes your bottle out of your mouth, replacing it with a pink paci, kissing your forehead once more.

[blanchebees]

Would you mind giving us a little tour of your traditional art supplies? Your stuff is real cool :)

I would love to! And thank you so much 😊

First i got my trusty Prismacolor Col erase pencils, i use them the most.

Sometimes i use this fountain pen, it's a gift so i didn't choose the style of the nib, etc. But it's nice for when i want a different feeling.

Pentel fude pen for broader strokes, i filled it with grey rohrer and klingner ink for shading.

A basic ballpoint pen, for smaller details

For inking details.

For paper i love using a5 sketchbooks so i can carry them around, my fave brands are leuchtturm1917, pentalic, art creation and moleskine, as long as the paper is 140gsm or more.