#happy new year from my side of the world!

[marshmallowprotection]

“Hey, Saeran?” 

"Yes? What is it, my love?"

As you shut off the television and turned away from the news, there was a sense of anxiety and worry that wouldn't go away even as the monitor went dark. That undying intrusive thought that told you how horrible things would become in a matter of hours, if not days, reared its ugly head again. You didn't want to feel that way, nor did you want to let the sensation of despair take away the last shred of your sanity, but the more you sat with those fears, the more terror you felt.

Cradling your pillow close to your chest, you asked, "How did you find a reason to hope when everything else said otherwise?"

You couldn't help but feel curious about what he might say about it. Mint Eye gave him every reason to despair, to give up on himself, and yet, he didn't. Despite everything they threw at him, he continued the arduous journey of living in a false paradise that intended to get rid of him one day when most people in his shoes would've surrendered to the agony to escape their suffering.

On the surface, you understood the concept of Saeran's feelings. The way he must've felt when he knew he had to adapt to survive a living hell, and how heavy the burden it became when it shattered his heart to ribbons. He... didn't have another choice when Rika took him from the cathedral she found him in. If he didn't submit to her whims, he'd never see the sunrise or sunset again.

He survived purely on dumb luck, and because he fought for so long to make her think he believed her lies when he couldn't tell left from right. You knew when people were faced with no other choice but to do whatever they could to survive, they would, and they would try to do everything within their power to make do.

Saeyoung had done the same thing, actually. He made the best of his own nightmare within those hellish agency walls. The RFA became a place for him to breathe far away from those who dared to make him live with a target on his back, but it wasn't true freedom from the fear he'd known since he and his brother were little boys.

Luck was what helped those boys survive everything they suffered as boys and young adults, and as happy as you were to be with them on the other side of that pain, you wondered how they found hope in all of it. You knew they had no choice and they did the best they could in a horrible situation, just as anyone would, but how did the hope they experienced feel on a personal level?

What did Saeyoung use to feel hopeful when he couldn't focus on the promise Rika and V made him? What hope did Ray or Saeran find in a cesspool of torment that lied to them to see the next day? Even if you had a rough notion of their feelings, your queasy stomach couldn't do the same for your own nerves.

The kind of hope you wished you could find again... the hope that saw them through their worst nightmare. You wanted to find that hope for yourself again.

In all honesty, you weren't all that different from them.

You had no choice but to find hope in whatever place you could when you were younger, and you managed to scrape by with whatever you could find, even if it felt like you were grasping at breadcrumbs for a taste of something sweet and warm to stave off the misery.

It worked for a while, and you believed in your heart that things would someday become better and the memories of the bitter past would fade away... like footprints in the sand.

But, something changed since those years you felt like you could hope for the better, and that something chipped away at what you wanted to believe in. Life wasn't a fairytale, and things couldn't be neatly contained with a bow and ribbon. Granted, that didn't mean you had nothing to hope, dream, or look forward to. There were so many things in this world you were happy to see on the horizon, yet, plenty more that left you feeling hopeless at the same time.

You weren't sure there was a perfect answer to your question, but you knew Saeran would try his best to find one to ease your heart.

Taking the spot at your side, Saeran wrapped his blanket around your shoulders so you could curl into him. "If you would've asked Ray this question, he would've told you that you were his hope, or rather, the idea of you gave him hope. Rika promised him that you would be his after you tested the messenger and he would never have to hack or hurt people ever again. His hope... was built off a fantasy he built for himself. If he doubted himself, he imagined being close to you to see himself to the next day."

You knew Ray had preconceived notions of you before you met, but only when he realized you were more than his daydream did he truly start to fall in love with you, and you with him in return. He survived that terrible place because he could dream of you and a future filled with peace... even if he knew it had every chance to backfire.

"Saeran, on the other hand, would've told you that he didn't have any hope left to spare. He had to give all of his hopes and dreams to Ray because Rika told him he was a weapon and a weapon alone. Ray could dream, and that's why he struck out against you so hard in the beginning. If Ray couldn't be hopeful, neither could he. Yet, he realized he still had hopes and dreams when he was with you, and he knew if he was honest with himself, Rika would hurt him like she hurt his Ray."

Saeran, ever the strongest because he had no choice, wanted to be with you as much as you wanted to be with him, but he largely had no choice but to play along with Rika's games. He couldn't deny his heart any more than Ray could, and it nearly cost them their lives at Rika's hand.

They never abandoned hope despite everything pleading with them to let go.

You sought out his hand and held it close to your heart. You wanted him to feel it. "And, you? What about you, my love?"

"I've realized that... Hope isn't something we find in one person, it's not found in some outstanding fantasy, either. Hope is what we find in the little moments that make life feel worth it. When you smile at me from the other side of the room, when we can go on a date and see a film together at the movies, when you bring me a drink while I'm knee-deep in the garden, and... the list goes on. Hope is something we can all experience if we choose to enjoy the little moments just as much as we indulge in the fantastical ones."

The little things, huh?

"I guess... I've been so focused on the big things that I've lost sight of the importance of moments like this," you looked down at your lap as his honesty washed over you. "It's overwhelming, Saeran. I want to be able to enjoy moments like this but it's difficult to breathe knowing... knowing how difficult things are going to become for everyone. I am aware of the fact that it's not wrong to take care of yourself before... before you take care of others, but right now, it feels like my hope is the last thing that anyone needs to worry about."

Saeran shook his head. "On the contrary, my love. Hope is what helps people in their darkest moments. Even if what they hope for sounds... I don't know, silly. You need to be able to hope for something—to feel like those little moments matter—otherwise you'll fall into despair. Do you remember how V and Rika were near the end? They both gave up on themselves, preferring to live in denial than face the truth. They said they had no hope left to spare, but that... that was because the two of them decided they didn't deserve it."

You hadn't thought about them in a while. But, Saeran wasn't wrong about them. You knew you were worthy of hope, just as much as any other person was, but that fear of not doing enough for others when you, yourself, needed to be taken care of, too, was what struck them in the foot. They'd deserved it but they ran away from outstretched hands until the very end when Saeran extended his instead.

You were scared, and by God, you were tired, too. You didn't want to run away but you didn't know how to handle any of the feelings that came with this dread.

"...Do you think I can find the strength to hope again, Saeran?"

"I know you will," he said in that earnest voice that made you fall in love with him in the first place. "Because I'll be right there with you every step of the way. Your hope is mine, and my hope is yours. We will see a brighter tomorrow, I have no doubt about that, but... we'll also see a bright day today, because hope exists for the present, too, just as much as the future."

[rockybloo]

im sure youve answered this SOMEWHERE but how has jack and nana changed personality wise over the years? specifically i was wondering if nana was always this (head?)strong in your first iterations of her, or if it came naturally over time of you figuring out her character!

I know I've answered for Jack and Nana AGES ago, and a more recent answer for Jack here BUT I don't think I've ever truly gone in depth for Nana's development (which is crazy because she was the one out of the two who changed the most).

This is gonna be a WEE bit long so I'mma put my Nana blabbering under cut (bc she is my fav OC right next to her boyfriend)

SO THE VERY FIRST NANA was not head strong at all. She wasn't even a Lupine or had any special powers, save for having a Marchen like everyone else. But since she wasn't part of the main team back when I made her, you rarely saw it in action since she wasn't a fighter.

Girl was small, timid, had a crush on Jack, and...that was really it. That was her whole personality. Which was a big issue because I realized "Oh wow this fuckin' sucks" since there just wasn't any creative chemistry going on. It was just another "Male protagonist and his love interest". No seasoning or side dishes. Plain as hell.

And then I one day realized it'd be fun to make her part Lupine because I loved when people twisted Little Red Riding Hood and made her a wolf.

At this point, she was starting to get more bite to her (no pun intended) because there was the element of her being half human and half Lupine and how that impacted her life and relation to the world around her. She wasn't shy or timid anymore, but she was def quiet. More assertive than her first iteration but not fully at her "Fuck around and find out" present self.

I can't really remember the exact point in time I decided I wanted to give her her "Damn being a Damsel" mindset but I think it was when I was realizing I really liked Cats Don't Dance and Hercules and how much I still very much enjoy Sawyer and Meg's personalities in both films that I started to lean more into Nana being more independent. Plus Danny and Herc have some influence on Jack so it just made sense to take inspiration.

Of course, I didn't want to make her a complete copy and paste of the two so I sprinkled in some of my own experiences as an introvert. I think this was the secret ingredient to fully making her the Nana we know now. She got more "mean", though it was really her just not having time for anybody's foolishness, not even Jack's (initially). Boy had to work hard to get where he is now.

I would def say that Nana has the most complex personality out of all my OCs because she has so many different sides she shows and they all depend on who she is around and what the situation is.

She can be an utter introvert to the point of avoiding interactions, to being a merciless and relentless opponent when in battle, to a mildly awkward (bc she is new to this friend thing) yet endearing and loyal friend, to a mischief maker and enabler when hanging out with Ashe, to the flirt and seductress when alone with Jack because she loves hearing how quick his hear thumps and how cute his stuttering is.

She can also be a goofball. Half of the goofiness is from her regaining it from her childhood when her dad was still alive, and the other half is from her boyfriend rubbing off on her.

BUT YEAH

Nana's present day personality has been a 10 year development basically. VERY HAPPY with where it is now because it adds so much more to Beanstalked than her original "Shy village girl" schtick.

[thedubiousdallon]

Apparently cluster focused fic ideas just what my brain is on right now, so fuck it, here's a half formed premise. Let's start with two changes to canon. First, New Wave doesn't get Marquis. Second, when Anette dies, Danny triggers with some kind of power that interferes with his emotional regulation - let's say a Breaker state where he becomes a swarm of insects but his conscious decisionmaking basically turns off while he's in it - he acts on whatever his conscience or unconscious intentions were at the time he went Breaker. And let's say there's a lingering impairment after he changes back proportionate to the time spent transformed.

With a power like that, it's very easy for him to get on the bad side of the heroes, and with that plus his anger, easy for him to start taking it out on them. So let's say he throws in with Marquis. Taylor doesn't know what Danny's been up to, but he's getting more and more angry and id driven, both for mundane grief reasons and because he's not taking enough time to rest relative to how often he's using his power.

After maybe a year of this, it comes to a head. One day, while Danny and Taylor are out for a fun day together on the Boardwalk, they bump into New Wave doing some PR demo, introducing Shielder or something, with a still-unpowered Victoria cheering the loudest to cover up how much the shame of getting passed by her little cousin is eating her alive. And the sight of this happy family that he's come to blame for the destruction of his own happy family life makes Danny snap. Second trigger, seeing red. He wants to annihilate them. He goes Breaker, and now his swarm is massive, composed of giant, monstrous, and lethal bugs, but his control is even worse. Massive collateral damage. He has just presence of mind to have some of his bugs shove Taylor somewhere she'll be safe from the crossfire - which just so happens to be into a dumpster.

And he goes scorched earth on the boardwalk, especially on the New Wave capes who have been knocked flat by the trigger vision and cannot defend themselves.

By extreme misfortune, Marquis is also in the crowd, in civvies. He wanted to do some quiet recon on his longtime enemies' newest addition, and thought he'd take Amy with him both as a teaching moment and for a fun outing. He goes out like a light when Danny's second trigger goes off, and he gets trampled by the crowd trying to flee and gets caught in the bug apocalypse crossfire.

So we have:

Taylor, alone and trapped in filth, who has spent a year watching her dad pull away and become angrier and angrier, who's still had Emma turn on her as in canon, and has just seen her dad turn into a biblical plague and, as far as she can tell, literally thrown her away.

Victoria, seeing her family at the mercy of a murderous supervillain, utterly powerless to defend them and with years of feeling impotent and like a disappointment to her family having just been brought to an indignant fever pitch by being the literal only person in her family not to have powers.

Amy, whose father has almost certainly kept her fairly isolated for her own (and his) protection, watching the only person she feels she has in the world, who always seemed invincible, bleeding out in front of her.

Boom, cluster trigger.

The trigger event knocks Danny out of his Breaker state, and they're able to contain him before he does much more damage. Most of New Wave survives (maybe he gets Carol? Maybe Eric?) and he goes to the Birdcage. Amy saves Marquis. Through cluster bleed through, she finds Taylor in the aftermath - and thank God for that, because who knows how long it would've taken for someone to find her otherwise. Once Marquis understands who her father is and what's happened to her, her connection to Amy, he takes her in.

And that sets the stage for the story. Amy and Victoria, villain and hero, the embodiments of an old and deep rivalry, and Taylor, the daughter of the man who nearly killed them all, caught between her desire to do good and her family connections to villainy. Tie them all together with cluster bleed through, kiss/kill dynamics, some power mediation, add in social dynamics and pressures, interactions in their civilian lives - it's a stew of rich possibilities.

And that's not even touching their powers!

[middlingmay]

Shameless Fanfic Masterlist

For any Shameless (US)/Gallavich moots, I'm dropping a list of my fics on AO3 below!

DisEnchanted

Shameless Big Bang 2020. Prince Ian had never felt like he belonged in Andalasia. Then one day he finds himself plummeting through a portal into modern day New York. Mickey is a single dad who was well aware of how cruel the real world could be. He had no fuckin' time for six foot redheads running around talking about true love. But when their worlds collide, they quickly have to discover who the real monsters are. Or, the Enchanted AU that nobody asked for.

Grade A Booty

Kev had struck out with one gay man on the Southside. Now it was time for round 2. Or, Kev worries about getting old and reaches out to the wrong person to prove he was still attractive.

For Better and for Poorer

Mexico isn't the fairy tale they thought it would be, and Ian is finding it difficult to hide his frustrations. Mickey is pretty sure this is the end.

An Eventful Evening

Tony Markovich was a simple man with simple pleasures. But the Gallaghers always did like to put a spanner in the works.

What Mandy Knows

Mandy's POV on Gallavich after Mickey brings Ian home from the fairytale in season 4

Queer by the Quinoa

Gentrification had come for the Southside, but that wasn't the most surprising part of Mickey's return.

The Completely Fucked Up but Entirely Platonic Courtship of Linda Karib and Mickey Milkovich 

As Mickey finds his footing after prison and forges new relationships, a familiar face blows back into town.

Down in Mexico

Ian really needs to know what happened in Mexico. Mickey doesn't agree.

TMI

Mandy likes to talk about Lip's prowess in bed. Ian's sick of it, and decides to get even.

Nothing but a Smile

It was a law in South Side. Milkoviches didn't smile. So what the fuck was Fiona witnessing?

We Got Time 

After the credits rolled in 9x06. Ian and Mickey might just get the chance for something they never had before.

Breaking and Entering 

Lip plans a simple job and recruits Ian's help. When it inevitably goes wrong, Ian hides out in someone's apartment. This someone notices.

A Calamitous Proposal

After thwarting Mickey's attempt to propose, Ian gets a wonderful idea. But as usual for a Southsider, the best laid plans oft go awry.

A Proposal, Interrupted

Two years after they get out of prison, Ian and Mickey are happy in Mexico. But noisy ass neighbours making stupid assumptions about their relationship get Mickey thinking.

[sekaiouja]

市井の静かな暮らし 普通の人心地を 望んでいいのだろうか 永遠に至上の議題

[woundedheartwithin]

I think people look at me wearing all black with band tees and sneakers and 14mm tunnels in my ears and think I don’t know shit about horses. And like… I’ve had my gelding for a decade. I’ve ridden him basically everywhere in every situation you can imagine. Yeah, I’m a core kid, but I’m also a certified horse girl, and I have the back problems to prove it lmao

[lynxgriffin]

Mightier Than The Sword

Gerson had one regret, but now Alvin has many. A fancomic about my thoughts and theories and who -and what- the Knight is!

While not directly connected, I'd say this one is in the same vein as the Deal With The Devil series! Hope you enjoy!

Alt text for this comic under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - Wide shot of the interior of the Boom household. Several monsters are gathered in a clean-looking hall, dressed in somber clothing and talking quietly in small groups. The monsters include QC, Cat Mom, Toriel, Asgore and Mayor Holiday. Father Alvin stands waiting at a door in the hall as his sister, a red-headed turtle monster in a pink dress, exits through the door and speaks to him. “Alvin…he’s ready for you.”

Panel 2 - Mid shot as Alvin prepares to enter the room. Ms. Boom steps out of the way, and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Both of them look somber. 

Panel 3 - Alvin enters the room, mostly dark and lit by a few candles on a nearby desk. Gerson Boom is lying on a bed ahead of him, watching him enter. Alvin closes the door behind him and says, “Father, I’m here.”

Panel 4 - Alvin approaches his father, lying in bed. The bedroom has a few amenities, including a footstool set off to the side, a large rug bearing the delta rune, and a massive bookcase filling the entire back wall. A few books and papers litter the ground. Alvin bows his head, and says, “The hammer is ready for…for afterwards.”

Gerson just smiles, and responds, “Wa ha, is it? Well, it’ll do fine, I suppose.”

Panel 5 - Closer shot of Gerson extending his right hand towards Alvin. He’s smiling still, content with where he is. “Come here, son.”

Page 2

Panel 1 - Closeup as Alvin takes his father’s hand in his own, and clasps it tight. “Whatever you need…I’m here,” he says from offscreen.

Panel 2 - Alvin kneels by his father’s bedside, still clasping his hands. Gerson says, “Of course you are. Wa ha…you’re such a good and kind man, Alvin.”

Panel 3 - Closeup on Alvin as he just holds on to his father’s hand. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

Panel 4 - Focus on Gerson as he holds up a hand to conspiratorially whisper to Alvin. “And I know I can trust you with a secret, right?”

Panel 5 - Closeup on Alvin as he looks back up, face earnest. “...Of course.”

Panel 6 - Gerson holds up one finger as he speaks to Alvin. “I told your sister I had no regrets, but that was a BIT of a fib! I’m afraid I have one regret…”

Panel 7 - Side view of Alvin as he learns closer, his face now worried. “Father?...”

Page 3

Panel 1 - Focus on Gerson as he leans back on his pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “I wish I had started earlier. Writing stories, I mean. Seein’ you an’ your sister’s eyes light up whenever I read you a new chapter…and then seeing all that joy from so many young folks after those stories were published!” he says, looking wistful.

Panel 2 - Alvin watches on sadly as Gerson continues, “It was the greatest feeling in the world, Alvin. It’s what life’s all about, y’know. Helping the young folks grow.”

Panel 3 - Gerson closes his eyes and looks back towards the ceiling again, still wistful. “So, I wish I’d started writing stories sooner.”

Panel 4 - Closeup on Alvin as he bows his head, still holding Gerson’s hand. “I truly do cherish those times you read to us, father…” he says.

Panel 5 - Closeup on Gerson as he closes his mind with happy memories. “Me too, Alvin. It’s a shame…I’ve still got so many tales to tell! But–”

Panel 6 - Gerson is interrupted by a round of hacking coughs. His time is fast approaching.

Panel 7 - Gerson settles back in to his bed and says, “The Angel’s given me SO many good, happy years. Doesn’t seem fair to ask for more.”

Panel 8 - Closeup on Alvin as he continues to hold his father’s hand tight. “This doesn’t seem fair, either…” he says, tears still pricking at his eyes.

Page 4

Panel 1 -  Insert closeup of Gerson as he smiles at his son. “That’s life, Alvin!” He doesn’t seem bothered by his imminent passing.

Panel 2 - Side view as Gerson leans in closer to Alvin again, hand raised, back to sharing his secrets. “But, knowin’ my secret…there’s something I’d like to ask of you.”

Alvin faces his father with seriousness. “Anything,” he replies.

Panel 3 - Closeup on Gerson, as he looks hopefully at Alvin. “You have a good heart, Alvin. I want you to know this joy, too.”

Panel 4 - Gerson continues in the next panel: “Please try writin’ stories of your own, alright?” Closeup on Alvin as he looks shocked and a bit worried by the request.

Panel 5 - Mid shot as Alvin holds up a hand to Gerson in protest. He says, “Father, I…I have no talent for writing fiction. Not like YOU.”

Panel 6 - Closeup on Gerson as he refutes his son: “Hogwash! I know you can.”

Panel 7 - Wide shot as Alvin stands up, and looks around the room. “No, I…”

In the foreground, there’s Gerson’s desk, currently showing some lit candles, some paper, an inkwell, a notebook, and his favorite fountain pen.

Page 5

Panel 1 - Closeup as Alvin grabs two objects off of the desk: the small notebook and the fountain pen. Offscreen, he says, “If you just…”

Panel 2 - Back at Gerson’s bedside, Alvin pulls up the footstool and puts the pen and notebook in front of him, intending to use it. He faces his father, and says, “Tell me your ideas, I could write them down, and–”

Gerson interrupts him: “‘Fraid it doesn’t work that way, Alvin!”

Panel 3 - Gerson holds up both of his hands and smiles as he explains: “My tales are between my soul and the pen. You’ll need to make your own.”

Panel 4 - Gerson watches as Alvin, tears in his eyes, looks down at the notebook and pen in hand. “I–I cannot…” Alvin starts, looking despondent.

Panel 5 - Side view of Alvin as tears continue to stream from his eyes. He says, “Not without you!” In the background, in grayscale, there is a scene from Alvin’s memory: Gerson reading a book to his two children by the fire. Gerson looks happy, and both kids are enraptured, with Alvin clinging to a cat doll that looks like Seam.

Panel 6 - Closeup on Gerson, his face now more worried and pleading towards Alvin. Gerson says, “Y-you can… It’s all I ask…”

Panel 7 - Gerson turns away as he’s again interrupted by a round of terrible sounding coughs. Alvin stands holding the notebook and pen in the foreground.

Page 6

Panel 1 - Horror comes over Alvin’s face as his father continues to cough loudly, clutching his chest. He realizes that his father might be close to death now.

Panel 2 - Wider overhead shot as Alvin turns away from Gerson, looking frantically around the room. “No! Not yet!--” he says desperately. Gerson is still racked with coughs.

Panel 3 - Closeup as Alvin grabs the candles from the desk–

Panel 4 - And then pulls a book from the bookshelf, with the delta rune on the front –

Panel 5 - And then finally pulls out what appears to be a beaded rosary, with the delta rune made of beads at the end of it.

Panel 6 - Wider shot as Alvin places the objects in front of him, candles to the side, holy book in front of him. Gerson can only lay there as he does so, trying to catch his breath.

Panel 7 - Front view of Alvin as he clasps his hands together in front of his face, the rosary threaded between his fingers. He closes his eyes and bows his head in prayer. “Angel…Angel above! Please, heed your servant’s prayer!”

Page 7

Panel 1 - Closeup on Alvin as he continues to pray, the candles glowing around him. He keeps his eyes shut even as tears well in them. “I know you call back my father’s soul, but please! Please refrain!”

Panel 2 - Gerson desperately reaches a hand out towards his son, shaking, but unable to reach him. In the foreground, the fountain pen sits on the footstool between them. “A-Alvin…” Gerson’s voice is shaky now.

Panel 3 - Aerial shot as Alvin prays over the book, and Gerson is still confined to the bed, only able to watch. “This world still NEEDS his gifts!” Alvin says. “I pray to you, don’t take them from us now!” The shadows around Alvin start to grow strange, not matching the candlelight.

Panel 4 - Gerson continues to hold out a hand, now not looking well. “No…”

Panel 5 - Closeup on the candles as they spark to life, now glowing stronger.

Panel 6 - A strange bright glow begins to emanate from Gerson. Behind him, the books in the bookcase all rattle and shift as if in a localized earthquake. The colors of the room grow brighter and stranger.

Panel 7 - Still reaching out a desperate hand, Gerson lets out a soft breath. His soul, an upside-down white heart, comes up from his body. On the footstool in the foreground, the fountain pen also begins to levitate, as if by magic.

Page 8

Panel 1 - Front shot of Alvin as he continues to pray desperately, his head bowed and hands together. “Grant us the love shown between his soul and the pen!” Behind him, the colors have grown stark and bright, and a shadow resembling the angel looms behind Alvin.

Panel 2 - Alvin looks up to discover something amazing and terrible: Gerson’s soul has been drawn to the fountain pen, and begins to flow down into it.

Panel 3 - Closeup as Gerson’s soul is completely absorbed into the pen, hovering high over the bed.

Panel 4 - The candles turn strange blue and pink colors, and the books in the bookcase shake and rattle relentlessly.

Panel 5 - Extreme closeup on Alvin’s eyes as he sees this miracle; the light of his father’s soul reflected in his eyes.

Panel 6 - Closeup as the pen suddenly drops, and clatters back on to the footstool.

Panel 7 - Wide aerial shot as the room very suddenly goes completely dark and silent, the bright colors and lights now gone. Alvin stands up and backs away from the bed, still clutching the rosary, his face filled with horror. Gerson now lies unmoving in his bed, having passed away.

Page 9

Panel 1 - The same shot as the first panel of the first page, with the other monsters waiting in the hallway. No one says anything as Alvin emerges from the bedroom, leaning on the door for support, his head bowed. Everyone in the room knows that Gerson has just passed, although they don’t know the rest.

Panel 2 - An establishing shot of the forest and mountains surrounding Hometown…the skies are a dark, gloomy gray.

Panel 3 - Above shot of Gerson’s newly dug grave. At the bottom of a small pit lies Gerson’s hammer, covered in his dust. Politics Bear stands over the grave, holding a shovel. 

Panel 4 - Closeup as the shovel begins to dump dirt over the fresh grave.

Panel 5 - Another closeup of Gerson’s headstone, with bundles of fresh funerary flowers laid in front of it.

Panel 6 - Wide shot of Gerson’s funeral. Alvin stands over his father’s grave, reading last rites from one of his books. Lots of monsters are in attendance, including Alphys and Undyne, Napstablook, the Holiday and Dreemurr families, and more. A very young Kris, Noelle and Asriel are present, but Dess is not. Everyone is dressed in dark mourning attire.

Panel 7 - After the funeral, Toriel approaches Alvin and puts a hand on his shoulder. She says, “Beautifully said, Alvin. I know your father is watching proudly by the side of the Angel.” Alvin looks distant and mournful.

Panel 8 - A closeup of the fountain pen laying forgotten on the desk in Gerson’s room. Gerson is, perhaps, not actually with the Angel right now.

Panel 9 - Back at the funeral, Alvin bows his head, eyes closed. “You are too kind, Toriel,” he says.

Page 10

Panels 1-3 - We see the seasons pass through the changing of the trees…from the barren white trees of winter, to colorful pink blooms for spring, to the bright oranges and reds of fall.

Panel 4 - Sometime much later, Alvin again enters his father’s old room, alone.

Panel 5 - Much of Gerson’s room has remained untouched. The fountain pen still sits on his old writing desk in the foreground. Alvin steps inside, and carefully turns on the overhead light. “It’s been years,” he says.

Panel 6 - Alvin cautiously approaches the pen, which seems to loom large ahead of him. He hesitantly picks it up.

Panel 7 - Alvin places some blank pages on the writing desk. “Surely…”

Panel 8 - Alvin sits in front of the blank pages, still holding the pen cautiously. “Surely by now, I can do it.” He’s going to try writing.

Panel 9 - Closeup as Alvin dips the pen in the inkwell, and it comes away full of ink.

Panel 10 - Closeup as Alvin holds the pen over the blank page. The pen trembles slightly in his grip.

Panel 11 - Alvin tries to put pen to paper, but he’s still trembling. He looks down with great anxiety. “I…I…”

Panel 12 - Closeup on Alvin’s face as he looks more panicked, shaking and sweating. In the background, his memory of his father’s soul being absorbed into the pen plays back at him. This is still his fault.

Panel 13 - Closeup again as Alvin’s hand shakes uncontrollably, and the pen with it. Ink spots begin to dapple the blank page–

Page 11

Panel 1 - Alvin’s shaking hand accidentally knocks over the inkwell, and it spills black ink all over the blank page.

Panel 2 - Alvin picks up the ruined paper and folds it in half to try and stem the ink spillage. He quietly curses to himself. 

Panel 3 - Closeup as Alvin holds his head in his hand. It’s clear that this isn’t going to work. “I can’t…” 

Panel 4 - Closeup as Alvin puts the ink-stained paper back on the desk, and quickly grabs up the pen and inkwell.

Panel 5 - Taking the pen and inkwell, Alvin exits his father’s room again, head bowed and expression sad.

Panel 6 - Left behind, the folded paper slowly peels apart and unfolds…

Panel 7 - To reveal that the spilled ink has created a rorschach ink blot image of a titan. 

Page 12

Panel 1 - Wide shot as Alvin trudges down the streets of Hometown, alone. His head his bowed, and he’s still clutching the articles he took with him. It’s almost nighttime, and the sky is dark. “I cannot bear this kind of burden,” he says to himself.

Panel 2 - Shot from behind Alvin as he approaches the school building. It’s dark, and no students or teachers should be there. “Maybe you belong where you always have…”

Panel 3 - Now indoors, Alvin continues down the empty hallway towards a particular destination. “With the youth.”

Panel 4 - Alvin opens the door to the storage closet at the end of the hall. It opens with a soft creak. “Teaching. Telling stories,” Alvin continues to say to himself.

Panel 5 - Alvin places the fountain pen and inkwell on a small shelf in the storage closet. The closet is almost completely black. 

Panel 6 - The inkwell and pen are left on the shelf as Alvin closes the door behind him. His expression is mournful as he locks these reminders of his father away. “Inspiring someone better suited,” he says, hoping this is a suitable escape of his responsibility.

Page 13

Panel 1 - But in the storage closet, the objects are subject to something else already there: the grand Dark Fountain. The pen, ink and papers all fall into the darkness of the fountain–

Panel 2 - And start to change, the pen seemingly turning into liquid itself–

Panel 3 - As the pen falls deeper and deeper into the dark, the liquid begins to reshape into something new, something resembling a person–

Panel 4 - Until it lands on empty ground, now a person in knight’s armor, knelt over and holding his head in his hands.

Panel 5 - The Knight comes to, and starts to become more aware. He’s dressed in armor resembling the dark metallic sheen of the fountain pen, his mask resembling the pen tip. A bright deep red cape flows from his shoulders, and a single red-orange feather tops the helmet. “Where…am I?”

Panel 6 - The Knight again touches his helmet with both hands, as if not sure exactly what he is.

Panel 7 - Interior shot of the helmet, which reveals a figure much like Gerson…but much younger, more idealized-looking, with colors not matching his actual self. A Dark World interpretation. “WHY am I…?”

Panel 8 - A closeup of the Knight’s hand, slightly trembling.

Panel 9 - The Knight stares down at his own hands as realization begins to flood him, or at least something that looks like realization. “Wait. I see why. I KNOW.” he says.

 Page 14

Panel 1 - The Knight holds up his hand, and a sword appears in it in a flash of lights. The sword resembles the tip of a fountain pen, almost split neatly in two. “I serve the Lightners! That is my purpose!” Says the Knight. 

Panel 2 - The Knight draws the sword back with great fervor and determination. His thoughts echo around him in strong letters: “A purpose so bright, so clear…”

Panel 3 - In the final panel, the Knight drives the sword into the ground, causing an eruption of black ink-like material to spew from the ground…the creation of a new Dark Fountain. In the fountain itself, words reflect his purpose: “I EXIST TO GIVE THEM STORIES FOREVER.”

[chuluoyi]

✎ to my beloved

- gojo satoru x reader

bad days don't mean the end of the world, and your husband is making sure you know that

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff, fluff—just gojo pampering you

note: my job has been so hard for me this week :') so yeah it's very self indulgent as i need a lil hurt/comfort and i think you should too~

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

This week... has been a total dumpster fire.

You were utterly exhausted, covered in grime and blood, a persisting headache made you almost black out, all while sitting in the hospital waiting room as survivor's guilt slowly consumed you.

Grueling paperwork, a new project, facing the higher-ups, being substituted to Kyoto for days, and then a sudden attack of a curse user on the loose.

In times of need, you were supposed to protect others— you are a jujutsu sorcerer.

And yet, what happened? Megumi suddenly bathed in his own blood. You barely managed to save him in time, and now you were waiting for the news that he would be okay.

Why couldn't it be you instead? You wanted to break down each time you replayed the scene that took Megumi out. It was so eerily similar to how Haibara was—

"Are you okay!?"

You whipped your head, surprised to find your husband pounding down the hall. Satoru looked unlike himself—he was disheveled, and when he saw you, he immediately dashed towards where you were.

"Satoru..." you voice came out in a croak, feeling the lump in your throat closing in. When he dropped to his knee, put both hands on the sides of your face, and then your body, feeling you over to check if you had any injuries—

You finally burst into tears.

"Sweets, hey..." Satoru immediately pulled you close, trying to soothe you. You were shaking in his arms and he tightened his arms around you. "What happened to you?"

"I-I was... w-with him..." you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder. "S-Satoru... I-I'm sorry...! M-Megumi—"

Your husband immediately shushed you. "Shh... it's alright, yeah? He'll be okay—"

You were still inconsolable even as he held you in his embrace. He hadn't seen you like this... not ever since tragedies during your high school years ago. And he struggled to reconcile this sight of you with how you were back then.

"I-I s-should've stood in his way— t-that way, he won't be hit—" you hiccupped as you poured your heart out and clutched at his shirt. "I-It would be f-fine if it... was me—"

But all thoughts flew when he heard your words, and suddenly he felt so angry—

"What do you mean?" his voice was so low and sharp that it startled you. "How will it be fine if it was you?"

You stiffened, and Satoru gripped your shoulder, pulling away to look you right in the eyes.

"If something bad happened to you... how is it fine?" he emphasized with gritted teeth. "Where do you get that kind of bullshit from?"

Your lips were wobbling as you sniffled. "At least... i-it isn't him—"

"If you got hurt, how do you think it'll make me feel?" Satoru posed the burning question on you next, his cerulean eyes glinting with silent fury, and you almost recoiled.

"T-that's...!"

"I'll wreak havoc if anything ever happens to you." His tone was harsh and forceful. "So if you think you can just—"

"I'm tired!" you screamed then, and he was stunned, wide-eyed as he took in your outburst. "I-I'm just... I've had enough of this— this shit! I want to quit!"

You were openly weeping, and this time, Satoru felt his heart lurch. You looked so heartbroken and utterly inconsolable that his first instinct to protect you took over.

"Then quit." He rose and took a seat next to you, before cradling you closer and pressed your head against his chest. "Even if you quit, I'm still here. I can protect you well enough. I don't like you being a sorcerer anyway."

You were his beloved wife and he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be happy and smiling.

He let out a disgruntled grunt. "Did you know how I was when I heard from Ichiji that you were at the hospital? I thought I might go mad thinking something had happened to you."

You sobbed harder at his words.

"It's perfectly okay if you're tired," he affirmed, patting your back gently. "If you're fine with giving up everything, then I'm on board too. Whatever makes you happy, sweets. Just... don't think of anything that might hurt yourself. Don't think of anything that might make you leave me."

You didn't know you needed to hear it. Right at that moment, your heart swelled with warmth. All your feelings were validated, and even if you chose to let go of everything, Satoru would accept you as you are.

You felt safe, so incredibly and irrevocably secure.

"Whatever happened this time..." he breathed out, feeling the dampness in his chest, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's not your fault. No one will blame you. I don't blame you, and Megumi won't too."

Your sniffles quieted down a bit at his words, and your throat still felt tight, clogged with tears.

"H-he... looked s-so much like Haibara... w-when—"

"Shush, he does not. Megumi will be okay. You will too, hmm?"

And just like that, you let go of everything and surrendered your entire being into his arms.

Clinging to him, you finally believed, in whatever shape or form it might take, you would be okay.

A week later, Megumi was discharged after being cleared by the hospital. His wounds were thankfully shallow, and you cried in relief when he woke up.

And after escorting him back, later that night, you laid on top your husband...

Your weight on him felt like a comforting reassurance as he gently patted your back. Satoru couldn't help but smile when he saw how peaceful you looked, like a baby about to fall asleep.

He couldn't resist and planted a firm kiss on the crown of your head.

"Mmm?" you looked up at him, eyes fluttering open, and he cracked a grin.

"What?"

"What?"

"Can't I kiss my own wife? When she's adorable as heck too."

"You..." your lips curved into a bashful, yet exasperated smile, poking his chest in the process.

"Heh."

You drew circles on his broad and sturdy chest, noting how his arms extended and feeling how your toenails only reached a little past his knees. "Your arms and legs are ridiculously long. You are like an oversized plushie."

Satoru snickered. "Well, isn't that good? You don't have to buy them anymore. I can be your personal talking plushie."

"Ew." You hit his chest playfully, and he pushed your bum forward until you were face-to-face with him. He smooched you on the lips, and you giggled afterward.

His eyes shone as he stared at you, breaking to a smile himself. "Finally smiling. Pretty."

"Satoru..." your eyes found his, and you marveled at how sparkling they were. Seeing him so close, even after being married to him for more than a year, made your heart skip a beat. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I want to keep being jujutsu sorcerer..." You had thought about it ever since, and you still arrived at the same conclusion. "It's true if I give up on it, you'll still keep me safe and all, but..."

Your husband waited for you to continue, still smiling, blinking expectantly.

"...this is something I have to do. I know there will be more hard days ahead, but believe it or not, I... found purpose in doing this," you said, shifting your gaze away from him. "It makes me feel... I can be useful. Even if I'm not special like you, I can still contribute in my own small way..."

How you pressed up against him, the way you looked hesitant and yet convinced at the same time... Satoru thought you were the most precious thing there was.

"Then keep going. I'll still be here too." He hugged you tight then, surprising you. "Just let me know when you feel like you need a long leave, and I'll definitely give you the solution."

"Eh? How?"

"Easy... I can just put a baby in you~ They won't deny you maternity leave or put you in missions~"

"...Satoru, you're—" You shot him a look so unamused, before resigning with a sigh. "Never mind... alright, sure, whatever you say."

"Ooh! So does this mean you want to try now?!"

"—? No, not now yet—!"

"When? We have to try one of these days before some meddlesome aunties ask us when we will have kids!"

Being sillies like this made you so glad that you had him in your life, and that you married him. And if he felt the same way as you... then you really thanked the stars for it.

You huffed, yet wrapping your arms around him in return. "Satoru, you're a clown."

"Your personal clown, you mean. Right~"

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[kurooh]

WORLD CLASS SINNER ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso fucking you nasty.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, car sex, creampies, overstimulation, crying, spanking, slight public sex, mirror sex, spit, hair pulling, freaky shit, motorcycle sex, riding (multiple things), filming, squirting, cunnilingus. | 4.7K words

xoxo, juno. happy belated birthday to satoru <3

GOJO SATORU.

“for the record, i love you,” satoru pecks a kiss to your cheek and his lips smack, “it is december 7th and ‘m getting my gift early.”

“it is not early!” you protest, snatching the phone from him and wiggling over to the side so you can mount it on the tall dresser. the camera app is open, overlooking the bed and ready to record satoru’s birthday celebration this year. bits of dry frosting color the corners of his lips, serving as the evidence of the cake you made him yourself.

“uh, no need to move so much,” satoru exhales coolly, hands finding purchase on your hips, “you said we’d take it slow, didn’t ya?”

“that was then,” you purr, voice low and sultry, “and this is now. unless . . you actually want me to?”

he shakes his head immediately, cheeks flushing a rosy pink while he pouts his lips. satoru sneaks a glance downwards, diamond eyes feeling a little wet at the sight — you’re sitting on his cock, with your cunt squeezing just above the creamy ring at his base.

“i thought so, ‘toru,” you giggle, blowing a kiss in the direction of the camera. it’ll surely add to the excitement when he’s watching this by himself some time along — after all, nothing else can get him off. your hands splay out on his chest, nails grazing his skin lightly.

“anyway, i’ve just been thinking . . and you’ve been such a good boy this year. i ought to spoil you for your birthday, hm?”

“what did you just call me?” satoru sputters, biting back a laugh although his voice trembles. “did you just say—”

the words die on his tongue immediately. your expression twists into one of pure bliss as you start to rock your hips into him, setting up a decent pace that has you crying out in delight. of course, he has no choice but to join you, his head tipping back while his eyes trace your features. god, you feel good — so tight, so hot, and oh so perfect. but sex feels even better because he’s pleasing you; seeing you falling apart on his cock all because of him will always get him going.

“shit, baby,” satoru gasps, groaning loudly when your fingers tangle in his snowy hair, “faster, please.”

you nod frantically, lifting yourself up and slamming back down on his cock so hard it’s like you’re being split open in the best way possible. out of habit, your fingers wander to your clit, and he pushes them away the moment he sees.

“no, don’t,” he replaces your fingers with his own and lets his free hand settle at the small of your back for support, “let me do it, babe.”

“toru,” you whimper as he flicks the sensitive bud around, “y-you always make me feel so good.”

“‘course i do, sweetheart,” he grunts, starting to jerk his hips upward. each deep thrust pushes his cock into places only he can touch, and your mouth falls open, face crumbling. “here, jus’ arch your back a little—yeah, you got it.”

satoru’s voice wavers as he tells you what to do, setting up a new position and angle for him to fuck into you at. beads of sweat roll down his temples while his chest heaves in exertion, the best kind — he’s never truly gotten tired when he’s fucking you. not only does he have the stamina of a wild stallion, but really, how could he get tired when you’re looking like an angel above him, crying out his name in a voice that’s a harmony if he’s ever heard one.

“so fuckin’ beautiful,” satoru grits out, eyes regretfully squeezing shut for a moment, “god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep squeezin’ like that.”

curses and sobs of euphoria fall from your lips. as the seconds pass, you’re only getting more intoxicated by the heat between you. misty tears make your eyes shine, and arousal pools deep in your stomach, growing more pronounced with each shove of his cock into your sweet spot. your legs are trembling on either side of him, and your tummy’s slightly more rounded than usual—satoru’s cock is in your guts.

he feels you start to tense up, notices a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. this is it. “l-look at me, baby,” satoru pleads, as if he’ll die without it, “look at me when you cum.”

it’s perfect — you look directly into his eyes, and the camera captures your orgasm perfectly. your cunt flutters and spasms around his cock, and you’re shaking so hard you fall on top of him, flinching away from his insistent fingers. it takes everything he has to hold the urge to cum back, but he manages to pull it off, not even spilling a drop.

“toru,” you mumble into his chest, shivering as he strokes away the sweat on your back, “why didnt you—?”

“savin’ it,” he breathes, teeth sinking into his lower lip in an attempt to try and ignore the way your walls are flexing around him. “hmph. as the birthday boy, i expect you to blow another candle for me.”

your head lifts immediately and you shoot him a glare, eyes narrowed in faux annoyance. “you did not just say that.”

“careful, careful,” he hisses, hands flying to your hips, “don’t wanna accidentally cum right now.”

“right, but you’ll never push me off,” you challenge him, playfully wiggling against his pelvis.

“that is not fair!” satoru whines, looking ridiculous with the dried blue frosting at the corners of his lips. “don’t torture me, pleaseee.”

GETO SUGURU.

“keep your eyes open, sweetheart.”

“‘m sorry, sugu, i just—”

his hand comes down hard against your ass, and the crack of the slap reverberates through the room. you shudder, blearily opening your eyes and looking into the mirror.

behind you, suguru’s flipping a bit of his dark hair over his shoulder and out of the way while holding onto your waist to keep you steady. you can see how pathetic you look in your reflection — drool freely slips from your mouth and you look completely dazed, all sweaty and tired while hearts spin in your eyes.

“hm, that’s more like it. want you to watch yourself, honey.”

you nod, eyes tracing the edges of your thighs and ridges of his abs in the reflection. suguru’s got you on your hands and knees, making you look fucked out and fucked up.

“s-sugu, i wanna touch my clit—it’s not enough.”

he raises a dark brow, eyes narrowing as you slip a hand between your thighs and find your clit with your fingers. now, he settles his hands at your hips, lifting you up slightly to pound into you at a new angle.

“alright. only if you don’t fall over, sweetheart.”

what a bastard. of course he has to set you up with an impossible condition like that — the new placement of his hands is the first sign of your literal downfall. suguru closely observes your reflection in the mirror before his own: you’re covered in bite marks and hickeys, with a sheen of sweat all over your body, which makes your skin look sticky. your tits swing, building momentum each time he slams into you.

beneath the sound of ass clapping, suguru can hear your pathetic, fucked out cries—this is the result of too many orgasms and being an annoying brat to him all day. his blood boils with both frustration and arousal when he recalls a particular memory, so he reaches forward, gathering your hair into one hand before pulling you backwards. messing around with your hair is something that holds a special place in his heart; he loves it whenever you touch his hair in any way, and the same goes for yours.

“takin’ it like such a slut,” suguru croons, his dark tresses falling into his face, “but i really can’t hear you that well. thought i made myself clear when i said i want the whole apartment building to hear how well i fuck you.”

“y-yeah, you did,” you gasp, back arching beautifully, “sugu, need you to touch my clit.”

he smiles wickedly. instead of allowing yourself to fall forward, you’ve decided to give up and steady yourself at the expense of rubbing your clit. suguru almost wants to give you a reward for that.

“not right now, honey,” he revels in the frustrated sob you let out, watching in the mirror as your face crumbles in some kind of distress. so dramatic, he thinks after mentally laughing. as if he’d leave you unsatisfied — how many times have you cum so far? “someone’s fucking greedy, hm? tell you what, sweetheart. cum without your clit ‘n i’ll eat your pussy up right after.”

it’s a good enough deal, and it only seems more enticing when he sticks his tongue out in the mirror, showing off the silver ball in the middle of it. his tongue piercing, and your favorite part of him eating you out.

“o-okay,” you agree tearfully, and he tugs you back by the hair so you’re facing him.

“tell me, tell the neighbors, who’s fucking you this good? answer me, honey.”

“you, suguru!” you moan loudly, feeling a surprising pressure building in your lower stomach, “i-it’s you, ‘s always you!”

suguru nods, letting go of your hair and slipping his hand beneath your chin rather gently. then he lifts your head and tips it back. “open that pretty mouth for me.”

you oblige immediately, going so far as to stick your tongue out for him. he spits right onto your tongue, and it tastes a little minty because of his chapstick and tea when you swallow. the gesture is an erotic expression of dominance and possession, and it’s one that has your cunt quivering around his cock. he lets you go, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“oh, i feel you squeezing me,” he grunts, smacking your ass and groaning when your cunt automatically bears down harder. “looks like i’ll be devouring that sweet pussy of yours, honey.”

“hah, i need it,” mascara tracks darken your cheeks as fresh tears roll down, “t-think ‘m gonna cum, jus’ like you asked.”

“such a good girl for me,” he praises, egging you on by pressing his palm into your lower stomach, “my girl listens so well, doesn’t she? cum for me.”

the creaking of the bed grows louder as he pounds his cock into you harder, forcing a mixture of slick and cum to pour out from your used hole in glossy strings that stick to your thighs. he’s breathing heavily behind you, pressing into your tummy just right, and oh.

oh, you’re about to make a fucking mess.

a pitched sob tears from your throat when you cum on his cock, pussy gushing all over him and onto the bedsheets. sparkling droplets of cum race down your thighs and your entire body shakes on his cock, gripping him so tightly that neither of you can move.

“s-sugu, ‘m tired,” you gasp, stars flashing across your vision. “feeling kinda . . lightheaded.”

“you’ve gotta rest, sweetheart,” suguru laughs, and it rumbles out from the depths of his chest. he leans so far backwards his back cracks, and then he hands you an open bottle of water.

“what—what’s the record now?”

“ten in an hour,” he strokes your back with loving fingers, curling up beside you even though you’re upside down on the bed together. “let’s try to break it again in a couple hours.”

“how about tomorrow?” you suggest with a yawn.

“okay, okay. tomorrow night, my balls are shriveling up right now.”

“ew, sugu.” your nose crinkles and you scoot an inch away, too exhausted to move further.

“oh, stop it. it’s your fault anyways.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“kento—kennn,” you whine breathlessly, glossy lips parting to release a useless warning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, shit!”

“let me feel it, sweetheart,” kento croons, pressing his thumb particularly hard into your clit. the additional pressure has your head spinning too fast for you to even come up with a coherent thought as you orgasm with a drawn out whine on his cock for the nth time tonight. “that—that’s my good girl.”

beneath your bodies, the polished oak desk creaks dangerously, sounding far too tired for something that’s worth thousands. but kento doesn’t give one damn — he’d been stuck working overtime because of his shitty boss, who’d left him cooped up in his office, expecting his orders to be followed. the ultimatum was simple: do a ton of work or get fired.

kento had been so caught up he didn’t get the chance to call you, and the stress he’d been feeling began to ebb away once you stepped through his door with a bag of food from his favorite restaurant. one thing led to another, and soon enough the food had been abandoned somewhere and you ended up on the desk.

papers lazily drift off the desk’s surface while others are inevitably dampened by a mixture of wetness and spit, which leaks from your puffy cunt in thick trails down your skin. again and again, kento’s cock pushes even deeper, the blunt tip of it kissing your cervix rather roughly. meanwhile, his fingers toy with your swollen clit, drawing unrestrained cries from your lips while tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“ken, ‘s too much, i don’t think i can—”

“of course you can take more, angel,” kento huffs, firmly planting his hand beside your head for extra stability. the platinum of his watch glints in the light and his heavy breaths grow more ragged by the second, his chest heaving. sweaty strands of blond hair escape the gel’s hold, sticking to his slick forehead and making him look all the more ethereal above you. “i-i’m nowhere near finished with you.”

“oh god,” you whimper in realization, feeling that hot wave cresting in your tummy; it’s amplified by the rough rhythm of his cock and the attention he’s so generously lavishing your clit with. “g-god, ‘s coming . . ken, i think i’m gonna—”

a deep groan rushes out from him, all the way from the pits of his chest. hazel eyes squint as he watches your pussy push his cock out; it quivers momentarily before spraying cum all over his pelvis, and the sparkling droplets drip through his pubes, toward the shaft of his cock.

“did you just squirt, sweetheart?” kento asks curiously, heat rising to his cheeks and elsewhere.

“i think so,” you swallow nervously, too weak to sit up and look at the mess you’ve made all over him. “ken, i want you to cum inside me. stop holding it back.”

to be fair, this is probably the last time he’ll get the pleasure of fucking you on such an expensive desk. this despicable office he’s spent countless hours in is finally growing on him now that he’s got you in here like this — stripped naked and begging for his cum while making a mess of the shit all over his desk. and oh, he wishes he could see his boss’ face when he comes in demanding all of the finished work, only to be met with a sticky desk. the vision ignites an inferno in him and he guides his cock inside you, biting down on his lower lip when your greedy cunt swallows him.

“beg a little more for it, angel,” he chokes out, spreading your legs impossibly wider while drawing his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. “need to know just how you want it.”

you gasp sharply, back arching off the desk and causing your tits to press into his clothed, sweaty chest. “i want you to fuck me like you mean it. t-then, fill me up. please.”

you can’t even say another word before kento’s holding your hips down and plowing into you with a sudden ferocity. if he’s lucky, he can get you to squirt again and maybe this time he can get a taste—yes, this is the thought he wants to cum to.

he shudders, “i love it—ugh, fuck—when you tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“give it to me,” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut while your legs wrap tightly around his waist, drawing him closer. “h-haven’t i earned it, ken?”

kento comes undone at your words, teeth clenching with a loud grunt as he finally spills inside you. your squeezing walls milk him for everything he has, absorbing each throb of his cock into their sticky softness. his mouth hangs open breathlessly, and he weakly pushes his hips forward before carefully landing on top of you.

wood splinters and snaps beneath you, and you both tumble to the floor atop a heap of the desk’s remains. “kento, what just happened—”

“it’s fine, honey. let’s rest for a moment before we leave.”

“you aren’t gonna clean it up? what about when you have to come in tomorrow?”

kento nuzzles his nose into your cheek with a blissful sigh. “thank you for making my last day at this job special. i’ll be quitting and moving to the other firm closer to the house.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“this is what ya wanted?” with a coy chuckle, toji flattens his tongue against your slit and licks a long, languid stripe upwards. he easily finds your clit, and swirls the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue.

“yeah, but not the teasing—” a breathy gasp pushes past your lips when he pushes two slick fingers inside you.

“heh heh. you’ll survive a little teasin’, dollface.”

he’s so flippant with his words, so nonchalant. but his fingers are anything but lazy or uncaring as he bullies them deeper into your cunt, curling them right against that sweet spongy spot inside you. with one leg over his shoulder and the other hanging off the edge of the backseat, you’re fully spread and at his mercy.

“come onnn, toji,” he rolls his eyes when he hears you whine, tonguing at the glossy slick that covers his fingers and the skin around your hole.

“you come on, princess. just wait a second, ‘kay?”

“but i’ve been waiting,” you huff, lower lip trembling in frustration as your fingers push through the dark tufts of his hair. you can’t help but breathe a little heavier, the building anticipation becoming suffocating in the small space of the car. “all night. since we left to go hang out with shiu.”

“don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been so handsy, doll. hmph, i had to pull over so ya wouldn’t make me crash the car.”

“i wasn’t even doing—”

“that much?” toji finishes your sentence for you, the corners of his lips quirking upwards when you look at him desperately. “weren’t ya trying to get in my pants while i was going sixty?”

before you can respond, toji interrupts your train of thought by spitting right onto your clit. the glossy glob trails down his fingers and becomes extra lube for him — he wraps his lips around your clit and starts to sporadically curl his fingers. heat sears its way across your face and your back arches off the backseat, eyes briefly scanning around to make sure the road’s still empty.

it’s dark out and difficult to tell, but what does it matter? there’s no need to focus on spotting other cars, you reason.

“ah, fuck!” the expletive leaves your lips in the form of a startled mewl, a delicious reaction to toji lightly nibbling at your clit with his teeth. the gesture is playful but it drives you wild and makes your head spin, thoughts turning into mush. “toji, that—that feels really good . . ”

impatient as ever, you push his head down, forcing his face into your pussy in a greedy attempt to get more.

“ah ah,” he snaps upwards, pulling free from your grip and moving on top of you easily. you’re nose to nose and he’s speaking directly over your lips, sharing your breath. “i get to eat this pussy my way. she’s all mine, don’t forget that.”

“f-fine,” you cede with a pout, which he kisses away, feeling proud of himself.

“be a good girl ‘n maybe you can ride my face. how’s that sound, doll?”

“it sounds good,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he finally returns to his old position between your thighs, two fingers stuffing your cunt while his tongue laps at your clit as though it’s the best ice cream ever. the temperature in the car seems to spike; your body’s growing hotter and hotter with each lick or curl of his fingers.

“greedy pussy wants some more, hm?”

“h-huh?” you ask dumbly, a little zoned out.

but toji doesn’t repeat himself. instead he shows you what he said by pushing a third finger into your already crowded hole, smirking in satisfaction when you suck him in despite your verbal protests of it being ‘too much’. toji’s big, every part of him, and you always take him even though you complain — what can he say?

“a-ah, so fuckin’ full,” you slur your words, rocking your hips into his fingers to make the stretch burn a little less. “tojiii, go slow.”

“again, girl,” he huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, “don’t tell me what to do. ‘n you’ll be just fine, this pussy was made for me.”

there’s no point in arguing, so you just let your head lazily lean back against the door. you were supposed to look around for cars, especially police cars, and you’ve given up entirely, deciding to blame your inability to search on the foggy windows.

toji scissors his fingers in and out of you mercilessly, sucking your clit roughly and groaning to express his enjoyment. the wet squelches of your cunt make your cheeks burn hot; it’s just so filthy that you don’t even know how to react. on either side of his head, your thighs tremble, squeezing around him every now and then.

“mmm, you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he smacks his lips loudly and devours your pussy in between each word, “shouldn’t have made you wait so goddamn long, dollface.”

“i told you,” is all you can utter, hips twisting wildly into his face, “jus’ like that, keep sucking my clit—fuck, yes. ‘m so close, gonna make me cum.”

“aw, i’m gonna make you cum?” he teases you, mocking your tone in a way that has shockwaves of excitement and anger shooting straight through your body. you can’t even find it in yourself to answer, and a sudden flash of red and blue has your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

“‘m cumming, ‘m c-cumming, toji!”

instead of using his tongue on your clit, toji decides to sit back and watch your cunt spasm. to prolong your orgasm and overstimulate you, he slaps your clit a few times, chuckling each time you jerk or nearly scream happily.

“hmph, ya ougtta taste yourself,” toji pulls his fingers out of you and shoves them into your mouth, feeling his cock swell in his pants as your tongue cleans his skin. it’s even better when you moan as you do so, thoroughly enjoying the taste of your cum. “how’s that, baby? if ya can sit up without any help, i’ll let you ride my face.”

a sharp knock on the window startles you, and the bright light of an officer’s flashlight shines in through the foggy glass. without wiping his face, toji reaches into the front seat and turns on the car, then rolls down the window. the light illuminates the glossy cum all over the lower half of his face, and yet he smiles widely.

“good evenin’, officer. what can i do for ya?”

KAMO CHOSO.

“keep it s-steady, baby,” despite his words, choso’s voice shakes, slightly muffled by his helmet. “gentle on the throttle—nghhh, fuck.”

one of his gloved hands is firmly holding onto your hip, gripping hard each time your cunt squeezes around his cock. the sky is now a dark curtain of nighttime, darkness speckled with stars above. in front of you, car lights flash occasionally out on the road. street signs are caught in the bright columns of the motorcycle’s headlights, greens and yellows glinting in the white glow.

you bounce your ass back on choso’s lap, nibbling at your lower lip and allowing a whimper to slip past your teeth. his cock is buried inside you, nestled deep in your hot, sticky walls and extremely sensitive. he lightly strokes his free fingers against your clit, but not too often that it’ll be a distraction—after all, you’re driving a motorcycle.

“there’s a light up ahead,” choso points out, heatwaves crashing over him despite the cool breeze.

“i see it, cho.”

the motorcycle slows as you apply the brake, and you smoothly stop at the light. instead of remaining bent forward, you sit back onto his lap, taking in the last few inches of his cock. choso startles beneath you with a gasping moan and rolls your clit between his fingers.

“cho,” you whimper breathlessly, leaning your head into his shoulder, “gimme a kiss.”

“okay,” he whispers, leaning in slowly. the helmets clash together, but he manages to peck his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. you whine when the light turns green, sitting forward to take off again. this time, your face burns as you steady your feet, and the position allows you to bounce back on his cock with newer efficiency.

“shit,” choso gasps, bucking his hips upwards to match your rhythm, “i—hah, you’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

it’s dangerous in so many ways, but you look over your shoulder at him and he sees the heat in your eyes. it’s almost like you’re daring him to bust a nut inside you while you drive his motorcycle—god, that’s exactly what you’re doing. normally, choso doesn’t enjoy playing truth or dare, but he’ll make an exception for his girl.

with one hand on your hip, he tugs you down onto his cock and jerks himself upwards to make it a little easier for you. tears prick at the corners of your eyes like they always do whenever you take his cock — he’s stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly that it’s impossible not to become overwhelmed.

“faster, baby—t-there’s nobody on the road, you can put s’more gas into it.”

so you do, watching the needle in the speedometer increase as the motorcycle gains speed. choso moans loudly, his face flushing dark red beneath his helmet while his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “g-gonna cum, baby, tell me i can, tell me i can—”

each word grows more urgent, and his voice begins to splinter and break as he begs you for permission. his fingers carelessly toy with your clit, thumb rubbing quick circles around the bud and enticing you to cum with him. you feel dizzy, seeing stars flash across your vision each time you bounce down on his cock, not to mention the additional stimulation on your clit. something hot burns in your stomach and seems to rush throughout every limb in a way that has your body and mind going numb momentarily.

“cum in me, choso,” you sob desperately, gripping the handlebars frantically, “cum with me, cum with—oh, fuck.”

your mouth falls open in shock as you have the most explosive orgasm you’ve ever had with him; your cunt flutters around his cock, drawing him deeper as if it’s the last time you’ll be together.

choso starts to babble thoughtlessly, praises and gasps falling from his lips like the words of a prayer. “yeah, ‘m cumming—ngh, i l-love you, god you’re jus’ so perfect.”

he finally spills inside you, spraying white hot cum so deep it’ll take hours to drip out. the motorcycle wavers, lurching forward toward the next set of lights. beneath the helmets, you’re both panting, coming down from your highs and trying to focus even though you’re feeling a euphoric numbness spread through your body. when his thumb nudges your clit, you jerk as though you’ve been electrocuted, whining from the sensitivity.

“are you okay?” he asks lowly, voice ragged while his hand massages at your side.

“y-yeah, i’m okay. i just—i need to do that again.”

choso laughs, causing you to do so as well. “maybe in a few more minutes. how ‘bout we change up the position so you’re on your back? if we do, i’ll be able to see that pretty face.”

[simpjaes]

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndrome-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

LAST UPDATED: 12.22.24

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 6.2k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: my tag list is now closed due to the length.

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going. 

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

Do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it. 

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore. 

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. 

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind.  ・・・・・・・・・・・��・・

[miupow]

beeeestie i am a new follower aaaand im just in love w ur blog 😩❤️

plllllsssss talk about husband!skz, i just cant go to sleep without this on mind 😫😫😫

you can include nsfw if you are comfortable with

˗ˏˋ ★ ― HUSBAND!STRAY KIDS HEADCANONS .ᐟ

╰┈⪼ ot8 x fem!reader ✦ fluff + smut , NSFW minors do not interact !

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。public sex , unprotected sex , creampies , breeding kink , marking , public sex , spanking , bondage , dom/sub dynamics , brat tamer minho , sex toys , shibari , oral (f. rec) , squirting , voice kink , oral (m. rec) mention , orgasm control , pet play sort of

notes from lia。ouuu husbant. my favorite genre of skz.. hehe thank u for the follow!! i hope u enjoy this.. it makes me so happy to hear that u love my blog ^^

SFW :

husband!bangchan who acts like he's your sugar daddy on top of being your husband. you could ask for the entire nation of korea and he'd try his best to give it to you. anything you want and more, it doesn't matter the price; chan just loves spoiling his baby girl. designer bags and jewelry, pretty clothes and expensive dinners... you don't even have to ask.

husband!minho who loves to cook with you, even though he acts like he doesn't. when he's complaining about you being in his way and making snide remarks about your culinary skills, it's out of endearment instead of actual irritation. he just finds it so funny when you throw your own retorts back at him, pouting in that way he adores so much <3 he just loves riling you up

husband!changbin who loves to work out with you! he sees it as a bonding activity, something for the two of you to do together to spend time with eachother. he helps you with all of your stretches, you spot eachother when you need to, exchanging kisses inbetween sets <3 holding his feet while he does sit ups, kissing u every time he comes up hehe

husband!hyunjin who views you as his greatest muse. his favorite subject to draw or paint is your pretty face, your smile his favorite to photograph. he shows you some of it, but most he keeps for himself-- for his eyes only, to admire when he's away on tour and he misses you.

husband!jisung who has an endless amount of inside jokes with you from all of your years together, showing up in gag gifts and one-liners that make you double over in laughter. ji loves to make you laugh, it’s his favorite sound in the entire world <3 he’s always doing something silly in hopes that you’ll give him a pretty giggle, smile and roll your eyes, make his heart skip a beat in his chest ~

husband!felix who treats you like a princess, maybe even a queen— he all but worships the ground you walk on, forever gushing about how beautiful and amazing his wife is <3 the honeymoon phase never ends with him, you’re still as disgustingly in love with each other as you were when you first started dating. he calls you all sorts of sappy pet names, giving you kisses everywhere he can reach, always needing to be touching you even if it’s just holding your hand

husband!seungmin who still acts like a tsundere even when you’ve been married for years lol. he complains about you being lazy but he’ll never let you lift a finger, he groans about you being needy when he’s the one always reaching for you and demanding ur attention >< you love him just the way he is, and he loves you more than he’ll ever care to admit. it’s so obvious that he adores you cos he’s always looking at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, eyes lit up like you hung the stars yourself <3

husband!jeongin who wants to spend absolutely every moment he can by your side, and he hates being away from you for any reason. a perfect day for him would be glued to your hip, from when you wake up to when you go to sleep, his favorite person and his partner in crime, his ride or die… he’d take you with him on tour if he could, but he’ll settle for being on facetime 24/7 while he’s away lol

NSFW :

husband!bangchan who can't wait to start a family <3 he figures that now you're married, it's only natural to start trying for a baby... fucks you hard and fills you up every night, fully intent on getting your belly all swollen with his babies… so much cum it’s spilling out of your hole down your hickey-marked thighs, chan pushing it back inside with his thick fingers talking about making sure it takes…

husband!minho who will put you back in your place when you’re being bratty. he will not tolerate his wife having an attitude with him!! he’ll put you over his lap and make you count in an instant, or tie you up and torture you with your favorite vibrator for hours, and he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for his forgiveness <3 he doesn’t care if you’re out in public or out with friends, he’s whispering threats in your ear, and if you still don’t stop he’ll grab you by the wrist and drag you back home.

husband!changbin who can't help but find your workout wear incredibly sexy, the way your leggings hug your ass and curves, the way ur sports bra pushes up ur tits.. and he knows you find him sexy too, in his tank top and gym shorts, sweaty muscles all out on display.... he's drooling over you while you're drooling over him, and you can both only take so much... its not uncommon for the two of you to end up fucking in the gym showers or in the locker rooms, sometimes even getting touchy in the weight room if it's empty!! changbin slapping and gripping on your ass cos he can't stop himself from touching anymore, and you grind back onto his crotch to feel his erection... his fat dick splitting you open in the showers, his thick buff arms holding you up against the cold shower wall with your legs apart..

husband!hyunjin who loves to tie you up, more than any of the other boys. it’s like an art form to him and he takes it very seriously, buying expensive rope in pretty colors, taking immaculate care of it.. he loves to take pictures of his work, the intricate knots that bind you in place or suspend you from the ceiling— you look so beautiful like that to him, his perfect tied up angel for him to admire and destroy <3

husband!jisung who is an absolute pussy fiend… he could spend all day with his face buried between your legs, talented tongue making you cum over and over again until you squirt hehe <3 he’s not satisfied until his entire face is drenched with ur arousal, dripping slick from his nose and chin, and then he wants to fuck you until you can’t walk ! and you better believe he’s going in raw, because why would he wear a condom when his ring is on your finger? you better be careful, because jisung wants to fuck every day and every night… you wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant, would you? because he definitely wouldn’t

husband!felix who thinks it’s so cute that you find his voice so hot. all he has to do is whisper some dirty words in your ear and you’re blushing and squirming like a virgin… he just can’t help but do it all of the time. deep aussie accent mumbling about how he’s going to ruin your pussy when you get home, or about how hard and needy he is for you to take care of him <3 his hand on your thigh dangerously close to where you need him most… he loves to rile you up until you can’t take any more, till you snap <3

husband!seungmin who loves his wife submissive and needy <3 he won’t let you touch yourself without his permission, just because he loves to listen to you beg, so desperate and dependent on him … he’s trained you to be a perfect pup for him, down to the collar he likes to have you wear. you’d do anything to hear him say “good girl”, wouldn’t you?

husband!jeongin who loves to fuck in public !! getting head in the park, balls deep in your pussy in a bathroom stall, fucking under a blanket in the dorm living room, loud movie covering up your sounds. the riskiness of it gets him so hot, the idea of getting caught slutting you out in a dressing room, closet, break room… maybe it’s because he’s so possessive, that nasty freaky part of him relishing the idea of showing off to others how you belong to him… and he loves watching you stumble around with cum dripping down your legs from under your skirt, disheveled and redfaced desperate to hide what you and your husband were just up to…

[mi55delulu]

movie goers

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

synopsis: starting off on the wrong foot with your new neighbor was not on the top of your bucket list, yet you’ve made an enemy of jeon jungkook in less than 24 hours. unlucky for you, he’s not backing down either.

genre: enemies to friends to lovers (e2f2l)

wc: ~16.4k

cw: not so cute meet, slice of life, slight angst, fluff, mature language, mean jk and mean oc — they get better though, cheating (not main characters), fwb (not main characters), mutual pining, oc is lowkey a hopeless romantic, 18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI 🔞, smut, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, love love love. if i got any rules/regulations wrong, i didnt. leave me alone, it’s fanfic 😇✨also written in lowercase bc that’s just how my phone setting is and i’m too lazy to go back to capitalize … ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a/n: yuh … inspired by real life events. anyways, this is the first time i’ve posted a fic on this page. i’ve been an avid reader (still am) but i’ve been wanting to put something out too. so here’s my gift to close out 2024. also, i miss jk. I MISS BANGTAN. ;-; enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

—

if you had to describe your ideal neighbor in three words, it’d be: mindful, quiet, and kind. cause that’s what your neighbor, mrs. lee, was to you in the last three years you’ve lived in this apartment complex. she kept to herself, walked her small crusty (but cute) senior white dog, and brought you leftover cookies when she baked too much for her grandkids. you always had a feeling she made just the right amount with you in mind, but of course she’d never tell you.

so when she broke the news that she was going to move into her son’s home because they’ve been worried about her living alone, you were happy for her — happy that she’s going to get taken care of, but sad that you’ll be losing a great neighbor.

you tell her whoever moves in after her probably won’t be as good of a baker. she simply laughs and tells you to be nice.

three months pass and you hear footsteps outside your door one afternoon. when you try spying through your peephole to get a glimpse of the commotion, you see boxes stacked on the side of apt# 305.

finally, someone was moving in.

some of the boxes were spilling onto your welcome mat, but that didn’t really bother you. you were more curious about your new neighbor … er, perhaps neighbors. so any clue on whether it was going to be an individual or a family moving in would give you an idea of who you’ll be living next to.

unfortunately for you, all the boxes were neatly sealed off.

“dang it.” you mutter to yourself while squinting at the labels on the boxes. clothes, kitchen, shoes … workout? well, okay no indication of toys so you can safely assume there aren’t any kids … yet.

you look at your clock, it’s about time you head out to get your mail anyways. maybe you’ll bump into your new neighbor(s).

except, it wasn’t as easy to spot who exactly was going to be moving in with all the different movers. you sigh and sift through your mail as you walk up the stairs to your apartment. most of the boxes that were outside had already been moved inside the apartment by the time you returned from the mailroom.

as curious as you were of who your new neighbor could be, you had better things to do … like binge watch your kdramas before your shift starts. maybe if you’re feeling extra nice … you’ll say hi later. no one wants to start off on a bad foot with their neighbor. you fumble around your pockets for your keys and eventually hear your locks click open when you’ve successfully unlocked your door.

“hey, neighbor.”

you turn. now, in all your 28 glorious years of living, you can easily count the times you’ve been starstruck on one hand. seeing the northern lights by accident on your way home in 2024, meeting your favorite youtuber at a late night diner when you were 15 years old, and being noticed by one of the highest ranked players in maplestory’s world chat.

the person in front of you? a sight to behold. tall, killer smile, numerous piercings, and a forearm adorned in tattoos. yeah. you don’t think starstruck would fit for this occurrence, but what you do know is that they’ve gotten you tongue tied.

“welcome!” you blurt out and give a tight-lipped smile before barreling through your entryway. you don’t give yourself another second to study his expression once the door shuts behind you. were you lame to run away from your new neighbor? sure. will you regret this? well, the cringe is already seeping in. you’re probably branded as the weird girl now … whatever.

what’s done is done.

you don’t know if 305 is mindful, quiet, or kind.

but fuck, he’s hot.

—

305 was not quiet.

you know it’s a housewarming party with a couple of his friends. he didn’t have to tell you … you heard them loud and clear through the walls several times as they clinked their shot glasses for the 11th time that evening.

you’re texting your frustrations to dohwan, your boyfriend (?) er … someone you’ve been talking to (and fucking) these last 2 years. he hasn’t quite put a label on the relationship just yet and claimed that he is only seeing you. labels didn’t really matter to you but as time grew, you’ve come to like him a lot and wished for something more. he’s career-driven, great in bed, and knows how to whip up a good breakfast the morning after he stays for the night. he was supposed to come over tonight, but told you he got caught up with work. it’s times like these where you feel a level of uncertainty with dohwan. you spiral and don’t feel as secure as you want to be.

you shouldn’t feel hurt or disappointed … but you do, because hell, alright … maybe you didn’t just like him.

you love him.

you’re not embarrassed that you told him 9 months into seeing each other. has he said it back? no, but that’s okay! everyone has a different timeline when it comes to feelings. you could only hope he meets yours soon enough. why else would he stay for this long?

back to the situation at hand.

you’re not an irritable person, but the least 305 could’ve done was given you a heads up that he was going to have a celebration. you would’ve asked to stay over at dohwan’s in that case.

another round of laughter erupts through your walls and you grit your teeth in annoyance.

“fuckin’ hell,” you throw the covers off your body and march out of your apartment. you find yourself glaring at 305’s door — a juxtaposition from how you usually looked when mrs. lee used to reside here.

god, you missed her.

you knock on the door a few times, taking note how the chattering from the inside decreases and some footsteps grow close to the door.

again, you almost want to want to run back to your apartment when you’re face to face with 305’s handsome confused face.

realizing it’s you, 305 smiles, “oh, hey—“

“it’s nearly 12 a.m. do you mind?” you cut him off.

his smile drops and he leans one shoulder on his doorway.

“sorry,” he says, “we’ll wrap up soon.”

you’d usually drop something this trivial by now, but you’re in a foul mood. unfortunately for 305, this is will be his official first impression of you.

“how much longer is ‘soon?’ it’s been like this for 4 hours,” you really don’t mean for it to come out that way, but the damage is done.

little did you know, 305 wasn’t going to backdown either. he may be new to this complex, but he’s not privy to obnoxious neighbors. the only difference is that he thought you were going to be quiet and shy, much like the first meeting.

“don’t know.” he shrugs.

“i really don’t want to involve property management.” you cross your arms. it’s a half threat — you’ve never called because you never needed to … but you’ll flip through your 50 page rental agreement if you have to.

he mirrors your stance and looks out to your apartment’s door.

“well, sorry to burst your bubble, 307.” he says and you see red, “but management is aware of my get together. it’s not my fault they didn’t inform the other residents.”

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath.

he smiles again, a little less friendly and more condescending this time, “we’ll finish soon, 307. good night.” he shuts his door on you before you can formulate a sentence and you’re left outside in the dark.

—

“yo, jungkook … were we being too loud?” hoseok asks while popping a handful of m&m’s into his mouth.

“yeah, cause your laugh can be heard from all throughout korea,” jimin mocks, earning him a shove from hoseok.

“nah, don’t worry about it. just my neighbor saying hi.” jungkook plops down on the sofa with the rest of his friends.

“oh? should’ve invited them in. we have enough pizza to feed a village.” taehyung nudges his side.

jungkook laughs and shakes his head, “just scale down on the volume and we’ll be golden.”

jungkook loves good company, having lived with his friends for most of his college years, he was a bit reluctant to move out. it’s a little bittersweet, but all his friends are happy for him and his new journey in adulthood. he won’t have to deal with messy roommates and random guests … vice versa. as fun as it was to live in a house full of your best friends, at the end of the day, men will be men. gross, loud, and obnoxious.

not jungkook though, so he thinks.

“ha! called it,” jimin snorts, “you were being too loud, hyung.” this earns jimin a punch to the arm and hoseok’s booming laugh when jimin dramatically falls off the chair.

jungkook knew it was useless to request this of his friends, so he took it upon himself to give the property manager a heads up. lucky for him, the lady seemed more than happy to accommodate. she even left her business card with him after he signed the lease … something about calling her if there’s ever an issue with the apartment — any time of the day.

weird.

what’s weirder was his neighbor. from running away during the first meeting to demanding he end his housewarming on the spot. okay, to be fair, you didn’t, but you might as well have. it didn’t help that jungkook was hotheaded and gets a little irrational when something involved his friends.

so what if he thought you were pretty in your black pajama set? you called his friends loud, when in honesty, they could’ve been much worse. seriously. he knows jimin’s taunting held some truth. hoseok has been responsible for some noise complaints in the past. so this was considered manageable. plus, it’s not like he’ll be inviting them over every weekend.

but if it meant pissing you off, he might consider it.

alright, he wasn’t that cruel and he definitely doesn’t want to make living next to you unbearable. he’ll apologize first thing in the morning tomorrow, but for now, he just wants to enjoy his time with his best friends.

—

jungkook was going to murder you.

not literally, but he could if it wasn’t for the major hangover holding him back. he blinks twice, looks at the clock on his nightstand, reads 7:01am, and lets out a big sigh after another round of drilling vibrates against his wall.

fuckin’ hell.

it feels comical now that he’s in front of your apartment, face still swollen from sleep, but so visibly upset at being woken up at the ass crack of dawn.

“are you serious?” he asks, voice still laced with heavy sleep.

you, on the other hand, look put together and almost too happy this early in the day. jungkook can only rule you out as a psychopath — a pretty psychopath. your hair all in place, lashes kissing your cheeks when you smile at him, and not a single wrinkle on your clothing in sight.

“what’s up,” you peer outside your door just as he did last night, “305?”

he wants to let out a groan, but that’d give you too much power.

“drilling at 7 in the morning? that’s gotta be a violation.” his voice still laced with sleep, though, he’s sure to sound assertive.

“nope! here,” you smile and pull out your phone, the level of brightness makes jungkook squint, “county regulations allow work as early as 6:30am.”

“yeah, if there’s justification. there’s no reason for you to be drilling this early.” jungkook argues back.

you pout, evidently not sad at that revelation, “but my mental health. i was kept up all night by my neighbor and his friends … i need some wall decor to cheer me up. surely you could sympathize, right?”

you don’t allow him to formulate another thought as you’re shutting the door, “i’ll be done soon, have a good day!”

jungkook almost wants to laugh at how irritated he is, but all he can do now is try to get some shut eye before his shift starts. that is, if he can even go back to sleep.

should’ve asked his friends for some earplugs as a housewarming gift.

—

the drilling eventually came to a stop. only because you could not be bothered to wake up earlier than you had to and you think you made your point pretty clear to your neighbor — don’t fuck with me.

honestly, you’re not sure what came over you. you never liked causing issues for people and you’re also well liked by your work peers and friends, so this was out of character of you. it also didn’t help that your friends spurred you on and praised you for one upping him. as the rage dissipated from your system, you’ve come to the conclusion of why you acted out.

your new neighbor was a conventionally attractive man. he probably knows this too judging from the way he spoke to you — like you’d back down just because he said so. he probably was able to schmooze the lease manager into giving him a better rent deal and get pardoned for all the noise he made during his housewarming party. sucks for him; you’re not a fan of pretty privilege.

you had to set him straight, so drilling into a random piece of wood every morning right near his bedroom wall was the perfect revenge. you expected some backlash from him; surprisingly, he didn’t say a word to you after his first confrontation. so, you stopped the antics after the third day.

weeks later, you learned his name is jeon jungkook. not through a formal introduction … only because his mail got mixed in with yours and you tossed it onto his welcome mat. he eventually came to realize your name through the same way too.

though, he’ll always be 305 to you and you’ll always be 307 to him.

that’s fine.

you’ll scowl every time you see him and he’ll stick a middle finger up to you as well.

the feeling was mutual.

“so, are you still battling it out with your new neighbor?” dohwan asks one evening. his head was actually between your legs at the moment. you like having random conversations during sex, but talking about your annoying neighbor wasn’t on the top of your list.

“mm, yeah,” you moan lowly when he flicks his tongue on your clit. “well n-no, not anymore.” you correct yourself, “oh fuck, keep going.”

“good, i’m tired of hearing about him,” he chuckles against you and continues his ministrations between your folds. if you were caught off guard by his comment, you weren’t anymore. the pleasure coursing through your body is enough to make your head spin.

he moves away from your body once you’ve come by his mouth. without warning, he slips inside you and you hiss from the overstimulation, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“gonna fuck you so well.”he’s thrusting relentlessly, “it’s what you need, huh princess?”

you nod, too overcome by the power of his thrusts hitting all the right spots. dohwan is a little more vocal tonight — it makes you feel special but you’re also a little self conscious about your nextdoor neighbor hearing things. you’ve always kept it down even when mrs. lee lived next door, jungkook would be no exception.

people fuck, it doesn’t mean you can’t be courteous. you sure as hell don’t want to hear your neighbor fucking given that you’ve seen him bring back several different girls to the apartment these couple of weeks.

one thing you’ll commend jungkook for is not being a loud fucker in the bed.

“baby,” you whine as he pauses a little to listen to what you have to say, “we should keep it down.”

he tilts his head, reaches in between your bodies and circles slowly on your clit with his thumb while he resumes rocking into you. you keen and almost let out a moan.

“why? let the asshole hear.” he grunts when he picks up the pace again. dohwan kisses down your neck and leaves a red hickey on your collarbone. you let out a pretty sigh and wrap your legs around his waist.

“y-you,” he moans particularly louder and it throws you off slightly, “saw the way he looked at me today, right?”

you didn’t, but you definitely saw the way dohwan glared at jungkook and tightened his hold on your waist before entering your apartment. meanwhile jungkook had just come back from his evening run — at least that’s what you assumed since he was wiping away his sweaty hair from his flushed face coming up the stairs.

“baby, are you really going to talk to me about another man while we’re fucking?” you laugh and cup his face in your hands. he huffs in frustration but his eyes soften, it’s opposite to the brutal pace he’s set on your pussy.

“sorry,” he continues fucking into you and the room is filled with wet noises and his panting once again. even though he apologized, he does nothing to lower his volume.

knock-knock. the sound definitely did not come from the frontdoor, it was far too close to hear.

another series of knocks come and you realize it’s your bedroom wall. dohwan pays no attention to those sounds and is far into chasing his own high, but you move your hands over his mouth to muffle his grunts.

jeon jungkook is knocking on your wall.

he knows you’re having sex and you’ve become that obnoxious neighbor. if that wasn’t enough of an instant mood killer, you hear him blasting one of akon’s featured hits “i just had sex” to mock you and dohwan.

yeah, sexy time is over. you push dohwan off you and head into the bathroom to nurse your embarrassment.

shortly that night, dohwan leaves and it’s the first time you’ve gotten into an argument with him where you think he’s in the wrong.

—

people find it daunting to go to the movies alone. you’d agree until you were forced to go alone after no one wanted to go watch twilight with you in high school. it was awkward at first, but once the light dimmed and the movie started, no one cared about their surroundings.

that’s why you liked going alone. no one will pay attention to how alone you were. everyone in there will be focused on the big screen in front — you included. there was always something liberating about doing things alone too. ‘like yeah, stick it … i don’t need anyone.’ kind of energy.

the only thing you wished was to have someone to discourse with after the movie ended. it’s not a dealbreaker though. you could have easily asked dohwan to come with you, but you’ve been ignoring him since last week after the loud sex fiasco.

regardless, you’re watching moana 2 today. you’re sure it’s going to be a full house given that it’s the opening week. you can only pray that you won’t be surrounded by snotty (literally) kids. nonetheless, you’re excited and the theater was getting filled up as more movie goers come in during the preview. your row was nearly full, saved for the single empty seats on your left and right side.

score, no seat partners or snotty kids. you’ve won this time around.

you’re texting your friends and telling them your luck—

“ahem.”

you look up and you see two people standing in front of you. you’re sure it’s for the seats on your left and right side cause you double checked your ticket before sitting down and everyone else in your row has been seated for quite some time.

“can you move?” one person asks. weirdly enough, the voice is familiar.

even though the lights are low in the theater, you can see that it’s a man and a woman. and when you squint a little more at their figure, that’s when something catches your eyes. a tiger lily tattoo, the same one that your neighbor has.

no fucking way.

“hello?? can you move?” he asks again a little more aggressively. there’s no way he can’t recognize it’s you being that the movie screen is bright enough to shine a light on you. doesn’t matter. you weren’t going to move before and you definitely aren’t going to move now. hell, you’ve been asked plenty of times to move by both families and couples in the past — the difference was that they asked nicely. some were generous enough to offer you snacks when you did move for them.

jungkook? nah. no thank you. you’ll stay right where you are.

“nope.” you hold out your ticket to show your seat number and refocus back on the previews playing.

the girl behind him grabs his arm and gently asks him what seat numbers he got.

“k11 and 13.” he mumbles.

yeah, cause you had bought k12.

“oh, um, it’s okay! we wouldn’t even be talking during the movies anyways,” she reassures with a kind smile. “let’s sit so that we’re not blocking anyone?”

jungkook gives her a tight lipped smile and plops down on k11 while the girl takes k13.

“you’re fucking annoying for that.” he says only loud enough for you to hear. he’s angrily eating his popcorn and it makes you want to laugh mockingly. he’s dressed in all black with a silver chain dangling loosely around his neck. his hair is neatly styled and he smells nice. perfect for a first date … minus you being the factor to ruin it.

“i’m not the one that booked shit last minute. do better.” you shrug.

the previews are still playing and you look over at the girl. she’s so pretty and probably too sweet for jungkook’s good based on how she handled the seating situation.

you feel a little guilty, but that feeling leaves you the moment jungkook hands over the popcorn to the girl, spilling a couple on your lap. you glare, he smirks, and the girl unknowingly takes the bucket from him.

well, two can play that game.

“your nails are so cute, where’d you get them done?” you ask.

she beams and shows you her set, “a little shop called banger nails down myeong-dong! they’re great.”

“oh, your nails are so pretty though. where do you get it done?”

truth be told, you haven’t had your nails filled in over 3 weeks … you know they look rough, but you assume she’s just trying to maintain a conversation being that her actual date was a seat away.

you tell her your shop and she tells you she’ll definitely try out that location when she has the chance. she offers you some popcorn and you unashamedly take some, making sure jungkook sees.

he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, but makes no move to turn to your direction.

“oh, how rude of me. what’s your name?” you reach out to shake her hands.

“nayeon,” she answers and takes your hand in hers, “you?”

you tell her your name and she nods with a sweet smile. yeah, she’s definitely too good for jungkook.

the movie starts and you’re whispering commentaries and giggling with nayeon. you both held hands during the intense scenes and teared up at the ending. it felt really nice to connect with someone like this right off the bat. she was kind and funny throughout the entirety of the movie too.

you can’t say the same for jungkook. he had his arms crossed with a deep frown stamped on his face for two whole hours.

when the movie credit rolls, jungkook stands up and holds out his hand to help nayeon up. huh, chivalry isn’t dead you suppose. nayeon stands up and waves at you.

“it was so nice meeting you! we should definitely hang out. here, let’s follow each other on instagram!” she fumbles through her purse for her phone and you notice how jungkook closes his eyes in frustration behind her.

you and nayeon exchange contacts and as you’re reclining your seat upright, you hear jungkook ask her, “would you wanna get some froyo? my treat for messing up on the tickets.”

“aw, it all worked out though! i met a new friend,” she gestures over to you. jungkook doesn’t really acknowledge nor claim he has already met you.

why would he?

“i’m glad,” he replies, “still though, i feel bad that we didn’t really hang out. still up for that sweet treat?”

nayeon nods and looks back at you, “would you like to join us?”

unbeknownst to nayeon, jungkook looks at you in desperation this time and shakes his head pleadingly. you think you’ve tortured him enough this evening and you don’t want to subject yourself to hanging out with jungkook. seeing the couple link hands in front of you, you’re sorta missing dohwan a little now … so you’ll reach out to him and see what he’s doing.

“no, it’s okay. you both should enjoy that sweet treat together. i’ll text you on instagram!” you wave and jungkook lets out a breath of relief.

“let’s go?” now, what shocks you is his soft smile towards nayeon. it’s almost a 180 to the attitude you’ve experienced with him. then again, maybe it takes a special kind of person to bring that side out of you. nayeon can definitely do that.

she waves at you again and this time jungkook also waves at you (begrudgingly) too. it’s not a goodbye, but a ‘see you later … unfortunately.’ type of wave.

—

you come back from dohwan’s place a little after midnight.

nothing special happened, just hung out like normally. he didn’t bring up the argument and you didn’t feel like talking about jungkook either. this was a regular occurrence in your relationship with him. fights were always difficult, but the mend was easy … cause you guys tend to just sweep the issue under the rug.

clean slate.

“jesus christ!” you jump at the sight of a tall dark figure when you reach the top of your floor. your hand flies to your chest to hold down your hammering heart.

“relax, 307. just me.” jungkook says.

“scared the shit out of me.” you murmur to yourself. you proceed to open your door just as jungkook gets his keys out too.

“fitting for a piece of shit like yourself.”

“excuse me?” you raise your brows in question.

“you heard me,” he steps back out from his door, “loud for no reason, fuck like you’re the only one in the complex, and don’t even have the decency to move a seat over. it’s no wonder the previous resident moved away.”

you really want to argue back, but he read you for filth. you really have been an asshole, still, the comment about mrs. lee hurt. you’re not what jungkook makes you to be, but you’ve given him every reason to perceive you in this manner.

“look, i’ll apologize—“

“nah, save it. i’m tired of being nice too. have the night you deserve.” with that, he goes into his apartment and you’re left contemplating how you let things get this bad and awkward with your new neighbor.

there’s no point in trying to talk to your neighbor now. it’s late. you’ll process everything first and try talking to him tomorrow.

—

the talk never happened.

because for the next 27 days, you’ve been woken up by a blender at 5 a.m. you let that slide for the first 5 days thinking it was jungkook’s way of venting out his frustrations, but by the end of the week, you were back on hating your neighbor.

today marks day 28. you’ve had a long day at work and dohwan has been dodgy with you this week. you call him during lunch to ask him why he’s been so distant and he immediately goes off on you saying that he feels suffocated and that he likes his space. it hurts. because you thought that when you really like someone, all you want to do is fill your day with them.

it’s the evening after your shift and you barely make it up the top of the stairs before you sit down and cry into your hands. it’s so fucking embarrassing crying over a man, especially for one that you really like. majority of the time, he really does make you feel like you’re on top of the world, but then take you down to the pits of hell.

highest of highs, lowest of lows.

it fucking hurts, but you also don’t want to be more alone than how you are.

you hear footsteps come closer and you immediately wipe away your tears and look to the other side of the railing. the person coming up doesn’t stop and walks up past you.

you know them. you know it’s him. you can tell by his cologne and the black converse he fancies.

when you think he’s far enough and in his apartment, you let yourself cry some more.

little did you know, jungkook stands at the top of the stairs, contemplating on whether he should talk to you. he thinks you’re crying because of the blender. or maybe you’re crying because you have to go home to a shitty neighbor. feels bad and guilty. hates to see women cry or anyone cry for that matter …

you hear footsteps from behind and sniffle into your hands.

“uh, 307?”

“what?” your tone is biting but that’s understandable. you’ve been under a lot of stress.

he sighs, sits down right next to you on one of the steps. his legs are long so his knees fan out a little to brush yours. you scoot away and look at him with your bloodshot eyes.

ah, shit. he feels even worse.

“i know i’ve been a dick to you from the start.” he begins.

you scoff and look away.

“you didn’t make things easy either, okay?” he rolls his eyes, “but if you’re crying about the blender …”

“oh for fuck’s sake! no, this isn’t about the blender, 305.” you huff.

“ah.” he opens his mouth and closes it to think what to say next, “lemme guess … boy trouble?”

“shut the fuck up.”

he does so this time for a few minutes until you start talking.

“look, i’ve been meaning to say this but i’m sorry for being an asshole to you. you’re new here and i gave you a bad impression of me. i don’t want to continue making this a hostile living situation for the both of us.” you meant every word you said and whether jungkook accepts your apology, that’s for him to decide. at least you were the bigger person to apologize and take accountability.

“thanks. i’m sorry for being rude too. clean slate?” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. you look at his tattooed hand and a part of you feels relieved at the prospect of a resolution. you shake his hand in agreement. his hand was warm, a little calloused, but the hold was firm and promising.

“you’ll stop with the blender now?” you muse.

“aw man, i was getting used to the daily fresh green smoothies … but i think the blender is on its last leg. i’ll spare you for now and buy premade smoothies,” he grins and winks jokingly. his smile was friendly, similar to the one he gave to nayeon that one date. speaking of which, you’ll have to text her when you get home … she’ll definitely want to hear this update. you’ve been religiously in contact with her since the movie date and she’s been your person when it came to complaining about jungkook.

you and jungkook stare out at the sunset and breathe in the autumn air. it’s nice and just what you needed.

“hey, 307?” jungkook breaks the silence after a while and you hum in response, “for what it’s worth, he sounds like a dying gorilla when he fucks.”

it was the first time you laughed all day.

—

things have gone back to normal between you and dohwan surprisingly. he apologized to you the next day and said he acted out because work has been on him lately. you accepted his apology.

on top of that, you and jungkook are … getting along? he’s actually not that bad. he greets you every morning and makes small talk with you about the weather when you are both at the mailroom.

oh, and the blender at 5 a.m. have stopped completely. he does complain that he misses his green smoothie, to which you reply that he can still make it … just not when you’re still in deep sleep.

“no thanks, the prep is annoying.” he brushes it off.

so one morning after grocery shopping, you pick up a cup of green smoothie from your favorite shop and drop it off at his door before he’s back from his usual run.

‘drink up, 305. - your lovely, sweet, favorite neighbor 307 ♡’

to which, he dropped off a matcha pastry to you the next day after you mentioned how you’ve been craving it lately.

‘peace offering to the demon. ps. you’re my only neighbor LOL - 305’

needless to say, this started a ritual between you and him dropping off snacks and drinks to each other.

so yeah, things have been good.

tonight, dohwan is taking you out on a movie date to watch wicked. it’s not your first choice, but you love a classic so you’re open to see this modern-day remake. plus, he’s been extra sweet to you too.

you’re standing near the ticketing area waiting for dohwan to get snacks when you suddenly hear, “307?”

you turn your head and it’s jungkook with a girl you’ve never met before. he waves and asks what you’re watching.

you point at a nearby wicked movie poster and he nods.

“we’re seeing the same movie too. sorry, forgot to introduce you both — this is jinah,” he gestures at the girl next to him and she nods at you in acknowledgment, “and this is my neighbor.”

“ohhh the one that drilled for a week?” she marvels at you and you flush at her question.

“three days,” he corrects, “but felt like an eternity.” jungkook looks back at you like it’s an inside joke and you feel warm under his gaze.

“he’s exaggerating. eternity is waking up to a blender for almost a month.” you fire back casually and it earns a laugh from everyone.

“well, you’re here with someone this time right?” he teases since he notices your makeup is done extra nice tonight and you have on a shorter beige skirt that cuts right at the top of your thighs. you looked beautiful whether or not this was for an actual date.

anyways, it’s all said in pure jest and he knows you take no offense in it when you laugh. knows he can joke around with you now — you’ve both established a good rapport.

“mhm. you bought tickets right next to each other this time?” you retort and he snorts at your question.

jungkook stares off from a distance and his gaze changes. he takes hold of jinah’s hand in front of you.

“i’ll catch you later, 307. enjoy the movie, ‘kay?”

“oh, okay,” you stare at jungkook in confusion, “it was nice meeting you, jinah. hope you both enjoy the movie.”

they both turn and head to the the concessions first and you’re back waiting alone again, but not for long.

a hand touches your lower back and you know it belonged to dohwan.

“ready?” he hands over your drink and you both head to the screening auditorium.

there’s an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you push it away once you’ve found your seats.

—

jungkook feels sick.

he’s seated behind you and dohwan. that was fine — wasn’t the problem.

the issue was seeing him be overly affectionate to you once he took notice of jungkook outside the auditorium. he doesn’t want to assume, but that’s the energy he gets from dohwan. it’s too much. though perhaps that’s how he usually was to you — he should be doting to you as someone you’re romantically involved with.

jungkook has a bad feeling about him.

jungkook has been on multiple dates this year, nothing ever leading to more because there wasn’t a spark beyond physical attraction. he doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or hurt someone in the process if he were to continue something he sees no future with. which brings him to wonder why you still entertain that man when he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.

the sex can’t be that good … based on what jungkook was forced to hear that one evening. plus, he made you cry. that man can’t be good.

well, what does he know about relationships? he’s the “serial dater” while you’ve been with the same person. obviously jungkook is doing something wrong. maybe jungkook was just projecting.

he lets out a sigh when dohwan slips his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer.

“you good?” jinah whispers.

“yeah, sorry. didn’t realize how long the movie was. ass is starting to go numb,” he smiles apologetically.

she nods and refocuses back to the big screen. jinah was nice, but a little too uptight for his liking … she would stare back blankly at him when he tells a joke and it makes him question his own humor. he’s sure he’s a funny guy — you always seemed to laugh at his remarks.

shit.

why was he thinking about his neighbor when he’s on a date with another person?

he shakes away those thoughts and zones in on the movie. just a couple more hours till he can go home and relax. a bitter part of him hopes he doesn’t have to see you and dohwan enter your place together tonight.

—

you and jungkook have this thing where you go on walks and get your mail at the same time on fridays. that’s the day you work from home and he’s off.

you never liked walks but jungkook called you out one day for walking extra stiff up the stairs. you can’t help it … sitting for long hours at a desk job wasn’t ideal for your body, but it got the bills paid. by the end of your shifts, you’re too burnt out to do anything. you’re not like him who goes on routine runs at the ass crack of dawn. not everyone was fortunate to have a … wait, you’re not sure what he really did for work.

“305.” you deadpan, trying to maintain your big steps to match his long strides.

“hm?” he takes notice of your walking form and slows down his pace so that you can catch up. his dimples are on full display when he looks at you and it nearly makes you forget what you were going to ask him.

“what do you do for work?”

“what’s it to you, 307?” his brows raise in question and he chuckles when you scowl.

“just wondering. you seem to have a good work-life balance.” you shrug. he has to be making some form of income to afford the cost of living in this part of the city, so if it’s not an office job like yours, you’re curious what his line of work could be in.

“currently a tattoo apprentice, but i do art commissions on the side.”

“oh?” it makes sense. he had this artistic aura to him … tattoo apprentice also made sense too with his sleeve of tattoos. you wonder how many of those he designed himself.

“that’s very cool,” you mean it. you wish you could draw but your art skills could only rival a preschooler at best.

“yeah?” he scratches his behind his head, a habit you’ve noticed he does when he gets a little shy or flustered. “parents were super against it up until they saw what i made on my first commission.”

“it’s always like that with parents, huh? if you’re not a doctor or lawyer, nothing is ever enough for them,” you shake your head. it’s a small revelation, but jungkook feels the weight of your words. he can relate.

“you like what you do?” he tries to change the topic.

“it’s okay, gets the bills paid but honestly i’m developing a shrimp back from sitting at the desk all day.” you confess.

“good thing we’re going on these walks, miss hunchback.” he quips and nudges your arm with his elbow.

you stick your tongue out at him and his smile widens. jungkook takes out his phone and shows you some of the tattoos he’s assisted with on some clients these past months. you zoom in and stare in awe — the line work and colors were beyond beautiful and clean.

“they’re amazing, jungkook.”

his nose crinkles when he smiles at your compliment and cheeks flush at the usage of his real name.

“whenever you’re free, you can come over to check out my commissions.” he offers.

“yeah? you promise this isn’t some secret invitation to get murdered?” you smile cheekily at him and he playfully rolls his eyes.

“no promises,” he says and grins when you dramatically stop in your tracks.

“come on, 307. your lunch break is almost over and i gotta get my mail.”

—

you and jungkook return from the mailroom with stacks of envelopes and coupon advertising from random companies.

he’s behind you looking through his stack. among his many bad habits, one is not having the patience to open his mail in the comforts of his own home. typically by the time you both get to your respective doors, he already has the majority of his envelopes torn open.

men.

you stick your key into your door and hear jungkook gasp.

“shit!” he lets out a string of curses and you glance over where he’s at in front of his door … absolutely decked out in glitter.

“what the hell is this?” he’s dusting himself off, but that only serves to worsen the damage.

all the lights in your head go off. fuck. you had forgotten about the glitter prank order you made during the time jungkook was being a little shit with his blender. you totally forgot to call the company to cancel it …

you feel bad, but you can’t help but let out a series of giggles.

“oh my … jungkook, i’m so sorry,” you say in between your fits of laughter.

he looks at you in confusion but it doesn’t take long for him to piece things together. he tips his head back and looks at you incredulously.

“you did this? 307 … this is too much. how the fuck am i gonna get rid of all this glitter?” he opens his arms out and it makes you laugh even more to see him in this state.

“‘m sorry, i …” you try to catch your breath, “forgot to cancel the request and you were being such a dickhead that time.”

“i fuckin’ look like edward cullen.” he groans, looking at you with a serious expression and that has you doubling over.

he eventually joins you in your laughter, hands clutching his stomach.

“h-here,” you say in between tears, “i’ll help you.”

you dust off some flecks of glitter on his shoulders and reach up to smear it over his cheeks. this has got to be the highlight of your week.

jungkook pulls away and laughs at your antics.

“you think this is funny, huh?” he opens his arms again and you nod while stifling away your giggles, but your demeanor changes when he smirks deviously.

his arms circle around you and presses your face into his hard chest. jungkook is cackling just as hard as you are. he’s rubbing his body on your frame and you’ve accepted your fate cause you’re no match for his strength. you’re both even now. all glittered up, laughing, and having so much fun with this “misfortune.”

you won’t admit you’re enjoying his embrace. you won’t admit you fancy his cologne and aftershave. you won’t admit how you feel so soft against the hard ridges of his torso.

you definitely won’t admit how starstruck you got when he finally lets up and stares at you cheekily, unknowing of his doings and how pretty the glitter flecks frame his cheekbones and nose bridge.

he really was perfection.

little did you know, jungkook was also completely enamored by the way your eyes sparkle despite the crazy amount of glitter now stuck on your face and body.

did time freeze? no one has said a word but you can hear and feel your hearts pounding against each other in this close proximity.

“what the fuck?” a voice pulls both you and jungkook out from that dream-like state.

you look and it’s dohwan. confusion and anger is etched and evident on his face. he’s holding a bag of takeout, for what you assume was going to be your lunch. he stalks over and grabs your wrist and yanks you away from jungkook.

“hey man, it’s not what it looks like.” jungkook says. jungkook’s expression is neutral with a hint of annoyance in his tone. dohwan pays no attention to him and looks at you instead.

“are you cheating on me?”

“the hell, dohwan?” you stare back in shock at his accusation.

realizing how awkward this situation was, you start pulling dohwan towards your apartment. you quickly turn to jungkook where he was still standing, he looks concerned for you, “sorry, jungkook. uh, i’ll catch you later.”

he nods and moves around you and dohwan to get to his apartment door.

when you and dohwan are finally in the privacy of your home, you turn and he’s setting down the takeout on your coffee table. you can tell he’s still upset because he makes no move to sit down — he leans against your wall with his arms crossed.

“well?”

“well, what? it really wasn’t what it looked like, dohwan.” you roll your eyes, making your way to your sink to wash off the glitter on your skin. glitter was a bitch to get rid of, but you’ll do just about anything to distract you of dohwan’s awful attitude. you have about 10 minutes till you have to get back to work and don’t have the time to be arguing.

“don’t fucking lie. you’re always raving about how nice he is to you now. and i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that’s not some ‘friendly neighbor’ shit,” dohwan raises his voice in frustration.

you toss the kitchen rag onto your counter and turn, “what’s so wrong about me talking about how someone is nice to me?! at least you know about the people in my life, but i don’t know jack-shit about yours. i don’t know what you’re insinuating, but you need to check yourself.”

“don’t try to spin this on me. whatever is going on with you and your neighbor, needs to stop.”

“literally nothing is happening between us??” you run your hand over your face, “i can pick and choose who stays in my life, dohwan. you can’t control that.” you try to level your breathing. you hated feeling like your partner laid claim on you as if you were some sort of property and had ownership.

don’t cry. don’t cry. don’t cry.

his eyes soften after realizing what he implied and he comes closer to you. he rubs your forearms and pulls you in for a hug. you let the tears fall now.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just … i was insecure.” he confesses.

you sniffle into his chest, “why?”

he chuckles, “my girl hanging around a good looking dude? who wouldn’t be insecure?”

his girl.

“wasn’t aware i was your girlfriend.” you pull away from his warmth and regret seeing the glitter you’ve transferred onto his clothing in the process.

“well … i mean, you’re technically not. who needs labels?” he brushes you off and sits on the couch now. you’re left standing there, another wave of uncertainty washes over you. 5 minutes till you need to start working … do you really want to open the can of worms right now?

fuck it.

“i don’t know. people who love each other?”

he snorts then rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re back in serious mode.

“here we go again. we’ve been through this plenty of times—“

“do you even like me?”

“yes, of course.” he answers quickly.

“do you love me?”

he’s silent.

“then what are we doing, dohwan?” the real question was … what were you doing? it’s hitting year three of this situationship and nothing more has progressed.

“hey, hey … i thought you enjoyed spending time with each other … we agreed that it was just me and you,” he comes close to you again, but you hold a hand out to keep some distance.

“i need to get back to work. can you give me some space?” you mumble, “thanks for the food.”

—

the fallout between you and dohwan was anything but amicable.

you both boiled it all down to two things: you want more. he wants things to remain the same.

you requested for space and a break in the meantime while you figure things out. during that time, you felt yourself distancing from jungkook too. he tried to greet you like normally after dohwan’s confrontation, yet every time you see him, you make a beeline into your apartment.

guess old habits die hard.

you took this time to focus on you. you spoke to a therapist, got in contact with some girlfriends, visited your family, and busied yourself with work. self improvement, if one could call it. your therapist recommended to decentralize men in your life for a while so that you can focus on yourself. which meant no dohwan.

… and no jungkook.

you’ve been keeping nayeon posted on your life and she calls you out for being inconsiderate to jungkook. funny, because she was on your side when he was being rude to you and immediately ghosted him after the movie date (you still haven’t told jungkook you’ve been in contact with nayeon because things have gotten a little crazy). you promised to her you’ll talk to him soon though. he was just unfortunately caught in the crossfire of your messy relationship.

honestly? you missed your neighbor — your friend. but you needed to get your head sorted out and you’d be terrible company either way.

jungkook didn’t deserve that.

the break between you and dohwan meant that you don’t talk to each other till you figured things out.

breaks meant for a reset.

he kept texting you and telling you how much he missed you.

you had to keep reminding him of the boundaries.

he eventually obliged.

thinking you were finally ready to talk weeks later, you went over to his place after work, only to find him in shock, hair disheveled, red scratch marks all over his chest and shoulders.

“oh, um, i—“ you panic, feel your heart drop to your stomach when the realization settles in after you hear another voice call out his name from behind.

dohwan took that break and fell into bed with another woman.

“w-wait, let me explain,” he follows you out his door and nearly topples over you when you turned abruptly to face him.

you feel betrayed — so much for ‘me and you.’ the anger bubbling in your chest has a way of migrating through your body. you tremble, tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and your teeth dig hard on your bottom lip … you can taste metallic.

“we’re on a break,” he says as if you weren’t aware of the terms you originally initiated.

“okay? so that means you go and fuck someone else?” your voice is shaky but you push on, “you cheated.”

“no! i mean, fuck, what did you expect me to do? we stopped talking and it was fucking lonely … i— you can’t put all the blame on me,” he stammers.

so, it was your fault?

“i didn’t make you sleep with someone else. a-all—,” you choke on a sob, “all i asked was for some space and time. you couldn’t even give me that.”

the thing is, dohwan hasn’t given you anything beyond what he was willing to get from you. he liked your company, thought you were a sweet and funny girl, and god were you good in bed. he didn’t feel ready to settle down in a relationship … felt that being with someone officially took the spark out, but he also wasn’t willing to let you go.

so he held out for as long as he could. as a result, you did too in hopes that he could find it in himself to change his feelings for you.

love is patient, love is kind.

you’ve been patient, you’ve been kind. if this is love, why does it break you down?

maybe this love wasn’t for you; but rather, he isn’t for you no matter how long you wait and the number of pennies you’ve thrown into the wishing well.

“goodbye, dohwan.”

—

jungkook hates overly loud sex.

it’s the reason why he takes the extra precaution to put socks on his bed frames to muffle any potential noises. if his partner was a huge moaner, he’d do what any sensible person would … stuff his fingers into their mouth. what? the girl usually doesn’t mind and it minimizes the noises. plus, it was hot.

win-win.

sex didn’t have to be over the top to show that you’re passionate. jungkook knows that very well.

it’s also why he originally lost a lot of respect for you when he overheard you and dohwan having sex that one time. well, mainly dohwan.

fuckin’ gorilla.

jungkook has been worried for you ever since that awkward glitter situation. he wanted to apologize and even talk to dohwan if it’d make things less stressful on your end.

you’ve ghosted him for weeks. no more walks, small talk, snack trades, or trips to the mailroom.

he has a feeling it has something to do with dohwan.

just like how he knows the sobs emitting through his walls tonight has something to do with him.

jungkook hates overly loud sex, but more than that, he hates the sounds of your cries.

—

‘cheer up, 307. you deserve some sweetness in your day. ps. i’m gonna make you run if you keep missing our walks. also? stop avoiding me, it’s annoying - jk’

you smile and sip the banana milk jungkook left outside your door.

he always had a way with cheering you up despite being a headache for some time in your life. your therapist recommended to decentralize men from your life for a while … sure, jungkook fits in that category, but he’s also your friend.

you slowly let him back in.

he’s been good to you. though, you can’t say the same for yourself. you’ve been a shitty neighbor and a shitty friend.

yet jungkook shrugs it off and treats you normally.

you’ve been mending a broken heart and jungkook has been a great company meanwhile.

“you really need to work on your conflict avoidance, 307.” jungkook says one evening. he’s sprawled out on your couch with a bag of chips in his hands. it’s movie night — a tradition he forced upon you because you’ve apparently never watched the movie trolls.

you peel your eyes from the screen and tilt your head, “what do you mean?”

“any time something gets tough, you run away. gotta stop that, say what’s on your mind and work it out.”

“hm.”

“what?” he presses.

“nothing.”

“see? you’re doing it again. just say what you wanna say,” jungkook rolls his eyes.

“fine,” you chew on your bottom lip, “i hate this movie.”

jungkook had picked trolls 2 and it was so much more awful in comparison to the first one you were forced to watch last weekend.

“fuckin knew it. you’ve been spacing out all night,” he laughs, “see, doesn’t it feel good to be honest bout your feelings?” he reaches for your remote to switch to another movie. you watch him. really take him in and almost want to laugh at how horrible your first couple of months was with him and now he’s in your apartment watching awful movies with you to nurse your brokenheart.

you really had read jungkook wrong. he wasn’t just some conventionally attractive man that used his pretty privilege to get his way. he was genuinely a good person.

which makes you think … why the fuck is he hanging around someone like you on a friday night? he could be hanging out with some friends or going on a blind date with a pretty girl. better yet, why isn’t he in a relationship with someone?

was he just like you?

his voice brings you out of your thoughts, “alright, spill it 307. you look like you have something else to say.”

you sigh.

“how are you still single? just … i know you’re always dating different people. it can’t be that bad for you right? i mean, if you’re struggling … i feel kind of hopeless for myself.”

jungkook looks at you, dimples on display as he contemplates on what he wants to say next. the thing about jungkook is that he looks like he belongs in your circle — fits perfectly, actually. has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable about asking hard questions. he may tease you, but he’ll never judge you.

he ruffles your hair.

“just haven’t found the right one. it takes time and i’m in no rush. you shouldn’t either.” you feel yourself soften from his remarks until, “or else you’ll end up with a gorilla again.”

—

jungkook is treading in dangerous territories.

aside from trying to potty train his new doberman puppy, bam, he’s faced with another issue.

he may have developed a small crush on his neighbor. he can’t pinpoint exactly when he started getting that fuzzy warm feeling around you. it was a telltale sign when he’d wake up and sleep to the thought of you.

you can’t really blame all of this on him though. you’ve been a little more open about hanging out with him since your breakup with dohwan. jungkook has gotten used to your presence as a result. some people would see it as using jungkook as a rebound, but he feels anything but that.

you’re a breath of fresh air to hang around after a long day of work. which is funny cause there was a period of time he considered hexing you. now? he longs to see you and fill in gaps of his day with you. when he doesn’t see you, he thinks of you.

that just might be his demise.

even bam has taken a liking to you and often refuses to let you go back home when you are over.

like dog, like owner.

“aw bammie,” you kneel down, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

bam whines and follows you to the door.

“you can stay if you like, the guys won’t mind.” jungkook reasons. he’s having a small get together with some of his friends and extended the invite to you. you declined, telling him you don’t want to intrude and he should spend some quality time with them.

“just say that you want to be with me 24/7 and go,” you joke. jungkook won’t admit to you he does.

“nah, just need someone to watch bam while i have some bro time.” he teases back.

“hire a dog nanny then,” your hands automatically reaches down to scratch behind bam’s ear. there’s no need to hire one cause you’d willingly take care of bam for free. it’s all fun and jokes, jungkook knows this. he laughs and holds bam back from following you out the door.

“be on your best behavior tonight for your daddy, ‘kay?” you talk to bam like you’re his mom and jungkook’s stomach does flips at the mention of ‘daddy’ leaving your lips, “if it gets too much, you can sleep over at my place.”

bam has a sleeping mat at your place too. you’ve gotten it for him when jungkook comes over to watch movies — insisted that the pup should have a comfortable space in your home.

jungkook feels like he’s sharing custody with you. everything feels more domestic and it’s fucking with jungkook’s head and heart. which is why he asked you to dog sit bam while he goes on a date next weekend with some client’s friend he met at the tattoo parlor. thinks this date would be a good reset from you.

you wave goodbye to him, a playful grin adorning your lips, “have fun tonight, 305. if it gets too much, you can also come to my place too.”

he hates when you tease like this. makes him feel like he holds a space in your life more than he already should. knows you’re joking, but can tell there’s some truth in your statement. you’re attached to him just as much as he is to you.

“also, try not to be too loud tonight.”

“no promises,” he laughs, “hobi-hyung will be over.”

you giggle, you’ve met hoseok in the passing and also teased him too for causing a ruckus at the housewarming party. all his friends like you — it’s no surprise jungkook would eventually too.

so yeah, he’s treading in dangerous territories.

—

you’ve really been focused on yourself and your friendships. on your hardest days where you yearn for intimacy, you force yourself to be okay with the idea and concept of being alone. there’s a lot of bad days, but they get better.

it’s not always about being in isolation though.

it’s about not being dependent on someone to fill a void.

with dohwan, you realized you fell in the pattern of needing to be around him and when he wasn’t there, the world crumbled beneath your feet. over time, you realized he wasn’t good for you.

wrong person, wrong time.

because the right person will always make you feel safe and seen.

jungkook was right. it’ll take time to find that person — there’s no rush.

yet, you have this disquieting feeling when you see him rustling through his home to get ready for his date tonight. what do you do when you feel like the right person might be slipping away under your nose?

right person, wrong time, you suppose.

bam, his not so small puppy, lays his head on your lap and would occasionally lift it when jungkook walks close. if bam is doting with you, he’s completely devoted to jungkook.

doesn’t realize that his dad is gonna leave you both until he puts on his shoes at the door.

“ah-ah, bammie, stay,” you hold him and he whimpers for jungkook.

“well? how do i look?” jungkook does a quick 360 and you wanna poke fun at him, but you can tell he’s on edge for whatever reason. he has no reason to be. he’s charming, handsome, and knows exactly what to say or do to make someone’s heart skip a beat as he’s done so to you numerous times — you’d never admit it.

he’s your neighbor and most importantly, your friend. it’s a sacred relationship and boundary you’re hesitant to break. so you swallow down whatever you’re feeling and smile reassuringly to him, “you look great, jungkook.”

he beams and extends his hands out for a high-five, “thanks, wish me luck.”

your hands make contact with his and it feels electrifying.

“no luck needed, mr. 305 worldwide.” he absolutely hates the new nickname you’ve given him, doesn’t argue back though, simply scoffs and looks at the time on his phone.

“now go before you’re late and bam bolts out the door for you.” you shoo him out his own apartment.

he reaches down to pat bam on his head and give him some tender smooches.

“call me if there’s an emergency or if you’re bored.” he tells you with his hands shoved in his pockets and some of his bangs fall onto his forehead. there’s something so boyish about his mannerisms … you swallow thickly when you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. a part of you wonders if you tell him to bail on the date, would he? you’re not cruel enough to do that to him and his date. they could be soulmates for all you know.

“and what? you’ll come entertain me?” your eyes squint, “go enjoy your date, 305. we’ll be here.”

before you know it, he’s out the door and you’re left wondering what if.

—

jungkook didn’t realize how much of a disaster the date was going until his date seated across from him rolls her eyes.

“i’m sorry … am i boring you with my story?” he was telling her how he had to help you break into your own apartment because you forgot to bring your keys in the middle of the night.

“it just seems like you’re wasting both our times.” she says and places her drink down. her red manicured fingers circle the rim of her cup.

he’s confused. jungkook has been doing his best to keep the date afloat by talking and asking questions. he thought it’s been going well, minus the couple of times he checked his phone to see if he got any emergency texts from you about bam.

“i mean, why are you here when you clearly like someone else?”

“i don’t get—wait, what?”

“your neighbor 007 or whatever.” she says. it’s the wrong number and she knows it, but wants to see if jungkook reacts, “you’ve been talking about her all night.”

has he? he was just making light conversation … you’re a part of his life so slipping your name here and there feels natural.

“look, you seem like a nice guy. you’re obviously good looking too. if you’re not looking for anything serious, we can go back to my apartment right now for some fun. but long term? it feels like you have someone waiting at home for you.”

and the mood goes sour. jungkook is used to this. used to his dates objectifying him as a quick and good fuck — granted, he’s played this to his advantage when he was younger. now? it feels meaningless. he isn’t upset at that.

it’s the utter realization that he does have someone special to him and you’ve been right under his nose all this time. he’s always telling you to be honest with your feelings, yet he can’t even bring himself to uphold that advice for whatever reason.

jungkook apologizes to his date again, pays for the tab, and rushes home.

—

home can be a place, but for jungkook, it’s seeing you on his couch and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

bam jumps off your lap to nudge jungkook’s leg for attention.

“has he been good?” jungkook asks while scratching bam’s head, though he stops momentarily at the sight of you stretching and your shirt lifts a little to reveal the curves of your hips.

“mhm, an angel. how was the date?”

he contemplates on lying, but knows better. needs to practice what he preaches.

“bad.”

“oh? wanna talk about it?”

“uh, i kinda fucked it up,” jungkook toes off his shoes and avoids your eye contact.

“classic, first impressions have never been your strongest suit.” you put on your jacket and jungkook panics at the thought of you leaving early. he exhales a breath he’s been holding when you plop back down on his couch where he soon joins you.

“i’m not always that bad.” he mumbles.

“i know, i’m just teasing you.” you reach over to pinch his cheek.

when he doesn’t reply, it gets you a little worried. you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings.

“sorry—“

“i kept bringing you up during the date.” he cuts you off.

“oof, no girl wants to hear about another girl …” technically, you’re hoping jungkook doesn’t talk about this one … let alone his previous dates or exes.

“i know,” he murmurs, leans his head back, and sighs, “she … called me out on it.”

“good, as she should.”

jungkook hesitates with his next words, but pushes forward, “said it’s cause i liked you.”

you pause. you could hear a pin drop in the room, minus bam’s paws making contact with the hardwood floor.

“oh … um,” you’re not dumb, you understand what he’s implying. you just don’t know how you’re going to run away from this conversation.

“i know you’re already planning your escape, 307,” he chuckles. his laugh sounds a little melancholy and an instant flood of guilt rushes through you.

“what! no! i-i just don’t know what to say,” you nibble on your lips. you’re fucking scared for what’s to come.

“just hear me out, okay?”

you nod, listen to him clear his throat and exhale a shaky breath.

“i’ve really enjoyed spending time with you. maybe it’s cause i’m a creature of habit or whatever … well no, i don’t think it’s that. i like being around you and i’m thankful you’re in my life.” he looks and smiles at you fondly, as if he is preparing himself for the biggest rejection, “i like you … a lot. you don’t have to accept my feelings nor do anything with it. these feelings are mine and i just wanted to be honest with you. at the end of the day, i’d still like to remain friends as long as you’ll allow me.”

you want to fucking cry. he’s always been better at words and expressing himself. you see it in how he treats his friends, his dog, his profession and art … most importantly, you. you also want to be honest with him, but it already seems like he’s accepting the fate of nothing more.

you owe him the truth at least.

“jungkook … i—“ you begin, “i like you a lot too.”

jungkook lets out an exasperating grunt — he thinks you’re pitying him.

“please don’t feel the need to sugarcoat, 307. i just wanted to be—“

you press your lips to his. the kiss was too quick for anyone to process anything. you’ll remember though. you’ll remember his strawberry flavored chapstick, the cold lip piercing barrels, and the way he leans in slightly to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon. jungkook’s eyes widen at the realization that you just kissed him. all too short and he doesn’t think he can stop thinking about you after this anymore even if he tried.

“your feelings are yours,” you hold his hand, “but these are mine too.”

he whispers your name lowly and you shake your head.

“i’m no good with words,” you confess, “i just know that i like you too. but … i’m also a fucking mess, jungkook.”

“huh? no, you’re—“

“yeah, i am. i just got out of something long term … it wouldn’t be good for me to jump into another relationship. i don’t think it’s fair for you to deal with all my baggage when i haven’t sorted myself out.”

he nods, a little dejected but he understands what you mean.

right person, wrong time.

“okay,” he finally says, “nothing will change. friends?”

“friends,” you agree.

it’s a promise out of respect for you. will you regret this? possibly. though, everything feels normal when he walks you to your door later and wishes you a goodnight.

“don’t be fucking weird after tonight. if you avoid me, i’m making you run 10 laps every friday, 307.”

“rude,” you roll your eyes, “i should be saying that to you. don’t be fucking weird or else you’re getting another glitter bomb in the mail.”

“that shit was the worst to get off.”

“funny as hell though.”

“yeah, for you.”

everything feels so natural and safe with jungkook. how he looks at you, laughs at your jokes, eyes twinkle when you do the same for him. you don’t need the night sky when you got galaxies staring back at you.

—

“with all due respect, you’re being stupid.” nayeon says through the speaker.

“how? we both agreed that staying friends would be the best.” you reply a little louder over your sink. your kitchen was overdue for a cleaning and the weekends were the perfect time to catch up on chores.

you’re on the phone with nayeon and it’s a good distraction while you busy yourself with other things at the same time. though, you’re sort of regretting the call now with nayeon berating you for your decision to remain friends with jungkook a month ago.

“people can still date and work on themselves. it’s not a linear thing.”

“yeah, but—“

“you’re just scared. i know you.”

“nayeon …”

“jungkook and dohwan aren’t the same. anyone can get hurt in a relationship, but you shouldn’t deny yourself of something out of fear.”

“yes, but … i don’t think i’d be able to face jungkook if something bad does happen.” you’re serious. running away is your strong suit and you’d move out immediately if shit hits the fan.

“so you’d have no regrets staying like this?”

you don’t reply and that was an answer in itself.

“why are you so hellbent on me and jungkook? i thought you hated him …” it’s sort of funny to be talking to nayeon of all people about jungkook. hell, it’s thanks to jungkook’s mess up on their first tinder date that helped you land your friendship with nayeon.

everything happens for a reason.

“i only hated him cause you did. that’s what friends do, silly. also, if you’re feeling awkward because he and i dated … don’t. there wasn’t anything more. anyways, stop avoiding. you always do this.” she’s right. you’re the queen of avoiding hard conversations.

“i don’t want to lose a friend, nayeon.”

“you won’t. but you’ll lose your chance at experiencing something beautiful, sweetie,” she says, “you owe it to yourself. but hey, i gotta go to my pilates class. i’ll text you later, okay? i love you!”

“okay, love you too. i’m sorry for being difficult. don’t pull a muscle in class!”

“if i do, will you give me a massage?” she laughs, “and no, you’re never difficult. just you being you.”

the call ends and you’re left alone once again with your thoughts. things haven’t really changed between you and jungkook. he’s still his chipper self. you just yearn for more time with him these days. every subtle touch … whether it be his hand on your lower back guiding you upstairs, his fingers brushing yours during the walks, or when he massages your feet upon request sends you into a place where you feel yourself succumbing to your deepest desires.

you want more.

you can tell jungkook does too. he’s unashamed in his affections towards you but he’ll never pressure you or cross that boundary you’ve set.

you realize it hurts to deny yourself of wanting someone who wants you just as equally.

—

you’re at jungkook’s place again one evening. bam is all tuckered out from his walk and jungkook is fixing a bowl of popcorn to snack on while you search through netflix for something to watch.

it’s your pick tonight and you wanted to watch a crime documentary. ghost and thrillers don’t interest you, but crimes? yeah, full body chills because they’re real.

you turn to see jungkook in a big white t-shirt with grey sweats — he looks so comfortable. he’s seasoning the popcorn and catches you staring at him. he shakes his head and smiles back down bashfully at his bowl.

he looks like home … no, he feels like home.

fuck.

you really are torturing yourself.

when jungkook settles onto the couch and the documentary starts, you scoot closer to him. you don’t know if you’re making a fool of yourself, but jungkook pays no mind. his arm circle around you effortlessly and you nestle your cheek into his chest.

so warm — he smells so nice. jungkook sports on a lax expression, yet you can feel and hear the rapid thumps of his heart.

“you sure friends cuddle when they watch shit together?” he mumbles, eyes trained on the television.

“no,” you look up at him, “do you not want to?” you start to move away, but jungkook holds you in place.

he feels your smile through his shirt. yeah, you’re torturing him and he’s enjoying it.

as the documentary plays, jungkook gets immersed in the story. he looks a little silly with his big eyes and mouth slightly ajar as he soaks in all the crime details and backstory. his hand involuntarily moves to massage your scalp and you feel yourself lulled to sleep under his touch.

after a while, he calls your name and gently shakes you awake.

“hey sleepyhead. had a good nap?” he muses.

“mhm, sorry … was so tired from work. did i miss a lot?” you look at the dark television screen and feel guilty.

“just the entire documentary,” he teases, “it’s alright, you wouldn’t be traumatized like me now. i know i’m going to be having nightmares.”

“‘m sorry,” you snuggle closer to him and his breath hitches, “anything i can do to help?”

“hmm …” he holds his thinking pose, “i don’t know, maybe a kiss?”

“just kidding, 307. it’s late, so let’s get you hom—”

“yeah? think a kiss will make you feel better?” you press on.

you knew he was joking, but there’s a surge of confidence coursing in you when you push up on him and he swallows hard. he says your name in warning but he makes no effort to move or push you away. he wants this badly too. been thinking about you and your lips since you last kissed him — never stopped.

“don’t do something you’ll regret.” his hand cradles your cheek.

“i’m not,” your nose brush against his, “i wanna kiss you. please, will you let me?” you ask with pleading eyes and jungkook lets out a shuddering breath and nods.

you look down at his parted lips and back at his hooded eyes. you’re not sure who moved first — it doesn’t matter.

when your lips meet, it’s like heaven and hell collided and made earth — waves crashing onto land, blue horizons, and the smell of pinewood after rain. you don’t think you can let go of this feeling any time soon and when you finally do give into your longings, life feels a little more salvageable … freeing.

jungkook slots his lips between yours, pulling you up to straddle his lap. he moans when your hands tangle in his hair and pulls you in closer if that was even possible.

you lick into his parting mouth when he pants, indulge in the way he sounds as he’s kissing you back. the kiss is hard and passionate — so much more different than the first one you had. there’s a sense of urgency here … like there’s a time constraint or limitation to your affections. you wish you could reassure him; though the best you can do at this moment is to drink him in as much as he allows you to. his hands roam all over your body and you shiver in pleasure when one of his hand travels to the front of your throat possessively. there’s no pressure in his hold, but it’s telling you that you belong here with him.

when you finally do pull away, you plant dainty kisses on the corner of his lips and jaw. he giggles at the tickling feeling and brings your face back to his to give you a much gentler kiss. though you are no longer kissing, your foreheads stay connected in place.

“there, much better, right?” you say breathlessly.

“mhm,” he replies, “should’ve used the trauma card earlier if i knew i’d be getting free kisses.”

your brain is going a mile a second, but you’re sure of this.

“you don’t need to,” you say a little uncertain. jungkook straightens himself in his seated position when he realizes you’re about to say something serious.

“you can kiss me whenever you want … if you want! i know i said we should stay friends, but i think i like you too much to just stay that way. i want to see where things go and i’m fucking scared. i mean, fuck, am i making any sense? please say something,” you’re rambling and jungkook can only smile as you unravel through your confession.

of course he wants more with you.

“just say you want me and go, 307.” he laughs when you pull away cutely. he has no intentions of letting you go and you had no intentions of leaving. it’s too comfortable in his embrace.

“we’ll take things slow, okay?” he kisses your nose in reassurance.

“okay.”

—

fast forward three months, you and jungkook have been dating each other — slow and steady as promised. no official title (yet) but you know he’s exclusively seeing you. you’re enjoying his company and there’s no rush. when there’s something special and secure, it’s all smooth sailing and calm tides. you never have to guess with him.

he feels the same with you.

this marks the 13th weekend date with you and he’s going to do it. jungkook is going to ask you to be his girlfriend. he’s fucking nervous … has a whole date planned: dinner, movies, then back to his place where he’ll officially ask you.

part of him wants to wait for the next weekend because the number 13 was bad luck, but he’s felt nothing but luck with you. luck in the chances of meeting you in this apartment complex, luck in your friendship, and now luck with the prospect of love.

so when your door swings open to reveal you in a short black satin dress, hair done prettily, and your skin dewey and sparkly from your makeup, he knew was going to make 13 lucky no matter what.

“you look beautiful,” jungkook compliments and holds out his hand to walk you down the stairs.

“you don’t look half bad too,” you taunt, taking his warm hand. there’s no malice cause jungkook knows how you feel about him. notices how your eyes rake over his form, has caught you checking him out plenty of times before, felt the way your lips moved on his skin to praise how hot he looked one evening despite him coming back looking like a sweaty hog that’s been run over by a train.

if you’re curious … aside from making out and heavy petting paired with some dry humping sessions here and there, no, they haven’t had sex. probably for the better, it’s already hard enough to separate from each other after every hangout.

slow and steady. you are both fine with that.

“sooo, you gonna tell me where we’re going or is this where you murder me?” you check your lip gloss in the rear view mirror. jungkook’s right hand naturally find its way to your thighs while he drives.

“you’ll find out soon,” he gives you a little squeeze and it sends a little tingle to your core.

—

it’s going terribly.

traffic was absolutely ass for no reason, so they get to their first destination 45 minutes later than anticipated. the restaurant he had reservations for let him know that the kitchen caught on fire the moment he parked in the lot.

okay, fine. to the movies it is.

except, the movie stopped halfway through due to some technical difficulties. he was going to lose his mind, but you were a good sport through it all. jungkook still had one final trick up his sleeve for you.

when you both finally get back to his place with bags of takeout, jungkook lets out a wail of frustration.

“bam, no!”

all the balloons he blew up have been popped. you look past his shoulders to see a torn up sign with the words: wil u e my fren?

bam prances to you and jungkook with his wagging tail, unaware of jungkook’s inner anguish and turmoil. jungkook runs his hands over his face and freezes in place.

“aw baby,” you try comforting jungkook, “it was an accident. bam didn’t know.”

“i know, i just … fuck, gimme a minute.” jungkook stalks over to his bedroom and closes the door. you place the bags of food on the dining table and crouch down to pet bam.

“you really upset your dad, bammie. he worked really hard on this,” you know bam doesn’t understand a single word you’re saying, but you’re disappointed for jungkook too. jungkook really put in the effort and you’re touched by it all. he really wants you and you want nothing more than to be his.

you feed bam his dinner and set the takeout in the fridge, unsure of when you and jungkook will be ready to eat.

hesitantly, you knock on jungkook’s door. know you don’t need his permission to come in — you’ve slept over plenty of times, but still do it out of courtesy.

“can i come in, kook?”

a moment of silence ensues before you hear a little, “… yeah.”

jungkook was on his bed, feet still on the floor with his arms sprawled out. poor boy.

you climb onto bed next to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

he’s visibly upset — not at you of course. he just wanted to make this special.

“that was fucking cute. no one has ever done that for me before.” you say. the best you got from dohwan were a bouquet of roses sent to your workplace. jungkook’s efforts superseded your expectations.

“which part? no dinner, no movies, or the shit show of a sign?”

“all of it.”

“pff, don’t lie.” he sulks.

you throw your leg over his torso to straddle his waist.

“i’m not! you’re so fucking sweet,” you move down to kiss his cheek when he doesn’t look up at you.

“come on, don’t you want my answer?” you place his hands on your hips, wanting him to touch you somewhere.

he cocks his brow at you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“fine fine, i’ll be your ‘fren’ if that’s what you want.”

he covers his face in embarrassment, “ugh, that shit was so humiliating. bam isn’t getting any treats for the next three days.”

“hey! don’t punish my baby. it was an honest mistake.” you reassure him, “plus, i gave him an earful.” yeah, and his dinner right after. it’s no wonder bam likes you a lot more these days.

“okay, okay … i’m still sorry about today. nothing went accordingly.” jungkook sighs and rubs soothing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“you’re not allowed to punish yourself either,” you say a matter of fact, “did you mean it though?” you look at him through your lashes.

“hm?”

“want me as your girlfriend?” when you finally say those words, it sets off a bundle of butterflies in your stomach.

jungkook quickly sits up, holding you securely so you don’t topple over, “of course, i do. just wanted to make it special for you.”

you felt fucking special.

so fucking special in how you said yes, saw how he beamed at your answer, kisses you silly, tongue running down your neck, the little bites on your collarbone — you’re on cloud 9.

he involuntarily drags your hips over his clothed length and you whimper upon contact.

“you hungry, baby? we didn’t have dinner yet,” jungkook asks innocently through his heavy breaths, but you’re too busy trying to unbutton his dress shirt. how could he possibly think about food at a time like this? then again, you have to remember he’s the biggest foodie known to earth. he’s caring of your wellbeing so of course he’d worry if you’re hungry.

he’s also your boyfriend now.

you shake your head. you don’t just want him — you need him.

you slide off of him and are on your knees in between his legs. he looks at you through his heavy lids when you clock your head to the side, waiting for the green light to take off his pants.

“you’ve been so good to me, planning this date … lemme show you how thankful i am.”

jungkook loves being praised and rewarded. he especially loves it even more coming from you. he lets out a moan when you run your hand down his clothed bulge. yes, jungkook has had sex before — honestly, don’t ask him about his body count … he’s not sure either. what he’s sure is that he loses all senses when you touch him — like a virgin touched for the very first time.

his pants are down and kicked off to the side, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, and head thrown back when you settle between his legs to give his hard length a squeeze.

he’s so fucking big in your hand and your mouth nearly waters at the sight of his precum leaking from the slit of his cock. fuck, you don’t know how he’s going to fit in your mouth, but it doesn’t matter. you’re going to make him come undone one way or another.

“baby, i’m literally going to nut if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you laugh, “how long are you going to last inside me then?”

“fuck, you can’t say shit like that.”

“why not?” you press a small kiss on his hip bone and pump his cock with your hand. his eyes closes and mouth drops open at the change of movement.

“gonna nut even faster,” he chuckles.

jungkook hisses when you lick a long stripe underneath his shaft without warning. one of his hand reaches behind your head for support while the other one grips his bedsheets.

“oh god,” he lets out a small moan when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and begin to bob your head at a pace that has him seeing stars.

his cock was lathered with your spit and his precum. the sounds you made while you sucked him off were nearly pornographic. his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when his cock hits the back of your throat.

“shit, oh f-fuck,” his fingers are caught in your hair and your moans vibrate against him when he gently pushes your head down while he fucks up into your mouth.

if you keep going like this, he wasn’t going to last long and he really wants to … can’t bring himself to cum in your mouth just yet. he really wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to nut quick, so he pulls you away when he nearly cums. you breathe heavily through your swollen lips. jungkook runs his thumb on your cheeks where some mascara has smeared as a result of your doing.

you’re still so fucking perfect.

he lifts you from your kneeled position back onto his lap and kisses you slow and tenderly. jungkook whines into your mouth as he tastes himself on your tongue. your dress has ridden up on your waist, the the thin straps are loose and off your shoulders.

“i somehow fucked up the entire night and you still decided to give me the best head? must really like me or something,” jungkook looks at you endearingly and takes notice of how you’re rutting yourself onto his length.

“you know i do. my boyfriend deserves the best.” jungkook’s heart soars at hearing the word boyfriend leave your lips.

yes, he’s yours.

you shake in pleasure as you roll your hips deliciously slow on him. you’re practically soaked through your thin panties.

“did you get this wet just by sucking me off, baby?”

you nod and trail kisses on his cheeks and jaw, “all for you, kook. you always make me this wet.”

he takes so much pride in how he’s able to get you all worked up like this.

jungkook wasn’t expecting to have sex with you tonight, but it’s like you said … it’s special. the rest of your clothing join his in a pile on the ground. he rolls you onto your back and drinks in your naked form. you shy away from his stares and kiss up at him.

your hand reach between you both while he continues to kiss you and you position his still-hard cock in between your folds for that additional friction. the wet clicks mixes in with both your pantings and synchronized moans. every time the head of his cock slides and catches onto your swollen clit, you shudder and arch your back in pleasure.

“want you to fuck me,” you kiss his pouty lips and down his neck, “please?”

jungkook leans back a little, sits on the heels of his feet, and pushes your thighs close to your chest. the angle lets him move and slide your hips up and down his length even more. you gasp and call out his name in wanton.

he drops your legs down and closes the distance between you both again. his bare chest brushes against yours and he lines his cock at your entrance.

“you’re so perfect,” his breath fans over your face, “so lucky to have you.” jungkook swoops his arms under you in a tight embrace. you look at him through your glassy eyes and wrap your arms around his neck.

your heart swells at his words.

there’s little to no resistance when jungkook finally enters you.

it’s a mixture of sweet, nasty, loving, and primal desire how jungkook fucks you into his sheets. he hates loud sex, but he wants to hear all of you. the way you mewl, whimper, cry, and breathe — all of it.

and when you wrap your legs around him and coax him into cumming inside you while your fingers trace the planes of his back, he knows he’s done for.

you giggle, nudge your forehead on his, hold his hand, and kiss all over his face. the afterglow on you both is stunning.

“you’re right, you didn’t last long at all.” you hum. jungkook raises one of his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. it’s a fucking lie since jungkook knows he made you cum at least twice in the span of fucking you, but who would you be if you didn’t try challenging him a little?

he doesn’t have to say anything before slipping down your body and burying his face in between your legs. he licks up your slit tentatively, watches your brows furrow and mouth part, and moans into your heat when your hand travels to his head to push him down as he did to you.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere,” jungkook means it both literally and figuratively. doesn’t understand how anyone could part from you. it’s their loss.

he continues lapping up your mixed essence, nipping at your inner thighs on occasion when your hips jerk away from the pleasure.

“kook, mmph- yes! just like that,” you encourage when he wraps his lips around your clit. he sucks, soothes, and makes out with your messy cunt. he wanted to draw out the night longer, toy and dangle your pleasure in front of you as a punishment for your teasing. knows he’s the reason you’re this wet, can’t bring himself to edge you on a special night like this — maybe another time when he’s feeling more mean. he has all the time in the world with you; there’s no rush.

tonight is all about you, his girlfriend — his.

“so close, baby,” you look down, hips stuttering under his hold as he doesn’t let up with his ministrations on your clit. he trails his fingers at your entrance, coating them with your juices before entering you slowly.

“yeah? won’t you give me another one? come on, i know you can do it,” he says between bated breaths. you shake and arch your back, mouth parts open but no sound comes out as you let the waves of pleasure ride over. the squelching sounds increase as his fingers fuck into you faster.

“i-i’m fucking cumming,” you cry out and jungkook nods in acknowledgement, moaning with you to draw out your orgasm. when you come for the third time that night, he wants to paint the image in his memory and revisit it on a rainy day. no promises that he won’t sport a hard on every time. the sight of you quivering, hands squeezing your chest and rolling your nipples between your fingers to prolong the pleasure, has his head spinning. jungkook trails kisses down your pussy, takes his fingers out and licks them clean before spreading you wider to clean you up with his tongue. he only part ways with your cunt when you whine for him.

he comes back up your body slowly, presses his lips on your tummy and giggles when you squirm from the sensation. however, when he is finally face to face with you again, jungkook has on this determined look.

he can’t seem to get enough of you and your body. addicted, he is.

“you’re not done with me, aren’t you?” you give him that pretty post-orgasmic smile.

never, he thinks.

jungkook was about to reply until the rumbles of your stomach cuts through the silence. it should be embarrassing but you feel close enough to jungkook that you both laugh at how unserious the situation is.

“come on baby, let’s go eat our dinner.” he pulls you up and puts you in one of his oversized t-shirts.

you still believe your ideal neighbor should be mindful, quiet, and kind. jungkook was certainly not mindful, quiet, or kind with how he entered into your life.

though, he wasn’t just someone who’d be your neighbor by the law of attraction and the cosmic pull of the universe.

love is patient, love is kind.

you know you’ve found your home — you just never expected it to be right next door.

fin.

—

a/n: tadaaaaaa. what’d you think? 😜

[theetherealbloom]

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.  

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.  

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.  

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.  

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.  

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”  

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”  

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.  

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”  

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”  

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”  

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”  

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.  

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”  

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.  

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.  

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.  

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.  

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.  

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.  

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.  

The reply came faster than you expected.  

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning. 

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.  

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.  

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.  

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.  

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.  

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.  

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.  

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.  

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.  

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON  

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.  

He missed you.  

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.  

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.  

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.  

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.  

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.  

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.  

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.  

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.  

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”  

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.  

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.  

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.  

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.  

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING 

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.  

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.  

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”  

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”  

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”  

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.  

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.  

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”  

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”  

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”  

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”  

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”  

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”  

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.  

AFTER THE PREMIERE  

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.  

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.  

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”  

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.  

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”  

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”  

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”  

“What?”  

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”  

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”  

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”  

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”  

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”  

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.  

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.  

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”  

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”  

AT THE AIRPORT  

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.  

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.  

The response was almost immediate:  

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.  

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.  

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.  

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING  

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.  

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.  

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.  

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.  

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”  

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.  

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.  

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.  

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”  

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.  

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”  

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.  

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.  

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”  

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”  

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.  

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.  

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.  

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”  

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”  

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.  

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”  

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”  

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”  

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

[harrysfolklore]

grapes - hs

summary: harry won’t let his girlfriend break her new years tradition

folkie radio: i couldn’t let the year end without posting one last harry fic! i really hope 2025 brings us so much content (including hs4!!) happy new year 💘

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The party was in full swing at Jeff and Glenne's house, the air buzzing with anticipation as midnight drew closer. Music thumped through the speakers, and everywhere you looked, people were laughing, dancing, and celebrating the final moments of the year. You were nestled against Harry's side on one of the plush sofas, his arm draped casually around your shoulders.

"You okay, love?" Harry asked, noticing you checking your phone for the time again. "You seem a bit distracted."

You gave him a small smile, fiddling with the sequins on your dress. "Yeah, I just... it's silly, really."

"Tell me," he encouraged, turning to face you properly. His green eyes were soft and curious in the dim party lighting.

"Well, it's this tradition I have. Every New Year's at midnight, I eat twelve grapes - one for each chime of midnight. It's supposed to bring good luck for each month of the new year. My grandma started it when I was little, and I've done it every year since."

Understanding dawned on Harry's face. "And we haven't got any grapes here."

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. "Like I said, it's silly. It's just... it would be the first year I haven't done it.”

Harry glanced at his watch - 11:40 PM - then pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Give me fifteen minutes."

Before you could ask what he was planning, he was up and weaving through the crowd. You watched him stop to say something to Jeff, who nodded and pointed toward the kitchen.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. People were starting to gather around the TV for the countdown, champagne flutes in hand. You tried not to feel too disappointed, telling yourself it was just a tradition, just some grapes.

At 11:57, you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. Harry was slightly out of breath, his curls messier than before, but he was grinning triumphantly. In his hand was a small bowl filled with exactly twelve grapes.

"Harry," you gasped, "how did you-"

"Let's just say I now owe Jeff's neighbor a very expensive bottle of wine," he chuckled, settling back beside you. "Apparently, she's the only person in Beverly Hills who keeps fresh fruit in the house on New Year's Eve."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes as you took the bowl from him. "You went door-to-door looking for grapes?"

"Course I did," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Couldn't let you break your tradition, could I?"

The countdown started, people shouting in unison. "TEN! NINE!"

You quickly counted the grapes - exactly twelve.

"EIGHT! SEVEN!"

Harry pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"

You readied your first grape, heart full of love for the man beside you.

"THREE! TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

As cheers erupted around you, you started eating the grapes, one by one, just as you had every year since childhood. Harry watched you with amused affection, waiting patiently for you to finish before pulling you in for your New Year's kiss.

"Happy New Year, love," he murmured against your lips.

"Happy New Year," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thank you for this. For understanding how much it meant to me."

He smiled, that soft, private smile that was reserved just for you. "Your traditions are important to me because they're important to you. Even if it means running around the neighborhood at midnight looking for grapes."

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. "I think this might be my favorite New Year's tradition yet."

"What, the grapes or the kiss?"

"Both," you decided. "Definitely both."

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.