#forced to suck your pacifier

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.

wc: 26.7k; warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smoking cigarettes, negative attitudes about smoking, quitting smoking; mentions of misogyny in South Korea; slow burn; constant bickering, tbh; smut (fem reader, striptease (?), heavy making out, scratching, penetrative sex, he puts his hand over her mouth and she licks it, multiple orgasms, handjob, fingering); non-idol!AU - smoker, pining, bratty!JK x cold, independent, insomniac!reader; reader's POV

--

“Got a light?”

You reached in your pocket and pulled out the lighter that you always kept on you. It had a dragon insignia etched into the black metal. Heavy and substantial. Serious enough to bruise if thrown with enough force. You flicked it open with your thumb and raised it.

Jeon Jungkook leaned in, holding a cigarette between his lips expectantly.

You made your distaste evident in your expression.

He smirked.

You pressed the button and the orange flame shot up. Burning paper and tobacco. The end of the cigarette glowed red. You pulled your hand away, flicking your wrist to extinguish the flame. Slipped it back into your pocket and resumed not looking at him. You heard him inhale with a satisfied sigh before bleeding out smoke to the sky.

“You smoke too?”

“Fuck no,” you snapped. “I’m not disgusting.”

There was a sharp sucking sound of Jungkook’s incredulous annoyance. “Hm. Then the lighter’s just for me, huh?” His voice was throaty with nicotine. You hadn’t moved away yet. He nudged your shoulder with his knuckles. You didn’t react. “You like me that much?”

You could smell the fumes in the air even though he was attempting to be careful about it. That was the thing about smoke. It got everywhere. A gaseous parasite. You didn’t reply. Instead, you stuck your hands in your denim jacket pockets and acted as if he wasn’t there. Predictably, not a single person looked your way, even with your pleated blue plaid miniskirt was grazing the bottom of your ass and your black pleather corset showing off the ample curve of your breasts.

No one wanted to deal with the big tattooed guard dog smoking just behind you.

He was trying to stand close but not too close. You wondered if Jungkook was aware of how much subtilty he lacked. He likely had no clue. He called your name, casually, desperate for some sort of attention.

“Just say it.”

You turned your head maybe an iota of a degree in his direction, glaring at him from under your black baseball cap. Seething.

“The lighter is not for you, Jeon Jungkook.”

His lips twisted into a pout. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair which definitely worked on other people. Just not you. He held the lit cigarette away from you, and so you spared him a little more of your gaze, pivoting your black boot to view him at an angle.

“You’re lying,” he asserted with false confidence. “You’ve always got it when I ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean that it’s for you. Could be for someone else.”

This revelation did not pacify him. The opposite, actually. His brows knitted together. The corner of your lips ticked upward. This pissed him off even more as you seemed to imply scenarios that he very much did not like. You were curious on what how he would approach it.

“Yeah, right. Sure.” He took a quick drag and blew it towards the sky. His dark eyes locked on you. He called your bluff. “You don’t like smoking. There’s no way you would hang out with anyone else who does. You already told me that’s the reason we’re not dating.” Uncertainty etched into his stern expression. “… Right?”

You tilted your head at him.

You watched your silence infuriate Jungkook. He puffed up his chest a little, which was admittedly impressive even in his oversized black t-shirt. He had big pectoral muscles. He had picked up working out to add an addiction in attempt to subtract one. He did smoke less in your presence. But not zero.

“Right?”

He was being very demanding and prissy right now.

You pursed your lips and sucked on the side of your teeth. Then you said, “Yup. That’s the only reason.”

Despair ghosted over his features. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. There was slightly more than three-fourths left. His eyes went from you to the concrete sidewalk and then back again. You frowned.

“Don’t even think about littering,” you warned.

He clicked his tongue and flicked ash behind him. “So? Who is it?”

“Who is who?” You taunted back in the same irked tone, minus the underlying insecurity.

“The other person you’re cheating on me with,” Jungkook snapped.

You weren’t bothered by his fury. “I’m not cheating on you if you’re not my boyfriend to begin with.”

He shot you a look that could have scalded most. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“Tch, then be my girlfriend and take them from me.”

“Not how this works,” you countered, shifting your stance away from him. Slight panic flashed over his features. You ignored it. “My bus is coming soon.”

“Ugh,” he tutted. “I hate that you go to concerts alone.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend your money on smokes, you could join me.”

“I asked,” he growled. “I have the money. You said no.”

You sent him a soulless smile. “Because you smoke.”

Jungkook looked ready to put out the cigarette on his own arm. But you were already backing away. He half-followed, still talking.

“You’re going dressed like that? You’re going to get groped.”

You did your best to not call him stupid. You settled for an eye-roll. “Why do you think I stuck around after you asked for a light?” You stopped. So did he, avoiding closeness. He looked confused. “Men stay away from me when they smell smoke on my clothes. Either I smoke or I’ve got a boyfriend who does. Either way, not attractive.”

He flinched at your double-edged comment. Then, with a measured amount of bravery, Jungkook took a step forward and tapped your chest with his hand that held the cigarette. You made a displeased face. A tendril of smoke drifted upwards for the suspended second that he held his fingertips to your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him. He backed up, lifting both hands up in defeat. He licked his lower lip, looking down at you.

“If the lighter’s not for me, then what’s it for?”

There was a metal screech of heavy brakes behind you, closer to the street.

You glared up at him, wishing he picked better addictions.

Only time could tell.

“Arson,” you replied, and turned around to step onto the bus, leaving Jungkook alone once again. He would tire of it soon enough.

-

You scowled.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

The crowd was parting as you were heading to the train station. Just before you were meant to enter, a man approached you with a plastic bag and a bottle of water. He looked almost as aggravated as you felt. His hands were occupied so for once he couldn’t ask for a light.

“Is that any way to greet someone waiting for you?” Jeon Jungkook growled.

You were far from impressed. “Did I ask you to wait for me?” You answered yourself. “No, I didn’t. So, you’re the stalker here.”

His dark eyes shifted over the passerby you had no interest in. He looked back at you with a peeved expression. “Better me than an actual creep.”

“Spoiler alert: you are an actual creep.”

You kept your distance, wary, and made to walk around him. Something flashed in his gaze but he shut his eyes and sucked in the side of his cheek with a sharp sound. His body turned, semi-following you. You noticed he was wearing a black leather jacket, a different cream shirt, and dark olive cargo pants. Same black sneakers from earlier though. His black hair seemed faintly damp. He must have taken a shower. Perhaps he went to work out while you were gone for hours.

“At least take the water and food,” Jungkook scoffed, holding out the items. “You’re probably dehydrated and hungry. Don’t your feet hurt from standing so long?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.”

You stopped and stared him down. He rolled his eyes. He seemed hurt. It didn’t matter if he was avoiding your gaze; you could tell. There was no reason to soften your tone, but at the very least you reached out and took the water bottle from him. The condensation felt nice on your palm already. You unscrewed the cap with a cold expression and heard the plastic crack. He hadn’t tempered with it, at least. A part of you felt bad for assuming the worst, but, then again, this was South Korea. You took a sip and pointed with the cap to the plastic bag.

“What food?”

Jungkook started, diverting his peek at your reaction in hopes you didn’t notice. You had. “Pan-fried tteokbokki,” he mumbled.

One of your favorites. At least he used his ears sometimes. “You really balled out, huh. How much I owe you?”

He took offense. “You think I don’t make enough money to treat you?”

“What do you need to treat me for?”

“Aren’t we friends?” Jungkook shot back.

You were mid-sip when the damage was already done. You saw him freeze up and then quickly look away. People walking past were giving you both weird looks, splitting around the two of you as a river does to a pesky rock stuck in the middle. You lowered the water bottle. He shoved his free hand into his front pant pocket. His knuckles indented the fabric. You looked from them, to back up to his face. His brows were knitted together and he appeared to be biting back an insult.

Or something else.

You reached for the bag.

Hooked your fingers around the handles. He didn’t let go. Nor acknowledge you. You tugged lightly. He remained an immovable statue. You took a step forward and pulled up, turning your face away from his chest in the process.

Jungkook whipped his head back and glared down at you.

His grip tightened. You pressed your lips together as the side of your fingers touched the side of his. He smelled fresh. He had definitely showered. The stale scent of his cigarette from earlier still lingered on your denim jacket. You shifted your eyes and made eye contact. Close. Not touching, though. Just enough for a misunderstanding that wasn’t going to happen because both of you were crystal clear on your stances.

He let go of the bag.

The weight fell onto your fingers.

He was searching for the words but you interrupted his thoughts.

“You gonna make sure I get home safe?” you asked.

He looked away. “Don’t be stupid.” Tightened his jaw. “What kind of man would I be if I just let you wander around at night by yourself?”

You watched his profile. He didn’t turn back. You stepped back. His eyes followed, as unnoticeable as he believed, and you let him have that, choosing instead to start walking.

“Might as well eat while it’s warm. I could sit down for a bit.”

You didn’t look back to see if he was after you. You heard him bite back his reply and swiftly pivot, and then it was both you against the night of blaring headlights and a dissipating crowd, feeling two kinds of alone despite all the people around. You ended up at the underground food court. Probably where he purchased the tteokbokki to begin with. Found a table and unwrapped the container. A paper-sleeved wooden skewer was tucked against the lid.

Jungkook threw himself into the seat across from you and pulled out his phone, beginning his doomscrolling.

It was still warm. Lightly spicy. Probably a bit too heavy for late night but that was why it tasted better than usual. You caught his darting glimpse as you ate. Raised an eyebrow. He pretended not to notice. Or was it that he pretended not to care? You raised the skewer and tilted it towards him. He continued to ignore you even though his body was halfway turning.

“Want one?”

“I’m fine,” he instantly answered. Almost smugly.

You knew what he was doing. Still, you acted as if you didn’t. “I can’t eat it all anyway. Don’t waste.”

Those dark brown orbs shifted back. His eyebrows furrowed. He did his best to sound annoyed. “You don’t eat enough.”

“Even if I didn’t, I should eat something healthier,” you pointed out, keeping your face neutral.

He reached for the skewer and you pierced one of the rice cakes instead. Soaking it in the sauce and holding it out. Jungkook locked eyes with you. You slid the container closer so he could lean over it.

He took the skewer from your fingers and fed himself.

All while staring at you.

The eye contact was broken by his eyes closing. Enjoying the food. Crispy, warm, spicy. Chewy on the inside, in that satisfying way that one could enjoy the seeping heat all over the tongue. He stabbed another and ate that too, without asking. You hadn’t expected him to. You hadn’t expected him to do any of this, actually. You drank another sip of water.

“I’ll take the train home.”

“I don’t think so,” Jungkook grumbled with full cheeks, sliding the container back to you and shoving the wooden skewer in your hand. His brief touch lingered. You searched for his expression but he covered the lower half of his face with his other hand, keeping his eyes shut and chewing as he spoke. “I came on my bike. I’ll drop you off at your place.”

Now that was sounding a little too familiar. “I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve done it before.”

He cracked open an eye and you could tell he was frowning even though his hair had fallen over his temples. “Just because you’ve done it before doesn’t mean it’s smart or safe.”

He underestimated your resting psycho bitch face. You speared two pieces of tteokbokki and crammed them in your mouth. Chewed with irritation. You swallowed. “No one is out to get me.”

Those three-quarter moons remained unconvinced. “That you know of.”

You raised your eyebrows and moved to continue eating. “You watch too much true crime.”

“You don’t watch enough. You are the one that should be cautious,” Jungkook retorted.

“I am cautious.” You glanced at him above pan-fried rice cake. “But you can’t live always being afraid of possible horrors. If I did that, well, I would sleep even worse than I already do.”

You ate.

Jungkook lowered his eyes and went pensively silent.

There wasn’t anything to say. You cleaned up. Threw away the remains appropriately. Began to walk with him subtly leading the way. The night felt darker. Quieter. The concert crowd was gone and now the streets were full of night owls on their own lonely missions. You pretended passersby parted to let you and him through. The more likely answer was avoidance though. There wasn’t anything that friendly about Jungkook’s rigid presence and your inherently cold one.

In a parking lot now.

His black and chrome motorcycle was parked. A beast in its own right. Lately, you had been thinking of his addictions. Tattoos. Motorcycles. Cigarettes. Chasing after the un-chasable. Was he simply a thrill seeker or was he attempting to break an internal perfection that he had been living by for far too long? Or just doing anything that came to mind to try and feel something? You stopped walking when he did. He did his thing. And then Jungkook held out a lump of black fabric to you.

You raised your eyebrows.

He half-shrugged. “You can’t get on the bike in that skirt.”

He was right. You didn’t want him to be right. You took the lump that turned out to be a pair of his sweatpants. The Nike ones he usually wore to work out. You made a face. He rolled his eyes as he produced the helmet.

“They’re clean,” he huffed. “I ain’t nasty.”

You had quite a few comebacks for that but you kept your mouth shut. You wondered if he noticed how he slipped out of his practiced Seoul dialect for half a sentence. You noticed. You averted your eyes. It was late. The adrenaline was wearing off to soreness. You could only give about a rat’s ass of a fuck right now. Fuck it. You started bending down.

“Woah!”

All of a sudden you felt a strong grip on your forearm, pulling you back up and dragging you forward, sandwiching you in between the large motorcycle and Jungkook’s scowl, quickly letting go once you glared. You narrowed your eyes. He gave you a disapproving frown.

“I’m wearing shorts under this,” you hissed under his chin.

“Booty shorts, maybe,” he snapped back. “Also, shorts or not, they don’t hide your shape. Idiot.”

He was wrong. You were wearing black boyshort-style panties. Semantics. Instead of bending down, you raised one leg to lower the inner zipper of your boots. Immediately, Jungkook caught your shoulder, steadying you. You didn’t thank him. You glowered. He glowered back as you undid the other one. You stomped down and bunched up the legs of the sweatpants, first sticking in one foot and then the other, doing a little dance in and out of your boots, before forcefully yanking them up your legs. He didn’t let you fall, but he also didn’t look either, swiftly turning his head to stare out into the street. There was a brief moment where you had to decide to tuck in your skirt or let it flare out over the top of the pants. You opted for the latter, straightening and smoothing out the pleats over the crotch of his borrowed sweatpants.

He glanced back and frowned.

You noticed. “What?”

His eyes drifted up. Brow knitted together. He let go of your shoulder. “Not fair that you look cute,” he muttered.

“I look dumb as hell.” You bent over and rezipped your boots, adding under your breath, “But it’s better than nothing. I guess.” You stood up again.

There was a shifty, expectant silence.

You wanted to go home and sleep. At the same time, you wanted to be awake. Jungkook hesitated for a moment and then handed you the helmet in his hands before circling around you to grab the other one he had stored, leaving you to figure that shit out on your own. He avoided your gaze as surely as you did his. The whole scene looked less weird that it felt. You heard the engine purr to life. He said something and you ignored him, buttoning up your jacket so your valuables wouldn’t fall out. Not your best look, however, you had not planned any of this in any capacity.

Jungkook was already seated, his long legs extended to the asphalt to steady himself.

“So, you–”

You placed your hand on his bicep and stepped onto the footpeg, nimbly swinging your leg over to balance behind him. Underneath your hand, you felt him stiffen as you settled, sliding your other arm around his back and temporarily landing on his hip before you removed the hand on his upper arm to grip his waist.

“O… Oh.”

He cleared his throat.

“I’m good,” you confirmed even though he hadn’t asked.

He felt warm and solid and you did your best to ignore it.

“R-Right.” A pause before he said, “Hold on, alright?”

You squeezed his waist.

“Mhm.”

Jungkook took you home.

-

“I’ll get the pants back later,” he said as you handed him the helmet back. “Go on up.”

You observed him. Jungkook did his best to be calm and not jittery. He gave you a strange look, realizing that you were analyzing him. He had killed the engine so he didn’t have to shout. He cradled the helmet you had borrowed with one hand, the other on the handle of his motorcycle for a moment before using it to raise the visor to uncover his dark eyes.

You paused.

Then, you unbuttoned your denim jacket, reaching into the inner pocket for your lighter.

You held it out to Jungkook.

He glanced at it, and then at you.

You ticked your head. “You’ll need a light again. Inevitably. Take it.”

His gaze sharpened. He looked away quickly, and you could tell by the contortion of his features that he was shoving his tongue into his cheek, letting out an annoyed huff. Then, he shook his head, as if your audacity was something to behold. Jungkook then transferred the helmet to the crook of his arm and shoved his dominant, tattooed hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, ripping out a slightly crumpled cigarette box with one corner torn open.

He slapped it over your dragon lighter.

“Shit.”

You stared at your palm. And then at him. Jungkook glared back, exhaling hard.

“Take ‘em,” he mumbled. His Busan dialect was even more obvious now. His voice was gruff and his manner blunted. “Just fuckin’ take them.”

“I don’t want these,” you retorted.

“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed to daggers. “Neither should I.” His eyes shifted down and then back up. “Inevitably. You’re so fucking full of it.”

You almost flung both objects at his face. Almost. Yet something made you reconsider. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor shifted. He tried to keep his tone sharp but it was dulled by his body language. He cocked his chin in the most falsely cocky way.

“You think I’m gonna want ‘em?”

Your gazes locked.

“Then I’ll have to come to you to get ‘em.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m going to throw them away.”

He dared you. “Do it.”

“You’ll waste your money and time.”

“And I’ll be reminded you’ll never let me live it down,” Jungkook growled. “I’ll think twice before putting myself through that fire.”

Silence.

Eye to eye.

You held his stare.

Then, you lowered your hand, clutching his cigarettes and your lighter, backing away, and quickly spinning on your heel, striding into your apartment building. You punched in the code. Behind you, you heard the swift kick of an engine roar and then a fading zip away as you yanked open the glass door. You didn’t look back. You pocketed Jeon Jungkook’s cigarettes.

-

Nights later, you sat on the floor next to your bed, flicking your lighter on and off to kill the flame and revive it. Over. And over. You stared at the tiny orange burst. Then extinguished it. Then ignited it again. Such a small light. So fragile and yet so capable of burning this entire apartment down. You breathed out. Fixated on the dancing flame. Time passed.

You sat in silence.

You snapped the lid closed, snuffing it out.

The room was semi-dark. Your bedside table lamp was the only light on. The curtains were open, giving you a view of the city skyline etched into the black sky. The area was actually pretty quiet. You got lucky with a neighborhood full of older folks who mostly minded their own damn business. The apartments were older in a homely sort of way. The most telling trait of the apartment complex was the general unease in the air. Probably because some of the older folks had died in their apartments before. People could be superstitious like that. Maybe you were too. You just didn’t see it as a negative.

Which said a lot about you.

You looked up to your nightstand. Next to the dingy chrome base of your lamp was an open pack of cigarettes. The box was missing maybe three or four of them, you guessed. You hadn’t torn it open to confirm.

Behind your head, your phone began to vibrate.

You lifted your hand and placed your lighter on the nightstand. The lines of the dragon engraving caught the low light, casting shadows over it. Your hand pivoted and you felt around the bed. Found the smoothness of the screen and pulled your phone to you, lowering it to your lap before looking at the caller ID. You frowned slightly once you noticed the time. That late, huh? And this person almost never called or texted. Well. At least not to you.

You accepted the call and brought it to your ear out of habit.

“Ya. You,” mumbled the slurred, distorted voice of Jeon Jungkook.

You responded just as politely. “What?”

He let out a huff. There was a fair bit of rustling and maybe the sound of glass on table. “I want you to know something.” You didn’t reply to that. It wasn’t a question. He paused anyway. Maybe expecting you to reprimand him. You stayed silent. “Ah, fuck.” He exhaled hard into the microphone. You held your phone slightly away from your ear even though you couldn’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “Look. I’m not drinking because I need a smoke.” You doubted it. “I just felt like drinking. It’s Friday.” He wasn’t wrong. “I… I get it, okay? I get why you don’t like it. Makes sense and all. I…” He trailed off again, struggling to find the words. “But I’m not like you. I’m not. I don’t have my shit together.”

“I don’t have my shit together,” you interjected. Should be obvious from you answering his call perfectly awake at three in the morning. He didn’t seem to be thinking rationally at the moment though. If he ever did.

“Fuck off.” He lost control of his Seoul dialect. Kept going back and forth between upstanding citizen and gruff Busan satoori. You wondered if he was aware. Probably not. “You have it way more together than me. I’m fuckin’ trying. Ugh.” His tone tightened. “It’s not… It’s not how you think it is. It’s not.”

You weren’t sure you thought it was anything but you let him talk. Nothing else to do, after all.

“I have great parents, you know.” He sighed. Despondently annoyed. “They’re awesome. I wanted to be a good son. That’s… I mean, doesn’t everybody? I listened to them. I listened to be teachers. I listened to my classmates. I wanted to be a good person, so I did everything asked of me from others.” His voice deepened to a soft growl.

“But… People take. I didn’t even realize it.”

You realized that Jungkook sounded sad.

“They take when they know you give. And I gave, because my parents taught me to be a good person and I didn’t want to disappoint them by people calling me heartless or cruel. But…” Mumbled something you didn’t catch. Cleared his throat. “It was becoming too much. I got fed up. I had to start saying no. But not before I had already said yes to a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t have said yes to. I had already developed bad habits by then.”

A few seconds of silence.

You broke it. “You’re too easily influenced,” you accused.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Jungkook grumbled. “Fuck me for not knowing that there are people are out there don’t have my best interests at heart and want to see me fucked up because they feel some type of way. My bad.”

You figured that was common sense. But maybe not. Maybe not, considering the way he talked about his parents. You pushed back your own personal biases despite their intrusive nature.

“Is your family disappointed in you?” you quietly asked.

“Me?” He let out a humorless laugh. “No. No, they’re supportive. Even if they don’t like my tattoos or the piercings or whatever, no one has ever made me feel shit about it. Everyone is positive. Even began to like those things about me when most elders would lose their shit.” He sighed. “But… I still didn’t quit the cigarettes. Just didn’t smoke around them, because I didn’t want to see my mom sad. But still. I didn’t even want to try to quit.”

A moment of reluctance.

“Until… Until I met you,” sighed Jungkook, his deep voice heavy.

Was that supposed to be flattering? You didn’t have time to ponder it.

“Hmph… I’m so envious of you.” A light thud. More rustling. He sounded a little muffled and a lot out of it. “You’re never ruffled. No matter what anyone says or does, you’re always yourself. You don’t relent even when I act like a prick. It’s so… Hah. I can’t do that.” He sounded defeated. “I try to not care too. I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. The second I think I’ve got it, yes, this is me, I remember it’s not. It’s not. I just copied someone else I saw that I thought… Copying you… You’re right. Lots of people told me to quit. Or keep going, it’s not that bad. They can all fuck right off, until…”

A weak shuffle and then you could barely hear the whisper in between the phone lines. His face was seemingly buried into something. He sounded both far away and so very close at once.

“What am I doing…? It doesn’t… Doesn’t make sense.”

You almost said something. It wasn’t the right time. You shifted your position on the floor, leaning back against the bed. He must have heard that you were still on the other side of the line. He dragged more strength into his voice. As much as he could muster, anyway.

“How…” He shuddered. Whispered your name under his breath in the same way sailors called to stars to navigate the sea on a cold night. “You told me I should quit and… Yeah. I know you’re right. I know. I… The other night…”

The night you attempted to give him your lighter to keep.

Jungkook sniffed. “You can’t… Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter how you do it,” he mumbled. “You do. You just do. And so do I. I gotta just do.”

You finally spoke.

“Yes,” you sighed. “That’s the truth.”

Cradled the phone, leaning it against your temple.

“The world doesn’t care.” He sounded resigned but no longer on the edge. “Everyone just does what they wanna do.”

A long pause. For some reason, you had the impression that both of you were curled up somewhere at home suddenly feeling not at home. Maybe it was the time of the night. Or the alcohol on his end. Or the insomnia on your end. The long seconds marched on. Then, Jungkook asked you a question with a statement.

“I wish I knew what… What I wanna do.”

Silence.

You half-smiled knowing he couldn’t see it. Preferred, actually, that he didn’t. “Gonna be honest,” you chuckled. “I don’t know what I want to do. I follow my instincts and accept wherever I end up.”

He snorted. Haughtily. It was meant to dent to your demeanor and it was about as effective as a puff of popcorn. “Of course. Hah.” Exhaled hard, taking the fight out of himself. “You really… You really don’t know…?”

You debated what you did and didn’t know. “About what?”

An irritated huff. Something about your tone seemingly made him hesitate, though. He caught the gist of what was unsaid. Maybe it was because he was drunk. Sober Jungkook could never.

“If.” Just that. If. “Ah…”

He breathed out your name. It was very late. The darkness was at its peak. But Jeon Jungkook breathed your name with the capacity of a dreamer, half-conscious and losing fast.

“I won’t let it end like this.”

There were a few minutes of quiet.

You hung up before he could start snoring in your ear. A small part of you kind of wanted to hear it. But, instead, you hung up. Placed your phone on your lap. Stared straight ahead, to the windowsill and the peek of the city skyline against a black sky. You thought about his voice on the other end. Calling for you. You sat in silence. Night bled away. You wanted to reach for the lighter again. Your instincts told you not to.

So, you hoisted yourself up and crawled under your covers, giving in to exhaustion’s embrace.

-

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook was an evening at a convenience store. It was a coincidence. Or perhaps one of fate’s great jokes. You spied him the second you walked into the small establishment. He was talking to a tall man with a sun-kissed tan and longish black hair in soft curls. They obviously knew each other. Jungkook’s laugh was his typical bright guffaw that he tried to stifle to not be a public disturbance.

For a second, you almost forgot that call from a few nights ago.

You looked away, heading to the other side of the store.

Before you did, though, he had glanced in your direction and done a double-take. You moved into an aisle, out of sight, heading to the back, changing your original intent for being here. This particular convenience store was family-owned. It had a small section where the owner’s wife prepared fresh gimbap daily. You wondered how many people knew about this, because it was always stocked. Maybe they preferred to buy from bigger stores, not trusting a small business. You grabbed a tray of heftily-filled tuna gimbap before heading to the fridge section for drinks.

Jungkook was standing there.

You pulled back into the aisle.

His back had been to you, so he didn’t have the chance to notice. Half-in the fridge, picking something out among the electrolyte replenishers and flavored waters. He carried a black backpack that seemed heavy with things. Workout stuff, you assumed. His companion earlier had a towel around his shoulders and had worn a red tank top with exaggerated armholes, revealing a built chest and defined arms. Jungkook’s black hair looked slightly damp, possibly sweaty, pushed back and away from his forehead. He was wearing an open navy hoodie, white tank top, gray sweatpants, and white sneakers. It was safe to assume the backpack had workout shit in it. You wondered where the other guy was. He had been very tall. Easy to spot over the tops of the aisles, but he seemed to no longer be in the store. He must have left, then. No one to distract Jungkook any longer. Hm. You still wanted a drink, but.

Not that badly.

You zipped your black hoodie over your exposed stomach once you noticed the cashier was the elderly woman. You probably would have zipped it no matter who it was. The older generation just tended to be less subtle about their judgements. You approached the register and she smiled, greeting you. You slid the tuna gimbap over to her.

He was behind you.

You glanced at the glass behind the cashier. The cabinet held various brands of cigarettes. It was very well-polished, and you could see Jungkook behind you, sternly staring at the back of your head. You turned around.

He shot you a questioning look, furrowing his eyebrows.

“The total is–”

In his hands was a big bottle. Some kind of sports drink. You took it from him, and put it next to your tuna gimbap. The old woman didn’t quite register the speed of your action, blinking several times.

“Sorry,” you said. “Could you please add this too? Thank you.”

Clearly, she could only focus at one thing at a time. She did not realize you had snatched the drink from the man behind you, which would immediately raise eyebrows. Instead, the older woman was preoccupied with searching for the barcode, turning the bottle this way and that, poking the scanner against it.

Adding it to your receipt.

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

You pulled out your card as the cashier stated your new total. Tapped it as Jungkook hissed your name under his breath, but you ignored him, accepting the purchase as the cashier carefully packed up your meal and someone else’s drink in the same small clear plastic bag. She smiled her customer service smile and then noticed the disheveled punk behind you with a slight widening of her eyes.

You thanked her again and wished her a nice day before gripping his hoodie sleeve and dragging him with you.

Immediately let go when you exited the establishment, finally paying heed to the muttering of curses behind you. You reached into the thin plastic bag and pulled out his drink, pivoting slightly to give it to him. Jungkook snatched it from your hand, scowling.

“I don’t need your fuckin’ charity,” he snapped.

You wondered if he even remembered his drunken laments. “It’s not charity.” You affixed an impassive expression. “Not for you, anyway. Just making it easier for the cashier.” You began to take a few steps in the direction you needed to go.

He scoffed, “What are you doing, anyway?” and cocked his chin at you. “Stalking me now?”

You wondered if he was wishing for that. “I’m retrieving dinner like everybody else at this hour. ‘Cept you, I guess,” you added, unzipping your hoodie again even though the sun was dropping fast.

“What the–”

And Jungkook quickly jogged up beside you, shielding your body with his.

“The hell you doing?”

You glared but didn’t stop walking. “What?” Impolitely.

He pointed to your sports bra with a flick of his wrist. “Uh, you can’t leave the house like that.”

“I already have,” you pointed out. His eyes were glued to your sports bra and the low-waisted black Nike sweatpants clinging to your hips.

“And you think nothing is going to happen to you?” Jungkook indignantly shot back, blocking your way and darting his gaze around as if offenders were already on the horizon.

“Whether it does or not has no bearing on what I’m wearing,” you dryly replied. He was repeating a tale as old as time. Not that that made it any less real. It was all heard before, though. “You act like I haven’t lived for decades knowing the horrors of the world.”

His expression changed. Still frustrated. Slightly put off by your wording. And, sadly, comprehension. “That’s not what I mean.”

“That’s what you’re coming off as.”

“Not my intention,” he grumbled.

“Intentions don’t mean much in the face of what actually happens,” you said, glancing at him.

He shut up.

You almost regretted spilling your honesty.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

He seemed beaten down by your response. Eventually he shook his head and ran his free hand through his windswept black hair, trying to sneak a glimpse at your face. You were already staring at him. That threw him off. He looked away, flustered.

“Can I at least accompany you back?” he offered. Awkwardly.

You ticked your head. You knew that his gym was near that convenience store. “Don’t you live around here?” He had mentioned it, once. “I need to take the bus.” Earlier, you were aware that there was definitely a chance for you would run into him once you chose your destination. But it was the closest spot to buy liquor, and you hadn’t felt like traveling further. Then the original plan changed once you encountered Jungkook. Remembering all that made you pause. You diverted your gaze, adding, “Forget it. Go home.”

Monotone.

Your dismissal clearly annoyed him. He let out an exaggerated exhale and blocked you again when you tried to walk around him. You narrowed your eyes but didn’t raise your head. His tank top was tight, revealing the contours of his muscle. The shoulder of his hoodie had slid down, exposing part of his tattoo sleeve. Dark rings of petals in a hypnotizing mandala. The artist was talented enough to make you pause to admire. Then you swiftly looked away, anywhere else, shifting to his jaw. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and steeled himself.

“Fine.” He came to a conclusion, apparently. “I need a smoke.”

A ripple of aggravation shot through your temple. You turned your stare to fixate on Jungkook. He glared back, twice as stubborn.

“You serious?” you snarled. “Go back to the store then and buy some yourself.”

He rolled his eyes. “The fuck is the point of giving them to you, then?”

You jerked back, disgusted. “I didn’t fucking want them, asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” he pressed, becoming more resolute by the second. “That was the deal.”

You planted a palm on his chest and shoved him out of your way. Unbelievable. “There was no fucking deal,” you retorted, walking fast. He kept up because he was an annoying prick. You glowered, bristling at his presence. “What? You think you can do whatever you want, Jeon Jungkook?” The audacity of this bitch. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ give them to you anyway. So, promptly, fuck off.”

His fingertips touched your shoulder.

You yanked your body back as if scalded.

“Don’t touch me.”

He pulled his hand out of the air but didn’t back down. Those dark brown eyes narrowed. His lips thinned. Anger clouded his features. And. You felt your icy composure become brittle when you observed the distressed sadness poorly hidden underneath said anger.

A tense stillness.

“They’ll kill you,” you steely stated.

His gaze shifted. Contorted. The expression of all too well.

“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “That’s the truth.”

Then his eyes drifted back to you.

All the fight in the air drained out. Neither of you dared to speak. There were volumes written within this shared quiet. Strangers walked past, sending you both strange looks. You and him were too busy being struck in three-in-the-morning thoughts shared during an impromptu phone call. You looked away. So did he. There was a loud screech of metal and heavy tires on asphalt. You didn’t say anything. You only had time for an instinctive decision.

You tapped Jungkook’s forearm and waved, quickly running to catch up with the bus.

Less than a minute later, him and you stiffly sat next to each other on worn seats, trying your best not to glance at one another or make eye contact with anyone else. It was mostly successful, other than a strong-smelling middle-aged man that was eyeing everybody a little too closely. He settled on you for an unknown but undoubtably nefarious reason. Jungkook shoved you against the side of the bus and firmly put his backpack in his lap, blocking the view of your torso from the stranger’s perspective. Either the random man noticed the silent hostility or lacked object permeance when drunk. He changed course.

Both of you relaxed slightly.

You zipped up your hoodie anyway. Couldn’t hurt. You lifted your head. By mistake, your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. He looked like he wanted to say something but he stayed mute for now. It was a quiet bus ride, leaving both of you in roads of thought neither of you wanted to be in.

-

“You can go home now.”

Jungkook reminded you. “I need a smoke, remember?”

You held your apartment keys and frowned at him. He gave you a casual shrug you didn’t trust. He held onto his backpack and the drink you had bought him, now half-empty. You turned away, licking the side of your teeth. Glanced from all the closed doors around you. You couldn’t shake the tension at your shoulders. Passed by his face. There was something in his expression. You let out an exhale through your nose and shoved your key into the lock, harshly twisting it.

“Fine. Go look for them,” you invited not-so-invitingly.

The door was old and jammed in the frame. You shoved it, hard, and it swung open with almost too much force. You grabbed the knob before it could hit the wall in a practiced motion, crossing the threshold to remove your shoes and scoot them by the wall. He followed, somewhat startled by your daily habits. You ignored him. Instead, you headed for the tiny kitchen with your tuna gimbap, intending to devour it as Jungkook did his search. Chopsticks from the drawer. Taking out the tray of food and placing it on the counter while you balled up the plastic bag to put it in the correct recycling bin. Yanked off the lid and picked up the end piece to eat.

You chewed.

It was fresh. Pretty good.

Without turning around, you removed your hoodie and threw it to the side. It shot to the back of the sofa and clumped. You kept eating. You had already heard Jungkook lock the door, remove his shoes, and dump his backpack on the hardwood floor with a thump. The cigarettes were exactly where you left them. Next to your bedside table lamp with your lighter leaning against them. You ate another piece, staring at the bottom of your gray-stained cabinets, and only now realizing how hungry you were. Huh.

It was eerily quiet.

Weird.

You chewed on your third piece and twisted your body to find Jungkook still standing by the door, staring at your living room with wide eyes. The apartment was quite small. Maybe a little bit crammed. The living room had a black fabric sofa, a dark-stained coffee table that had seen too many late-night dinners, and the TV on a low storage unit.

And mirrors.

Mirrors all over the walls. Most of them were small. Some were vintage with aged metal frames or darkened bamboo frames. Some of them weren’t in the best shape, the reflective glass becoming patchy and spotted. Some were a little more than smoked glass. They were all from thrift stores or resell markets. There was no real rhyme or reason to their placement all over the living room other than chaotically aesthetic. The ones on the bookshelf unit by the window were all lined up. Unique pocket mirrors with various shapes. There were a few anime and cartoon character motifs sprinkled in.

“What the fuck…?”

He finally gave you a look slight frightened concern but mostly confusion.

You shrugged. Casually. “I like to collect mirrors.” You munched.

“No shit?” Jungkook still looked mildly appalled. He furrowed his brows to regain some sort of control over his face. “And you called me a creep.” Still, he shuffled further in, peering over them. “There’s so many of them… The fuck you need all this for?”

“Nothing.”

He shot you a look over his shoulder and quickly diverted his eyes once he noticed your exposed shoulders. “Nothing?” he echoed indignantly.

“There’s no real purpose,” you reaffirmed, grabbing another piece of gimbap with a click of your chopsticks. “Why does anyone have a collection?”

Jungkook snorted. “Collecting music albums or even plushies is less weird then…” He paused. Then angled his body slightly, as if to listen to what you had to say without directly viewing you. “Is there a reason you collect mirrors?”

You, too, stilled. Seeing the back of his head and his broad shoulders suddenly reminded you that this was the first time you had ever invited Jeon Jungkook into your space and rather impulsively at that. You faced the counter again. The gimbap was about three-fourths gone. It was probably a good idea to finish it all now. You chewed on your lower lip, debating on whether or not to tell him the reason.

“When I was young,” you said, directed to the unfinished gimbap. “I didn’t like looking at myself in mirrors. Guess I had some kind of complex about them.” You didn’t elaborate. You positioned your chopsticks over another piece of the roll but didn’t yet pick it up. “When I moved in here, I didn’t really care about decorating it either. Figured it didn’t matter. At some point, I got tired of the blank walls, so I went to a secondhand shop to find something to put on the wall, and I remembered I don’t like mirrors.”

Hated them, really.

“So, I brought one because I thought the design was cool. And kept buying them.”

You half-laughed, mirthlessly.

“I decided it’s stupid to hate something like that, anyway,” you muttered, and chomped down another piece. You should have gotten out the soy sauce. Hah. With self-exasperation, you opened a cabinet to take out the small glass dispenser. Poured a little on the edge of the tray to dip the last few pieces in.

“That’s cool.”

His voice seemed louder, somehow. “You called me a creep,” you hummed.

“I didn’t call you a creep,” Jungkook said behind you.

You turned around, bristling. He was distracted, looking around your relatively neat kitchen. Probably taking note that there were no mirrors here. You restricted your collection to the living room walls to prevent overbuying. His eyes stopped at the gimbap on the counter at waist height. His dark eyes raised. Tentative. Your pulse accelerated a bit. You kept your expression neutral, chewing slowly.

“Thought you needed a smoke?” you asked after swallowing. You waved your chopstick towards the bedroom. “Be my guest.”

The tips of his ears flushed pink. He was sort of looking at you but also not. You tried not to notice that his navy hoodie had fallen off his shoulder, revealing his defined, tattooed right arm all the way to his elbow. His hands were shoved into the side pockets of his sweatpants. He was in the middle of scrutinizing yours.

“Are those mine?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring your question.

You flicked the side seam by your thigh. “I’ll wash them and give them back. Seemed pointless to wear them for only a short while and wash immediately.” You leaned against the counter. “I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His eyes shot up to your face at your comment. You shared a glare. Both of you held it more out of stubbornness than intimidation. For what reason, you weren’t sure. There were only parts of him you disliked. Not all of him. Well. Maybe if you and him dialed back the hostility, then.

Both of you broke eye contact at the same time.

“They… They look good on you.” It wasn’t said in a sarcastic way. The sincerity was somehow more alarming. “Keep them.”

“No thanks,” you retorted with more familiarity than you intended. “I don’t need your charity.” You shouldn’t have said that.

It didn’t end up mattering, though.

“Do you remember when I called you a couple nights ago?” Jungkook suddenly blurted, thrusting you both into whiplash of conversation topic change.

You froze.

There was no cue to tell you what was the right thing to say. It was best to glance at his expression to find out, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. There was something about the distance of a phone call that made deep conversations easier. But you realized from his abruptness that he, too, must have been struggling to bring up the elephant in the room. Could have let it sleep, but this guy wouldn’t let it be.

Still, you understood him.

You pursed your lips and rubbed your collarbone with your free hand. “Only one of us was drunk and it wasn’t me,” you finally sighed. Raised your head.

His ears were very red now. You saw Jungkook battle between being a smartass and his natural self. You saw him wish he was a natural smartass. He cleared his throat, his chest tensing. “Uh… Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry about… Calling so late.” He cleared his throat again despite his discomfort being purely emotional. His eyes shifted. “I didn’t think you’d answer… But you did.” He chanced a glimpse at your reaction.

You shrugged.

Casually.

He nodded quickly even though you hadn’t said anything. “I don’t remember everything I said,” he rambled in a tone that clearly indicated he did. “So, don’t, uh, don’t take it too seriously.” He was taller than you but it didn’t feel like that right now.

You considered his words and quietly replied with, “Okay.”

His eyes drifted to the kitchen counter. Lingered on your waist, but not for long. He ticked his chin towards the leftovers. “Can I have a piece?”

Wordlessly, you held out the chopsticks so he had access to the other, unused end. He hesitated. Then pulled a hand from his pocket. You moved out of the way as he retrieved the chopsticks from your grip and took a step to be closer to the counter.

It was weird.

Standing in your small kitchen next to Jeon Jungkook eating your dinner leftovers.

Mostly it was weird because it didn’t make you highly uncomfortable or positively annoyed. It felt normal, which is what made it otherworldly odd. As if you were getting used to his presence beside you. You winced and tried not to make it obvious. You heard him try to say your name between bites.

“Chew your food,” you muttered, angling your face away but not your body. Couldn’t bring yourself to watch him eat. You heard the rattle of the plastic tray against the counter as he dipped in the soy sauce. Then you felt a nudge by your arm.

Before you could stop your natural reaction, you were face-to-face with Jungkook who was holding out the last piece to you with full cheeks and an expectant expression. You blinked at him. The blunt end of the chopsticks was used, but he was holding out the gimbap with the slender side. The end you had been eating with. The seaweed glistened with soy sauce. His free hand was under the chopsticks, cradling air in the dire last resort that it fell. He roughly swallowed, looking more annoyed with each passing second.

“Open up.”

“No,” you automatically replied.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

You made a face. “This is weird.”

He made a face back. Disturbing. “Shut up and open your mouth.”

“I wo–”

That was precisely the moment Jungkook shoved the chopsticks into your mouth. Instinctively, you lowered your jaw to catch it all, glaring at him. He scowled back, about to remove the chopsticks before you caught them in your teeth with your mouth full of tuna, vegetables, and rice. There was a brief, pointless tug of war before you pulled your head back rather than let him perform the action. Jungkook squinted at you, irritated, and you were just as perturbed, chewing decidedly before swallowing.

Sudden silence.

He lowered the chopsticks to balance them on the empty tray. You ran your tongue over your teeth to catch any rice stragglers. It became hard to maintain eye contact. Now he was facing the cabinets and you were facing the living room of mirrors. Minutes ticked by.

The quiet became violent.

You whipped your head to Jungkook. “So, what–”

He spoke at the same time. “You know I’m not joking, right?” he asked softly.

His profile was statuesque. Instantly recognizable. Imprinted in memory. And then his dark eyes shifted, his black hair framing his temples, and now Jungkook was searching for your eyes that remained on him. You shut your mouth. He realized he had interrupted you.

“What did you want to say?”

You faltered and then shook your head. “Not important.”

His brows furrowed. “Don’t–”

“Joking about what?” you interjected. “Don’t try to distract me.”

He was, rightfully, irate. “You–”

You wrapped an arm around your midsection, suddenly feeling cold. “Is this about you quitting smoking?”

Immediately he noticed. Your demeanor demanding him to answer was a little too intense to be ignored, though. “That’s…” He tutted, his voice deepening slightly. “I’ve already quit.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” He was trying to unconvincingly convince you. It had barely been a couple weeks, anyway. ‘Ugh, okay, fine. Maybe I bummed a cig a couple of times. But only for a couple puffs. Don’t fucking look at me like that,” Jungkook snapped. “Like you don’t have any bad habits.”

“I have bad habits,” you answered coldly. “But I also deal with how I feel. Something you should get started on.”

He threw up his hands and began to back away from the counter, until.

“Is this how you want to spend your life?” you asked.

His back was to you now. Reluctance took over, rendering his movements as statuesque as he looked moments before. You stared at his back, wondering if you had gone too far. Wondering if these shared moments were all for naught. Not really in the very real chance that he could leave and never look back, but in the very real chance that he did and nothing changed for him. Or for you. In the chance that your interactions would ultimately mean nothing in this life when it was very clear that both of you wanted to mean something. Anything.

“I don’t.”

You looked up and Jungkook was looking back at you over his shoulder. He lowered his gaze when your eyes connected before half-turning to face you, halfway between running to and running from. You asked yourself, if it was anyone else, would you stay this silent? Before it registered, you reached out and tugged his hoodie sleeve.

After all, you did always have a light for him.

He raised his eyes.

“You’re trying. Aren’t you?” You gave him a dry smile before letting go.

His lashes lowered to waning half-moons. Then he ticked his head, asking, “Do you really hate it that much?” His eyes found yours. He already knew the answer and was asking it anyway.

You told him the truth. “Yeah.”

The corner of his lips flicked upwards wryly. “Damn. So honest.”

You almost laughed. “Well… You wouldn’t like me at all if you knew I was a liar.” Then your words caught up to you. “Not that you do,” you added after a beat.

“I do,” corrected Jungkook before looking away.

Maybe he was embarrassed by his admission. You, however, were preoccupied with other thoughts. The mirrors. Your insomnia. His tattoos. His cigarettes. Your coldness. His fire. The way you tended to lock down your deep emotions and the way his tended to spill out when they overflowed. You held the lighter. He longed to burn. You liked him. That thought lingered. You hated the smoking, true, not only because of all the obvious discomforts, but also because you had a feeling that he knew he could quit and only did it to further punish himself for things he didn’t do.

You just had a feeling since you, too, punished yourself for things you didn’t do.

You felt something soft brush against your shoulders.

His hoodie smelled like him, herbal and fresh with depth, with a vague hint of washed-out acid smoke. You glanced over. He looked apologetic, gesturing to your arm over your midsection. His built chest and sculpted shoulders were mildly distracting. His white tank top clung to his body, not leaving much to the imagination. You frowned. Jungkook saw your face and braced himself for a reprimanding.

You asked him a question you had been wondering for a while now.

“Did you plan this?”

That wasn’t what he expected. His features twisted into confusion. “Uh?” He seemed to forget his anxiousness for a moment. “Plan what?” The perfect deer-in-headlights look.

You angled your body to better face him and held the edge of the hoodie, narrowing your eyes. “You know what I mean,” you warned.

He sensed danger and held up his hands in defeat. “I don’t?”

Those big brown eyes begged you to believe him. Either he was stupid or a really good actor. You relaxed slightly. You weren’t banking on the latter and really hoped you were right. You grimaced, backing away. It wasn’t fair to let learned behavior judge him yet constant vigilance was also needed for survival. You sighed, stepping around him.

“Never mind. It’s late. Just sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“The fuck?” Jungkook followed, infuriated, much like the rest of the night. “I can’t do that.”

“The buses aren’t running this late,” you stated matter-of-factly. You waved him away, plopping onto your sofa with a tired exhale. “Or you can call a taxi, I guess. You want money for that?”

He smacked his hand down on the back of the sofa and scowled, bending down to intimidate you.

“I am not some kid!”

You looked up at him.

Jungkook froze, realizing the closeness.

He was naturally a very handsome man. You had always thought so. Never told him. He had probably heard it enough. He faltered, losing the fight but not yet letting go of the sofa. You observed the line of his jaw and thought about how hard he had to work to fulfill the image others had of him. How hard he worked to break that image, only to shoulder a different set of expectations, for only a certain level of coolness could combat the goodness he lost. If not one thing, then another. He must not have felt that he fit those ideals either. He couldn’t win.

You worried that he simply liked you in a vain attempt to feel some level of control.

Crestfallen, his eyes wandered, then realized he couldn’t because then he would be staring down your chest or at your thighs. He pretended that he wasn’t looking and raised his head, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

It wasn’t so much accusatory as it was a revelation.

You lowered your gaze and realized you were staring at his chest or his crotch. That was out of the question. You almost wished he would sit down next to you, but he was right. There was a moment where you considered brushing him off as you did with everyone else. Your eyes connected. As you stared into those dark brown orbs, your instincts taunted you, asking you want you were afraid of.

“There’s nothing good to know,” you admitted. “Better to keep things to myself.”

His expression told you he fucking hated that.

He looked up to the mirrors around the room. You could see he was still a bit creeped out by them and tried very hard not to say it. Your elderly landlord did often joke about how you were inviting spirits into your home with these old mirrors. You usually countered with they also symbolized fate, to which he guffawed and asked how many fates you needed.

Sometimes, it felt like you needed every chance you could get.

“I can’t sleep in your bed,” he finally concluded, steeling himself.

“Your smokes are on my nightstand. So is my lighter.”

The door to the bedroom was partway open but Jungkook even didn’t look in that direction. His ears were slowly turning scarlet. He distracted himself with your statements. “What? Why?” He frowned. “I thought you threw ‘em away.”

You shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of money.”

He muttered under his breath. “Yeah. That’s what they are.” He looked a little ashamed. Shook his head, trying to convince himself. “Even more reason not to go in there and be tempted.” He began to step around your legs, shooing you away with a gruff, “Move.”

You didn’t move.

“You hate my bed that much even though you want to get in it?” you quipped.

Jungkook started. “That’s–”

You stood up abruptly.

It was so fast that he had no time to react. One moment you were sitting and the next you were standing right up to him with only a whisper of breath between your bodies, peering at his face. His hoodie fell off your shoulders and onto the cushions. His eyes widened, lips parting, and you witnessed him holding his breath as if that would somehow stop time.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by.

You wondered how it would feel to be held by him.

“Fine,” you whispered, staring into his eyes. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

And you walked around, letting him breathe again.

-

Being awake was torturous due to constantly fighting invasive thoughts. Being asleep was worse due to remaining imprisoned in those intrusive thoughts blended with uncontrolled imagination, which was your presumed explanation for your insomniac nights. Yeah. And people wondered why you kept to yourself. Such was being human, so once again you gave into the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result because it could not be avoided.

Everyone had to sleep, after all.

And you woke up a few hours later, as predicted, wrenching yourself out of a dream you didn’t want to be in, trying your best to remember none of it. You were used to it. Routine of the night, so to speak. That made it more annoying than anxiety-inducing. You laid on your back in relative silence, staring into the darkness of the ceiling and running your fingers over your sheets. A folded portion of the duvet was trapped under your left side and you impatiently yanked it out from under you, forgetting the images of betrayal in the wake of another’s selfishness.

For tonight, anyway.

There was a loud snore on the other side of your bedroom door, offending your ears at this late hour. You sat up. You had been a little surprised at Jungkook accepting your offer. Then again, everything was happening because of split decisions and obvious desires. And some logic. Just not much. You hadn’t talked much after you handed him the extra pillow from your bed and a soft fuzzy blanket. There wasn’t much to talk about, not to mention both of you were trying to pretend as if this wasn’t happening. In movies and television shows, this would have gone in a whole different direction. In reality, it was a lot more awkward and untimely.

You glanced over to the nightstand that held his cigarettes and your lighter, barely making out the outlines of the items. Maybe his initial intention really was to come just to get them. Or maybe it was to put you in a compromising position or something like that. Neither of those things happened because neither of those things were who he was, only ideas of what he thought he could be, but he hadn’t thought any of it through, so now he was snoring up a storm on your sofa without a care in the world.

Unlike you, it seemed like his sleep was solace rather than a battleground.

You tapped a finger against the bed and then sighed, pulling yourself out from under the duvet to grab a large t-shirt to pull over your head. Headed to the bedroom door and opened it quietly, slipping out to the kitchen accompanied by Jungkook’s noisy and uncoordinated nose symphony. He was facing the inside of the sofa but, unfortunately for you and fortunately for him, had powerful lungs. There wasn’t much worry about rousing him. You opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, hoping the cool liquid could refresh you somehow.

You faced the sink and took a few sips.

Was friendship even the correct word for what you and Jeon Jungkook had? It was more closeness from coincidence rather than a direct seeking out of the other. Closeness that became closer before either of you realized it, slowly losing all the people in between until only you and him were left. Maybe that was why he had a sort of fixation on you since everyone had distanced themselves for various reasons, relationships, careers, adventures. Then again, fixation seemed to be his defining feature.

You almost snorted, and would have if he wasn’t sleeping on your couch.

But maybe not, as he had paradoxical, flighty tendencies too. Always influenced by someone or some media he consumed. You weren’t without your own flaws, you knew. Deep thought and constant existential crisis didn’t exactly make for good company. Sometimes it was better not to think so much, which was why you tried to fight your instinctive nature at times. You looked over to the mirrors on the living room walls, taking another drink. They were small, not very useful as a looking glass or for nitpicking an outfit before leaving. You had not been lying when you told Jungkook that you bought them to get over your hatred of them. There was a time when you hated seeing your reflection because the person in the mirror wasn’t matching up with the person in your head.

Irrational, yes.

Reality was irrational.

You rested your ass against the bottom cabinets of your kitchen and sipped from the water bottle. You knew you weren’t a good person since you had long given up aspiring for something great. Anyone worth anything aspired for something great. Not even failure was frowned upon the in the presence of a dream nowadays. You didn’t understand why Jungkook was snoring in your apartment right now, why he cared if you got home in one piece, why he was trying so hard to quit smoking for someone like you who lived in irreverence. South Korea valued productivity, beauty, and giving away one’s humanity for the cause. Not giving a fuck made you no better than the bottom of the barrel.

You couldn’t answer what he so heavily hinted at because it just didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was just dumb.

Jungkook snored particularly loud and choked, throwing himself into a coughing fit.

You frowned and made your way over to him as he shrimped up and groaned, highly displeased and groggy from this turn of events. There was no obvious reaction to you approaching him. Either he didn’t hear you or didn’t register where he was.

You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Nrgh…”

“You alright?” You kept your voice low, a level above a whisper. “Want some water?”

He said your name as if underwater. Muffled and out of it. You pulled your hand away as he turned over and sat up, squinting hard. “Uh?” He was still wearing his tank top which was now wrinkled around his waist. The top of his chest glistened with sweat. He probably usually slept shirtless and didn’t do so to be polite.

You held out the plastic bottle in your hand. “Water.”

He wasn’t thinking straight because he grabbed the bottle from you without objection, as if he wholeheartedly accepted you were the cold-water fairy of his dreams. He drank without so much of a thank you and with his lips right against the opening, crushing the latter half of what was left in only a few seconds.

“Uwah…!”

He dropped his hand, breathing out hard. You glanced at your empty hand. Comtemplated on giving him a reality check of what he just did but instead decided to let it go.

“Uh… Why are you awake?” he asked you blearily, becoming more awake by the second.

Some truths were better left unsaid for now. “Getting used to your snoring,” you mused, dropping your hand.

Jungkook seemed embarrassed. Looked from the water bottle to the coffee table behind your legs. The distance was too great for it to be casual. He clung onto it for emotional safety. “S-Sorry about that,” he mumbled, straightening his tank top and rubbing his neck.

“It’s probably a side effect of your smoking,” you commented.

He shot you an angry pout but there was no retort when you were right. “It’s probably my rhinitis,” he huffed. An uncomfortable, short silence.

Once again, both of you were reminded of a late-night call in the dead of night.

You held out your hand for the water bottle. After a moment, Jungkook handed it back. Apparently, it still hadn’t occurred to him why it was half-empty.  He seemed more curious about you being awake. You wondered that too. You gestured to the pillow.

“It’s not comfortable, is it?”

He followed your gesture and half-heartedly shrugged. “I’ll be okay.” He shot you a look. “Worried about me?” His deep, sleepy voice sounded a lot cockier than he looked. He looked like a puppy that had just woken up after napping in a weird position. His black hair was sticking up every which way.

“I’m always worried about you,” you replied with a deadpan face.

His eyes widened.

You followed up with, “You’re an idiot.”

That pissed Jungkook off. He reached up to smack you and you caught his hand in the air. That woke him up. But honestly you were losing sleep and energy fast. It made you catch his fingers at an odd angle, almost a caress, and you were too tired to care, sighing before backing away, slowly letting go of his hand. His fingertips slid over the inside of your wrist. You turned your back to him.

You headed to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the proper recycling bin.

He called your name.

“What?” you grumpily replied, straightening.

“You’re not wearing pants…” Jungkook reminded you.

You had to bend over to access the sorted trash. “Lucky you.”

His tone became gruff. “Don’t be so reckless in front of a guy.”

You half-turned and raised an eyebrow. He was still firmly seated on your sofa. “You act like I’m not standing in my kitchen next to my knives,” you pointed out, ticking your head in the direction of your knife block. “Also, are you implying that you’re a trashy guy?”

“I’m not a trashy guy,” he snapped angrily.

“Then what do I have to be worried about?” You took the steps towards your bedroom door.

“I just don’t like how you obviously have no interest in me,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, throwing himself down onto the sofa and turning his back to you.

You stopped in the doorway.

He was not provoking you. He sounded more like a kid that didn’t get his way rather than an adult trying to reverse psychology you. His words were not meant to change your mind. Yet, all of a sudden, you began to wonder what the fuck you were dancing in this limbo for. All because you didn’t want to be someone’s reason for anything? Well, congratulations, you failed. You failed your dream of a pointless existence. Woohoo. You rolled your eyes to the sky and turned around.

He was still pill-bug-positioned when you grabbed his shoulder and yanked him from the cease in the sofa, lowering your head to hiss, “Stop being a fucking brat.”

You expected him to tense up. His head jerked around and Jungkook stared at you. Wide-eyed, as if you had just pulled him out of a top hat by his ears. You glared, physically tired and tired of this shit, sliding your hand down his collarbone and cupping his chin, pulling him to better face you, tilting your head to narrow your eyes at him.

He sputtered. “W… What?”

“You heard me,” you answered in a clipped tone. “Get up.”

“Huh?”

You let go of his chin and slapped his upper arm. “Get up.”

In a tangle of long limbs and bewilderment, you yanked him up by his forearm, snatching the pillow from under him. Dragged him and his twisted blanket skirt into your bedroom. You hadn’t given him enough time to unravel himself. You let go of his forearm and slammed the pillow onto the empty right side of the bed, pointing rudely to the rumpled poof.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

Jungkook waved his hands, panic rising in his gravelly voice. “I can’t–”

“I don’t give a fuck,” you interrupted and marched behind him, shoving the small of his back. He got the hint after a short flailing about, shuffling towards the side of the bed before flopping onto the duvet like a caught tuna. He tried not to make eye contact, but you weren’t looking anyway, too busy crossing over to the other side and slinking under the duvet.

He squeaked out an, “Um…”

“Shut up,” was your automatic grumble. “Go to sleep.”

He answered in a small voice. “But… What if I snore…?”

“I know you’ll snore,” you grunted, reaching to him and pinning his shoulder down. He was above the duvet, half-wrapped in the blanket you had given him earlier. You had noticed he was still wearing his gray sweatpants so he wasn’t indecent. Not that it mattered. “I’ll get used to it.”

“I…”

You made a growling noise in warning, squinting at his face.

He gulped. “I just… Wanted to say thanks…”

You let go of him and turned your back, firmly closing your eyes. Jungkook was right there. You had a queen-sized bed. Big enough, but not so big that he could pull himself far away from you. You could feel his presence. It wasn’t a bad thing, though.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled curtly and didn’t say any more.

-

When he opened the door, he looked disheveled and distractable, noisily chewing gum, jerking his head around your periphery as if he expected you to bring an entourage to shake him down. You stood at his doorstep, perturbed. His dark eyes flickered to you and nearly bulged out of his head.

“The hell are you wearing?” Jeon Jungkook blurted without any formal or informal greeting.

You thought you would be used to it by now. It was becoming kind of funny, in a way. “These are my work clothes,” you calmly explained. It was true that he hadn’t seen you in a nice silk blouse and fitted pencil skirt before. Dark teal and jet black, respectively. “I have a job I go to.”

This was the logical answer but it was not exactly the answer Jungkook wanted. You could tell by the knitting of his brows, his still open mouth, and the way he was just staring at your hips instead of continuing the conversation. His black hair was sticking up in the back. As usual, he was wearing casual clothes. A big, light gray t-shirt and charcoal sweats.

You raised your hand and shut his jaw so you didn’t have to view his half-chewed pink gum. “You’re going to the gym, aren’t you?”

It broke him out of his trance. He looked irritated, chewing again. More than that. He looked jittery. “Yeah.” He seemed to be having a mental debate. You wanted no part of that. “I was about to drink a protein shake while waiting for you.”

“Cool,” you said in an impassive tone that indicated you had no interest in protein shakes. You reached into your mid-size black leather bag and pulled out his black sweatpants, now clean and smelling of dryer sheet. “Here, then.” You lifted your head to hold them out.

Jungkook had abandoned his front door.

A muscle in your cheek twitched. His apartment was more modern, although about the same size as yours. Space was a luxury. The door was slowly closing without the aid of someone holding it. You smacked your palm against the light wood and pushed it open, your black heels clicking on the dark gray hardwood. Or was it vinyl? Hard to tell and you didn’t care to inspect. The walls were bright cool white. His big black backpack was on the floor of the short entrance hall. It was slightly open. Black boxing gloves with yellow accents and white towels were shoved in there. You expected him to be messy but all of his sneakers were lined up against the wall. Could use a shoe rack, though.

Jungkook reappeared, gum-less this time, carrying a shake tumbler with a vanilla-colored substance in it, clanging it about with one hand and trying to be chill. As chill as a nonchalant freak-out would be.

He coughed and asked, casually, “You go dressed like that to work?”

You weren’t sure why he gave a shit about what you were wearing. “Perks of an administrative desk job. Dress code.” You waved the rolled-up sweatpants in his direction. “Take these.”

He gave you a suspicious look as if you were the one to decide societal expectations for female office wear. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“The HR department,” you replied, deadpan. “I’d get fired if I showed up to work dressed like you.”

He nodded, agreeing but not convinced. “What if someone hits on you?”

“I set them on fire.”

Jungkook gawked at you.

You dropped your outstretched arm and clicked your tongue. “I don’t do anything. No one is allowed to date a co-worker and I’m not interested in any of them,” you explained. If only he knew that you sat alone in a cramped office and reviewed budgeting for university laboratories so no one was heedlessly using government funding. It was thrilling stuff. “Why do you care if someone hits on me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course, I care. I don’t want some asshole harassing you.” Before you could tell him to look in the mirror, he muttered, “Do you really think you won’t get hurt looking that hot?”

The real answer was that you didn’t care.

You tossed his sweatpants onto his backpack while saying, “Workplace harassment is very serious. I doubt my superiors want a scandal. You’re right. I’m considered attractive, so they want to keep me as a model employee and for gender equality points.”

“What about the train?” Jungkook pressed, stepping closer.

You almost rolled your eyes. “The subway is always shitty. Everybody knows that,” you said. “I’ve been taking the subway since high school. I’m pretty good at spotting psycho now.” You looked up at him with contained venom. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” he snapped, placing his protein shake on the floor before confronting you again. “I just don’t like it.” He glared back.

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like that I can take care of myself?”

“No,” Jungkook stubbornly repeated. Frustration crept into his features. “It makes me mad.”

One look at his face and it was obvious what he was implying. There was no reason to give in, though. “That sucks.” You patted the top of his chest condescendingly. “Maybe you need to see a therapist for that.”

He jerked his head towards the mound on his backpack. “Take the pants back and put them on.”

You wondered if he was being this way because he had paranoia or because he had nothing better to do. “No,” you refused. You crossed your arms. “Don’t be this way only for yourself. Plus, I just washed them.”

Like an ox, he didn’t relent. “Then I’ll get you a different pair.”

You noticed you didn’t smell the scent of smoke on him. Not strong or faint. It was obvious he didn’t smoke in his apartment, but he probably did at the roof of the complex or somewhere similar. You didn’t know him to be a heavy smoker, but it inevitably got onto his belongings. You tilted your head. There hadn’t been any smell that night a couple weeks ago when he slept over at your apartment where you had eventually forced him to snore on the bed.

You had woken up to Jungkook sprawled out, snoring into the pillow and one arm on your tits.

Explained your dream where you felt annoying pressure on your chest. That morning had been rather uneventful other than waking him up and kicking him out of your apartment. You had the decency to be more polite than that, but neither of you were in a state to talk about it. Neither of you seemed to be morning people. You simply told him you had work. He had mumbled he did too, and he had to race out to get ready in time. Only now had you found time to stop by his apartment to return his borrowed sweatpants. Maybe you had been avoiding it a little bit. Texts between you both were sparse. Asking for his address and asking if he’d be home. You peered into his dark eyes. Jungkook paused. He seemed to sense that you weren’t walling him anymore.

“When was the last time you smoked?” You made sure not to sound accusatory.

He started. “Uh…” He looked sheepish. “I’ve been trying to last a month at least…” He gestured behind him to what you assumed was the kitchen. You could see part of his living room from here but not much. His couch was cognac brown leather. “Been chewing gum and going to the gym a bunch to fight the cravings.” Frowned and sighed. “It’s hard,” Jungkook bitterly muttered. He glared. “Bet you’re loving this.”

Unluckily for him, you weren’t intimidated by puppy growls. You nodded, noncommittal, and looked down. His charcoal sweatpants looked soft. Worn in with wear. Your eyes flickered back up. His followed with slight confusion etching into his expression. You held his gaze until you felt his discomfort.

And then you made an impulsive, instinctive decision.

“I’ll agree to borrowing another pair of your pants,” you finally said. He looked relieved. “As long as I get to pick which pair.”

He seemed puzzled but shrugged. “Sure?”

You pressed for confirmation. “Agree or not?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook responded sharply. “What, you that desperate to raid my closet or something? Go ahead, then.” He waved a careless hand into the apartment.

But you stayed where you were. You stepped forward with a click of your heels. He stepped back in his house slippers, bewildered but still defiant, not yet realizing that you were not herding him further inside. He moved as if to let you lead the way, except you turned your body to block him, watching his every move.

His shoulder blades hit the wall.

Those big brown eyes blinked slowly. “Uh…”

You glanced down and then back up at his face.

Jungkook’s eyes tracked your movement. Didn’t get it. You repeated the dip of your chin and lashes, then back up. Dead silence. It slowly dawned onto him. You cocked your head, removing your crossed arms as his eyes became wider.

“W… What…?”

You didn’t let him hide his reaction, tracking every quiver of his lip and awkward chuckle. “They’re clean, aren’t they?” you asked as if it was the most sensible question in the world.

“Uh, well, yeah, b-but…” Jungkook stuttered, trying to decipher how serious you were or if he was even understanding the implications of your stare. “T-That’s…”

You backed up a step. “Then it’s a no?” you offered. “And you will stop trying to white knight my outfit choices?” You made yourself clear. “I won’t be changing them simply because you hate my clothes.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t hate your clothes. I like them. That is the problem,” he barked.

You gave him a blank look.

Jungkook sighed out of his nose before looking away and saying in a clipped tone, “Fine. I’ll change. Whatever.”

You moved before he could, blocking his way again.

He growled under his breath, glaring down. “What?”

You held aggressive eye contact. “We’re behind closed doors,” you reminded him. Gave him the pointed up-and-down. “Go on.”

Slight panic laced into his expression. “Uh… Are you serious?”

You already knew Jungkook wasn’t commenting on your fashion because he thought it was inappropriate. It was for the same innocuous reason that you were asking him for the charcoal sweatpants he was wearing right now. Well. Demanding.

“Deadly,” you answered him with a deadly smile.

He might be bigger and stronger than you, but he lacked the imposing audacity. You waited. He didn’t move. Ten full seconds passed. You had your answer, then. You gave him a curt nod and readjusted your grip on your work bag, about to turn away.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled you back.

You backtracked to stand in front of him again. His eyes darted about somewhat nervously. “I get it…” he mumbled, still holding onto your wrist. His other hand was drifting down. He seemed uncomfortable but not in a bad way, which struck you as odd. He lifted the hem of his shirt a bit. It caught on the front tie of the sweatpants. The tips of his ears were pink. Jungkook hooked a thumb under the waistband and averted his eyes.

You reached forward and pulled on the end of the looped strings.

He nearly yelped and jerked back, causing the tie to come unraveled. You had leaned over a little to get access. Lifted your gaze to look up at his shocked face. He was speechless. You didn’t straighten up yet. Just stared into his eyes. His lips parted but no words came out.

You smiled.

He uneasily let go of your wrist. You backed out of his personal space. Jungkook gave you a strange look and stripped off his pants with a swift tug downwards, bending a knee to kick them up and into his hand, immediately holding them in front of his body.

“Here.”

He thrust the balled-up sweats into your chest. You looked at it. Then at him. Then tried to crane your head downwards.

“H-Hey!”

He waved wildly. You stumbled. He tried to catch you without dropping anything. Your hand came up to press against his chest, causing him to back against the wall again, clutching his pants in front of his crotch. You paused and searched his expression as you pulled back your hand. He was in between conflicted and stunned. His legs were quite defined. At least he didn’t skip leg day. You decided to do it. Lowered your bag to the floor so you had use of your two hands. You reached behind you for the invisible zipper of your skirt and pulled it down. Jungkook seemed to be in a perpetual state of silence. You had to wiggle slightly to free yourself of the tube of black fabric, stepping out of it primly before standing back up, leaving you in your sheer black stockings and with your blouse barely skimming the tops of your thighs.

Now both of you were holding your bottoms. One of you was simply dumbstruck. The other folded and rolled up the skirt, tucking it into your elbow, and stepped up to him. Immediately, his free hand shot up, planting right above your left breast, dark tattoos stark against his tan skin from the overhead light.

“W-Whoa, wait…!”

You tilted your head and rested your hand on the sweatpants he was now desperately clutching to his lower body. You tugged. He did not let go. You raised an eyebrow and began to lower your head. His fingertips hooked under your chin and yanked you back up to his terrified expression of wild eyes and fish mouth. You remained emotionless, giving him nothing. His cheeks flushed pink.

“I… I just need a second–”

You closed more of the distance, placing a leg in between his slightly open ones. His grip on your chin tightened. It didn’t scare you in the slightest. In contrast, big bad Jungkook looked like he was about to sink into the floor. You stilled. Maybe this was too far.

You leaned back a little but didn’t remove your leg. “A second for what?”

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze again. “U-Uh, j-j-just a s-second to breathe… that’s all,” he muttered.

“What’s the issue?” you calmly inquired.

“N-Nothing,” and that sounded like a whole lot of something.

You shifted your leg and your stocking-covered shin rubbed against his calf. Jungkook made a very strange noise and hastily pulled his hand back. You did not stop the contact. You simply watched the emotions play across his features as he shut his eyes, wordlessly mouthing swears before clenching his jaw and sliding up the wall to delicately back up.

“You sure it’s nothing?” Twice as unassuming and immediately tipping him off that you were aware of his predicament.

His brows furrowed. “Shut up.” He took in several deep breaths.

You hummed. “Is it that big of a deal?”

“Yes, it is,” Jungkook hissed. He cracked open one eye. “Have you no sense of danger?”

You did your best not to smile. Failed, but only just. “Not with you.”

Relief and annoyance washed over him. “Shut up,” he said again and you were beginning to realize he did not really mean for you to shut up. “Ugh.” He thrust the charcoal ball of fabric into your chest. “Here. Put it on.”

“No longer embarrassed?” you asked, catching a glimpse of his partial erection.

Jungkook pointedly looked away from you and stared at his own front door. “I’m not embarrassed. Put the pants on, damnnit. I can’t look at you.”

“Sure, you can,” you quipped as you slipped on his sweatpants. “I’m sure you’ve checked me out at some point.”

He sucked in the side of his cheek sharply. “It’s not the same. And, besides…” He trailed off.

You smoothed out the front and tightened the strings. Jungkook reluctantly brought his gaze back to you, checking you out. You tugged your blouse out of the pants a bit to give the two disharmonious pieces more balance. You filled out the top of his pants a bit more because of your ass. The whole ensemble was a little odd, but only if one looked too closely.

He frowned. “Why do you look good?”

“It’s the heels,” you absentmindedly replied. “Besides, what?”

For a moment, you thought Jungkook wasn’t going to respond. But then his eyes raised, locking to yours determinedly. “If I can make it to a month, then…” He faltered before regaining his composure. “No, I will make it to a month. And all the rest. But when you see how serious I am, then… Then I want you to seriously consider me.”

Now it was your turn to avert your eyes. You didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Guilt settled as you realized that he was more intuitive than you gave him credit for. But you came back to him, eventually. His dark brown orbs lit up as you spoke.

“Sure.”

-

In a surprising turn of events, Jeon Jungkook actually greeted you with a breathless, “Hey,” for once when you answered his call, only to follow that up with, “The fuckin’ gym is closed, fuck.”

You blinked at your phone, put it on speaker, and tucked it into one of your upper kitchen cabinets to prop it up. It was not a video call. However, your hands were currently occupied. “I’m sorry,” you replied dryly, turning down the vent fan.

“Ugh, I really needed it today,” he grumbled, mostly at himself rather than at you. You heard the sounds of traffic and the white noise of wind. “And it’s cold tonight, hmph.”

You mentally calculated the day as you picked up the plate and tongs again. “Why was it closed? It’s not a holiday as far as I know.”

“I dunno. Note on the door said family emergency, so I guess I’ll find out later from the manager,” he said absentmindedly. It was a bit weird that Jungkook was treating this like small talk when he almost never called. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do or say about his predicament, so you began to place the slices of meat onto the hot pan, which immediately began loudly sizzling with popping oil. It must have picked up on the microphone. You heard a startled noise and then, “Whatchu doing?”

“Making dinner. And meal prepping at the same time, since I’m already cooking,” you replied, nudging the slices to fit all the meat in. Hm. Wouldn’t be the first time. Hm.

“What are you making?” He was sounding a bit too eager.

“Braised vegetables and pan-fried samgyeopsal,” you answered, reminding yourself to check under the lid. The bok choy and enoki mushrooms were just barely done. You quickly removed it from the heat before returning it the sizzling pork belly.

“Ugh.” He sounded jealous. “I’m jealous.” Guess he was. You found yourself smiling and quickly stopped, lightly adding a little flaky salt before starting the process of turning them over. You might die from a heart attack but not without a full belly of pork belly. “You’ve made me hungry. Maybe I’ll go get some ice cream.”

You mused. “Gym closed, so ice cream on a cool night is the solution?” The edges of pork belly were becoming that sweet golden caramel. Your kitchen was becoming decadently fragrant.

“This night is shit, anyway,” Jungkook complained. “I’d come over but you’d kick me out.”

You paused at his words. Then you busied yourself with taking the plate to the sink while raising your voice so he could hear you. “I didn’t kick you out last time.”

There was a short muteness that your both mutually agreed on before he sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll go home without the ice cream.”

You tutted. “I’m not the food police. Go get your ice cream if you want to.” You began to portion out the vegetables into the glass tupperware that you had already lined up.

“Nah,” he muttered. He really enjoyed this seesaw, huh. To be honest, you didn’t mind it. Maybe calling it fun too out of line, but. “I shouldn’t go into the convenience store, anyway. I don’t wanna break my streak.”

Only stubbornness could solidify self-restraint, it seemed. You checked the pork belly. It was done, so you turned off the fire and began to plate up your soon-to-be and future meals. Took less time because you had boiled the samgyeopsal first to keep the meat tender, removed it before it was completely cooked through, sliced it, and then pan-fried to completion. You plated the last of the vegetables, added the final helping of pork belly, and drizzled a bit of soybean paste on top. A small part of you wanted to take a photo and send it to Jungkook. Rub it in, perhaps. You picked up your phone and opened the camera app.

“Hey.”

“Uh?”

You filled the photo space with a close-up shot of your simple meal and sent it to him. “Check your messages.”

There was a scuffle and Jungkook grunted before gasping and then bringing his phone back to his ear. “Hey, fuck you.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

“Man… You suck.” He didn’t know the half of it. He was mumbling a tantrum on the street. “Ugh, now I’m so hungry... And mad. I’m mad at you.”

In between tee-hees and bites of your dinner, you placed your phone onto the counter. “If you buy me lunch, I’ll let you have one of mine,” you joked. Mmm, the meat was cooked just right. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

“No… I can’t do that,” he grumbled, taking your joke seriously. He scoffed. “Instead, I’ll bring a steak and make you cook it for me.”

“Steak?” You considered his suggestion. “Sure, I can cook steak.”

“Hah, see, you won’t – wait…” You heard a sputter and what sounded like a tumble. Or maybe the beginnings of one caught in the middle. He did have good reflexes. “O… Oh.” He sounded winded. “I thought you were… Thought you were gonna refuse.”

You nibbled on some delicious enoki mushroom. “Why?” You knew full well why. Just wanted to make him squirm. Also, him thinking you couldn’t cook a steak annoyed you. As if you didn’t know the value of medium rare. Hmph.

“A-Ah… Well.” He coughed and promptly changed the subject as embarrassed people do. “Are you eating right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’s very tasty. I did a good job.”

You could him suck in an inhale of childish disappointment. “I’m suffering here.”

“No one is asking you to.”

“Hmmmm, I don’t like this.” And yet he stayed on the line. It sounded like he was jogging the streets. Maybe trying to arrive home faster and keep his body temperature up.

You imagined it. Then you told yourself to stop that. “Do you have something to eat at home?”

“There’s probably something,” Jungkook puffed. “Probably not as good, but I’ve got freezer stuff. I can cook, though,” he insisted.

You hadn’t questioned it. But you did now. “Hm, really?” You half-smiled in between bites of bok choy.

“Yes, really.” Very adamant. “Someday,” he added, in the tone of someday proving it.

You remembered the last time he was in your kitchen. The last time he was in your apartment. You looked down to the cropped black t-shirt and the familiar charcoal sweatpants you were wearing. The scene was set. Still, it didn’t clarify how to feel about it. Answers were usually simple. Believing them was a different story. He called your name. Without thinking, you answered right away.

“Mhm?”

“I’m home,” Jungkook grunted.

Maybe you supposed to pop confetti. You let it go and asked, “Less angry about your lack of gym time?”

“Not really.” But he did sound less stressed somehow. Maybe it was the cardio of the jog. “I guess I gotta find something to eat now. Lemme put you on speaker.”

The number of times he could have hung up increased. And yet he hadn’t done so yet. You were almost finished eating. You could have ended the call right now. Said you were busy and done your chores without further distraction. It just didn’t feel right. That said enough. Well, at the very least, you thought you should accompany him on his food adventure.

He exclaimed loudly. “Ah! I found some corn ice cream at the bottom of my freezer! Nice!”

Your palm made contact with your forehead. “I guess you must be the gods’ lucky one,” you mused, mopping up your last bite. Time to clear the kitchen. Sad.

“You know it,” he cheered.

You heard him ripping open the plastic with gusto. Would have sounded cocky if it wasn’t for his barely audible happy noises. You began to tidy up the kitchen to distract yourself. Putting away spices, collecting the various cooking utensils into the sink, wiping down counters, putting the lids on the now cooled-down meals. You stacked them in the fridge. You didn’t try to hide what you were doing but, then again, Jungkook was seemingly too mesmerized by his ice cream to speak. Amidst your domestic tasks, you saw the parallels of being in the same place in your respective apartments, both together and apart at the same time with only a thread of technology connecting each other, and you glanced at your phone screen, wondering if he had hung up on you. The call was still active.

Such a mundane existence.

And yet.

You stood by your sink, the washing up the last to do, and you abandoned it to stand by your phone. It seemed so… annoying to have simple enjoyments taken away by complicated thoughts. Maybe there was a better word for it. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that you were listening to Jungkook enjoying his small happiness of the day and wondered if he intentionally or unintentionally shared it with you. Wondered if the intention even mattered in the face of what was.

You broke the relative silence. “When do you want me to cook that steak for you?”

The faint sound of licking lips. He must have scooted closer to his phone, because the volume of his words was louder than the sounds from earlier. “Uh…” You waited. “I think my one month of no cigarettes is coming up soon. Maybe then…?” He trailed off awkwardly.

The crumpled pack was still on your nightstand next to your lighter. You hadn’t touched either. They were collectively collecting dust. You opened your mouth, reconsidered, and then said what was on your mind.

“I never hated you just because you smoked.”

Maybe it was better that you couldn’t see each other. “Yeah, but…” He let out a breath. “It was the reason why you didn’t want to be around me.”

You couldn’t deny it.

“I get it, though,” Jungkook muttered softly. “I didn’t really want to be around myself either. Maybe I haven’t had any great failures, but… That means I haven’t had a chance to grow from hardships. Coasting, sort of. I need to push myself to be better, because I’m definitely not where I’m supposed to be.”

Your eyes raised which caused you to realize you had dipped your head. You wondered who put those thoughts in his head, but the answer was all around you. In the subtext of conversation of strangers, friends, family.

“It’s weird,” he continued, maybe forgetting you could hear him slurp in between words or because his ice cream was rapidly melting. “I was talking to a friend about you and he asked me if you ever needed anything from me, ever.” He sucked in a breath. “Tch. I kinda hate that, but also it made me realize… Isn’t that the most natural I’ve ever been with anyone? No expectations… Maybe even negative.” He laughed a little, and you could imagine him shaking his head. “Is this how you want to spend your life? No. I want to be someone that you might need someday.”

You didn’t say anything about him talking about you to other people. It was slightly funny of him to think of you as an enigma when you felt that you were so simple, really. Maybe that made you the root of his complicated thoughts. Maybe not. He was right in that you did your best to not depend on others, even going out of you way to not need others. Not expecting anything from them to not be disappointed. You didn’t see that changing anytime soon, but, an exception?

All rules had them.

“I’m looking forward to making you that steak,” you chuckled. “I need to finish up the dishes, so I’ll let you go. For now.”

“A-Ah…” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Okay. S… See ya.”

You half-smiled. Even though he couldn’t see it, you were sure that he could hear it in your tone. “You will,” and you ended the call.

-

You found a small package addressed to you in your mailbox. No return address, no postage, but it had relatively neat handwriting that seemed familiar somehow. You tucked the soliciting letters under your arm as you re-locked your postage box. The packaging was brown paper. You turned it over in your hand.

For your collection. Jeon Jungkook.

You almost snorted. He could have. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt odd, so you quickly walked back to your apartment, shouldering your mail and your work bag, fitting the small package into your palm. The mail room was on the ground floor. You went up the flights of stairs to the far-left unit. Unlocked your front door and went in, using your shoulder to push it open.

You closed the door behind you before you opened the brown-paper wrapped parcel.

The outside packaging unfurled. Tissue paper and a bit of foam. Something told you he didn’t pack this. This was the work of the elderly who sold it to him. Smooth steel. But you felt something on the side against your palm. You turned the disc around. It was one of those snap-close clay art mirrors. The kind delicately handmade by a practiced artisan’s hands. You ran your finger over it, entranced by the ridges and matte texture. The focal point was the gradient of orange depicting tiger lilies. The background was black, making the small imagery stand out.

Tiger lilies, huh.

You opened the pocket mirror and saw your bewildered expression staring back at you. Your initial compulsion was to look away. Your intrusive thoughts interrupted, asking you if you really hated what you saw. You looked and your reflection looked back. You lifted the mirror slightly, inspecting your makeup. You barely wore any to just barely get away with it at work. It still looked good.

You half-smiled.

“You’re so fucking full of it, Jeon Jungkook,” you chuckled, tucking the mirror into the pocket of your work bag before going about the rest of your night.

-

He was quite excited for steak day until you made him speechless.

“U-uh, hey! Ahem. Hey. I have the steaks. You didn’t say if I should bring vegetables, so I also got cabbage, carrots, shitake mushrooms, I didn’t know, I guessed, sorry, and I can help cook if you need someone to watch the vegetables while, uh, I can chop or clean or anything at all… um, why are you dressed like t-that…?”

If it was his plan to greet cool, calm, and collected, he failed. You opened your apartment door to gum-chewing, wide-eyed, rambling Jeon Jungkook wearing a baggy but heavyweight white button-up and dark blue jeans with white contrast stitching. Black belt with a bright gold buckle. The hem of the jeans draped well over his black laced boots. His black leather jacket was jammed in the crook of his elbow with the groceries. His jacket had silver zippers, which didn’t match his belt. The button-up was done all the way up to his neck, which didn’t suit him.

You let him go on his rant and tried not to smile.

The situation was not exactly funny. It was obvious that he was out-of-sorts by the frantic way he was gnawing on his gum like his life depended on it. You had to wait for him to take a breath. He was too far gone in his speech for you to interrupt him. You almost dared to call it adorable. Didn’t because that wasn’t part of your image even though clearly Jungkook had completely broke the image he wanted to craft for himself over his entire time of knowing you. For his sake, you pretended nothing was amiss. You simply took the groceries from his hands while saying, “Change of plans.”

His jaw was slack. You could see the pink wad of gum stuck to his molars. Lovely. “E-Eh?”

You noticed his black hair looked a little messy and windswept. It was longer now, too, giving him an unintentional rockstar vibe. Thankfully his brain was too preoccupied with being unable to catch up to the moment to notice you noticing him. You backed up into your apartment to place the bags on your kitchen counter, busying yourself with putting everything into your refrigerator.

“I want to take you somewhere,” you said to the shelves of your fridge, clearing out space. Oh, wow. He really did buy high-grade steak. Two of them. And a giant head of cabbage. “I don’t like carrots,” you commented. “But I’ll make them for you and you can take home the rest.”

He sputtered with the elegance of a caught bluefin tuna. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t – T-Take me somewhere?”

In the middle of placing the last thing, the bundle of carrots, into the fridge, you said it.

“Yes. I want to take you on a date.”

To be honest, you weren’t sure if it would come out as confidently as you heard yourself, but there was no going back now. You had debated before this day had come, turning over the tiger lily pocket mirror in your hand at night. Debated if the unwillingness was worth it and decided it wasn’t. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was thinking the same thing you were, but then he showed up. Over-dressed. Vibrating with nervous energy. Talking too fast. One look at him and you knew. You could think you had all the time in the world, but it wasn’t true. You turned around to see Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression at the entrance of your apartment and you knew.

Despite never believing in anything and thinking everything was going to shit, well, you might as well go down with a feeling of a life well-lived.

“A d… date…?”

You closed the door of your refrigerator. “A date. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you?”

He looked like he hadn’t. “I… uh… Yes?” You had meant the light jab to bring Jungkook back to Earth but both of you were currently stuck on cloud nine. “Is that why you…?” His hand raised and made a vague gesture.

Your own hand raised to smooth back your hair from your bare shoulder. “Ah. Yes.” Since your closet was mostly made up of comfy, work, and concert outfits – in that order – that amount of classy date pieces were slightly nonexistent. You had one black dress made of a slinky soft ribbed texture that was what you ended up wearing. It reached the floor, which suited the night climate of this time of year. The rest of it was quite sexy, though. The fabric made the dress cling to and accentuate your curves. The straight neckline and thin straps were maybe too flattering. Jungkook’s eyes were certainly wandering to the general area of your collarbones. You usually wore this dress in a very specific way, which you intended to do so tonight, but it couldn’t hurt to let him admire.

Yeah.

Admire was definitely the word.

Just like how you were letting him admire you walking up to him, sending him into a mild panic, knowing exactly what you were doing but trying not to think about it, instead focusing on what had been bugging you ever since you had seen it. “This… I’m sorry, but this doesn’t suit you,” you muttered, unfastening the first few buttons of the shirt and shaking it out to a more relaxed collar. He smelled good. Oh, wow, he smelled very good. Bergamot and cedarwood, it seemed. “It looked too stuffy.” You noticed the thin gold chain underneath. Oh. Perhaps the unintentional mixing of gold and silver was intentional after all. You righted the chain so it was more visible, his warm skin under your cool fingertips, and maybe you were imagining it or was that a shiver between you and him at the contact?

Your hands awkwardly hovered over his chest.

It was hard to look up but you made yourself do it.

Jungkook seemed startled but at the very least thawed from the initial shock. “O-Oh, but…” Surely he was not staring at your cleavage. Surely. You might have put it right in his line of vision, but, surely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s c-cold outside. At least…”

It was certainly an exaggeration to call it slow-motion, and yet somehow that was the only way to describe it because now you were the one frozen in extended seconds as he tumbled his leather jacket into his palm, grabbing it by the collar and lifting it up, up and to his left hand, flaring it out with a loud flap before draping worn-in warmth over your shoulders. The sudden weight caused you to tilt forward lightly. Your open palms pressed against his chest to steady yourself. His hands stayed on your shoulders. Both of you were staring at each other for too long.

At least no one was here to record it.

He spoke first. ‘I, uh, I took a lot of my clothes to professional cleaners,” Jungkook said quietly. “Since… It gives me a good reason to not… It cost a lot.” His ears were probably as red as yours.

You inhaled, raising your chest, and noticed how new the leather smelled despite him owning it for a while now. Your faint smile was now inevitable. “I really appreciate it,” and you did. He didn’t have to, and he did.

The light in his eyes must have been your imagination. “R… Really?” Or maybe not. He was breathless and there was no obvious cause for it.

Never in wildest dreams and insomniac nights and daytime silence full of running thoughts could you have created this present time where you felt that you saw him and he saw you. From all the gray haze moments of the past to those bright uncertain days of small happiness in the future, you knew you could do it alone, but, for once, it seemed unbearable to do so.

You leaned up and kissed him.

Your eyes had closed as you tilted your head to close the distance. Maybe you should have considered seeing his surprise. Maybe you were too nervous to. It was only a simple press of lips-to-lips. Still, you found respite. A strange tingle shot through you as you felt Jungkook kiss you back. Somehow, you felt his relief of you taking charge of a moment that he had wanted to happen for a long time.

After a savored moment, both of you broke apart.

Afraid to overstep. Slightly shocked that that just happened. You snuck a peek. It was impossible to not call him adorable and thankfully you were too high off the moment to say anything. He caught your eye. You let him, gracing him a coy curve of your lips.

His cheeks bloomed pink. “Y-You… You wanna wear my jacket?”

You lightly shook your head, reaching up to touch the back of his hand. “You’ll be cold. I was going to wear a sweater over my dress,” you explained. His expression fell a little bit despite your logic. “But I wanted to wait to see what colors you were wearing so that I could choose something that pairs well. It would be nice to match somewhat, right?” Immediately Jungkook perked up again.

It was just a damn hot pot date. Why were you both grinning like idiots? The world never did make any sense, hmph.

-

In spite of best efforts, you dozed off on his shoulder.

Dinner had been a little bit awkward. Not so awkward it was unpleasant, but enough where you had to pull yourself together to bring him back to his usual self. You wore a fluffy, thick, cropped white sweater over your black dress, giving you some much needed warmth for the cool night and giving Jungkook back his sanity. Then you took it away by hooking your arm into his, holding onto him as you both rode the train in thoughtless silence. The hot pot restaurant had newly opened and was packed with curious customers. In a stroke of luck, the host managed to find seating due to your small party size. After a brief explanation, you made a beeline for the lineup of ingredients. It had taken a mountain of vegetables, shrimp, and fishcakes on a plate to break Jungkook out of his trance.

“W-Woah! You eat that much?”

You had tilted your head. “We’re sharing. Duh.”

A flash of annoyance. “How do you know what I like to eat?”

“What don’t you like to eat?” you countered.

Jungkook puffed a cheek. “That’s not the point!”

It wasn’t the most deep of conversations. Still, it did bring you both some peace to know that you hadn’t lost what you already had. There was always that fear and it was good to know that the fear was unfounded.

“I only want one egg.”

He spoke over you, “Too bad, you’re getting two,” using one hand to crack another to poach in your boiling bone broth. You made a face at him as you mixed minced onions and garlic into your chili oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce combination. He waved a third egg at you threateningly. You were adversely terrified. He became distracted by your concoction. “Let me try.”

“No. I’ll make you your own.”

“We’re sharing.”

“There are limits,” and you promptly walked off to do just that. For his credit, he didn’t snatch your hard work. Might have been because his food wasn’t finished cooking yet. Semantics. “It’s my treat, by the way.”

Irrtation was going to permanently furrow his brows if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t need your charity. Besides, you’re hurting my pride as a man.”

You cried for him. “Boo hoo.” Sarcastically.

“You’re not paying.”

“You wanna fight?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Kinda if you keep this up.”

You pretended to lift your sweater.

Jungkook almost threw himself over the two boiling pots of broth. “Gah! What do you think you’re doing?!” He tried not to yell, hissing low between his teeth. “You’re crazy!”

“Putting you in your place,” you answered dryly.

His expression was between flabbergasted and aghast. “D-Don’t do that!”

Not the deepest of conversations. You smiled. He noticed, and looked away quickly, his ears turning pink as he busied himself ordering plates of meat. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to cook the steaks like you had originally promised. It would have made a great first date, even. And yet. Yet, you didn’t want to, because for some reason following the original plan felt symbolic of something ending instead of a beginning. You were confident in your cooking, and still the possibility of even the slightest failure made it so that you couldn’t relax. Maybe it was selfish to drag out a promise. Nothing about Jungkook’s demeanor indicated he was against it, though.

“What?”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out in his direction. “Nothing. Just…” He frowned. You almost wanted to ask him if he was disappointed by this turn of events. He was already shoving a plateful of thinly-sliced flat iron steak into his hot pot. “Just realized we’re only here now because of a cigarette and a lighter.”

His eyes cast downward. “I’m sor–” he began.

“Who knew a bad decision could turn into such a good one.”

Jungkook snapped his head back up, surprised. You gave him an impassive expression complete with a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips tugged upwards. He tried to hide it. He wasn’t as good at it as you were.

“Yeah. I guess…”

He sounded a little too happy for that lukewarm response. You reached into your bag, pulling out a pocket mirror to needlessly check your makeup. He noticed the tiger lilies nestled in your palm and positively beamed. You did your best to wipe your stupid smile off your face and clipped it closed to resume the meal. The rest of the dinner was similar. Well, largely focused on how many plates of shabu-shabu meat both of you could consume to make the restaurant regret seating you. At the very least, Jungkook had been impressed with your gall.

Points gained there, heh.

So, now, in spite of best efforts, Jungkook leaned his head against yours and dozed off with you on your sofa, curled up under the same blanket he had used to sleep over some nights ago. Sleep came a little too easily with full bellies. He had asked if he could sit down for a bit before heading back to his place. Because, you know, it wasn’t good if he became drowsy while driving his motorcycle. You had shrugged, casually, turning on your television to whatever late-night show was on to provide some form of mild entertainment. Distraction, really, so neither of you felt pressure to talk.

Turned out, falling asleep told you more than any conversation.

It might have been the food. The comfort of the blanket. Someone familiar being there. Whatever the cause, the stars aligned and you knew what it meant. One instance of sleep arriving quickly did not mean that you would never have a restless night again. It did not mean everything was different. But it did mean that what was already there wasn’t a lie. You thought you had done enough to spite him, but best efforts were useless in a wake of loud, hard-headed, brash Jeon Jungkook. It shouldn’t work. You were reclusive, blunt, guarded. An unfathomable match, and yet you could never seem to shake him. Apparently his fondness for you was so strong that continued meetings were inevitable. The prospect of the next time had become a regular instance. Monotone days were suddenly saturated with unexpected melodies. You kept telling yourself there was nothing else better to do than to put up with his antics.

There had been no real reason for you to believe that he would change.

He just did so he could define his own ideal of worthy.

Unconsciously, Jungkook was sinking into the cease of the sofa, into dreamlessness, taking you down with him into the cushions. You dozed practically on top of him, unknowingly nestling into his waning embrace. If you had your wits about yourself, you might have given him more conspicuous space, but he was so warm that you forgot that you didn’t typically like physical touch. Or maybe you didn’t mind as much because you knew deep down that he liked it. It was a small sacrifice for his happiness. Something like that. Ah. Right. Anyway, eventually you awoke to no-context ruckus on the television screen. Annoyed, you pawed for the remote on the coffee table and blindly turned it off. You wouldn’t have even bothered to open your eyes except for the fact that you were clearly on top on Jungkook, oh, and so you blinked slowly, line of vision shifting, realizing he wasn’t asleep.

He was pretending to be.

You placed a hand on his chest. One of his eyes cracked open. You raised an eyebrow. He almost jumped out of his skin. Probably not expecting you to be staring at him.

“Were you watching?” you asked.

“N-Not really…” Discomfort laced into his expression. “Um… You’re on my left knee a little weird.”

You shifted quickly. “Sorry.”

Relief. “No, uh, I fucked it up a bit while boxing a couple days ago,” Jungkook sighed. You could feel his inhale through your hand on his chest that you still hadn’t removed. “Think I hit it at a weird angle.”

You pointed out the obvious. “You’re not supposed to use your legs in boxing.”

He sent you the gift of a classic eye-roll complete with the bow of a scowl. “I lost my balance and fell.”

You calm expression didn’t change as you added, “Bad knees are the first sign of aging.”

His dark eyes narrowed into slits. “You–”

And proceeded to grab you by the waist. You shot up instinctively, straddling his hips, and your hand on his chest slid up. His eye went wide. He froze. You froze, realizing what you were doing. His hands were loosely around your waist with his fingers flaring out over the top of your ass. You moved your hand, resting it on his shoulder. Not on the offensive but on edge. You did your best to hold his gaze while in the precarious position. He immediately apologized.

“S-Sorry.”

“No, ah…” You shook your head. “I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t have moved to choke him out just because he was horsing around yet it was hard to really know with men these days. Still, thinking of Jungkook in that way after everything he had done for you was unfair. “I’m too used to having to protect myself.”

There was a sea of regret in those dark brown orbs. “I wasn’t going to…” Hurt you, and that part was obvious. He frowned, realizing your reaction and words said what needed to be said without saying it. “I promise. I’m not like that.”

You stared into his eyes. “I know,” and you did.

His expression became determined. “No, really.” He frowned. “I can’t help–”

You cut him off. “Is that why you have a hard-on right now?”

Dead.

Silence.

The cushions of your sofa were old, causing your knees to sink in further due to the prolonged concentrated points of pressure. You looked down. He looked up. Nobody moved. You had thought about it. Maybe. Not in any deep sense so as to not set any unrealistic expectations. He had very clearly thought about it if the rising tent of your dress in between your legs was any indication. You weren’t able to fully sit down on his crotch due to space constraints, but, even with jeans on, the distance down there was dwindling.

In short, Jungkook was obviously packin’.

You raised your eyebrows. He grimaced. He was trying not to stare at your thighs spread over him or how easily your waist fit in his hands. “Listen… Uh.” Brave of him to break the silence. “I… I’m not a disgraceful kinda guy, okay? I wasn’t planning anything. And I’m seriously serious.” His voice deepened as his eyes darted about. “Serious about…” His gaze lifted, navigating to yours.

Your lips parted, understanding him perfectly well.

However, your dress was stretching too uncomfortably. Distracted, you broke eye contact, reaching down to yank the hem from under your knee while extending your other leg to the ground to maintain balance. The fabric bunched up to your hips, draping over his lower body. You felt the friction of his jeans against your bare inner thighs. Then, you felt the friction in his jeans pressing up in between your legs.

Well.

That would be the expected result, huh.

Jungkook was beside himself. “W-W-What are you do–”

You raised your head. He stiffened. Everywhere. He was still holding you by the waist. Time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time, much like whatever this was. You made eye contact, diving into those wide eyes, searching for something to be afraid of. The scariest thing about all this was how readily he matched up with your intent to cross all the lines.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” you asked him.

His voice quivered. More out of poorly contained excitement rather than anxiousness.

“Are you crazy? Of course I wanna fuckin’ kiss you.”

There was no good reason for care-about-nothing you and caring-too-much Jeon Jungkook should match up well, and yet perhaps that was precisely the reason these puzzle pieces fit together. He lifted his torso from the sofa far too easily, meeting you halfway. With one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his chest, your lips brushed against his. Inhale, and his warm citrusy cologne mixed with his natural scent filled your lungs. He tilted his head, closing the distance. There was no pressure of a good first kiss as it was already over with. He pulled you closer.

A kiss was not particularly special, but everything about him was.

Terrifying.

As the saying went, you felt the fear and did it anyway.

Lips to lips, electric. Your fingertips gliding over his skin, spreading the button placket before descending, unraveling him like a flower, your tongue tracing the edge of his lips. His breath hitched. His hands on your waist tighter, turning, and you adjusted accordingly, letting him sit back against the sofa with you on his lap. His fingers slid under your sweater, fanning over your back like unraveling petals as you unbuttoned his shirt, drinking in his gasps. Sinking deeper. He tugged your sweater upwards and you released him for a moment to lift your arms, arching your spine, shedding the white onto the floor. His hands on the small of your back lifted you in return, and you arrived to the view of his own white shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders, revealing tan skin and his hard work at the gym.

Your eyes trailed upwards and Jungkook hesitantly smiled, uncertain of what you were thinking.

You dipped your head and licked up his chest.

“Whoa, wha–aah, f-fuck…”

Perhaps this was a strange thought but you felt this compulsion to taste his skin. You pushed his head back and crossed his neck with kisses. Teeth. Tongue. You felt his fingertips press into your back, his hips rise, a moan bubble up in his chest. He tried to speak between gasps, his hands sliding down to your ass as you licked up to his jaw, intoxicated by the taste of his skin.

“I didn’t r-realize… o-oh…”

You flicked his earrings with the tip of your tongue, dissipating your breath so it was whisper soft against his jaw. “Deep down, you knew there was more under this surface,” you murmured and as you said it you thought of black water but the reality was reflected all over the walls, in small snapshots of mirrors from older and modern times. Yes, a mirror was the more apt imagery. Your tongue coiled around his ear, whispering his name low and slow. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t think you were crazy…” Jungkook gasped. He pressed you down onto his lap, hiking your dress up further. An exhale drifted past your ear. “I didn’t say I didn’t l-like it…”

With a single finger, you turned his head to face you. Half-moon eyes hazy with lust. He ticked his head, putting on the bad boy front you always knew was a front, and you rocked your hips against his to create the rhythm. He sucked in a breath, your name on the tip of his tongue, and you placed your lips against his temple to ensure that he could feel every word as much as he could hear it.

“No matter who came before you, I hope you outmatch them all.”

He viewed you from his periphery.

You smiled in a dangerous way.

There was the briefest moment where he mirrored your smirk and then he lowered his head, catching you off guard with his lips against your pulse. By instinct, your fingers laced into his black hair, tilting your head to give him more access. Your eyes wandered among the walls. In smoked glass. In craved frames. From every angle, snapshots of Jungkook kissing down your neck and you pulling the straps of your dress aside, pressing his head downwards. His lips over your collarbones created an intricate network of pinpointed pleasure, blossoming, overlapping, your nerves singing. You hooked a finger down the center of the neckline, dragging it to a risqué level. His warm breath washed over your skin.

Anticipation on a knife’s edge.

You gazed down through the shadows of your lashes. He was watching you through his own. Wondering without words. So many times Jungkook had asked for a light to ignite his addiction. You saw the writing on the wall before he did.

You tugged the top of your dress downward.

“Fuck…”

You fanned your hands over your ribs pushing your bare breasts upward. Little did he know there was a shelf bra in the dress. Probably didn’t care. He clenched his jaw and frowned slightly, his cock throbbing from below. You could feel it because you were sitting on it.

“It’s annoying that you know how hot you are. Stop knowing how to act hot too.”

You wondered if he ever looked in a mirror. “That’s rich coming from a guy that works out to make his chest big.”

He pressed his lips together before grumbling, “So…?”

You lifted you body and put your tits right in front of his face. He tried to throw you off as his lips made contact, but then was immediately distracted with the taste, running his tongue over your nipple with a moan. Strong hands on your waist again. Your own hand slid down the crown of his head, sliding in between the collar of his shirt and his shoulder muscles, caressing them as you felt sparks from his light sucking. He kissed across your chest to access the other and you breathed out, electric and erotic, your nails turning inward.

His groan was gravelly, rough from pleasure.

“Ugh, fuck, scratch me.”

You dug your nails inward and he whined into your chest, sucking harder, flicking his tongue against your nipple. You moaned to the ceiling, arching your back, and now both of your hands were on his shoulders, creating a crisscross pattern of pink under his shirt collar. There was no rhyme or reason, only instinct. Jungkook growled, taking a swift moment to yank his arms out of his shirt before pawing at your hands to explore more, touch more, repaying you with divine lips and tongue. Either he liked pain or he loved pain. Hm. You had your opinions but you kept them to yourself.

You laced your fingers into his hair, arching your back. He extended his tongue and instead of him licking upwards, you curved your body downwards, only losing contact when it was physically impossible. You lowered your head slowly. Your tongue traced your lips. He was breathing in shallow, perfumed breaths tainted with your taste. Pupils dilated. Under the influence.

You stared into his dark eyes. “You can still stop.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. I was in it before you were.”

He wasn’t wrong. Time moved too fast and too slow at the same time. You slid off his lap, gripping the side of your dress and pushing them down your hips. He rose, entranced, and you backed up, out of the way of the coffee table. In the room of mirrors – the living room – clothes began to slide to the floor one by one. Your tousling of his black hair had made it gone rogue, draping over his eyes as he tugged the back of his shirt out of his pants and let it fall. You took another step back while reaching forward, pulling apart his belt buckle. He glanced down as he was tugged forward. With one eye on you, he pulled the strap from the pin. You held the buckle. Pulled. He guided the black leather to smooth exit. For a few moments, you had him by the leash of his belt, dragging him into the bedroom.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

From the look on his face, he remembered.

You held onto the belt after it made its escape, twirling it around in your hand. Jungkook’s dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t.” You didn’t say anything and that was more alarming. “Do not even think about it,” he warned, his tone becoming lower, gruff. You smiled. You flicked your wrist and he halted.

You coiled the black leather around your thigh.

Tightened it by crossing the ends.

Oh, he was looking now.

“Don’t what?” you taunted, turning as you reached the end of the bed. Instead of lifting your knee to the edge of the mattress, you gripped the crossed straps of his belt and hoisted your leg upwards, adding a little bounce of your ass as you looked over your shoulder.

He didn’t expect the showmanship. His mouth squeaked out an, “Are you serious?”

Muscles, tattoos, and he still didn’t know what to do with all that. Your other hand grazed the curve of your ass to the hem of your seamless panties, hooking a finger over the edge and tugging it towards the center dip.

“Okay, fuck, you’re gonna make me bust in my damn jeans,” Jungkook muttered, looking annoyed at the tent in his pants. His hand was already undoing the button. You smiled, releasing your leg, walking over to the nightstand by the bed. The box of unused cigarettes was still there along with your lighter. You only glanced at them, dropping his belt to the side and opening the drawer, pulling out a string of condoms.

Turned around and Jungkook shot you a disbelieving look with his cock sticking out of his pants. Still in his boxer briefs, so obviously hard that he was past the open zipper. You didn’t back down, approaching him with his death sentence dangling from your fingers.

He tried not to seem flustered. “You’re busy, huh?”

You stopped in front of him, tilting in your head. “Busy waiting for you to make a move.”

He sucked the inside of his cheek. “Tch. Am I supposed to believe that?”

“You tell me.”

You sat down on the bed, placing the condoms within easy reach. Crossed your legs. Stared into his eyes, daring him to believe that you were lying. You saw bite his lip. Looking you up and down, so you did the same, watching him shove his jeans down further. You ticked your head.

“Or maybe just don’t fall for my tricks, hm?”

And you fell back onto the bed, lifting your legs, reaching under. Put your weight on your shoulders while you hooked your fingers onto the sides of your panties, pulling up, up, slipping one leg out. Then the other. Flicked your wrist and sent it flying. Then you spread your legs to reveal his stunned face.

You pulled a condom oof the line and held it out to him.

He looked uneasy, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them away. “Uh… You sure?” He tried to sound calm but his voice was shaking. He was trying to flip it on you.

You smiled. Casually. “I give you permission to find out.”

This did not ease Jungkook’s worries. He was too busy to staring at your pussy to formulate any more sentences, though. He took the condom from your hand, pushing down his black underwear. You looked. He saw you look. Confirmed that he didn’t work out because he was lacking in his pants, that was for sure. Your gaze went back to his face. He didn’t know what to think about your reaction, because you purposefully didn’t have one.

Instead of speaking, you reached down in between your legs and spread your wet lips.

Lowering your lashes. Slow smirk. Jungkook sucked in a breath and ripped open the condom. His underwear was sliding down his legs, but you were too busy being fixated on the way his arms moved, carefully rolling down the condom as he watched your fingertips trace your slit, drawing circles around your clit. The heat turned into wetness. He moved closer. You curled a leg around his hip. He put a hand on your thigh, positioning himself over you. Made eye contact. You looked back curiously, spreading the upper lips of your slick pussy.

He slid the bottom of the slick head against your clit and made you both moan from the contact.

Rubbed, slowly. Your insides throbbed with need. The lubrication made it even better. You pulled your hand back and tipped your hips upwards, and then he slid in. He gasped, his inhale catching in his throat. The hand on your leg tensed. You pressed your calf into his ass, pushing him deeper.

“F-Fuck, what–”

Your expression must have indicated that you were going to shove him in yourself, because Jungkook took one panicked glance at your face and thrust in, loudly swearing. He shut his eyes but you caught a peek of them rolling upwards as you dreamily sighed from the feeling of fullness, squeezing all around to feel more, the pressure becoming pleasure.

“You can move.” Just in case he wasn’t sure.

“Shut up,” Jungkook snapped back, shifting his hand to grab your thigh, yanking you into his crotch. He cut off his own moan by clenching his jaw. You smiled. Sweetly. He glared as viciously as he could, which wasn’t much, and thrust hard enough to make you both gasp. He was resisting from commenting about your tightness. “Stop smirking at me like that.”

You tested fate.

“Make me.”

The light was playing tricks. Or maybe his hair was casting shadows over his darkened gaze. Or perhaps this was possession of passion that made him lean down. Locked gazes. He covered your mouth with his free hand. You let him, waiting to see where this would go. He began to move. Slow, deep, building the heat between your joined bodies. Staring into your eyes, and you stared back, clenching your core to increase the unfurling bliss, so damn good, watching his lashes lower, his lips parting, heated breath drifting out like invisible smoke. You raised your hips to meet him, moaning into his palm. He bit the edge of his lower lip, the tiny mole centered underneath suddenly visible.

Your tongue traced his fingers, dripping saliva.

He spread them, entranced by the way you thrust your wet muscle in time with his hips, coiling towards the small finger tattoos you knew he had. Jungkook swore under his breath, gripping your thigh harder, but he wasn’t reaching the force you both craved. With reluctance, he removed his hand from your open mouth, watching the charming curl of your tongue disappearing in between your lips before gripping your other hip with his wet hand, cocking an eyebrow at you.

You reached back and grabbed fistfuls of your duvet, bracing yourself with an open-mouthed smirk.

He thrust hard and you rose to meet him. Both of you cried out at the radiating smack of force between bodies. Nothing for show. Just pure raw lust, chasing the high, giving into the lust. Heat into tension. Your back arched. He pulled you to him. You squeezed him all around. With each loud slap you felt pleasure ripple through your body, making your breasts bounce to his rhythm, and you let out a soft moan, sensing the ripple turning into a cascade, your insides tightening, closing your eyes once the vicious throb overtook your hips, drowning in orgasm.

“Oh, fuck–”

Jungkook didn’t even get to choke out his surprise before his own orgasm hit him. You felt his fingers dig in, snapping your bodies together. His drawn-out groan became the sonata to the punctuated sensation of inescapable euphoria. Wet. Hot. You gasped at a jolt of ecstasy rattling in your ribs. You felt his cock jerk inside you as his hold on you lessened, switching to kneading your thighs. Your brain was so hazy that his touch seemed to amplify the addictive heat, your legs closing in, keeping him in place.

“Could’ve… fuckin’ warned me…”

He panted hard, squeezing your ass roughly. You didn’t care. It was hard to when his slip to his Busan dialect was so attractive. You reveled in the bliss for a moment longer before lowering your legs, realizing the source of the heat was Jungkook whose body seemed to be ten thousand degrees. He pushed back his hair, revealing his glistening brow and cheekbones. Gasping for breath. He pulled out before stripping off the condom with a hiss.

“What am I supposed to do with–”

You sat up, using your elbows to lift your body. It was harder than you thought because the aftermath of tension had left a residual tremble throughout your nerves, but you ignored it, living on determination alone. Jungkook started, not expecting you to move so quickly. You didn’t give him time to react, reaching down between your bodies.

“A-Ah, don’t…!”

He stuttered, gasped, then moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. Slippery. Hot. Covered in lube and cum and now your fingers wrapping around his length, finding him half-hard. You gave him almost no pressure but all contact, glossing over the shaft until his cock swelled in your hand, ghosting over the head with your palm. He bit back a yelp, not yet opening his eyes, almost whining. His reaction drove you, sliding forward a bit to the very edge of the mattress. He held his breath. Snuck a peek. You angled your body to expose more of your inner thigh and lifted him.

His eyes widened.

You sandwiched his cock in between your palm and your inner thigh, sliding your body back and forth to stimulate him. He inhaled sharply, shooting you a look of indignation, and yet his hips began moving anyway. You gradually increased the pressure. His head tipped back, groaning to the ceiling, becoming harder and harder with each stroke.

You reached over to the condoms and held them out.

Jungkook lowered his head. “Seriously?”

You lifted your hand from his pulsing, wet cock. “Saying you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” he retorted.

You pulled one off. He handed you the used condom. There was maybe a second and then he gave back the empty foil wrapper in which you tucked the used one into, folding it carefully so there was no spillage. It wouldn’t take long, anyway.

Part of you wanted to say that, but you held your tongue.

Hands on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs. Jungkook pinned your knees to your chest and slid back in, lowly growling, “How the fuck are you so tight,” but you were too enveloped in the sensations, wet and hard and your inner muscles closing in, molding to the shaft. The swollen head hit that depth you could really feel, and you sighed, lifting your hips. His hands slid off your legs and hit the bed, sandwiching you in between the bed and his hard chest.

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s.

It was intense, rough, carnal. You forgot your surroundings, clutching the duvet and his tattooed forearm, matching each slap of your bodies with a breathless gasp, your calves on his shoulders, his erratic breath melting into shuddering moans. You were moving up the bed little by little from the force. Your name slipped from his lips. Your pussy clenched involuntarily and then the rapid thunderous pulse overtook your senses. He lasted a little longer this time after your orgasm, but not much longer, succumbing to the vicious call, burying his entire length inside you and gritting his teeth to muffle his moan in his chest.

It should have ended there.

You could barely breathe. Suffocating from your own thighs. After an erotic, elated eternity, Jungkook lifted his upper body, gasping apologies. You could barely hear them, orgasm still ringing in your ears, having to relax your muscles one by one. The bed was a mess. Duvet bunched up. Condom wrappers garnishing the ground. Clothes all over the floor. Your legs crossed, sliding down. Jungkook was standing somehow and you could tell that even he thought that was a miracle. He offered a hand. You took it, letting him shakily pull you up to your feet.

His breath washed over your cheek.

You looked up at him. His dark orbs shifted towards you. Waning. You tilted your head. Half-moons. Lips to lips. You drank in his exhale, kissing him deeply. Still electrified. Hands all over, igniting fire over skin. His lower body bumped up against your thigh. Slippery hardness pressing into softness. The scent of sex clung between you and him. You reached down. Touching him. Stroking his cock with your fingertips while kissing him. You felt his hand snake between your legs, sliding two fingers into you. One by one, your fingers closed in. He stroked your clit before thrusting his fingers back in, swallowing your moan into his throat. You began to slide your hand up and down. The combination of lube and cum delivered that delicious friction that he was looking for. At this point, the fervor was so intense that the pace was fierce, fast, a contest of who could get each other off faster while in lip-lock.

You shoved your tongue into his mouth.

Jungkook sucked on it, pushing a third finger into your soaked pussy, all the way up to his knuckles. You welcomed it, working his entire length, jacking him off tight and harsh, and all of a sudden he let go if your tongue, gasping with a pinched moan, his hips jerking forward. Hot spurts of milky white shot down your inner thigh. Not much, but definitely enough to witness and feel. Something inside you snapped and you had to grab his shoulder to avoid falling over, your nails digging in a halo as your pussy spasmed, sucking in his fingers with a wet squelch, your legs snapping closed to extend the feeling. Breathless moan against his ear. You leaned against him with your juices leaking down your legs and sticking to his fingers.

Delicious.

Satisfyingly ragged. Blood pumping. Both of your bodies burning, or at least yours was and his chest was alarmingly sweaty. You slowly untangled your hands from each other but they lingered low, suddenly realizing how much needed to be cleaned up.

“Uh…” Jungkook panted. “I’ll help…”

He better. “Yeah. We should, hah, clean up.” Your tongue traced your lips. “Then sleep.”

“I didn’t bring clothes,” he mumbled distractedly.

You lifted yourself from his shoulder. “I still have your sweatpants,” you reminded him.

His dark eyes slid towards you. He tried to frown. His eyes were too eager and sparkly for that. “Oh. Yeah…”

“You can go home if you want,” you offered while naked and with his cum sticking to your thigh.

He sucked on the inside of his cheek sharply. “You can’t say sleep over and then take it back.”

“Then take it in the first place.”

“I was gonna,” Jungkook snapped, and grabbed your arm, pulling you in for another kiss.

-

“Did you mean it?”

The room was relatively clean now. The trash was appropriately in the trash. The clothes had been lumped into an ambiguous pile on your dresser. Teeth had been brushed. You had set aside a spare toothbrush for his use only. Seemed appropriate. He was not wearing his sweatpants. Turned out that was not his preferred way to sleep. It wasn’t yours either. He was only in his boxer briefs and you were only in your panties. Your bodies were now minus each other’s bodily fluids.

“Mean what?”

You tried to yank the duvet into a more acceptable orientation before climbing in. After a pause, Jungkook lifted the other side and tried his best to settle in.

“That you were waiting for me to make a move.”

Tried his best because he seemed to be distracted by the conversation. You adjusted your pillow and nestled in a section of the duvet that was not that close but not too far away either. It was a king-sized one for a queen bed. Plenty of sharable coverage. You didn’t interfere with his routine and he didn’t with yours. You took the time to think.

“Hm.” It wasn’t wholly true after all. “I didn’t know if you were going to make a move or not.” He snorted under his breath but you ignored it to finish speaking. “After the first time you stayed over… It was more that I figured being prepared was better than not being prepared.”

“That’s…” He sounded uneasy.

“I can’t live hoping for something that might or might not happen,” you said without facing him.

He seemed annoyed. “Why not?”

You pointed out the obvious. “I don’t think you should change your life only to appeal to me. You should do it for yourself.”

“Well, I did,” Jungkook grumbled. He cocooned himself in a good chunk of your duvet. That was the tell of a blanket stealer. You would have to keep an eye on him. “I quit for you. It was always you. It’s happened already, so accept it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He grunted. “Just like how I shouldn’t have started smoking in the first place. Guess that’s the kind of shitty guy I am.”

Silence.

He wasn’t facing you. You were looking up at the ceiling. Closed your eyes because there weren’t any promises up there. The promises were always next to you. He seemed cold, but you knew better. He didn’t know how to be a cold person. He tried his best and it was a constant failure.

“Aren’t you happy you broke that people-pleasing of yours?” you asked softly.

There was a short, reluctant pause before he muttered, “You’re a butt.”

You burst out laughing. Big, muscly, tattooed man curled up in bed with you retorting with a child’s insult was too funny. Jungkook growled, rolling over to shake your shoulder with contained fury. You kept laughing even when he gave up and took the pillow out from under him, repeatedly bopping your torso and legs with it. There was no strength behind it. Plenty of salt, though. You opened your eyes mid-snicker and looked over to him. His arm was extended over to you. His black hair was all over the place. He shook his head like a Doberman and scrunched up his face. Frowning. On the verge of a pout, really. He could have looked madder. He would never make it as an actor. Your laughter died out.

“You were gonna totally back off if I didn’t have condoms?” you teased.

He looked exasperated. “Seriously? I’m not some untrained dog who hasn’t eaten in days! You… There’s plenty of other choices we have! I’m a good guy!”

You smiled. “I know.”

He immediately stopped protesting. It was as if all the fight drained out of him. There was a whole universe in those big dark brown eyes. And then it occurred to you that, back then, Jungkook could never quite meet your eyes even though he was always looking your way. Every day came with a dark night. He would ask you, got a light, and you would hold up the flame, shining light into those dark eyes when he used to lean in.

It was strange, then, to see the light that was there when now his eyes locked with yours.

No lighter required.

“You really tried to pass off as a bad guy. Almost fooled me, even.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Ugh, fuck you.”

“You did,” you quipped.

Jungkook flung the pillow behind him and scooted alarmingly close. You instinctively tried to move out of the way but there was no more bed to escape to. His strong arms wrapped around your shoulders and dragged you back to him, threatening you with, “Shut up. I’m hugging you.”

You failed to listen. Classic. “I didn’t ask to be hugged.”

There was a foreign tingling feeling that raced all over your skin. Not from the physical closeness, but from the other kind of closeness. You felt your shoulder bump against his firm chest. He even threw his leg over your hip and yanked your legs closer, cocooning you with his frame. You almost thought he was trying to extend the night.

Instead, he simply latched onto you like a barnacle.

“I don’t care. I’m a bad guy. Hmph.”

Quiet.

You placed your hand on his forearm just under your breasts. This was going to become very hot and sweaty in the long run. But you let it be. You didn’t want to let go either, even though you weren’t exactly doing the holding on. You used your other hand to drag the duvet back up under your chin. He didn’t stop you. You felt him squeeze you a little tighter once you were comfortable, as if to confirm. You patted his arm.

“Your hand is too hot,” he complained in a mumble by your ear.

“That sucks,” you said and didn’t move it. He didn’t try to shrug you off either. “I’ll make your steak tomorrow.”

He pretended to gnaw on your shoulder. “We can’t have steak for breakfast.”

“Why not? We’re adults.”

“That isn’t what adults do.”

“Then I give up on being an adult.”

“Me too,” he huffed. He perched his chin by your head. “Alright, I’m down.”

You debated on telling him. Telling him why you purchased the lighter in the first place. Even before him, it constantly stayed in your pocket. It only came out on the darkest nights when the insomnia was the worst. A flame and a human life followed the same trajectory. At night was when the flame danced the brightest. You would watch the flame dance. Contemplated. Extinguished it. You even did your due diligence of refilling it when it was low. When Jeon Jungkook appeared in your life, you ignited the flame for him without much thought. That was, after all, the intended use the lighter. It made sense to use it as such. You found yourself reaching for it less because, well, what if you ran into him? He would always ask and you would always provide. When he had handed you his barely-used pack and said he was done, you too gradually began to leave the lighter behind. The two objects had begun to collect dust night after night. Untouched. Originally your lighter wasn’t for him, and yet.

That small flame had led him to you.

The universe planned well.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

“Uuh?” He sounded very sleepy and not quite conscious.

“My lighter was for you, after all.”

“Mmmm…” He nestled closer and squeezed your arm. “That’s good.”

You smiled as he drifted off to sleep. He still snored, although less intensely. His grip on you relaxed but was no less meaningful. Slowly, the exhaustion caught up to you, and you went willingly, following Jeon Jungkook’s path to dreams. You would have to get used to this new routine of the night.

--

masterpost

[gamblersdoll]

Bakugo who gets off sucking readers boobs please great writer🙏

katsuki likes tits, big or small.

but if it was one thing, he adored having to suck on a nipple while having his hand in his pants to squeeze his cock— hard as shit. it was always perverted, his hand in his jeans and a hand on your breast so keep it up.

“taste so good..” he mumbles, a moan in his throat and hes pulling you onto his lap, thrusting upwards into your clothed core to feel something; even if it meant having to fall asleep with nipples in his mouth.

“kats— sucking a bit hard.” you remind him, knowing youll probably have sensitive and tender nipples for maybe three days.

“deal with it— oh god, fuck.” he talks shit with a nipple in his mouth, like he isnt sucking your shit like its a damn pacifier. “im getting close.” he announces, putting both hands on your hips to force a grind from you against his jeaned cock. “please— fuck, mama, dont take this away from me.”

[adultbabystories]

Foolish Plans

Could you do it? It’s worth a try, isn’t it? But so many things are against you.

You were thinking about a way to escape while lying there.

You have no money, cell phone, wallet, or passport. You agreed that Daddy would take all of it when you stepped into his house. It was a condition you had to agree to if you wanted to experience what he promised. So even if you escaped, you cannot get anywhere or contact someone. Sometimes Daddy likes to hand you a toy shaped like a phone, then he holds one to his ear and tries to speak with you. Most times you answer and blubber into the toy in your hand.

You have no adult clothes. Daddy took the small trolley you brought and the rest of your stuff. The adult clothes you had on, he forced you to cut them all while you sat on his knees, naked. Now you are dressed only in big baby’s clothes. You know where the onesies, shortalls, and playsuits are, but you don’t have a clue where you could find a decent adult’s pieces.  It’s cold outside, would you go out in your long-sleeved onesie? Daddy likes to put you in the most babyish baby-printed clothes. He’s holding your arm up, points at a certain animal, and tells you a story about it. You sit and listen.

You can’t hold it anymore. For some reason you can’t hold it anymore, number 1 and number 2. You just go in your diaper, sometimes even when you are not noticing. By now you need your diapers, and sometimes even relieved you’re wearing one. It’s easier just to let go. Even if you walk out, you can’t just take off the diaper and go naked, you’ll make a mess. Daddy likes to flip you over the changing mat and pat your thick diaper bum. You’re sure he enjoys the thumping sound of the thickness.

You are nowhere and don’t know the language. Daddy took you from the airport after you agreed to his terms online and when you met him for a coffee in a restaurant next to the airport. The drive was long and you fell asleep. When you woke up before arriving at his house, you drove for at least an hour in a thick forest. After a month of regression treatment, while playing in your playpen, Daddy greeted his old friends inside. You just sat there, blushing. You couldn’t understand one word, you don’t know their language. At some point, one of Daddy’s bearish friends came to play with you and your toys. He spoke to you like any adult would speak with a toddler, but you felt that way completely because you couldn’t understand him at all. You tried to say something to him but for him, it was like a baby was speaking to him.

You were so upset that you started to sob. You were lying in your crib after Daddy put you to sleep. Your plans were so foolish, they would never work. Why did you agree to it? You thought it would be only a week, and by now you can’t tell how much time has passed. Your cries went through the baby monitor.

Daddy opened the door slowly and spoke in the foreign language. You don’t understand it, but you do recognize a few words. You thought he said the words ‘baby’ and ‘sleep’, then he caressed your face. His touch was so warm and loving. It made you feel a bit better. Then he said the word for ‘pacifier’ and you automatically opened your mouth, because up until that point you didn’t want to suck on it, although you were frustrated and wanted to. Now when you were nursing on it while Daddy was caressing your cheeks, you calmed down. He spoke to you in such a calming tone, that you were less scared and upset. You felt peace again. He gently grabbed the front of your diaper, and you felt wetness and warmth, which grounded you to the situation.

Daddy turned on the mobile above you and left the room quietly. Maybe it’s not as bad as you thought. You were sucking on your pacifier rhythmically, drifting on to sleep in your nursery.

“Just one more night, then I’ll think of a plan” was your last thought before the lullaby put you to sleep.

[multifandomme]

Caught

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha's absence makes you needier than usual.

Genre: Smut, (masturbation, fingering, praise, dom/sub undertones, getting caught, finger sucking, pretty vanilla), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1.1k.

This piece is for day 12 of kinktober under the 'masturbation' prompt. This is a repost of a fic I wrote on ao3 in 2022.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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Wandering hands slipped beneath the bedsheets, the soft sound of rustling fabric bleeding out into the thickened silence. Natasha’s absence always incited a newfound level of desperation, but you hadn’t quite anticipated the sheer desperation that had claimed you. Initially, you had attempted to thwart the throbbing between your legs with distractions, a movie playing to nobody in the background as you fidgeted upon the mattress. Every extended attempt was obstructed by the wriggling of your fingers, a conscious mind of their own dragging them lower to pacify your urges.

Ordinarily, a punishment would follow such an overt act of disobedience, Natasha intent on being the only person who could induce such a pleasure. But her lack of presence was felt tenfold, a flitting tingle fast transforming into an uncomfortable pressure in the pit of your stomach that begged to be alleviated.

Deft movements saw your underwear yanked down to your ankles until you flicked them to the floor below, momentarily forsaken as your mind whirred with anticipation. Your fingers sought your pussy with avidity, unable to resist the temptation as you dared to trace your arousal with a sole digit, a shameless moan tearing from your throat. 

In the pitch darkness of the room, you felt at ease, the only semblance of light originating from the tiny ray that slivered in from the hallway outside. Soft breaths escaped your lips as you laved your clit with your arousal, your nipples hardening as the pleasure took a firm hold of you with no intent of letting go.

Liquid collected in abundance, only exacerbated by the touches that you had allowed yourself to undertake, proficient fingers probing at your entrance. The impulses were too strong to ever deny, a snaking finger daring to sneak inside of yourself as your back arched upwards from the bed, a warmth infiltrating the entirety of your body. Ablaze.

Electricity sparked with vigour, the motion of your finger inside of yourself finally providing some pacification as you basked in the feeling of being filled. You could only wish that Natasha was beside you, her soft coaxing words never too far away as she willed you into oblivion. The image of the redhead remained imprinted in your mind, her voice so familiar that you could almost hear it in its corporeal form as you reeled at the prospect. 

“Natasha, oh- fuck,” you hissed, mindlessly. 

“Naughty girl,” a voice erupted, startling you in place as you yanked your fingers away from your pussy in haste. “Someone really missed me, hm?”

Immediately, your eyes raised towards the door, a silhouette lurking over the threshold until the ghostly figure sauntered towards you. Even in the dimness, the smirk that Natasha donned could not be denied, practically entwined with her as she tugged the bedsheet away from you. Green orbs studied your indecency, her interest blatantly piqued as she honed in upon the glimmering arousal between your legs.

“So needy,” she remarked, her fingers inching in to trail over your throbbing flesh, a look of amusement claiming her features. “All you need to do is ask.”

Humiliation clouded you with intensity, a darkened blush materialising upon your cheeks and radiating heat. It was the first time that you had been caught in such a compromising position, rendered self-conscious beneath Natasha’s burning gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, quietly as you began to clamber to a sitting position, quickly occluded by a strong hand that forced you backwards. “I tried to stop, but I couldn’t, I-”

“Ssssshhh,” Natasha hushed, a slender digit pressed rigidly against your lips and painting it with the arousal that Natasha had been priorly inspecting. “How about I finish that for you, my love?”

An uncontrolled groan fell from your lips in the knowledge that Natasha planned to alleviate your neediness as you took her finger into your mouth. Expertly, you coated her digit with saliva, your tongue swirling around until it glistened in wetness.

“Hmmm,” Natasha mused, retracting her finger from your mouth with a sadistic simper. “You’re more desperate than I thought.”

You nodded avidly in agreement, hoping to instil Natasha with a sense of urgency, your heartbeat pulsating agonisingly between your legs.

“Please,” you begged, enlisting the help of your most convincing pleading expression, the one you knew sent Natasha’s self-control spiralling. 

Natasha’s jaw flexed instantaneously as you bit back a victorious smile, knowing that your underhand tactics had succeeded. A response from her was unnecessary, her fingers manoeuvring to mirror the actions that you had exerted earlier, a ghosting touch landing upon your pussy. She hummed softly as she brushed against your arousal, two fingers sliding in without warning as she gnawed upon the full flesh of her lips. 

“So fucking tight, baby,” she growled, lowly, a carnal sound bursting from your own mouth in response to her remark. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Your hips jogged in accordance with her soft motions, gentle as she basked in the way your walls hugged her fingers so snugly. Desperation surged without respite, intent on pressing Natasha for a faster pace as you bucked aimlessly into her hand.

“Please,” you breathed, whorishly, all traces of embarrassment forsaken as your mind became fixated upon your carnal urge to come undone. “Fuck me harder.”

Natasha acknowledged your plea with a hum, a cocky smile plastered upon her face as she increased the pace. Of course, the woman turned the tables, a brutal force emerging as your breath fought to catch up, Natasha merely chuckling towards your strife. Your body shuddered as the redhead’s fingers jammed into you, methodic whines ripping themselves from you as you stared into her sparkling orbs.

“That’s it, baby,” Natasha coaxed, her voice delicate and in contention with the aggression conveyed in her movements. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, hm?”

Mindlessness denied any verbal response, your brain lacking coherence as you gazed up, dumbfounded by the pleasure that flooded you. Natasha peered downwards, a knowing simper glued to her lips as her eyes darkened with lust, wholly consumed by you.

“Cum for me, baby,” she demanded, domineeringly, her teeth bared in impatience. “Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

A calculated swipe across your clit had your body quaking below her, your pussy cinching Natasha’s digits with intent. You cried aloud, more so when she continued to slam into you, no heed paid towards the unbearable oversensitivity that you were faced with.

“Fuck, baby,” you panted, breathily, your hands outstretched in search of Natasha’s wrist in the hopes of stymying her motions. “Stop, I can’t take it.”

Natasha scoffed in amusement before prying her fingers out of you only to shove them into your gaping mouth. Instinctively, you suckled with zeal, your tongue flurrying as you recalled the familiar taste of yourself commencing its invasion.

“Next time,” Natasha spoke, her face merely inches from yours. “You wait for me. Do you understand?”

––--– ♡ –––--

––--– ♡ –––--

[mellowsadistic]

“That’s it, baby, let it all out,” I cooed. “Have a big cry. Daddy's here, little girl." I stroked my wife's hair gently while she bawled her eyes out like a two-year-old, sat on the floor of our bedroom wearing nothing but her sopping wet diaper.

She gasped in big lungfuls of air, her bare chest heaving with every shaky breath. “You… did something… to me!” she said between hiccups, batting my hand away and glaring at me accusingly. It seemed that I'd finally been found out.

"What did I do to you, sweetheart?" I asked softly.

"You... turned me... into... a cry... baby!" she sobbed, almost hyperventilating now, her words barely intelligible. "You... want me... like this!"

“That's right, darling," I said, and I saw her tear-filled eyes widen in surprise at my ready confession. "I want to be your Daddy. I want to take care of you. But you've always been so strong and independent. I knew I had to do something to change that, so I used some special hypnosis files, hidden in that night-time background music you like to listen to, to erode your emotional control. It's the same technique I used to take away your potty training.”

She looked at me in horror, but I just chuckled and reached out to stroke her tear-stained cheek lovingly with the back of my fingers. “It’s so sweet that you can’t control when you go pee-pee or poo-poo anymore." I patted the front of her soggy diaper. “And you look so pretty in your princess nappy!”

“You did this to me?” my wife whispered, so shocked that her wracking sobs had come to a halt. Her hand drifted down to the huge disposable diaper bulging between her thighs. "You made me need these?"

"Yes, baby," I said. "I thought making you incontinent would be enough, but even then you were still trying to be self-sufficient; insisting on changing your own nappies, refusing to let me comfort you after an accident. So now you're going to be emotionally incontinent as well, sweetie. No more bottling things up. No more self-control. When you get even the slightest bit upset about something, you'll be in tears."

“But whyyy?!” she wailed, her sobbing returning in full force. "Why did you... do this... to me?!"

“It’s not good for girls to hold in their feelings,” I said, running my fingers through her hair again. She seemed too appalled by what I was saying to even notice. “It’s so much cuter, so much more feminine, when you lose control and have a little meltdown instead.”

“But I don’t… want to be… like this!” she cried.

“I know, darling,” I said soothingly, “but this is how I want you. Daddy knows best. Being a tearful toddler suits you much better than being an adult woman. In any case, there's no undoing the effects of the hypnosis now, little one. I made sure it was completely permanent."

“No!” she wailed, bouncing on her wet bottom and beating her fists impotently against the floor. “It's not fair! I wanna be a grown-up! I wanna use the toilet! I don't wanna be a stupid crybaby! I don't wanna! I don't wanna!" Her words trailed off into incoherent blubbering as she devolved into a massive temper tantrum.

I couldn't help but smile. She looked so adorable! "Hush now, princess," I cooed, shoving a large pink pacifier between my wife's lips. Her mewling was cut off abruptly, and she started sucking on it at once - another product of the hypnosis files. She was left sniffling and whimpering quietly, her dummy bobbing rhythmically in her mouth. "Now I know you're very upset because Daddy turned you into a big baby," I said, pushing her back gently onto the floor, "but I'm sure a nice dry diaper will have you feeling better in no time. Legs up, baby! It's time for you to let Daddy take care of everything."

[anniebeemine]

baby fever- s.r. x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, unprotected p-in-v sex, praises, slight breeding kink (I tried to make it as mild as possible),

You’re not ready for a baby. 

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. A baby takes time and energy that you can barely spare for yourself and your husband. Your job drags you around the country, chasing after murderous criminals. You’ve seen some of the most evil things in the world, and yet, a baby seems to immediately push the thoughts away. 

With baby Michael having been recently born, you and Spencer decided it was time to visit the family. You carried a small wrapped box for Henry. Afraid he’d feel left out with a new baby brother, you decided to bring him a new toy. Spencer carried the gift bag with a few outfits for Michael and some gift cards for his parents. 

"You okay?" Spencer asked, glancing at you with concern as you approached the front door.

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just thinking."

Spencer gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before ringing the doorbell. Within moments, the door swung open to reveal JJ, her face lighting up at the sight of you. Despite having just had a baby, she was beaming.

"Hey! Come in, come in!" JJ ushered you inside, taking the gift bag from Spencer. "You didn’t have to bring anything, but thank you."

"We wanted to," Spencer replied, stepping inside. "How’s Michael?"

"Sleeping, thankfully," JJ said with a soft laugh. "Will’s got him in the nursery."

Henry came running into the room, his face lighting up when he saw you. He wrapped his arms around your legs in a tight hug. Hey, Henry!" you greeted, crouching down to his level. "We brought you something."

Henry’s eyes widened as you handed him the wrapped box. "For me? Really?" He tore the wrapping paper open to reveal a new toy car. “Wow! Thank you!"

You ruffled his hair, feeling a warmth spread through you at his joy. "You’re welcome, buddy."

JJ smiled, watching the interaction. "You’re going to make a great mom someday, Y/N."

You glanced at Spencer, who was looking at you with a soft expression. "Maybe," you said, your voice tinged with uncertainty. 

Spencer caught your eye for a moment, a flash of something spreading across his face before he greeted Henry. “Let’s go find some batteries,” he said, following the young boy into the kitchen. 

JJ seemed to pick up on it and changed the subject. "Come on, let’s go see Michael."

You followed JJ to the nursery, where Will was gently rocking the baby. He looked up and smiled when he saw you. "Hey, guys. Look who’s awake.” 

"Can I hold him?" you asked, stepping closer.

"Of course," Will said, carefully transferring Michael into your arms.

You cradled the tiny baby against your chest, feeling the weight and warmth of him. You gently rocked him as JJ led you back into the living room, chatting about how things had been since Michael’s arrival. You nodded and responded, but your focus was mostly on the baby in your arms.

You settled into a chair, still holding Michael, who looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. You smiled down at him, softly cooing as you held a pacifier to his lips. He latched onto it, and you felt a surge of tenderness as he began to suck contentedly.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Spencer and Henry were rummaging through a drawer for batteries. Spencer’s mind, however, was elsewhere. As he found the batteries and helped Henry place them into his new toy, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he finished, he excused himself, unable to resist the urge to see you again. He walked into the living room, his breath catching when he saw you holding Michael. You looked so natural, so serene, with the newborn nestled in your arms. Spencer watched as you smiled down at the baby, your expression one of pure love and gentleness.

A flash of longing spread through Spencer. He’d always wanted children of his own and he was getting there. He has a beautiful wife, a home full of empty bedrooms, and a stable-ish career. He had always known you would be an amazing mother, but seeing you with Michael made the reality of it hit home. He imagined you holding your own child, the love and care you would give, and felt a swell of emotion.

Later that night, you felt an inexplicable emptiness since handing Michael back to his parents. It was a void you couldn’t quite place, but it gnawed at you as you moved through your nighttime routine. Spencer sat on the bed, a book in his hands that he wasn’t able to focus on. Instead, he listened to the sound of you humming to yourself as you got ready for bed.

As you walked into the bedroom, Spencer closed the book, setting it on the nightstand. "Do you think we’re ready for a baby?" he asked, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You paused, turning to look at him. "Do you?"

Spencer shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just thinking out loud." He saw the blank expression on your face. "We’re probably not ready for one."

You swallowed. “Yeah, probably not,” you said with a breathy laugh. 

He scooted down into the bed, adjusting his pillow. “It’s kind of scary to think about.” 

You nodded, lying down beside him. "Yeah, it is. But you know, you’d be a great dad, Spence.” 

Spencer smiled softly, turning to face you. "Thanks. You’d be an amazing mom, too. But I like how things are now. Just us."

"Me too," you agreed, though a part of you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to expand your family.

You both settled into the silence, pretending to fall asleep. But instead of drifting off, your minds wandered to the possibilities of raising children together.

You imagined mornings filled with the sounds of little feet running through the house, Spencer patiently explaining some scientific fact to a curious toddler. You saw yourself cooking breakfast while Spencer read stories to your child, his soothing voice filling the room with warmth.

Spencer’s thoughts drifted to bedtime routines, reading books and tucking in a little one, their sleepy eyes looking up at him with trust and love. He pictured teaching them to ride a bike, holding on until they found their balance, and the proud smile on your face as you watched.

You both thought about the challenges, too—late-night feedings, temper tantrums, balancing work and family. But even those scenarios brought a sense of fulfillment, knowing you would face them together.

Life resumed its usual pace, filled with work, cases, and the daily routines you and Spencer had grown accustomed to. Yet, the thoughts of starting a family lingered in the back of both your minds.

One evening, after a long day at work, you and Spencer were relaxing on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. Spencer was flipping through a book, while you were curled up next to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

Out of nowhere, Spencer closed his book and looked at you, his expression serious. "I want a baby with you."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden declaration. "What?"

"I’ve been thinking about it a lot since we talked," he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I want a baby with you. I want to start a family. I don’t want to wait any longer."

You sat up, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation. "Spence, are you sure? This is a big decision."

He nodded, reaching out to take your hand. "I’m sure. I know our lives are complicated and our jobs are demanding, but I’ve realized that I don’t want to keep putting this off. I want to share this experience with you. I want to be a dad."

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity and love in his eyes overwhelming you. "I want that too," you said softly, a smile spreading across your face. "I want to have a baby with you, Spencer."

You kissed him, feeling a sense of completeness and a deep love for the man you had chosen to spend your life with. You pulled away, studying the dazed look on his face. “Y’know, we could start trying soon.” 

A smirk appeared on his lips. “How soon?” 

You shrugged, wrapping your arms around his shoulder. “Like… now, soon?” 

Spencer's eyes widened slightly, and then he smiled, the excitement evident in his expression. "Now works."

“Does it?” You teased, brushing hair away from his forehead. 

You leaned in, your lips meeting his again, this time with more urgency and passion. The movie playing in the background was forgotten as you both embraced the possibility of starting a new chapter in your lives. Spencer's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

Breaking away for a moment, you whispered against his lips, "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too, more than anything," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

You guided him up from the couch, leading him toward the bedroom, your hearts pounding with anticipation and excitement. As you led Spencer into the bedroom, the excitement and anticipation between you both were palpable. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his, filled with love and determination. Spencer's hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

"This is it," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "We're really doing this."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips. "Yes, we are.” 

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands moving to your waist as he pulled you closer. The kiss quickly deepened, filled with the promise of the future you were about to embark on. Walking over to the bed, his arms held out making sure not to run you into anything. Feeling the two of you connect to the side of the bed, he guided you to sit. His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, his hands running over your body as if he were afraid to forget what your body felt like. He pushed you back onto the bed gently, giving you a soft chuckle before climbing on top of you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. 

You blushed, placing a hand on his cheek. “You’re just as pretty,” you whispered back. “I’m kind of nervous.” 

He smiled, unbuttoning the first button on your shirt. “Don’t be,” he said softly. “I’ve got you, my love.” 

You could feel your heart race at his words. He used one hand to undo the rest of the buttons, helping you shrug the fabric off. He peppered kisses across your chest and shoulders, one hand snaking up your back to undo your bra. You shrugged off both articles, moving your hands to help him out of his shirt. “I will never be able to say how much I love you,” he said between kisses. 

You gently pushed him off of you. He stood up, shimmying out of his slacks as you did the same with your own pants. Though you’d been naked in front of each other dozens of times, this time is different, more vulnerable. You scooted back on the bed, opening your knees for him to kneel between your thighs. 

“I need you to tell me if you get uncomfortable with anything,” he said, voice caring as he brought his hands to your knees. “I would never get over it if I do something wrong.” 

You nodded, propping yourself up. “I promise.” 

Spencer ran his hands down the outer part of your thighs. You were used to praises and tender touches, but this quiet, almost methodical way he scooted back to lie down was new. He pressed gentle kisses to the skin of your thighs, inching closer and closer to where you need him the most. He pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling away. You bucked at the sudden contact, humming. He licked a long stripe up your folds, eyes locked with yours. 

“Spence,” you moaned, voice already hoarse. 

He gripped your hips, pulling you closer. Using what was most likely muscle memory, he began lapping at your clit, alternating between swipes and circles. Your thighs began to quiver beside his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. His fingers created little bruises on your hips from hos hard he held onto you. 

You felt your back begin to arch into him, burying his face deeper into your cunt. He pulled away with a particularly loud slurp, chin glistening as he wiped it off with his discarded shirt. 

You could do nothing but stare as he did his, his eyes going wide as he met yours. “Did I-” 

“Fuck me,” you breathed. 

At this point he had your legs wrapped around his waist, fingertips digging into your thighs from how bad he needed to feel you wrapped around him. His eyes gave you a look, asking for permission before sliding his cock into you. You gave him a slight nod and a blush rose to your cheeks. “Please,” you whimpered. 

He slid the tip of his cock between your folds collecting slick, a hiss sliding between his teeth. You could feel his cock twitch between your legs. Before you knew it, he was sliding deeper and deeper into you. Stretching you slightly as your back arched and your brain went foggy from the feeling. 

Spencer brought himself down, his forearms on either side of you. “You’re perfect for me,” he whimpered as he rolled his hips. 

You tangled the fingers on your right hand in his hair. Your left hand rested under his arm, palm on his back. You rolled your hips against his, catching your sensitive nub against his pelvis with each stroke. You screwed your eyes shut, panting against his lips. His face grew redder and redder, his nature becoming flustered at the feeling of you around him. 

His thrusts became deeper, his hips snapping against yours in an instant. Grunts, moans, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. He was trying to keep himself from letting off too soon in fear you'd both be embarrassed. You couldn’t care less if he finished, just as long as it wasn’t wasted. 

“Spence,” you muttered. “I love you. So much.” 

“I know.” 

His hand trailed down the valley between your breasts, past your belly button and to your clit. He rubbed slow circles to match his pace. Heat split itself in your body, some riding to your cheeks and the other lowering itself to your core. He let out another whimper, like he was ready to say something. 

You guided his chin, locking eyes with him. “Talk to me, Spencer.” 

He bit his lip again. “You drive me crazy. I can never get enough of you,” he squeaked out. 

You wrapped your legs tighter around him, locking him in. “I want you to tell me what else you want to do to me. Please?”

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the finish line, whining and writhing beneath him. He somehow moved closer to you, holding you down to the mattress. “Let me do all the work, baby.” 

“I can’t wait to make you a mommy,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. 

Your body shivered at his words, his voice husky and deep. You let yourself go, no longer able to hold on as he showered you in praises and begs to let him make you a mother. Your legs kicked out and he was quick to raise one over his shoulder, deeping the angle. You threw your head back, chanting his name between pants and moans. Your climax came quickly, placing stars in your vision as you screwed your eyes shut. Your hands roamed over his body, exhausted. 

“I want you to cum inside of me,” you begged. “I want you to, Spencer. I need you to.” 

He tilted your hips up, grinding against you. He caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. You saw the clench in his jaw loosen as he came, white strands of cum painting your insides as a warmth ran through your spine. 

The two of you laid like that for a few minutes. He let his eyes close, his head dropped to your shoulders. He let the leg that was over his shoulder drop, your foot flat against the mattress. 

“Thank you.” 

Spencer pulled back to giggle. “I should be thanking you.” He kissed your forehead before sitting up to pull out. He hissed at the feeling, lying beside you. 

You laced your fingers through his. “I can’t wait to see if it worked.” 

He agreed. “And if it didn’t, we can do this again and again.” 

You rolled over to place your head on his chest. His heartbeat echoed into your ear, the rhythmic thumping putting you to sleep.

[angelixrr]

cw for fem!reader, yan!vees, noncon + dubcon, 4some, electrocution, manipulation, slighttt voxval if u squint REALLY hard

vox !

vox was by far the most insecure of the vees, and thus overcompensated for his insecurity by being overly possessive of you

would oftentimes drag you away from the other vees to take with you to meetings to show you off to shareholders, high ranking sinners and demons alike

his insecurities reared their ugly head whenever someone else happened to talk to you. be it friendly conversation or legitimate flirting, vox wouldn't spare either one, either dragging you away or having his security throw out the unlucky sinner

vox quite literally has eyes on you 24/7, has gifted you numerous pieces of voxtech technology, ranging from a phone, to a voxtech watch, and unbeknownst to you, he had you chipped after the two of you had drinks  he, n he slipped something into your drink to knock you out for a few hours

vox will give you anything you ask for, to not only showcase his wealth, but social standing and power. he's basically telling you through gifts that "no one else could do this for you, or would do this for you. i went through hell and back to get you this, you owe me"

vox is also the first of the vees to tighten his grip on your leash you're on if he feels as if you're getting too wild, too close to other people. he'll force a shock collar onto you, and then keep you confided either to his penthouse, or the vees's tower in his office

vox can be pacified really easy, acting obedient towards him really feeds his ego, and can make him go easier on you

valentino !

valentino is the least possessive of the vees, which isn't saying much, but he has the most confidence out of all of them so he doesn't worry much about you running away

really, he thinks you're lucky to have the attention of someone as powerful as him, the only time he ever really has an outburst is if you deny him

if you tell him no to accompanying him to a club, starring in a show, or being intimate with him behind closed doors, he will take it out on you, telling you that you should be grateful that he's been this nice, cut you so much slack when he's got all his other bitches on tight leashes. you're special to him, and he treats you so well compared to his other whores, so just shut the fuck up and take him

does tend to spoil you when you've been behaving particularly well, takes you out on the town into all the nightclubs that an ordinary sinner like yourself wouldn't dare go into.  takes you to the vip lounge and sits you on his lap to show off to anyone lucky enough to look at his favorite little bitch

absolutely loves to have you as arm candy, if he goes out 9 times out of ten hes begging vox or velvette to let you go with him, and if they tell him no, he gets huffy

loves loves loves to drape his wings over you and hold you close to him

blows smoke in your face. bc he’s mean and he sucks and that’s so hot of him

velvette !

velvette is by far the worst one to land the affections of, for what she lacks in power, she makes up for it in intellect 

she’s extremely cunning, and always makes you play directly into her hand, through manipulating you and others around you

will spread rumors between your staff about you selling someone out to an exorcist, or about you getting someone else fired, when really, it was velvette’s fault

will also manipulate your social media, since that is her specialty. she will boost your social standing if you play nice with her and behave, but if she thinks you’re out of line she will spread rumors and leak compromising images of you just to send you running back to her arms 

"aww, dollie what's got you in a tizzy? someone uploaded some nasty pictures of you? 'm so sorry darling, why doncha c'mere, i'll make you feel allll better" 

dresses you up practically every day, except when she's particularly busy, but even then, the night before she'll lay out clothes for you or organize a whole week’s worth of clothes. however, if she finds out that you didn’t wear anything she picked out for you, she throws a fit, and you’re guaranteed to be manhandled for the next week like her own personal dress up doll, with extra scandalous outfits to boot

if velvette feels like she hasn't gotten enough time with you, she isn't afraid to tussle with vox or val about it because she knows who's really pulling all the strings

loves to have you working for her, because she feels as if you’re the only one who really gets her. oftentimes she’ll have you working as her assistant, and mediating between her and her designers, or fetching her whatever she needs. she’ll also dress you up for the job, so she has some eye candy while she’s busy yelling at her incompetent staff. but, she loves it when you’re incompetent. when you do it, it’s cute.

posts you on her social media 24/7, wants to show you off to her audience. will cover you in black lipstick kiss marks, then take a selfie of the two of you, just to make sure all of hell knows who owns you

will oftentimes blow up on her current models and fire them, just to have you stand in for them, and have you scantily clad in front of her cameras.

nsfw

vox !

cuz vox is insecure af so he overcompensates for it in the bedroom, barely lets you do anything by yourself, wants to control everything

likes to use his hypnosis to make you do things that usually require a bit of persuasion. if you say that you’re scared of being electrocuted during sex, vox will put you under his mind control, and make you all docile so he can put a shock collar on you and fuck you while he electrocutes you. will remove his mind control halfway through fucking you dumb just so you can feel how good he makes you feel

likes to use sex toys on you, because he can override a lot of their factory settings to make the vibrations more powerful (to almost a painful extent)

can tie you up with his own wires, which will tingle n shock you slightly

valentino !

valentino is an exhibitionist through and through, it’s one of the reasons he runs a porn studio. will sometimes either demand you star in a show for him as a favor for all the nice things he does for you, or he will secretly record the two of you without your consent. just wants to show all of hell his favorite fucktoy

loves to degrade you and call you petnames, you’re his little conejita, his puta tonta, his favorite muñeca to use til he turns you into putty in his hands

is one of the more violent ones in the bedroom if you upset him, will choke you out and slam you against the floor if you tell him you’re tired. will fuck you no matter what you tell him

velvette !

velvette dotes on you in the bedroom, loves to have you all fucked out and teary eyed underneath her

her favorite thing is to eat you out until you’re overstimulated and crying, adores making you feel so good it hurts

uses you as stress relief if she’s having a frustrating day, will drag you into a changing room and make you kneel on the floor as her nails dig into your scalp to eat her cunt

whenever you’ve had a night with velvette it’s incredibly obvious, she will rake her sharp nails all over your body, and leave hickeys, bite marks, and lipstick stains all over you. adores marking you up for vox and valentino, just to remind everyone who’s really in charge

loves to use sex toys on you, from a cute pink n purple strap to a vibrator wand, not as mean as vox with them though. just wants to make you feel good til you’re a dumb mess under her

all !

even though the vees are competitive, vying for your attention 24/7, they do come together sometimes to mutually plan how to get you even more wrapped around their fingers

val n vox share you the most, they know what makes one another feel good, they're kind of a dastardly combo together 

you'll be taking vox's cock n then val will kneel in front of you expecting you to suck him off, but the moment you have his dick in your mouth, vox is pushing you all the way to val's fluffy groin, making you tear up and gag on his length

velvette n vox are also more likely to share you at once, but they work separately to make you feel good. vox will be fingering you, while velvette licks and sucks at your neck and chest, occasionally leaving harsh bites. 

velvette n valentino hardly ever share, but when they do its messy and competitive. they're practically fucking you til you see stars, seeing who can reduce you to tears the fastest and make you squirt the hardest. they're the meanest to you when together, calling you a dumb fucktoy, their useless whore, their favorite cumdump. won't hesitate to yank you away from each other. they just fight over you like two kids fighting over their favorite toy

when they're all together though, you're in for a longgg night. happens occasionally, just bc they're all so busy (andd sometimes they're too jealous to share). but when they're together they love to share you between them all. vox n val will use both your holes at once, while velvette kisses you n pinches your nipples til they turn red. they loveee to indulge themselves in their favorite plaything so they’re prone to overstimulating you. they will still use you even if you pass out, so you’ll be super sore the next day

[vanteguccir]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❝ take calm, deep breaths, you'll be fine after that ❞

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✦﹒﹒𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑹𝑩𝑺﹒◌﹒

── ୨୧ !　matt angry confessing his love for Y/N

── ୨୧ !　matt seeing his dick form a belly bulge in you

── ୨୧ !　matt realizing you're a virgin when you're about to have sex

── ୨୧ !　matt sucks and kisses your boobs as a starved man

── ୨୧ !　matt and you have soft morning sex

── ୨୧ !　matt taking care of you when you have a bad migraine day

── ୨୧ !　matt using a vibrator on you until you squirt

── ୨୧ !　matt walking in on you changing clothes

── ୨୧ !　an afternoon with gamer!matt and bookworm!you

── ୨୧ !　matt's reaction to you calling him pretty boy for the first time

── ୨୧ !　where matt is the grumpy and you are the sunshine

── ୨୧ !　matt choking you with his tattoed arm while he fucks you in front of the mirror

── ୨୧ !　matt asks (begs) you to ride his face

── ୨୧ !　matt with a gf (you) who only sleeps with stuffed bear

── ୨୧ !　matt asks you to spray your perfume on his suitcase before Vegas

── ୨୧ !　bsf!matt gets flustered and turned on after seeing you in a bikini

── ୨୧ !　matt's cock keeps slipping out of you after he was away for too long

── ୨୧ !　you confess your insecurities to matt

── ୨୧ !　you riding sub!matt until he's a babbling mess

── ୨୧ !　rough sex followed by aftercare with matt

── ୨୧ !　you're pregnant and craving some ketchup in the middle of the night

── ୨୧ !　matt fucking you slowly while kissing the hell out of you

── ୨୧ !　where you ask matt to get out of the room so you can change to see his reaction

── ୨୧ !　matt has to force you to stay in bed only because you can't accept that you're still sick

── ୨୧ !　you make a small appearance on the car video on the triplets 21st birthday

── ୨୧ !　where you accidentally make Matt hard for the first time

── ୨୧ !　where you take control over Matt for a split second before he puts you in your place again

── ୨୧ !　where yours and matt's daughter tries to ask for her favorite snack, but her pacifier gets in the way ;(

── ୨୧ !　where yours and matt's daughter decide it's a good idea to wake you two up on a saturday morning <3

── ୨୧ !　where you are a nurse and face the death of a patient, and only Matt can calm you down ;(

── ୨୧ !　where Y/N loves to buy new furniture for her home, and Matt is the one she always goes to to ask to put it together <3

── ୨୧ !　where you and fwb!matt reunite again after some weeks, and the back home vlog caught your state after fucking

── ୨୧ !　where chris had had enough of your loud moans with his brother and shut you up with your panties... and you're a exhibitionist little shit

── ୨୧ !　where the triplets and Y/N have a small 'coloring drawings date' back in Boston

All rights reserved © 2024 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐑. Please do not copy, rewrite, or translate my works on any other platform.

[melancholymegumi]

melody’s current thoughts…💭

warning..!? ; yandere dad bf!izuku , ddlg (?) , forced subspace , finger sucking , pacifiers , spankings mentioned.

[˚ʚ♡ɞ˚] — yan dad bf!izuku ft uncle katsuki and shoto.

[☆] — yan dad bf!izuku who dresses you in the prettiest pastel lingerie ever! pair them with thigh high socks and he'll be in your pussy deep for hours!

[☆] — yan dad bf!izuku who always carries a pacifier. You can suck his fingers and that only– if you suck on your own fingers , you're gonna get sick and go to hospitals! didn't daddy tell you how scary those are?

[☆] — yan dad bf!izuku who invites two of his bestfriends to roadtrips! Especially your favourite ‘uncle’ shoto! You don't know how to feel about uncle katsuki though.. he's mean and scary!

[☆] — yan ‘uncle’!katsuki who forces you to be little whenever you're being bratty , daddy says he's in control while he's on patrol anyways. Who are you to defy him like that? do you need a spanking?

[☆] — yan 'uncle'!shoto who's always nice to you. You want treats? Sure, but let's ask daddy first. ‘uncle’ katsuki’s being mean? Aw don't worry sweetheart, he's there to make it all better!

[☆] — them, who're ready to kill anyone who even icks you or them the wrong way, it's okay that they're pro heroes. They're all criminals and are charged with assault — because they assaulted your eyes by existing.

[adultbabystories]

Sticky Pants - Part C

“Once I had a boy,” Harry started talking as he took you into his arms and chest. “A boy just like you. He thought he was a big strong man, he thought I would just accept his behavior, which was awful. It seemed like nobody taught him manners. He was older than you and was after a long breakup, after years of relationship. Such a handsome boy, such a chaotic boy. He came to me for sexual fun, but soon enough I introduced him to my cane.”

Harry caressed your butt, letting you know what he meant by mentioning the cane.

“After a few swatting sessions, he stood up with lots of pre cum dripping from his penis and tears in his eyes. Still sobbing, he was thanking me for putting him in his place and making him take a break and just be. How he enjoyed being forced to do something, and not being the enforcer. At that moment, a parental instinct kicked inside of me. That man looked so vulnerable to me like he needed a father to guide him. I sat down and took him into my arms, just as I’m holding you right now.”

“He looked too precious, out of words but with his poor mouth still trembling,” Harry said and took your hand with his hand, picked your thumb, and guided it into your mouth “I took his hand in mine, then kissed his thumb and put it into his mouth so he can suck on it”.

He stopped talking for a couple of moments, letting you suck on your thumb while you were laying your head on his warm and manly chest. 

“I don’t know how many years had passed by since the last time he was doing it, but I believe until this day the boy needs his thumb, his pacifier, on another man’s manhood in his mouth,” he said as he grabbed your fist into his palm.

“The moment the man broke, was the moment a baby boy was reborn. Every time he came over, he had sticky pants as you do. Until I had it. One night he came over for an attitude adjustment, and I laid on the bed a thick adult baby diaper for him. The amazing thing was, he said ‘Okay Daddy’, laid next to the diaper, and sucked on his thumb. He was surprised but knew his place. He knew what was in store for him because I paved the way and not him. He knew I was the one who was diapering, and he was the one who was going to be diapered” Harry stroked your hair.

You felt so nice on him, so protected, so well-behaved. Even your caged penis was flaccid. You were controlled and manhandled, and it made you at peace with the situation.

You didn’t even notice, but Daddy left the room and came back with something in his hand. It was a huge printed diaper which made your eyes go wide.

“Come, baby, come with daddy to put you in a diaper,” Daddy said and directed his hand towards his bedroom.

“Go my boy, be a good boy for your Daddy,” Harry said and wiggled his body for you to get up from.

You stood up, from another man’s lap, naked, caged, still sucking your thumb, walking toward another man to diaper you, a man you call Daddy. You couldn’t wait for your first diaper.

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter five)

18+ 4.3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, eventual smut. gif credit | fic directory | AO3

Within the isolation Homelander has imposed on you, your entire world is rapidly narrowing to just the two of you. With that, your understanding of the man who has ensnared you grows alongside his infatuation with you.

It’s much too early when you hear the alerting beep of the front door unlocking, metal sliding against metal as the mechanism engages. 

Your eyes snap to the clock. 

It’s barely after 2:00pm. 

You scrub at your tear streaked face, ill-prepared to be confronted by your captor so soon. Your misery evaporates in a rush of panic, leaving only what’s necessary to survive.

Sucking in a deep breath, you drop your hands just in time to see Homelander appear in the archway. 

The two of you stare at each other for a long, quiet moment. 

His expression is difficult to discern. Pinched. Anxious. Staring at him now, you suddenly have no doubt that the boy in the photo is him. You can see every ounce of that nervous boy in his face.

But why is he looking at you like that?

Before you can ask, he closes the distance between you in a handful of long strides. The determination he moves with makes your stomach lurch. 

Just as you move to get to your feet, he takes hold of you with that same chilling, unrelenting strength—arms coiling around you like serpents—and hauls you up until your body is flush to his. 

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of you so deeply your skin erupts into goosebumps.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” he says, his breath hot on your neck. His hand slides all the way up your spine, cupping the back of your head. His other arm remains looped around your waist, gloved fingers biting into your skin through your clothes. 

You feel his lips shape the words against your skin as he murmurs, quieter yet, “I missed you.”

You almost say it back, survival instincts compelling you to appease him, but you stop yourself. You were scolded the last time you said something you didn’t mean in an attempt to appeal to him.

Even if despite yourself, a small part of you is glad he’s back. Being stranded alone in your prison had somehow been worse than the unease you feel with him present.

While logically you know humanity still exists beyond these walls, the deafening quiet of the penthouse makes it feel like the rest of the world has simply vanished, leaving you well and truly alone in it.

For all the good the people outside these walls can do you, it may as well have.

There’s tension thrumming through him from his head to his toes that you can feel in every inch of his body pressed tightly against yours. He’s clutching you like he thought—despite the fortress he left you in—you’d also have vanished in his absence. 

You lift your hands, knuckles brushing the underside of the heavy cape hanging from his shoulders, and tentatively begin to stroke soothing patterns up and down his back.

The effect is instantaneous. His grip on you relaxes from stifling to a more tender hold, his fingertips no longer sinking into you like claws. He rests his chin on your shoulder, sighing out a long breath that tickles the back of your neck.

Silence fills the narrow spaces between you. He’s overwhelmingly warm, his heat seeping through even the dense layers of his suit and into you. 

Despite the way he’s leaning into you, you’re barely standing on your own feet. You could go limp right now and not move an inch in his hold. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, speaking in the same pacifying tone you would use with a spooked animal.

He draws back to meet your eyes, his own bereft of their earlier anxiety, though he does look a little surprised that you asked. He recovers quickly, his expression softening around a sly glint in his stare. 

“You actually sound like you care,” he says, and though the words themselves are callous, you get the sense he’s paying you a compliment. Praising you for playing your role so convincingly.

“Unlike some people I know,” he says with sudden venom, hands migrating to your arms. 

“You would not believe how fucking ungrateful they are out there. Day after day, I’m out there”—he nods to the window behind you—”working the crowds, selling the pitches. I’m the face of this entire fucking company.” 

His grip occasionally flexes on your arms as he speaks, not quite enough to hurt, but enough to make you nervous, and though his anger isn’t directed at you, it’s unsettling nonetheless. 

“But do any of them care? Those–the fucking–the CEO’s, those weak-necked pencil pushers? Do they respect any goddamn thing I think?”

“No?” you offer the word as half an answer and half a question. You’re not sure how rhetorical his spiel is, but you’re keen to commiserate with him and not find yourself in the path of misdirected ire.

“No!” He echoes louder, scoffing. Your response only riles him up further, his tension seeping into his hold on you. "And what are they doing? Hm? What are they doing that's so fucking important?"

Your lips part. You hesitate, but now he's looking at you with such exasperated expectation, you know you should answer. You start and stop a few times, but he makes no move to interrupt you or fill in the blanks. 

Instead, he’s watching you with a rapt kind of intensity, suddenly eager to hear what you’ll say next.

"Making your work look like theirs," you say, finding your bearings. It’s not as though you haven’t experienced the same. 

Any time you’ve ever had a boss, their only objective has been using you to make themselves look good. Standing on you like you’re just another rung on the ladder. 

“Taking the credit and the money for themselves.”

"Yes!" he hisses, bouncing his fist lightly off of your shoulder. The way he moves is sharp, jagged like broken glass. 

"Even you get it. I mean, I'm the fucking Homelander, and they treat me like a goddamn show pony. They trot me out and then expect me to prance right back into my fucking stall.”

You can feel the heat of his anger in his breath, in the way his fingers sink into the meat of your arm. It isn’t a loud or boisterous thing, it’s more sinister; the hiss and rattle of a venomous snake. 

Everything about him—from the bearing of his teeth to the inescapable strength of his grip—is a screaming warning that you should run far, far away from him.

However, trapped as you are, your only recourse is to appeal to your predator.

“You’re more than that,” you say, his words from the night prior suddenly coming to you in a rush. “You’re underappreciated, and capable of so much more than they give you credit for.”

His tense expression slackens, his anger replaced by a flash of shockingly earnest vulnerability. 

This Homelander is by far the least unnerving of the variety you’ve seen.

Last night he was manic, frightening in his unhinged flavor of excitement. This morning he’d been tender one moment and terse the next, eerie in his sudden lack of warmth. The way he smiled at you during breakfast felt straight off of a movie poster. 

Performative. 

Fake.

Nothing like the way he looks now.

“Yeah,” he breathes, relief heavy in his tone. 

If he recognizes his own words on your tongue, it doesn’t show. He’s looking at you with a sort of wonder, as if they’re completely new to him. 

It’s clear now more than ever that he said them to you because he desperately needed to hear them. 

“Yes, exactly.”

He cups either side of your face, pulling yours closer to his. 

“I knew you would understand,” he says, close enough that you feel the breath of each word on your lips. “I knew that if I could see you, you’d see me. Because you’re different. Because you’re not like those empty fucking suits with Cornell degrees.”

The tension between you makes the air thick and hard to breathe. You lick your lips subconsciously and his eyes drop predator-quick to follow the movement. 

He hasn’t lost that look of expectation yet. 

When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown black, the vibrant blue of them constricted to a fine ring around his pupils.

You swallow dryly, your heart a pounding drum in your ears.

“Do you want me to kill them?” You blurt out, the words all impulse and zero thought.

He blinks, face jerking slightly back from yours in obvious surprise. Whatever he expected you to say, that certainly wasn't it. 

Truth be told, you’re as surprised about what came out of your mouth as he is. It’s the kind of joke you would make to an exasperated friend. Not your kidnapper.

The silence between you stretches on. Homelander's face can't seem to settle, lips twitching between a near-smile and that same part of surprise.

“You’re gonna kill Stan Edgar?” The way he places emphasis makes it sound like he’s considered it before, but came to the conclusion that the task is an impossible one.

You shrug. “How tough can he be?”

At that, he starts to laugh.

His gloved hands slip from your face and go to his own, rubbing at his eyes as he laughs and laughs, the sound of it reverberating from deep in his chest. It’s the kind of laugh that speaks of deep catharsis. Your own lips curve in empathy, tension seeping from you.

"Christ," he says under his breath. His hands slide down his face until they fall away, landing on his hips. He gives his head a small shake before looking back at you, his smile broad and boyish. 

Another rare instance of an expression from him without palpable pretense or agenda.

“You kill a lot of CEOs?” He asks, stepping right back into your personal bubble.

You hold your ground. 

“Does imagining it in vivid detail count? Because I used to do that pretty often. Especially on unpaid lunch breaks in the closet.”

His brows furrow. “You ate lunch in a closet?”

"Not always. Sometimes I just went inside to scream. Thick walls," you say, only half-joking. 

That had been at your previous job, where you routinely hid during meal breaks. 

“My supervisor was always riding my ass. I couldn’t even eat in peace.”

“You’re kind of a weirdo,” he muses, his tone quiet and warm. Affectionate, even.

It’s your turn to bark an incredulous laugh, your nerves fading. 

The gall of him to call you weird. In a bizarre way, it almost makes things feel… normal.

“I’ve been called worse.” 

You don’t realize you’re smiling until his thumb brushes your cheek, his touch trailing down your jaw. He curls a lock of your hair around his index finger and brings it to his lips, closing his eyes on a slow inhale. 

Oddly captivated by the display, you watch him with bated breath.

When he opens his eyes, the blue has returned to them. There’s a tired kind of relief to his expression. It’s as though he’s let go of something very heavy that he’d been carrying just a moment ago. 

He releases your hair in favor of reaching for your hand, though he stops just shy of grabbing it, fingers outstretched.

“Will you watch a movie with me?” He asks. It’s the exact same tone he used when he’d asked for a kiss: there’s an underlying anxiousness that you’re starting to understand. 

Despite the imbalance of power between you, he’s still anticipating rejection. He might even fear it.

Once again you find yourself thinking of the boy in the photo. How quietly and heartbreakingly miserable he had looked.

“Yeah. I’ll watch a movie with you.”

You slip your hand into his. His eyes light up and he squeezes, pulling you down onto the couch next to him. You watch him pick up the remote and begin flipping through the menus. 

It’s surreal: the version of yourself that desperately typed in address after address until you were sobbing feels like someone else entirely. A part of yourself that you’ve compartmentalized away.

“How about Taxi Driver?”

You blink. The 70s flick with De Niro? 

What an oddly specific pull.

“Sure.”

His smile broadens. He leans in, and though you brace yourself to be kissed, he only kisses your cheek.

Precisely the way you kissed his this morning. 

“You’re the best.”

The tone of his voice gives a deceptively oppressive weight to such a simple compliment. 

Turning back to the menu, he rests your interlaced hands on his thigh, thumb stroking your knuckles.

You stare at your hand enclosed in his for a long while before you glance up at him. 

He has a classic kind of profile; a strong nose that slopes to a point, a firmly outlined jaw, subtle but defined lips, brows that neatly frame his striking ocean blue eyes.

Despite obvious bleaching, his hair looks soft and touchable. The dark undercut is even moreso. 

More than just the sum of his parts, he’s perhaps objectively the most attractive man you’ve ever made contact with. 

Certainly the wealthiest. 

He’s strange in his mannerisms, but aside from the whole kidnapping ordeal, he’s been… mostly decent to you. 

It’s not that you want to think of him as attractive. He just is.

It makes it all the more confusing as to why such a man would need to kidnap anyone at all. There must be more: just what the hell is so wrong with him that he’s so incapable of forming an organic relationship?

Suppose I’ll find out one way or another.

Realizing you’re staring again, you snap your attention to the screen.

While Homelander occasionally squeezes your hand, you spend the duration of the film pretending not to notice the long moments he spends staring at you. 

You can’t help but be tense, anticipating that he’ll make a move at any moment, but his hand never moves from yours. He stays eerily still over the course of the next two hours, rarely shifting other than to spare you a lingering look.

It’s all so bizarrely chaste.

The movie, on the other hand, is anything but.

While Travis Bickle is the main character, he’s not what anyone would consider a hero. Even at his best he can't sleep, drinks heavily, pops pills, and spends his mornings in porn theaters. He’s irrational, unstable, and entirely too caught up in his own version of reality.

A terrible dread crawls up your spine when his attentions land on Betsy. He’s enamored with her too immediately, speaking to a stranger as if she hung the stars in the sky just for him. You want to scream at her to run, but she reciprocates instead.

When their second date rolls around, that dread in your gut doubles.

Don’t, you find yourself wishing, brows furrowing. Don’t do it. For fuck’s sake, don’t take her to the theatre!

No matter how hard you wish for it, the movie plays out as it always has, as it always will, and the whole thing blows up in Travis’ face. Disgusted with him, Betsy rejects him. It takes everything in you not to writhe off of the couch in sheer discomfort when he snatches her wrist, pleading with her.

"Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man."

Homelander’s hand sits heavily atop yours.

Travis’ descent into madness is a gradual one from that point on. He grows violent and obsessive, hyper aware that the world he inhabits was not made for him, but unable to adapt. 

Even among his peers he is isolated and unable to connect. He loses whatever self-awareness he once had, and deludes himself into progressively more dangerous ideals.

By the time the credits roll, Travis is the hero of his own warped story, and your neck is stiff from holding the same position with such tension.

“Now that is how you get control of your life,” Homelander says suddenly, bringing your attention to him. “You take it. Guns blazing, and you walk out of it a hero,” he says with a grin, turning to catch your eye.

Yes, you think, stomach churning. You have certainly learned to take. 

“What was your favorite part?” he asks, surprising you a little with the earnestness of his question. 

He’s an odd mixture of endearing and unnerving in his ability to move so fluidly from an intimidating unnatural force to someone sincere and boyish.

It doesn’t make his take-away from the movie any less disturbing.

“Oh, uhm…” You rub at your sore neck absently. It wasn’t exactly the type of movie with laughs or feel good moments to choose from, despite the handful of times Homelander laughed or cheered himself. 

“Probably the part where–”

“What’s wrong with your neck?” he interrupts suddenly, gaze dropping to your hand.

You let your hand fall back into your lap. “It’s fine, I get stiff sitting. I just need to stre–”

Before you can finish, Homelander slips his hand from yours and grasps your shoulder, turning you away from him.

“I can fix it.” His tone is unerringly certain, leaving you no space to protest. He manhandles you until your back is faced to him, your legs drawn up onto the couch. “Believe me, I’m used to women with tech neck.”

“Who?” You ask impulsively. It’s eating you up inside wondering if there have been others before you, and what might have happened to them to land you here in their stead.

“You jealous?” He asks. You don’t have to see his face to know he’s smiling. You can hear it.

“No,” you say after a beat, ever careful with your words. “Just curious.”

He slides his hands up slowly over your shoulders and hooks his thumbs over your collar, adjusting it out of the way. 

“No one you need to worry about.”

A non-answer that does nothing to quell your anxiety.

He brings his thumbs to either side of your neck and presses them in at the base of your skull, slowly moving them all the way down and out towards your shoulders, your muscles popping beneath the pressure.

The precision with which he finds the ache in your neck shocks a little gasp out of you.

Fuck, maybe he can fix it.

“You know, muscles actually look different when they’re all knotted up like this,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. 

“Y’got all these little nodules, and all I need to do”—he drags his thumb down your neck, following to the side of your spine—”is pop ‘em.”

The sound of tense tissue crackling and loosening under his touch sounds like a zipper being undone. You can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing. He works slowly, gradually increasing pressure.  The strength in his hands doesn’t falter once, the leather of his glove soft on your skin.

It’s only when you make a noise–a sigh caught somewhere between pain and pleasure–that he hesitates.

“Are you really saying you can see the knots in my muscles? Through my skin?” You ask when he stops, tilting your neck to one side.

It already feels better.

“One of the many perks of dating me,” he says, his voice lower and nearer to your ear than it had been a beat ago. Goosebumps erupt down your spine and arms.

Dating.

Life would be easier if you could believe that to be true even half as much as he does.

He resumes the massage, focusing mainly on your neck, his thumbs pushing up into your hairline and then slowly back down. The level of control he has over his strength is staggering, the pressure just enough to stay shy of hurting you.

Your eyes fall shut while he works the tension from your muscles. Your mind drifts back to the movie. To Travis and Betsy. To the dozens of times he called her, and the dozen more flowers he sent to her door. To the delusional power fantasies he fell into in the wake of that denial.

The agony of rejection during their phone call had been so visceral that not even the camera could seem to bear it, panning away to an empty hall while he held a painfully one-sided conversation.

Homelander doesn’t have to fantasize about power. He has more of it than any one man rightfully should, yet still he has found himself in deficit. 

Is he so terrified of rejection that he would deny even someone as powerless as you the chance of it?

Perhaps he isn’t quite so powerful after all.

“That feels amazing. You’re really good at this,” you tell him, correctly anticipating the way your words give him pause. 

This time, you hear him swallow.

The couch dips and you lean back with it, his thigh pressing in behind you as he shifts closer. The massage becomes less focused, his grip loosening and moving wider. His hands come to rest on your shoulders. 

Your breath hitches at the feel of warm, bare skin along your exposed neck. His lips ghost your skin in a faint not-quite kiss.

“That’s not all I’m good at,” he murmurs, staying close enough that you feel the shape of each word against your flesh. 

You don’t move, your eyes remain closed.

He takes your silence as permission, hands sliding down your arms, falling off from your elbows to your hips. He holds you in place while he peppers tentative kisses on the tender flesh of your neck, following down the line of your spine as low as the collar of your shirt allows him to.

Your stomach flips, but your heart isn’t the only thing fluttering. There’s a faint throb between your legs that feels like it should belong to someone else entirely.

Can he hear that, too? Can he see it?

Shame, fear and arousal swim hot in your gut, the heat of it crawling slowly up your chest, your face. You screw your eyes shut tighter.

Dating. 

That single word spins around and around you like the rattle of a broken record. He exists in a sweeter reality than you do. 

It would be nice–no, not nice, safer–to visit it, if only for a moment.

Wouldn’t it?

His lips are soft along your hairline to the shell of your ear, his breath warm and tickling. His hands begin to work up your sides, cupping your ribs.

There’s a tentativeness to his movements that implies a question, and there’s no doubt in your mind that if you stayed still, stayed quiet, he would find the answers he wants all on his own.

Instead you take hold of his wrists, stopping him in his tracks. Part of you is surprised that he’s so easy to halt. You turn around slowly, moving his hands away as you do, releasing one of them in order to face him properly.

The look of him catches you off guard; cheeks stung pink, lips parted and shiny wet from where he’s licked the taste of you from them. His eyes are wide and hungry, but there’s an inquisitive apprehension in his expression. 

That same terrible anticipation of rejection.

Gently, as if you might somehow spook him, you place your hand on his chest and push. A victorious little rush moves through you with how easily he bends under your touch, moving until he’s forced to lay back, sweeping his cape out from under him to drape off the edge of the couch.

You slip off of the couch but leave your hand planted firmly on his chest, nudging his legs with yours until he gets the picture and brings them both up onto the couch, too.

All the while he watches you intently, curiosity edging out anxious uncertainty.

Holding his gaze, you lay yourself down next to him. The narrowness of the couch leaves you practically on top of him, but he clearly doesn’t mind. His lips spread slowly into a wondrous smile, his arm curling around your waist to bring you closer yet.

Where last night the weight of his arm had felt suffocating, now it feels more like putting on a seat belt to ride a rollercoaster. 

He may be a supe, but he has shown you–intentionally or not–that he’s also just a man, and you have power over him, too. You only need to wield it as such. Your affection can be a shield. Your indulgence a precaution.

You drape your arm over his middle and rest your head upon his chest, letting out a long, calming breath.

“This is, uh... a nice surprise,” he says, resting his hand on your forearm. He strokes your back idly with the other.

“So was the massage.”

His chest rumbles faintly against your ear as he laughs.

“I would’ve done it sooner if I knew you’d like it so much.”

You stare at his hand. Resting as lightly as it is, his fingers still curl in just enough to press into your arm. Even when you choose to offer your affection freely, he can’t help but grip like you’ll suddenly take it away if he doesn’t.

It’s like he never learned how to hold something without leaving claw marks on it. 

“We have a lot to learn about each other,” you say quietly, closing your eyes.

His hand pauses upon your back for a moment, and then without comment, he pulls you properly into his arms, enveloping you in that familiar warm thrum of power.

It’s like being embraced by a nuclear reactor.

You can’t survive in fight or flight forever. The relief he brought to your neck has made you realize how tense all over you really are, how heavy your fear has made your aching heart. If you’re going to get out of this, you have to learn to put it down when it’s safe.

So, for at least a little while, you decide to let yourself relax not only in Homelander’s embrace, but in his rose-tinted reality.

( chapter six )

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST

CHAPTER 2

Sunlight splashed into the bedroom and Rebecca started to stir awake. As she opened her eyes, she realized that Brian was still in the same position he was in when they fell asleep. He was still asleep and to her delight he was still suckling on his pacifier. She managed to wriggle herself free and made for the kitchen to make her coffee. The previous evening was coming into focus and she realized that she had a lot of work to do. Her home wasn’t equipped for a baby yet. She had much to prepare, so many things to get. First thing first was to make plans for a nursery. She started to daydream about all of her plans when footsteps crept up behind her. “Good morning Rebecca,” Brian said sheepishly. She whipped around, “Rebecca? Have you have forgotten last night already?” Her voice was steady and firm, but also lovingly maternal, “Can you tell me what you are wearing?” Brian turned his eyes to floor and fidgeted. So embarrassed, he could barely find his voice. “Brian, I asked you a question. What are you wearing sweetheart?” This time he managed to allow words to escape, “Im, Im wearing a……diaper.” The last word exited as a faint whisper. “What was that? I couldn’t hear that last word.” He nervously glanced up to see her face, but he couldn’t find the strength to look her in the eyes and once again focused on the floor. “I said a diaper.” “That’s so good sweetheart. I’m so proud of my baby. Now tell me whose diaper is it.” He closed his eyes, wishing he could be anywhere but here. “It’s my…my diaper.” “You are doing so great sweetie. Now can you tell me what you were suckling on when you woke up?”

 Why won’t she just let me go. Overcome with his embarrassment, he snapped. “Forget this whole thing, Rebecca. Can we just pretend like last night happened? I shouldn’t be doing this. I just need to grow up and forget this stupid fantasy.” He stormed back into the bedroom. Rebecca took it all in stride. She knew her husband too well. She knew he would refuse to let go. He would fight it, even though he wanted this so badly. He was never going to give himself permission to just let go. It was going to be up to her to regress him. She entered the bedroom, just as Brian was about to un-tape his diaper. “Do not touch that diaper, young man!” “You can’t tell me what to do, Rebecca.” The look in her eyes made him realize his mistake. She marched over and pushed him down onto the bed. She smacked the back of his thigh as hard as he could. He let out a cry much to his surprise. “Get over my lap. And if you disobey me, you will absolutely regret it.” The sheepish feeling swept over him again and he complied. She pulled down his diaper. She laid smack after smack over his cheeks. At first he tried to grit his teeth through the pain, but after a few minutes tears streamed down his face. Tears turned to sobs as snot ran down his face. What a sight. Here was a grown man in a diaper over his wife’s knee getting a full spanking. Rebecca let up and with that same forceful maternal tone spoke up once again, “Let’s try again. Now what were you suckling on earlier?” Brian heaved his chest to catch his breath after the uncontrollable tears. “A pacifier.” “That’s right honey. So you have your diaper and your pacifier. Who uses those?” “Ba…babies.” “Great job. So if babies wear diapers and suck on pacifiers, what does that make you?” He tried to wipe the snot from his nose. There was no way to pretend that he didn’t look like a baby in this moment. “I’m a baby.” The sobs started up again, “I’m just a baby. I’m so sorry mommy.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around him and brought his face to her chest. “That’s right sweetheart. You are mommy’s baby. Mommy wants you to be her baby. I know you feel embarrassed Brian, but there is no reason to feel that way. I want this too. But you need to trust mommy and listen to me. Mommy knows best. Let me take control and I will make everything all better. Will you do that for me? He looked up and just nodded. She reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his pacifier. She gently placed it between his lips. “Once you have calmed down, I want to you to get dressed for me. Mommy has a lot of work to do. So today, you will get to be an adult. I want you to spend the day as a big boy. Go have some fun. But I want you back here this evening and we can discuss your return to babyhood.”

To be continued…

[wh0rrorb4by]

pacifier - matsukawa

tw: noncon/dubcon!, teabagging (balls in mouth/on face), sloppy oral (male receiving), size, says daddy a couple times, mentions of abuse (one slap), mentions of past hard noncon (matsukawa x reader), dacryphilia, implied kidnapping and stockholm syndrome, him being so condescending ugh

18+, dark content

thinking about mastukawa above you, knees on either side of your head as he presses his heavy balls onto your face, throwing his head back as you mouth at them sloppily. you can’t help it, whimpering as he coos at you, your nails softly digging into the muscular thighs that could crush you if you squirmed too much.

“oh, baby’s hungry,” he moaned in a low voice, gripping your hair to keep you still as he rolled his hips. you had your tongue out as far as you could, letting him drag his balls up and down it and making a mess around your mouth. it was humiliating, having to kiss and lick and nuzzle his sack so sweetly, but he slapped you the last time he felt your teeth — thought you were getting nasty and trying to bite him. the ringing in your ears and the stinging, throbbing pain in the left side of your face was somehow worse than the humiliation of what he was doing now, so you forced down the remnants of what little fight instinct you had left. you never stood a chance against him, anyway.

“fuck, keep that pretty tongue out for me, baby. ‘m gonna stuff ‘em in your mouth.”

“mm—pl—ease—” you muffled out. it was getting harder to breathe between the fat balls sitting heavy on your tongue and the even fatter cock that was leaking pre-cum all over your face. you could feel the weight of it, the weight of him as he made good on his promise and started to stuff your cheeks full, making you open wide as he dipped his balls in one at a time until they were nestled snuggly into your mouth.

you’d become such a good girl for him — a fast learner who aims to please and trembles at even the slightest change in his tone. he thinks it’s adorable.

he sucked in a breath through his teeth as he lifted his cock off of your face so he could see you, all the silent tears making you choke and the heavy blush that reached your ears. the way your eyebrows furrowed as you concentrated on slurping him up and sliding your tongue across every inch of skin you could reach with him in your mouth. your cheeks looked so cute when they were stuffed full of him, he could stay like that forever if he didn’t want to see you take his cock so badly.

he gave your face a couple light taps to let you know to ease off of him, and it sent more blood rushing to his cock when you flinched. he was still trying to get you over that, makes sure to kiss your face all the time and caress you more, but he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that it still turns him on when you’re a little shaky around him. you’re more eager to please him when you’re a little nervous.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, baby, just wanna give you your pacifier now. come on, open up.”

you hate when he calls it that, makes you wanna scream when he tells you to soothe yourself on his tip until you’re ready to stop crying and whining about everything. he’ll force you to suck for as long as it takes you to calm down, until you’re whimpering to yourself and nodding your head when he asks if you’re ready to start being a good girl.

it made more tears slip past your pretty eyes, but you opened up for him anyway. you hardly got a second to catch your breath, the thick head pushing past your lips as soon as his aching balls were released. the groan he let out was animalistic, and it sent a pool of warmth gushing through your body. you squeezed your thighs together as he pushed himself all the way to the back of your throat, your eyes rolling back as he muttered praises to you.

“oh, fuck—” he gripped the headboard to keep himself steady. “love being in your throat, baby, fuck — daddy loves you so much.”

and there was that — the way your heart doesn’t sink to your stomach anymore when he tells you that he loves you. you tried to deny it, but even you were aware of how much easier you give yourself over to him now. you were almost unrecognizable to the girl you were when he first took you, when you thrashed and screamed and cried when he stuffed you full, when you begged him to let you go and swore you’d never say a word to anyone about it. you lost your edge. you lost your will to fight back, and most of all, you lost any chance you had of getting away from him when he got you addicted to being split open on his cock.

he was thrusting slowly now, working himself up with the sounds of you gagging around him. you were writhing, the feeling of being so empty making you burn up. you stared up into his dark eyes, pleading with him through your tears to let up on you. you were being good for him, taking everything he gave you without complaint, you deserve your reward now. he let out a breathy moan at your glossy eyes and the way your lips closed around the base of his cock. you bucked your hips up and whined.

“what’s the matter, baby? you getting all needy, huh? want daddy’s cock in you?”

the look of adoration he gave you when you nodded your head made you dizzy. you were starting to love when he looked at you like that, it made you whine and your pussy clench around nothing.

“okay, sweet girl, daddy’ll give you what you want. you’ve been so good for me, ‘m so glad we don’t have to fight about it anymore.”

you only vaguely heard him as he eased himself off of you, allowing himself one last shallow thrust into your mouth before you could finally breathe again. you hardly processed anything he cooed at you as he kneeled before you, spreading your legs and folding you into a mating press — something about how wet you were, how he could see your pretty lips clenching and how proud he was that he doesn’t have to use lube or spit to force himself inside you anymore.

he leaned down to place a kitten lick to your clit, making your hips buck as you let out a broken moan.

“p-please… please don’t tease me,” you begged, a fresh wave of hot tears spilling over your eyes. “come on, daddy, i’ve been so good.”

you felt pathetic, truly, and you were sure you looked it.

“i know, baby, i know,” he mumbled, reaching a hand up to hold the side of your face lovingly. you were grateful for the times he was merciful, because the stretch alone was almost enough to make you cum when he finally gripped his heavy cock and started to push himself in. “you’re gonna get what you want, baby, ‘m gonna make you cum so much you won’t be able to talk. just gonna be my dumb little girl, forever.”

you nodded, thoughtlessly mumbling thank you’s as you arched your back, feeling his swollen cockhead nudge itself deeper than you thought was possible before the first time he held you down and forced you to take it all. you knew you’d never get used to his size or the power behind his thrusts, and you were already going all stupid and cross-eyed as he began pounding into you.

“just remember, baby, you asked for it.”

[maddiethedogstories]

The Playdate - 1

"Come on, Mia! Get your little tushy in gear! We're already late!" Lisa, Mia's girlfriend yelled at the 25-year-old woman from the garage.

Mia was dragging her feet. The newly minted attorney was wearing her favorite, pink, My Little Pony T-shirt. Her cute jean shorts, embroidered with multicolored hearts and stars, were worn over childish, cotton Disney-princess panties. On her feet, she wore white socks with frills on the top under light-up, pink sneakers. Her hair was tied back in braids with cute pink ribbons tied into bows holding them in place. On top of her head sat her pink sunglasses with heart shaped rims. If it wasn't for her small, but noticable breasts, and curvy ass, she could have easily been mistaken for a second grader. And, given the Mommy Domme/Little Girl relationship she was in with Lisa, that was the point.

Normally, Mia would be ecstatic to have a 'middle' day out in the world with Lisa. Exploring her surroundings with all of the exuberance of a grade schooler while her 'Mommy' looked after her was exhilarating. Today, though, Mia was upset. Instead of going to the zoo, to a park, or to an aquarium, they were going over to Mommy's best friend Sasha's house for a playdate with Sasha's little, Tammy.

Mia hated playdates with Tammy. Mia had to agree, when Lisa brought it up, that Lisa and Tammy were always more than friendly and kind to her. However, in middle-mode, playdates with Tammy were always the worst.

Despite both women being into ageplay, Lisa preferred to act like she looked currently: like a precocious, sometimes bratty, sometimes angelic, seven-year-old. Tammy, however, on her best day, acted like a stupid, smelly little two-year-old. Worse, in Mia's opinion, sometimes, if Tammy was feeling really little, she would let herself regress so far that she wouldn't even let herself crawl. That meant that Sasha and Tammy's house was full of nothing but baby toys and every playdate in their home was incredibly boring for Mia as a middle.

However, if that was it, Mia wouldn't complain so much. She could always overcome boredom with a little tablet time, and, to keep the peace, Lisa was always ready to allow her to have that.

No, what worried Mia more than being bored playing with Tammy was Sasha. Despite always being kind and friendly to Mia, Mia couldn't help but feel like she was being stared at by a predator every time she was around the woman. Mia was resolutely a middle, not a little, meaning she never wore pull-ups or diapers, didn't use a pacifier, ate mostly adult foods, and, only rarely sucked her thumb. Mia had absolutely no interest in acting like a big smelly baby like Tammy.

Mia was certain, however, that Sasha wanted to drop Mia to Tammy's level. When Mia and Lisa spent time with Sasha and Tammy, Sasha was always 'accidentally' treating Mia like an infant or toddler. She'd bring Mia her juice in a bottle or sippy cup. She'd only talk to her in baby talk. Once, when Tammy pooped her pants, Sasha pulled back Mia's shorts and checked her first, causing the small woman to turn bright red in embarrassment.

However, every time Sasha was called out on her behavior, she quickly apologized and stated it was all just "a force of habit." Lisa always bought that excuse. Mia was not so certain.

Adding to Mia's fears about Sasha, Mia was certain that just two weeks ago she had caught Sasha trying to convince Mia's Mommy to put Mia in diapers over the phone. Mia confronted Lisa about the conversation, and the other woman had denied that that was what it was about. But, Mia had been with her Mommy long enough to know when her caregiver was lying to her.

And, that is what has brought Mia to her current predicament, armed with her pink, kid's edition, Kindle Fire, her pink headphones with cat ears, and a pack of gum, trying to delay her playdate with Baby Tammy at all costs.

"Come on, Mia! It's time to go! Stop lollygagging!" Lisa yelled at again from the door connecting the garage to the kitchen.

"But, Mom, do we have to? Tammy is SOOO boring?" Mia yelled back, knowing her protests were futile.

"Yes, we are going. We are not having this argument again. Sasha is Mommy's best friend, and I want to spend time with her. If playing with Baby Tammy gets too boring, you can always play with your tablet like you always do," Lisa lectured her partner.

Mia just sighed in response and walked to the car. She knew from experience there was no use fighting her partner on this issue. As Lisa jumped in the driver's seat, Mia climbed into her booster seat in the back and buckled herself in.

The drive to Sasha and Tammy's house didn't take long. In less than twenty minutes, Mia found herself standing next to Lisa on Sasha and Tammy's porch, knocking on the door. During the car ride, Mia has popped a stick of bubblegum into her mouth and was blowing bubbles impatiently while they waited for the door to open.

"Now, remember kiddo, I want you in your best behavior. Any shenanigans out of you will result in punishments, understood?" Lisa hissed out quietly.

POP

Lisa let the bubble she was blowing pop before responding, "Yes, Mom," and rolling hers eyes.

POP

"MIIIIAAAAAA!!!!!"

As Mia let her next bubblegum bubble pop, the door flung open and she was enveloped in a giant uncoordinated huge. Both the excited, childish tone of the hugger and the smell of stale urine and baby powder announced the identity of Mia's assailant as much as her visage. Tammy, the giant baby woman, who was 8 inches taller and 75 pounds heavier than Mia, squeezed the smaller woman tightly to her chest as she spoke.

"Me's so 'cited to see ya', Mia! Me miss you!" Tammy followed the statement by planting a messy, drooly kiss on Mia's lips. Mia pulled back in disgust. She went to wipe her lips clean, but as she reached her hand to her mouth, Tammy caught it and started to drag her friend forward. "Come on, Mia! Letth pway!" Tammy said as she all but carried Mia towards the front door.

Only a firm hand stopped Tammy from immediately carrying off her friend to her playroom.

"Patience, baby!" Sasha giggled, halting her charge's momentum, "Little Mia just got her! Let's give her a second to get settled before you run off with her. Maybe she wants something to drink or needs to go potty!"

Mia appreciated Sasha saving her from being carried off by Tammy like one of the bigger woman's dolls. But, she bristled at the use of the name 'Little Mia' and the subtly infantilizing statement about the 'potty.' Mia looked over at her own Mom for support, but only got a stern look that screamed, "Suck it up, buttercup."

Mia took a deep, calming breath before responding, as cheerily as she could muster, "Thanks, Miss Sasha! I don't need to use the bathroom, but some juice sounds nice!"

Lisa quickly followed Mia's words as she embraced her friend in a hug, "And I could do for some Mommy-juice, if you know what I mean. Good to see you again, sweetie." Lisa punctuated her statement by given her friend a platonic peck on the cheek.

"Well, let's not just stand around out here, come on in, and I'll get you both set up!" Sasha said as she lead both women into the house.

Tammy, for her part, bounced ahead of the procession, practically vibrating with toddler-like energy.

"Mommy, can me haf sum juice too? Me knows me not supposta, but, if Mia gets some," Tammy letting her question trail off as, much to Mia's frustration, Tammy drew a comparison between the middle and the little.

Mia bit her tongue again as Sasha responded. Mia was a middle, not some stupid adult-toddler, she could control her emotions like a big girl.

"Sure, baby, a little juice won't hurt you, and since your little friend here is having a glass too, it wouldn't seem fair to restrict you to milk or water like normal," Sasha said.

"Fanks, Mama!" Tammy responded exuberantly.

"Tammy, your Mommy told me you are starting something exciting today?" Lisa said quickly, changing the subject before Mia lost her cool.

"Yeth, Mith Lisa! Me potty training like a big girl!" Lisa lifted the front of the pink sundress she was wearing, showing off the extra-large GoodNites pull-up wrapped around her bottom underneath. To no one's shock, the padding already looked damp.

Lisa knelt down to inspect the padded underwear. "That's wonderful Tammy, but it looks like you might have had a potty accident," Lisa said, sliding a finger inside of the leg gathers of the pull-up to confirm how wet it was.

The energy immediately drained out of the large adult-baby. Tammy's face turned as pink as her undergarment as she looked at her feet despondently.

"Me sowwy, Mith Lisa. Me didn't even notice!" Tears started to swell up in Tammy's eyes as she spoke.

"Hush, that's okay! You're not supposed to be perfect your first day! Why don't you let Miss Lisa change you into a fresh pull-up while your Mommy gets everyone their juice?" Mia's partner said soothingly.

Tammy's mood instantly improved. "Otay, Mith Lisa, leth go!" Tammy grabbed Lisa by the hand and dragged the caregiver down the hall, off to her nursery.

Much to Mia's chagrin, that left her alone in the kitchen with Sasha. Mia awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot, playing with the cord of her headphones like a fidget while Sasha poured juice and wine for her guests.

"How are you doing little one? Have you been having lot's of fun with your Mommy lately? It sounds like you've been having all sorts of adventures," Sasha asked as she turned around and handed Mia a sippy cup full of what appeared to be grape juice.

"Uh, yeah, Miss Sasha, me and Mom have been having a great time! We, uh, went to the zoo the other day," Mia stopped talking and scrunched up her face as she was handed the sippy cup. "Um, I'm really sorry Miss Sasha, but, you know, I'm a big girl, I don't need a sippy cup."

Sasha dramatically slapped her hand to her forehead in response to Mia's statement. "Oh, I'm so sorry, little one! I just forget you're a big girl. I mean, you are so little standing next to my Little Tammy, I always just assume you're a little like her! Let me grab that cup from you, and I'll fix that."

Mia smiled graciously as she handed the cup back to Sasha, pleasantly surprised that the woman wasn't putting up a bigger fight. "Thank you, ma'am!" Mia chirped politely.

Sasha quickly turned around and poured the juice in the sippy cup into a more mature plastic cup without a lid for Mia. She turned around and held the cup out for Mia to grab. Mia reached out to grab it. As she did, however, Sasha inexplicably and unexpectedly moved the hand holding the cup into Mia's outstretched one, causing Sasha to lose her grip on the cup. Grape juice got all over the floor of the kitchen and, distressingly for Mia, all over her clothes.

"Oh my goodness!" Sasha said, inspecting the small woman now drenched in grape juice, "I thought you said you were a big girl and didn't need a sippy cup? Now you've spilt your juice everywhere and ruined your pretty clothes! Maybe you aren't as big as you think, huh?"

The predatory grin that haunted Mia's nightmares appeared on Sasha's face.

"What? No! But? You! You spilt the juice, I was just reaching for it?" Mia sputtered out. The small woman knew this wasn't her fault. Why was Sasha blaming this on her?

"Really? That's how you want to play it? Lie and say that it was my fault? I'm an adult, Mia. A real adult, not just an overgrown toddler playing pretend like you. Adults don't spill drinks. Kids do."

This was outrageous! How did that woman think she'd get away talking to her like this? How did that woman think that she could frame her for making this mess? Mia stomped her foot in righteous indignation.

"I am not a TODDLER! I did not spill the juice! You did!" Mia wailed as she stomped her foot again.

Unfortunately for the proud middle, just as she was confronting Sasha, her caregiver was coming around the corner.

"Mia Eileen! Are you throwing a temper tantrum? We've only been her for five minutes!" Lisa started to lay into her girlfriend, "I told you to behave and… oh my goodness, are you covered in juice? You ruined your outfit!"

"Mom! It's not my…" Mia was cut off by Sasha.

"Oh, Lisa, please don't be mad at Mia, it wasn't her fault. I tried to give her juice in a sippy cup, and she said she didn't need a sippy cup. But, when I gave her a big girl cup, she immediately spilt it everywhere. I should have known better then to believe her," Sasha said, placing a hand on Mia who was about to explode in anger. "And, it's not her fault she's having a temper tantrum. You know how baby girls like her have such a hard time controlling their emotions. Please don't hold that against you sweet baby girl!"

Mia immediately bit her tongue. Being reminded that only babies couldn't control their emotions forced her to realize that if she kept tantruming, she'd be playing right into the malevolent Mommy Domme's plan.

Mia took a deep breath, "Sorry, Mom. It was my fault; I was just, clumsy. It won't happen again."

Lisa let her rage subside, seeing Mia seemingly take responsibility for her behavior. Sasha smiled darkly, letting her hand slide to the small of Mia's back.

"Lisa, let me take Mia and find her new clothes. Tammy's quite a bit bigger than her, but we have a couple of outfits that were too small when we bought them and never returned. I'm sure one of them will fit," Sasha offered.

A pit formed in Mia's stomach. She knew that anything Sasha had bought for Tammy was going to be far to babyish for her tastes. However, she also knew she didn't have any other options. The downside of being a middle rather than a little was that her Mom didn't carry around a diaper bag full of extra outfits for the inevitable accident.

"That sounds great, Sash! Thank you so much for being so understanding," Lisa replied. She then turned on her charge, "Mia, do what Miss Sasha says and wear what she gives you. I do not want to hear about you having another outburst, got it?" She said sternly.

Mia swallowed her feelings. "Yes, Mom," she replied, allowing Sasha to lead her off to Tammy's nursery.

As Sasha led Mia back to Tammy's room, she spoke. "What a good girl, taking responsibility for your own mistakes! Maybe you really are a bigger girl then I've been telling your Mommy you are!"

Mia gritted her teeth, not rising to her tormentor's taunts. Lisa wanted Mia to behave for Lisa, and she was going to do her best to follow her girlfriend's instructions.

"Thank you for the compliment, Miss Sasha," Mia croaked out demurely as they reached the door to the nursery.

Mia had been in the obscenely pink room dozens of times. She hated it. Along one wall sat a giant, white, adult-sized crib. It was large enough to both hold and contain the larger Tammy. Mia knew if she was ever placed in it, there was no way she could escape.

Along the other open wall was a similarly large changing table. Ankle and wrist restraints were attached to each corner and a strapped dangled right at waist level. Mia shivered looking at it, imagining the humiliation of being strapped to it and forcefully diapered.

"You like it? Want to try it out?" Sasha jabbed as she saw the other woman's reaction to the piece of furniture.

"No, that's okay Miss Sasha," Mia responded, not wanting to give the woman any excuse to tie her to it.

Mia's eyes drifted around the room more. In a far corner, a large white rocking horse sat. Like the changing table, it had cuffs attached to where the rider's hands and feet would sit. More insidious, Mia knew from watching Tammy take a couple of interesting rides previously, the saddle of the horse also vibrated for the rider's pleasure. Mia shuddered again. Sasha just smiled knowingly.

Trying to not examine the dungeon disguised as a nursery any closer, Mia let Sasha lead her to the closet.

"Alright, what do we have here?" Sasha asked rhetorically as she started digging through her girlfriend-turned-daughter's clothes. "Oh, here we go, this is perfect! It might even be your size!"

Mia almost vomited as Sasha held the oversized toddler party dress to her body. The dress was pastel yellow with puffy sleeves. It was adorned with lace and had a short skirt made shorter by the petticoats sewn into it.

The petticoats insured that if the wearer beant over, they would flash their panties or whatever else they were wearing as underwear to anyone nearby. The dress, unfortunately, for Mia, also seemed to be made to fit her perfectly.

"Wonderful! This should fit exquisitely! And you'll look so cute in it, little one!" Sasha said as she held the infantile dress up to Mia's shoulders.

Mia did not want to put that dress on. She knew that it would make her look just like a toddler in her Sunday best. That was not the look she was trying to cultivate, especially in front of Tammy and Sasha. Carefully, so as not to seem ungrateful or like she was throwing another tantrum, Mia asked if there were any other options.

"Oh, you don't like the dress? We might have something else in here your size. The problem is that Little Tammy is so much bigger than you," Sasha said as she started digging through the closet.

It only took moments before she emerged with a other option: a pink onesie with the phrase "Mommy's Lil' Princess" written across the chest. Like the dress, it looked perfectly sized for Mia. It took all the determination that the small woman could muster to not gasp in shock at Sasha's ease at finding such a infantile garment in her size in Tammy's closet.

"Oh my goodness! This is adorable and should fit you perfectly! Is this better, baby?" Sasha asked, holding up the onesie with a dark smile.

"Um, no thank you! The dress is, uh, beautiful, and fine! Thank you!" Mia squeaked out hurriedly as Sasha descended on her.

"Ok, if you're sure! I know it's fancy and hard to play in. I know you don't want to worry about getting it wet or messy!" Sasha said, placing undue emphasis on the last three words in Mia:s opinion.

"No, the dress will be wonderful. I'll, uh, feel so pretty," Mia said, trying to convince Sasha to let her were the toddler dress rather than the onesie clearly meant for an adult infant. She couldn't believe what she was doing.

"Are you sure? It'd probably be easier to get to the potty in this onesie than in the dress, since it has just the snaps rather than all of those pretty petticoats. You don't want to have an accident, do you?" Sasha said, trying to convince Mia to wear the more infantile outfit and causing Mia to blush

"No, Miss Sasha, I'll wear the dress please. It's just so… pretty," Mia said as convincingly as she could through gritted teeth.

Sasha responded with a laugh and walked over to the smaller woman. "Well, if you really think it's pretty baby girl, who am I to stop you! Maybe I'll tell your Mommy how much you like it! I bet she could find you some more pretty little dresses like this!"

Mia blushed at the thought of Lisa filling her closet with garish baby dresses like this. It sounded like a nightmare. Mia was already too committed to her statement about the dress, and she was not going to put on that onesie.

"That would be nice, Miss Sasha," Mia said, politely.

"Wonderful!" Sasha responded condescendingly as she reached out and, without warning, began to undress Mia.

Mia immediately reached out to stop her Mom's best friend from undressing her. "Miss Sasha! I'm a big girl! I can dress myself!" Mia said indignantly.

Sasha slapped her hand away. "Does a big girl spill her juice all over herself?" She asked. "Does a big girl throw temper tantrums and blame their mistakes on other people?" Sasha continued. "Let me answer those questions for you: No!"

"We're only here because you haven't been acting like a big girl. Now, let me get you out of those sticky clothes and into this beautiful dress before you make a bigger mess than you already have!"

Once again, Mia wanted to rage. She wanted to yell. She wanted to scream. She wanted to stomp her feet. But, she knew she couldn't. Her best course of action to prove Sasha wrong and keep her dignity as a middle intact was to keep her emotions under control. So, despite her misgivings and frustrations, Mia let Sasha pull her shirt over her head, take her shoes and socks off, and slide her shorts off her legs, leaving her in nothing but her cute Disney princess cotton panties.

"Thank you, Miss Sasha." Mia chirped out politely, covering her breasts as best she could while waiting for the other woman to grab the yellow baby-dress.

"We may make a polite, big girl out of you yet Little Mia," Sasha responded.

NEXT CHAPTER

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝DOESN’T FEEL LONG ENOUGH TO ME…❞

—minors dni, suggestive, 7 minutes in heaven, bully! suguru x reader, light biting/hickeys, jealous! bully! satoru at the end + in the bonus lolz, grinding??

Your vision is filled with pitch-black darkness, muffled sounds of partygoers outside just reaching your ears.

“Why did you force me to do this again?”

The amusement in Geto’s chuckle is evident. “I think you were peer pressured into this, actually.”

Him and his smart-ass mouth. “You just stay over there on your side.”

There’s an immediate rustling of fabric, and you can sense that Geto’s definitely gotten closer. You’d back away if you weren’t already flat against the opposite wall.

“What the hell did I just say?”

Your eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness, but you look at where you think he is. His outline isn't even visible, but you can just feel the mischievous smirk on his face. There’s silence for a few more seconds, and then more rustling of fabric before you feel the heat of his body on yours.

“Cut it out!,” you frown and shove at Geto. He doesn’t even stumble, and your pathetic attempt at moving him brings small bouts of laughter from his lips.

“Haven’t even done anything.,” his voice is a murmur right in front of you and you flinch at the warmth of his breath on your face.

“Y-you being this close is enough.” You cringe at the stutter in your voice. No way you were getting nervous around this man.

You feel his hands glide up your thighs, brushing by your short skirt to take purchase on the fat of your hips. Geto’s presence engulfs you; in the darkness you can sense his large figure towering over your own. Just his pacifying company and the heavenly, rich smell of his cologne is intoxicating. You hate the dizziness it puts in your head.

“This 7 minutes is taking forever.,” you mutter.

He gives a lighthearted huff, and your body tenses as Geto’s breath glides over your neck.

“Doesn’t feel long enough to me.,” he barely whispers into your neck.

“Don’t.,” you warn. Your hands halfheartedly press against his broad chest. “Wait.”

You shudder as his lips brush over your collarbone. “…Waiting.”

The moisture in your throat dries up, all that escapes is a choked gasp. His knee slowly maneuvers its way between your thighs, and you instinctively relax atop his leg. A minute passes, and Geto squeezes your hips impatiently, shuffles closer to pin you firmly against the wall. He slowly begins grinding you over his thigh, and an airy moan escapes you as Geto massages your heat against him. At the same time you feel something hard press against your lower stomach. You make any attempt to force out a sentence, only for a small whine to come out when he roughly sucks a spot on your neck, and then places a featherlight kiss over it.

“G-geto–���

A harsh knock interrupts whatever you were gonna say. Geto smirks against your skin at the annoyed, familiar voice right outside the door.

“Hey!,” Gojo shouts over loud music, and impatiently pounds on the door again. “7 minutes is up, get outta there!”

— BONUS :3

Geto pulls back from you, and you rush to open the door. Through the haze of your mind and the strobing party lights, you can make out Gojo in front of you with a pout and arms crossed. Geto ushers your staggering form from the closet with a hand on your lower back, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"What did you do to them?," Gojo huffs to his friend.

You're about to stumble into the crowd when Gojo grabs your wrists and yanks you back towards him. He tosses another accusatory glance at Geto before studying your body. Mind just clearing up, you find the energy to glare at the man again holding you hostage. You watch his gaze glide up and down your body, before halting to a spot on your neck. His bright blue eyes squint for a second, before widening in shock.

Gojo turns to look at Geto. "What is that?"

The aforementioned, long-haired man has just slipped away into the crowd, and Gojo's grip tightens on your wrist as he watches Geto's head drift further and further away into the sea of people. You wonder what he's so pissed about.

[sena-shi]

Protector of Teyvat (a troll hell-bent on reviving everyone just for fun) P—2

Isekai’d reader who is hell-bent on reviving everyone using your cheat code as the protector of Teyvat. With great power comes great benefits! Teyvat population stonks

Note: asmoday is the unknown god, reader also grants gnosis and visions, isekai, slight sagau, op reader

Summary: You are just a regular human being living your best life on Earth, collecting husbandos and waifus in Genshin Impact when all of a sudden you were isekai'd to Teyvat, but not as a traveler, a creator, or an NPC. You were a very close friend of both Celestia and the Unknown God, who is known as the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles. You too, hold a very important position of the highest order because unbeknownst to the general populace, you are the Protector of Teyvat from the outside forces. And so imagine the Archon's faces when their dead friend suddenly came back to life just so they can accompany you together with Aether and Paimon on a journey to spit on the Celestia's face

Timeline in Teyvat when you got transmigrated: Before any wars happened. Zhongli is probably sucking on a dragon pacifier or something if that even exists.

Warning: curse words, slight ooc, lore flying over the ocean and going for a swim, author removed the lore from the irminsul so act like you know nothing of it, i'm putting the lore in the cheese grater

“T-The hilichurls… turned into humans?” Because of what she had just seen, Amber's eyes were completely expanded, and you could almost get the impression that she was on the verge of exploding any moment now.

You find yourself thinking that it is understandable. After all, raising someone from the dead isn't something that happens very often; in fact, not even archons are able to do it.

You chuckled and smiled sarcastically at the three people who were staring at you in complete and utter disbelief.

You stood there with your arms crossed as you looked over at the hilichurls that had been transformed into humans with confused expressions adorning their faces.

"Oh wow…" You said while putting on a show of ignorance regarding what had just taken place. "What a miracle it is that they have been brought back to life!" You delighted everyone by clapping your hands.

"P-Paimon was very certain that it was Y/N who brought them back to life just now..." Paimon mumbled something to herself as she scratched the top of her head.

“Hm? That is ridiculous. I just smacked them across the face with a fried egg, see?" You answered as you moved closer to the hilichurls that had been converted into humans by slapping their faces with a fried egg that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

And as a matter of fact, a noticeable improvement could be seen in the appearance of the other people's skin after the fried egg had been applied to their faces. They let out a sigh of disgust as they observed the yolk splattered all over their faces.

"Paimon had no idea that a fried egg was capable of doing that..."

Aether shook his head at the innocence of his traveling buddy. It was perfectly clear that you were making light of the situation. At least now he is aware that you were telling the truth when you stated that you allowed the Anemo Archon to have a seat in the seven.

“This—” Amber opened her mouth to speak while simultaneously covered her mouth with her palm in shock. "This is really incredible news! You are able to give them a second chance at life!"

"What caused them to become humans?" Aether questioned while frowning in confusion.

You gave a light hum as you brought your hand up to pet him on the top of his head. "Perhaps your sister knows the answer you're looking for.”

“Our benefactor…” As soon as you turned your attention to them, they started talking, and Aether made a low rumbling sound.

You gave them a sideways glance while turning your head to the side since you thought it was likely that they were bewildered by the situation. Their final recollections would be of fighting for their homeland just before the curse took full impact.

They all got on one knee in front of you, which caused you to raise an eyebrow.

"Ah-ah, there's no need to be grateful to me. You probably aren't aware of this, but I'm a very awful person.” You said with a playful tone.

The people around you gave you a disapproving shake of the head as they expressed their dissatisfaction. Who in the devil would even believe a statement like that after what you have done?

“We were in such a painful dream— we are gratefu—"

You made a huffing sound while crossing your arms. "I find it extremely unpleasant when people thank me or express gratitude in any form. You deserve to live, no? I was only performing my duties at the time."

"Paimon speculates that Y/N is simply not accustomed to being thanked at...?"

You let out a sigh and shook your head in a deliberate manner. You looked down at them and they immediately thanked whichever gods were responsible for allowing them the opportunity to finally take a good look at the face of the one who had helped them.

They feel as though fortune was on their side because a God gazed at them with such kindness in their eyes, despite the fact that they were literally citizens from a nation that does not worship any gods.

"How can we possibly repay you...?"

You cocked your head to the side and hummed to yourself while you started to think.

“Brace yourselves.” You spoke.

“Wha—?”

"Oh, wait, here, have this." You smiled broadly as a variety of visions comprising a range of elements appeared seemingly out of thin air.

They did nothing but blink in bewilderment as they held the small vision in their hands, looking like toddlers who had been given machine guns.

At this very moment, Amber was on the verge of passing out. Witnessing a group of individuals all at once getting their visions is unsettling to say the least. It feels even more wrong to breathe the same air as you!

Oh, my archons, her life is not a sufficient payment to be able to witness such a once-in-a-lifetime event!

 “Let’s all hang out once in awhile, hm? Don’t forget to say hello to Lulu for me!”

Aether raised a brow. Lulu?

With a wave of your hand, they vanished into thin air, and you sent them to a place where Lumine and the Abyss Order are currently staying.

To say that Lumine was horrified to the core when a group of humans suddenly appeared above the head of the abyss mage who was just talking to her would be an enormous understatement.

"Y-You can grant visions too!?" The scream that Paimon let out was so loud that it made you wince.

“Sorry!”

You indicated with a wave of your hand that everything was fine, and Paimon immediately let out a sigh of relief.

"Aether, do you know her, or is she a stranger?" Amber's lips were covered as she leaned in close to the man and mumbled something. In response, he gave a nod that conveyed something close to uncertainty.

You snorted as you extended your hand in front of Paimon and insisted that she give you, her hand. And as she did, a gnosis appeared in your hand.

"Oh, my dear archons!" Paimon reacted, fixating her gaze intently on the bright object that was floating directly above your palm.

"If we were to sell this, we could make a ton of Mora!"

“What—!?” Amber and Aether shouted at the same time.

You blinked and stroked your chin with your index finger as if you were considering what you had just heard. "If I remember correctly, there was a term for buy one and get one free. What if we double it?"

"No no no! Paimon is not even certain that there is a single person in Teyvat who can afford a gnosis! In addition to that, don't you think the other archons will feel uncomfortable about it?”

"Why should we worry about how they feel?" You huffed as you continued, "The one ruling Inazuma handed her gnosis to a friend, the one ruling Mondstadt doesn't even use it, and the one ruling Liyue will probably give up his gnosis in the near future.

"Well, if we're talking about the wealthiest individual in Teyvat right this minute..." You made a soft mumbling sound.

“Should we offer it for sale to the Tsaritsa? You smiled mischievously while cocking your head ever-so-slightly to the side.

As soon as you uttered that, an excruciating ringing sound immediately started up in your head. You gritted your teeth and squeezed one of your eyes shut.

“Y/N, are you okay?” You heard Aether’s worried voice.

"I thought we were each other's best friends! You should be aware that she wants a fight with me!” You can clearly hear Celestia nitpicking away inside of your head. As is her custom, she is highly dramatic.

“Well, it’s partly your fault that she wants to fight you.”

The three looked at you in surprise and astonishment as your choice of words came out of nowhere. To silence them, all you did was give them your whole attention while pressing a finger to your lips.

“Hmph…” You could hear her dejected voice.

“Oh hush, you have me. Just let them do their own thing for now.”

“Alright, but why are you selling a gnosis?”

"Creating a strategy for one's own survival is the first step toward leading a more fulfilling life," After having a good laugh, you promptly severed your connection with the Celestia before she could even begin to complain again.

“At least come visit us—!”

Oh, your closest friends and their overprotective tendencies when it comes to you. Why won't they just let you breathe and stop figuratively and physically clutching onto you for dear life?

"Your highness, who were you speaking with only a moment ago?" Amber stuttered, and for some reason, despite her outgoing nature, she found herself experiencing sudden feelings of shyness. I mean, really, how could you possibly hold that against her?

She hasn't even entertained the thought of speaking with an archon, and yet here she is having a conversation with someone who is significantly more powerful than the archons!

“Oh please, Y/N is fine,” you gave her a friendly smile and told her, “The Celestia is in full support of our business!”

They were all shocked beyond belief and let out a collective gasp.

As they imagined every people of Teyvat holding a gnosis, everyone in the room began to break out in a cold sweat at the back of their necks. You couldn't possibly be serious, could you? Surely you must have been joking. Right?

You met three new people along the way, and the four of you set off on a journey to the city that is known for its freedom. They all came to an agreement that the information on your identity and the incident with the hilichurls should not be shared with anybody else.

You trailed closely behind them, periodically turning your head to take in the beautiful surroundings and the people who belonged to your little archon.

“Let me officially introduce the city of wind, dandelions, and freedom— Travelers under the protection of the Knights of Favonius — Welcome to Mondstadt!” Amber grinned broadly as she placed her hand on her chest and cupped her other hand on her hip.

"O-Oh, not that her highness Y/N doesn't already know about Mondstadt...” Amber massaged the back of her head nervously as you made her blush with your laughter.

"I don't. I didn't have enough time to look into it, so I'm grateful for the introduction. Mm, the only figure of this nation that I am familiar with is the archon,” You were able to make her feel better with the words that you spoke, and now Amber can be seen beaming with happiness once more.

That, as well, is a blatant lie. You have completed so many commissions in this nation while you were still a player, so of course you are familiar with every nook and cranny of this city.

You didn't say anything while Amber and Paimon went into great length explaining things to Aether; the only thing you did was hum sometimes in reaction to what they were saying.

You were on the sidelines as Aether received his wind glider and put it through its trials for the first time, which resulted in a successful outcome.

Ha, that kid used to fly around with his very own set of wings before.

You swung your legs around gleefully as you sat precariously perched over the railings.

It is only a matter of time before the city is shrouded by ominous clouds and Dvalin makes another appearance. This means that you will be able to see your little floatie as well.

Aether descended toward Amber, who was standing there waiting for him once more, as the three of them observed that thick clouds and fog had begun to cover the skies above Mondstadt.

“The sky...” Amber uttered those words with a note of apprehension.

People immediately began fleeing to safer areas as Aether and Amber gazed up at you with worried expressions on their faces, as if pleading with you to take some action.

You only smiled at them before speaking the words, “The stormterror is absolutely adorable, no doubt about it, no?

“E—Eh!?” Your response caused Paimon to exclaim, and at that very moment, a wind tornado was closing in on them and ultimately launched Aether into the air.

You heaved a sigh as you stood up from the rails, your palm shining with some unknown power as a barrier began to enclose the city and prevent any harm from approaching.

You sighed again as you began to protect the citizens of the city. However, since you didn't make an effort to clear away the fog, everything will continue to be a mystery.

You cast your sight upward, in the direction of where Aether is floating in the air thanks to Venti's power, and the two people who were observing you followed your gaze in that direction.

"Don't worry, your highness! We will be all right!"

You couldn't help but laugh as you soared to the location of Aether, where you could sense Venti disguising as one of the thousand winds.

“I’m preventing your fall with the power of a thousand winds.”

“Oh? Little floatie came into rescue too?” You teased as the mysterious voice began stammering.

“L-Little floatie…?”

"Alright, alright, let's concentrate on this," You gave Aether a friendly smile while you ruffled his silky locks with your fingertips.

"Don't worry about a thing; little floatie will look after you."

Aether frowned, indicating that he found the idea quite unappealing. "How about you?"

You hummed as you sensed the wind from Venti moving closer to you as though it was also interested in you.

"I'm quite curious to find out if slapping a fried egg on the stormterror's blood clot will be of any assistance."

Aether's jaw dropped in disbelief. You’re still not done with the fried eggs!?

"Hey, what do you think of this idea, little floatie?"

The mysterious voice heaved a cough and mumbled, "Eh..."

After hearing their response, you rolled your eyes at them. They had a feeling that you wouldn't be speaking anytime soon, so Venti made the decision to explain how to make use of the power.

You were observing everything that was going on around Aether as he started to harness the power of the wind.

You made a few comments about how the wind power looked like a machine gun which made Venti cough multiple times to hide his laughter.

“Not enough. Do you want me to slap you with an almond tofu for an increased damage?”

“W—What?”

You didn't bother to wait for his approval before presenting him with the plate of almond tofu that magically emerged in your hands and then you gently slapped it in front of his face.

It was such a surprising thing that you could practically feel Venti shaking, which almost caused him to lose control of the wind. It was that shocking.

As Aether took the final shot, Dvalin let out a roar, and you swiftly flew over to the dragon, which appeared to be about to collapse as it was shaking in the wind.

Venti stayed only long enough to watch the softening of your eyes as you stared at the blood clot on the dragon's back. Aether slowly flew down to the area where the others are, but Venti did not leave.

He watched as your bright hands gently caressed the dark crystal, which immediately silenced the dragon's roaring.

You were reluctant to completely remove the blood clot because it was Venti and Aether's responsibility to do it. However, because you are so compassionate toward individuals who are suffering, all you did was relieve the discomfort that the dragon was experiencing.

It is completely up to destiny to decide whether or not the abyss mage will still be able to exert control over the dragon.

"Little floatie," You moved your attention to the wind that was swirling. "The traveler is known to be trustworthy. I have complete faith that you are aware of the next steps."

The strong wind has started to die down, and the only sound that can be heard out is a faint “thank you.”

You led the weakened dragon back to the ground, and as soon as the two of you landed, three abyss mages suddenly appeared. You grimaced when you realized that Lumine must have sent them to seek you out.

"Our gracious benefactor," An abyss mage started things off. "Our princess would want to offer her sincere gratitude to—"

You heaved a sigh as you frowned and crossed your arms while looking at them. "I believed that I conveyed to them that receiving gratitude is not something that I like in any way,"

“Uh… they may have mentioned that.”

You gave your temples a light massage as the headache began to set in and asked, "So why are you here?"

"We would like to make a request that you lend us a hand in the restoration of our once-thriving nation and in rescuing its people from the curse."

"Oh, I had already made preparations to carry out that task," You gave your response, and then proceeded to yawn.

If only they knew that your two friends were the cause of their fall, they probably wouldn't be as friendly with you as they are now if they knew that.

As they drifted closer to you, the abyss mages showed signs of happiness; however, when they heard your next words, "But not right now," their happiness quickly turned to disappointment, and they almost plummeted to the ground.

“But— why?”

"Of what use is a nation if it does not have its people?" As you lounged contentedly on Dvalin's back, a sluggish expression began to appear on your face.

“So…”

"If I happen to come across one of your own, you can rest assured that I will deliver them to your princess so that she may deal with them." You uttered those words in a languid manner while staring at them. "Focus on gathering your people, since your nation will not all of a sudden grow a foot and run anyways." 

"We are in all sincerity grateful for—"

“Hush.”

They abruptly stopped speaking once they were reminded that you do not enjoy receiving gratitude or hearing thank yous in any form.

You are truly a weird God— they think. But kind like their princess, nonetheless.

“Then we shall return.”

You made a careless motion with your hand, indicating for them to leave immediately.

“Tell your princess that she should at least pay a visit to her twin, and if she does that, maybe I'll feel more motivated to assist you.”

Your level of excitement and enthusiasm is to be expected, of course. The sooner they come to an understanding with one another, the sooner they will get the fuck out of Teyvat.

That means, you won't have any more job to do. On the other hand, you get the impression that it won't be all that simple.

Not with the looks that Aether was giving you, and not with Lumine's nature, which dictates that she won't stop until she pays back whoever helped her out.

Just hush and go, okay!? What is it that they have planned for the following step? Bring themselves to their knees and make a formal request for your hand in marriage? You let out a sigh as the thought crossed your mind.

In spite of the fact that you intended to rebuild the once-mighty nation, you wanted to execute it in private. There is no question in your mind that once they discovered who their benefactor is, then and only then will they revere that benefactor. What then will become of a nation that does not believe in God or even worship one?

The mages of the abyss remained silent for a short while as they observed various expressions adorning your face. It turned out to be quite comical. It's no surprise that their princess was so interested in interacting with you that she issued a command to find you.

They continued to observe you while you glared, huffed, and grimaced at the ground, and it wasn't until you frowned at them that they eventually left with a quiet "thank you."

You rolled your eyes. “What a bunch of brats.”

As soon as you arrived back in Mondstadt, you saw the three of them speaking to Kaeya. Although the fog has long since dissipated, the sky itself is still completely dark.

As you made your way slowly towards the folks who were introducing themselves, you waved your hand and the barrier vanished before your eyes. 

“This is Kaeya, our Cavalry Captain.” Amber carried on talking as if she had not noticed your presence and proceeded. “These two are travelers from afar, Aether and Paimon.”

Kaeya looked at the two individuals and gave a nod in acknowledgement. He then made direct eye contact with you and asked, "And who might this young lady possibly be?"

Amber's eyes widened as she shifted her gaze back and forth between Kaeya and you. Kaeya saw the outrider's expression, which seemed to indicate that she was at a loss for words regarding how to introduce you.

Your presence elevated the level of excitement that he felt towards everything.

“Oh, I’m Y/N. I sell visions and gnoses.” You responded with an expression on your face that was completely expressionless, and your voice was completely emotionless, which made the situation even more awkward and unbelievable.

The response that you gave seemed to take Kaeya completely by surprise. You? Selling visions? How in the devil is something like that ever feasible? And just what exactly are gnoses?

“Uh… haha…” Amber, at a complete loss for words, scratched the nape of her neck.

"Oh? I had no idea that lady Y/N is such a practical joker,” Even though Kaeya appeared to be laughing, there was not the slightest indication of humor in his voice.

"Uh-huh, you bet! Paimon is in agreement that Y/N has a tendency to joke around quite a bit!” In a frantic effort to salvage the situation, Paimon quickly nodded her head.

"Well, if you want to buy one, all you have to do is ask me..." You just said it while crossing your arms.

“Oh? I was wondering if you could sell me one then." It appeared as though Kaeya was making fun of you with his charming smile; in fact, it almost felt that way.

You seemed curious about something as you cocked your head to the side and then asked, "Don't you already have a vision though?"

"Well, having two would certainly make things more interesting, wouldn't you say?"

You took a moment to think about it before giving your approval with a nod. As you lifted your hands and opened your palms, visions of several elements, each glowing brightly, suddenly appeared.

Huh? He thought you were just joking the whole time!

It would be an understatement to say that Kaeya was caught off guard by the revelation. Are you a fraud? A magician perhaps? However, the visions you are holding exude such an overwhelming amount of power that it is difficult to even consider the possibility that they are a fake.

“Mm, you’re my first customer, so in appreciation of your patronage, I'll give you a discount if you buy Aether and Paimon a meal. Fair trade, don't you think?”

What fair trade? A simple meal in exchange for a vision? Do you not realize that visions are extraordinarily rare, and that the vast majority of people would give anything — including their lives — to receive one?

Of course you're aware of it; you're just messing with them for the sake of witnessing their reactions. It's likely that protecting Teyvat for thousands of years has had an effect on you, as seen by the fact that you're even doing this for no other reason than boredom.

Kaeya remained motionless in his stance; his eyes riveted on the bright visions that had no owner. After snapping out of his trance, he took off his cloak and wrapped it around you in a tender manner.

You made a sound that indicated that you were confused as he said, "Let's continue this conversation to our headquarters."

"Tch, I really need to bring Crepus back to life so that he can scold his children to death."

"Are you going to use fried eggs for that man too?" Paimon inquired, which caused Kaeya's surprise and horror to reach an even higher level.

Too? Does that mean that this wouldn't be your first time bringing someone back to life?

Now, Kaeya is positive that he wishes he could just pass out right there and then.

TAGLIST: @valeriele3 @lunarapple @meikoo

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