#he looks so alive and healthy!
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roo-brr · 1 year ago
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HES SUCH A PRETTY BOY
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COMPARISON PIC I STOLE off twitter
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I SAID I MISSED HIM AND I'VE GOT HIM BACK BUT AT WHAT COST
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MY BABY 😭😭😭😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
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superbat-lmao · 3 months ago
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A Jayroy fic where Jade drops off baby Lian and they just.. retire.
There’s a really difficult conversation they have about dating and raising a kid and vigilante work and they decide screw it. It’s not safe to raise a kid around.
And by retire, I mean they disappear. Go to ground.
(Talia knows what it is to want the best for your child even if they have different opinions on what best is. She gets them off the grid and funded in some sort of suburban hellscape that takes the both of them a while to adjust to. They say they have a deep space mission and just, don’t come back.)
Roy works in a rehab clinic and Jason gets a degree in Literature. He becomes a professor at a small college, taking on graduate students and falling into academia.
They go to therapy, the make friends with other parents, they become normal people. And they have an insane security system for their house, and AI that scrapes cameras of their faces, and a modified basement that Roy compares to the Batcave exactly once that has a gym and space to work on equipment and a method of escape should it be necessary to uproot their lives again.
Because they want to be civilians, but that doesn’t mean that if their past lives come knocking, they’ll be caught unaware and too out of the game to defend themselves. In fact, because they don’t go on patrol, they’re at peak performance at all times and rarely injured more than a sprained wrist or paper cut. Gone are the days of concussions, GSWs, and stab wounds.
The superhero community doesn’t know what to do, what to think. Because all of their resources are expended elsewhere. And because space is a big place, and trying to find two humans in its vastness is an exercise in futility.
So Lian grows up normally. She’s a girl whose parents love her. And her problems are ordinary, like homework and sleepovers and playing soccer.
And when she’s in middle school, the same age as Roy and Jason were when they started superhero training, they tell her about their past lives. About the danger it will bring if they’re found. Because they promised never to lie to her, and to never let her get wrapped up in the vigilante scene.
They’re well adjusted people raising a normal daughter.
And they explain to Lian that they came from very large and complicated families. Families that did dangerous work, work that put anyone who knew about it at risk. And that Lian was a baby, and that all of that risk of their jobs, was not worth her life. That they loved her more than their families, their jobs, their previous lives. But that it meant they could be discovered, and that those old lives would be dragged back up again and she could get hurt.
Lian thinks of it like witness protection.
So Lian memorizes code names and pictures of people that may try and approach her. She learns the differences between friendlies and uglies. Between ex-family, and rogues. And she doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t look into things when her parents ask her not to. Because she trusts them to protect her. She trusts them like a well adjusted young girl who could very well ask her parents for more information, but doesn’t care about the answers because she trusts they’re not important. That it doesn’t change how much they love her or what their lives are.
There are a couple of versions of this:
1. Jason, Roy and Lian live out their lives happily and away from their families. They are never again vigilantes or found out by them.
A) Alfred dies and that is the only thing that almost breaks Jason, that he didn’t get to see the man again before he died.
2. The Bats track them down, ask them what they hell they were thinking, that they thought they were dead. To come home, be part of the family again. They’re told no - and the three of them disappear again to somewhere they’ll never be found.
3. Alfred finds them, says nothing to anyone and once a year, on Lian’s birthday, goes to visit. None of the Bats ever figure it out.
4. Alfred knows where they’re going from the beginning, he keeps them updated on their families and helps hide them from everyone. He never once tells a soul that Jason and Roy are alive. He is allowed to visit Lian sometimes and they are all happier for it.
A) When Alfred gets old enough, he tells Bruce he will be retiring. He asks that he is not followed, that no one from the super hero community is allowed to keep tabs on him. He tells him he’s sorry, but that it has to be this way. Alfred goes and lives the end of his life with Jason, they speak about literature every day, about Alfred’s parents about anything he wants to. Jason buries Alfred in England and Bruce Wayne gets an unmarked alert to its location.
5. The Bats find them, and never approach them. Each Bat basically figures out that Jason is alive, doesn’t say anything to the rest of the family, and keeps tabs on him and Roy. Once they realize that Lian exists, none of them ever breach that level of trust, even as they all grow into old age and move on with their lives.
6. Bruce finds them.
A) He waits for Jason in a cafe, watches him realize who he is and turn to look at the Roy Harper, who nods once and walks away. Jason approaches him and sits down. He asks how he found them. Bruce doesn’t say anything, just looks at his son, alive, seemingly happy. Tells him it was an accident, he had genuinely still thought they were in space, maybe dead, until someone plagiarized Jason’s work, submitted it through a Wayne Enterprises competition of some sort, and it flagged the system. It had been entirely work related, pure coincidence. No capes.
B) And Jason laughs and it’s lighter than Bruce has heard it in years. Jason asks how much Bruce knows about him now, how much intel he gathered before approaching him. Bruce says he knows about their marriage, their daughter, their jobs and habits. Jason nods and he’s smiling. Bruce doesn’t know what to do. He had checked the area, and there were no reports of anything approaching vigilantism, no anonymous casework, no decrease in crime, nothing to suggest the presence of the Red Hood and Arsenal. He hasn’t spoken to Jason outside of business in years, isn’t sure he knows how to anymore. And he looks happy, he’s alive, he’s a civilian.
C) He wants to ask him everything, ask him to come home, wants to know the man his son became. He asks Jason why. Why they disappeared. And Jason is still smiling and it’s honest and Bruce can’t stand to look at him and can’t help it either. So Jason tells him that they will never let their daughter into vigilantism. That they quit, and needed it to be absolute. That he and Roy couldn’t do this halfway, that if they loved their daughter they had to do only what was best for her, and that meant burning their old lives entirely, becoming civilians.
D) Their lives had been too complicated, too many people, too much history. So many ways for things to go badly, to leave Lian without parents or get her killed as leverage against them. And for as much as he and Roy had cared about the people in their lives, couldn’t stop caring about them, they knew that they would just drag Lian into all of the emotional problems that come with being a vigilante. That it wasn’t healthy, for any of them. That trying to do so would kill them. So they disappeared. And Bruce thinks of the pain he and his family had gone through over Jason, wondering how he was doing, if he was dead, hearing nothing and trying not to let it eat at them. But right now, his son is in front of him smiling, something he can’t seem to stop doing. Something Bruce never thought he’d see again.
E) And he has a son in law, a granddaughter. His son has a family, one he built himself. He looks healthy, he’s not closed off, he’s more open than Bruce thinks he’s ever seen him. It’s jarring, like Bruce is wrong footed. He doesn’t know what to say. Wants to tell him about everything that’s happened, to his brothers to their family, to Gotham and old contacts. Wants him back in the loop. Wants to ask about their lives, and college, and his wedding and his daughter. Bruce wants to know all of it. And he wants to know how he did it, how he hid himself so well in plain view.
F) And the detective in him will always prioritize the how over everything else. He wouldn’t be Bruce if he didn’t. So Bruce asks how. And Jason laughs, says he’s not going to tell him.
G) You know I can’t tell you that, old man.
H) He can’t let it go, Bruce can never let anything go, that’s his burden to bear. He tries to push old buttons, doesn’t notice he’s doing it. But Jason won’t stop smiling, won’t switch from civilian to vigilante. There is no trace of anger, of the Red Hood. He doesn’t look surprised and Bruce’s arguments, about flaws in his code, software, he’s just smiling. Won’t rise to the bait. And for once, Bruce has a feeling he’s only felt around Clark. A feeling of being outmatched. Jason knows all of his buttons, isn’t pushing a damn one. Isn’t letting Bruce push his either. It’s not even a stalemate. Bruce has no openings.
I) He starts telling him about his brothers, about missions and life developments. He tries to tell Jason everything. And Jason listens, hears everything he has to say. And Bruce asks him about himself, his life, his husband, his daughter. And he hears about NA and AA meetings, about therapy and raising an infant, and being a professor and his students about their friends and neighbors, about Lian’s friends at school. All of it. Except the how. And at some point, it’s been a couple of hours, but not very long at all, Jason gets a text. He doesn’t look at his phone. And Bruce knows that whatever spell had been cast over the cafe, whatever bubble of another universe he had crossed into, he was about to watch it close. Implode on itself with only him inside. Because Jason was about to leave. All of it, the cafe, the conversation, the smiling and the laughter, it was the one distraction that Bruce was liable to. And Jason has him right where he wanted him. It was something that wouldn’t work twice, and they both knew it.
J) And Jason says, I can’t stop you from telling anyone. I can’t stop any of you from looking for us, but this was the third life of mine that you ended. Of the two of us, I would go to greater lengths to protect my daughter. I am asking you not to make me do something you’ll regret. I am asking you not to look for us, not to tell anyone, not to put it in a report. I did not want to hurt you, any of you. And you have made that unavoidable. I know you, Bruce, and I have spent time healing from everything I’ve been through. I cannot allow you to pull me back into it, to pull the three of us back into your world. I know that this conversation won’t stop you, now that you know. So I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have to say this. I know who you are, who all of you are. It was never a question before, that I would keep your secrets. If you look for us, I will go public. It’s not just your life I’ll be placing at risk, it will be the entire league. I will burn every bridge, every alias. I have redundancies in place, you send a super my way you better be sure to send them all. You better be sure you’ve caught all my backups, all of Roy’s backups, everything. We have avoided you for years without triggering any of your, or the league’s, systems. I can’t predict another accident, but if you know what is best for you and everything you’ve built, you will prevent even that from happening. Do not force my hand.
K) Bruce stands, trying to memorize his son’s face. And then Jason is gone. Disappearing down a street and out of sight. And Roy is waiting for him, their house had been cleared of all traces, Talia has new lives set up for them and Lian is asleep in the backseat.
L) Their lives are busy for the next few weeks, traveling and covering their tracks and looking for new methods of being traced. And they change their names, change their lives, are prepared for the upheaval of being new people again. This time, it sticks. They watch Lian graduate school, college, get married, have children of her own. And the media is inescapable - they learn very little about their old families lives, but not nothing. There are funerals and weddings and probably so much more in private, things they will never know, never be part of again. And then they’re just old and together. Their grandkids visit, Lian visits, life is good and long and they are happy.
• Or, it sticks until one day, a spell is cast in Gotham and he’s standing on a rooftop, no mask, identity on full display, surrounded by other vigilantes in mixed states of gear and civilian status. Some being or other from another universe required all hands on deck in this universe and had used a spell to summon them all here.
• Jason spotted Roy appearing near him on the rooftop, both of them stunned. No one had noticed them yet, but their moment of indecisiveness and a moment of pure awareness on the Batfam’s part, meant there would be an inescapable confrontation. Batman seemed to notice them first and looked to Jason, who shook his head. It appeared Batman was trying to talk to the person who had summoned them all here, to argue they should be sent back or ask if it was possible.
• Jason moved himself and Roy towards Batman, doing their best to avoid looking at any of the other vigilantes at all, including but especially family. They walked into a tense conversation.
• You must send them back, they are civilians.
• Batman, you of all people understand the threat we are up against, if the spell believes they are necessary to combat X then they were brought here.
• I understand perfectly well, I am telling you to send them back. Having them here is a security risk, not during the fight, but after. This is not your universe, things are different in ways you can’t know of, this is one of those circumstances.
• Jason and Roy approach, Roy tapping his shoulder in a way that means he’ll follow his lead.
• He announces, You are in violation of the Hempstead agreement. You have one hour to return us to our previous location before we are a security risk.
• They can hear intakes of breath around them, some of the arrow clan and bat clan have approached, uncertain of what exactly is happening, but not comforted by the fact that Batman seems to understand the situation without telling any of them. The argument continues, Jason standing just behind Roy, separating him from the group slowly forming around them, people pushing their way to the center to see their son or brother again. Their friends.
• A decision is reached, It will take me 10 minutes to establish a connection strong enough to send them both through. Do not interrupt me while I prepare, follow me.
• And Jason and Roy are walking away, backs turned to their families. To their friends. There are shouts behind them, their names, other things they choose not to hear. It is all held at bay by Batman.
• They are speaking with the universe hopper, giving him a location to send them while clearly stating that he is not to give out that location to any of the vigilantes here, that violation of these terms will risk the hero community at large. The closer it gets to the ten minute mark, the more the riot behind them frays between silent understanding and desperation. Neither of them turns around, they can’t allow themselves to look. It is excruciating.
• Roy looks Jason in the eye and neither of them are fully able to stand it, but the fact that they’re not alone has to be enough. Jason can see the itch start, the overwhelming feeling that can’t be tolerated, the one that motivates people to seek out something that will just stop. He reaches out his hand, taps it against Roy’s and is met with one of the worst smiles he’s ever seen. It threatens to bring Jason to his knees, but Roy threads their hands together. The portal opens before them and without turning around, they step through.
• There is a shared panic attack, a moment of grief and regret where both of them realize just how greatly they hurt all of the people they used to care about. They break apart together and rebuild each other enough to pick up Lian from school and begin the process of torching their home. Whatever fight they had been summoned for had not happened yet, so they had a larger lead time than they had when Bruce had stumbled across them. But now, the entire hero community, many more points of being able to be convinced, was now aware they were both alive and on Earth.
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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year ago
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of ten’s companions, if the doctor couldn’t handle losing them and crossed his own timeline to trick them into traveling with future!him instead of past!him so that he’d have a little more time with them:
rose would do it. first because bless her but she has the situational awareness of a rock, and legitimately would not realize this isn’t her doctor until his facade starts to break down and he starts bleeding grief-laced love for her at every turn. but once she does realize it, she’s both deeply sympathetic and a little scared that she could make him into this. it’s a lot to be confronted with having that much power over someone, to break them so thoroughly. rose would try to get back to her doctor, but while she’s with the future version, she tries to do what she can to ease his pain. (she also tries to figure out a way to subvert her fate. she fails.)
i think martha would be harder to trick. she can smell desperation on the doctor like a bloodhound. she is so tapped into the fact that this man wants to off himself so bad and that she’s 90% of his self-restraint, so present her with a doctor who is lacking that and she’s onto him immediately. however, assuming he gets her to come with him, explains why he’s doing this, there’s like. a minute where she’s kind of. not flattered exactly, but surprised, giddy with the realization that he’d come back for a little more time with her, especially if this is early season 3 martha. which would all come crashing down around the time that he reveals that he wasn’t pushed to this by losing her to some tragedy or her death or anything- but that she chose to leave. that is the point at which martha goes ‘oh i need to get the fuck off of this tardis right now’ and ghosts the past!doctor that she was also traveling with because holy shit, man.
donna, like rose, is easily bamboozled into following the wrong doctor home, provided that he shuffles her along into his tardis too fast for her to argue. but she catches on far quicker than rose does. like, three minutes tops of watching the doctor move through the tardis in a way that’s definitely not enthusiastic piloting and looks more like guilty panic. and then she yells at him for lying to her. and she yells at him for kidnapping her. and then she stops yelling because he’s gone sort of still and quiet and his eyes are just broken. and he doesn’t explain himself, he confesses. donna is going to try to stay with him after this btw. because how do you go back to looking your best friend in the eyes when you know he’d take everything you’ve become away from you, even to save your life? and this is still the doctor, he still did that to her, but he regrets it. regrets it so much that he can’t live with it, he’s breaking time and space just to hear her say his name again. and donna doesn’t want to lose him anymore than he wanted to lose her.
#i am so enthralled by this concept you have no idea#also like. i mentioned in rose’s section how this is a genuinely scary situation for her.#but to be clear. it is for all three of them the moment they realize that this Is Not Their Doctor#because theyre suddenly on a ship going through time ans space with. almost a stranger. and one who has proven that he’s break laws#fundamental to his worldview rather than let them go#doctor who#rose tyler#martha jones#martha girl get the fuck out of there oh my god#the doctor comes out looking the worst in her section rip to him for not handling her leaving him in a normal and healthy way very well#i think it would be very funny if the doctor said goodbye to her and then immediately went. ‘oh! right! martha is the only thing keeping me#from jumping off a cliff! brb i need to get martha back at whatever cost!’ sir go to therapy#donna noble#also also to be clear im not trying to insult rose in her section thats just how she is#remember that time her boyfriend turned into plastic in front of her and she. didnt notice. or that time the doctor was being strangled in#the other room and she. didnt notice.#rose tyler girl that you are. you never know what the fuck is going on around you and i love you for that. how are you still alive.#REMEMBER THAT TIME SHE GOT BACK FROM AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION AND DIDNT EVEN NOTICE THE DALEK ABOUT TO SHOOT THE DOCTOR IN THE FACE#ROSE TYLER. GIRL. LOOK LEFT AND RIGHT BEFORE CROSSING A STREET AT LEAST#donna’s here is the most fucked up i think because even if this situation is ‘resolved’ and she goes back to her doctor like. how does she#keep going with that fact in the back of her mind at all times. that he can and will do this to her. that he’ll take himself and everything#else away from her while she begs him not to.#angst <3
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autoauthor · 1 month ago
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Story Idea
Okay so, this one I've put a lot of thought into so I'm gonna put a lot under the read-more in case anyone's willing to actually wait for it to be written up.
So, the premise is that the Senju are a clan of monster hunters in the modern day. They deal with ghosts and cryptids and the like but the most dangerous are demons. Tobirama is one of their best field agents. However, after his fiancé was tragically killed by a demon, he blamed himself and began taking missions like he had nothing more to lose.
If you've been paying attention, you can probably guess that that fiance was Izuna.
Actually, before Izuna died, Tobirama had planned to stop taking such long and/or dangerous missions so the two of them could build a life together. He was going to step back into more of a mentor role.
He really only has one goal in his life now. To kill - not banish - the demon that killed his fiancé and finally set his soul to rest.
Read more if you don't care about *spoilers*
So, Tobirama hears about some sketchy stuff going on around his would-be brother-in-law and goes on what should be a rather minor mission.
Or it would be, if the culprit weren't a demon wearing the face of his former lover.
Of course, he does not take this well and attacks - only for it to be revealed that the demon is in fact Izuna. Madara somehow managed to summon his now demonic soul.
This version of Izuna does not remember anything about his life. Reminders such as his name, engagement ring, etc cause him physical pain. He wants to hurt but also wants to be near Tobirama instinctively. But he also realizes as a fledgling demon he's wildly outclassed so heès afraid of him too.
Tobirama, logically, should banish Izuna back to the demon realm. At the very least he should bind Izuna under his command so that he has control over him. He does not do that.
Instead he makes a subservient contract like the one Madara has. He also lies to his brother and the Senju about the situation.
EVEN MORE SPOILERY (BE WARNED)
So Izuna's death was a conspiracy of the Senju elders who wanted to keep Tobirama under their thumb. Izuna leaned this before his death so a huge motivation for his demon is an intense hatred towards the Senju. But he has no memory of why.
Tobirama and Madara take it to mean he did blame Tobirama for his death.
#Anyways Izuna has taken the identity of a distant relative presumed dead 'sasuke'#Him and his immediate family died in a housefire and he looks enough like izuna that it's a great cover (I'm sure this won't be relevant)#Hikaku thinks 'Sasuke' is taking advantage of Madara's mourning and is generally distrustful#but even if he still seems not all there it's still better than he was before#There's a flashback scene where Tobirama's holding Izuna#who's only being kept alive by the demon who'd tortured him#and he offers himself in exchange for Izuna's soul/life/freedom#and izuna's like: ':) don't worry you'll be okay'#when the demon gives them the opportunity to say goodbye#and then he turns around and kills the demon with tobirama's blade#leading them both to be dragged to hell#no Tobirama was NOT okay#Madara gets plagued with horrible nightmares fatigue and mood swings thanks to the demonic contract#he also has to do everything he commands#luckily Izuna's a newbie demon and has no idea what to do with a thrall#his 'real form' is actually a small weasel like creature with eight wings seven eyes scales etc#again he has no idea why he's so comfortable in this 'human skin'#Are Tobirama and Madara going to do wildly unethical things to keep 'Izuna' happy and healthy#yes ofc#tobiizu#fanfic idea#the demon who killed izuna's probably zetsu so good luck Tobirama 👍#nobody better try pulling the 'izuna wouldn't want this' card#the only thing he'd steadfastly disapprove of is tobirama and madara getting hurt/being put at risk
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asmodeusamaryllis · 5 months ago
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MARIA HAS A SISTER?!??
#After over 2 decade this is now added information on her family#That so depressing that her family basically replaced her with the new healthy child#Cannot tell if in hindsight they would have done that if Maria was w them n still lived w them they would have neglected her#Or if she died the new child would have immediately been her replacement of what could have been#But there no way to tell since Gerald was the one to take her n keep her despite her family going like 'either cure her or give her back'#Omg what a shitty situation for a child to be in#N it also understandable why every other family that wasnt Maria n grandpa would not look fondly at her#Since it seems like Gerald was obsessed w her especially after finding out her illness#I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up ignoring everybody that wasn't her in family wise#N why he was so hell bent on hoping shadow would be her friend then when finding out she died he crashed out#UFG#the ark story will always be a top in term of seriousness in the silly ways of the characters#Oml#I WOULD HAVE OBESS W THIS AS A CHILD TBH#I HAD AN OC (as a child) THAT WAS LIKE GIVING MARIA A YOUNGER SIS N NOW THAT CANON??#Insane oml#N she should be alive too? Given it 50+#Oh Maria robotnik the tragedy that u r#Idk if I'm the biggest fan of expanding stuff on a preorder item so that it not as accessible#Or the fact Maria family has been expanded but we will never know of them but whatever ig that a more me thing#Not liking characters having relatives n then never knowing what they look like
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rosentraume · 2 years ago
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why does he look so cute here tho.. silly even…
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aria0fgold · 2 months ago
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Ever since I Somewhat figured out part of the story with Alec's parents, I just love putting his mom in Situations in AUs where Alec and Ray is separated or different species but Seph's family is still human or with Ray. Like, Alec mermaid AU where Mermaid Alec's upper body looking more human like and also him knowing a lot about the human world is cuz of the fact that his mom is a human who pulled a merman after running away from home.
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cleolinda · 10 months ago
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AITA for banning my husband and father in law from the delivery room due to their intensely stressful/creepy behavior during my pregnancy?
There’s a famous Reddit post from 2020 where a pregnant woman wrote that her husband and father-in-law were a little too comfortable with their certainty that she was absolutely going to die in childbirth just like her husband’s late mother. It was to the point where her FIL was insisting that she go ahead and put all her clothes into storage, because she was obviously going to die in the hospital and it would save them the grief of packing up her things afterwards. Like. It was WILD.
When I tell my husband [that she feels suspicious of her FIL], he calls me paranoid, but I feel like my FIL WANTS me to die; his whole life identity for the past 35 years has been “amazing single dad” (never dated or had close friends or even hobbies really), and it seems like he’s looking forward to being able to guide my husband through what he went through. At this point, I’d honestly be happy to never see my FIL again, and I certainly don’t want him in the delivery room, especially since he told me he was “putting [his] foot down” about me not being “allowed” to have an epidural…. My husband, in addition to backing his dad on everything, acts like my due date is my death date, and has completely pulled away from me.
The commenters (and me, honestly) were convinced that the husband and FIL were either going to kill her outright to fulfill this expectation, or just make decisions about her care that might conveniently let her die.
And then she never posted again.
Over the last four years, people have frequently mentioned that post, always leading to a thread of people saying, “Oh god, I still worry about that woman.” I did too. It became one of those famous unresolved posts that people always wondered about.
Until yesterday, when someone on r/BestOfRedditorUpdates dug up a 2022 update she had posted on a different account:
TLDR; I had a beautiful and healthy baby girl, and I divorced my ex-husband. I lived, obviously.
She writes that she put her foot down about having her own mother in the delivery room rather than her FIL (!), and she WOULD be getting an epidural. Her husband lost his shit. And in his outburst, he let slip--
I admittedly lost my temper, and told him that I wasn’t going to die- it wasn’t my fault his father’s trauma wormed it’s way into his head, and that he needed to fix it without taking it out on me. He yelled at me that he didn’t need therapy. That caught me a little off guard; I asked him why he went to his therapist and was given advice about my death if he felt he didn’t need it. His expression gave it away, and he caved not long after. It turns out there was no therapist. It was just his dad. During the times he was supposed to be at therapy, he was with his dad. I’m still fuming.
And that was when she got the fuck out.
I’ll wrap this up- I’ve got an adorable little toddler tugging at my leg atm. I’m alive, I’m happy, and I’ve got my baby in my arms. Life is good.
I truly never thought we'd see a resolution to this, and I feel like there's probably a good number of people who remember it, so I thought you might want to know.
ETA: Brilliantly, I put the link in at the top; here it is again for convenience.
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adulthumanproblem · 8 months ago
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Hm
So there's this middle aged YouTuber
He had a bit of a gut. Years ago, he went on a diet and lost weight "for his health"
And is still keeping it off, meaning consistently starving himself
A few years after losing weight he had to go in for heart surgery
Bro. You harmed your organs with your starvation
Diet culture kills
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hotvampireadjacent · 9 months ago
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Racism is alive and well in America
This Juneteenth as we celebrate and reflect on the progress we've made and look to what we can do to improve equal rights for black folks I want to bring attention to an issue far too closet to my heart- environmental racism.
I had a friend who died, far too young. It's been many years so newer tumblr users won't know him. His name was james and he was a popular tumblr user when he was alive @kumagawa . I idolized him like an older brother, and still do. He lived in Flint, Michigan. He was around 27 when he died. He was a healthy man, other than the fact he lived with dirty water in Flint, Michigan.
I'll never fucking forgive the US government for killing my friend, my brother. Why did James die? Because Flint, Michigan is 56% Black. Because it would be expensive to fix the lead pipes that gave my friend lead poisoning and killed him.
As of April 24,2024 the city of Flint, Michigan still hasn't replaced all the lead pipes that are poisoning the people living there.
https://www.aclumich.org/en/press-releases/residents-still-waiting-city-flint-replace-all-lead-pipes-10-year-anniversary-water
If you can help, give money to Mari Copeny's go fund me.
Mari Copeny, better known as Little miss Flint, is now 16 years old and over the past few years has raised nearly a million dollars for her community.
She has a website to links for other ways to support the community
Please reblog this post if you can't give any money... It would mean the world to me if I could use my friend's memory to help promote environmental racism and the issues still facing his community today.
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mononijikayu · 3 months ago
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i saw mommy kissing santa claus — fushiguro toji
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“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.” You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face. “Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?” You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—" “Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 
GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;
WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, christmas day, santa, parenthood, pet names (babe, love, etc), love, humor, light-hearted, domestic life, slice of life, being in love, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, toddler, family, late night sex, kissing, p-i-v sex, profanity, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;
WORD COUNT: 7k words
NOTE: toji seems to me like the type who would have been so good at teasing mamaguro??? like he would definitely be the person that would also wear a santa claus costume just to put megumi's gifts on the tree and then know that megumi would be watching??? anyway i love their tiny family i am so floored every time i write about them. anyway merry fushiguro christmas!!! i love you all <3
box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)
main masterlist
if you want to, tip! <3
YOU ALWAYS ADORED CHRISTMAS. Even as a child, the magic of the holiday season was something your mother and father made sure to bring alive for you.
They worked tirelessly to fill each moment with joy, whether it was the way the house glowed with lights or how the scent of fresh-baked cookies lingered in the air. 
Your favorite memories were wrapped in those small, meaningful traditions—sipping hot chocolate while the snow fell softly outside, unwrapping presents by the fire, and gathering together to share stories and laughter. It wasn’t about the gifts or the grandeur, but the warmth of family and the sense of belonging.
Now that you had a family of your own, you were determined to recreate that magic, to pass down those same feelings of joy and love to the people you held closest to your heart. Fushiguro Toji wasn’t raised with those kinds of traditions. 
For him, the holidays were often just another day. Especially when he lived with his family and even after that. There was no desire for a fuss, no fanfare. But when it came to you, he was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone.
Toji might not have admitted it outright, but seeing how much the holidays meant to you made it easy for him to get involved. Whether it was wrestling with tangled strings of lights or holding your hand while you browsed for the perfect tree, he found himself drawn into the excitement. It was a quiet kind of joy for him, watching your face light up with happiness as you brought the season to life.
When your beloved Megumi came along, the holidays became even more special. Toji was quick to embrace his role, even if it meant helping you with putting out the tree or helping to bake cookies that somehow ended up burnt half the time.
He didn’t care if it was messy or chaotic—seeing the laughter, the wide-eyed wonder, and the unfiltered happiness of his family made every effort worth it.
What surprised him most was how much he’s slowly come to love those traditions, too. They weren’t just holidays anymore; they were the foundation of memories he never knew he needed.
He started to look forward to the little things, like staying up late with you to wrap presents or watching Megumi to try to stay awake for Santa, only to fall asleep halfway through their schemes.
Each holiday became another chance to build something new together, a season filled with traditions that were uniquely yours. Toji might have started off doing it for you, but somewhere along the way, he realized he was doing it for himself, too.
After all, your beautiful family meant everything to him, it’s now his safe zone—and these moments were proof that he finally had one worth celebrating.
So on this bright Christmas morning, your comely house was tenderly wrapped in a soft, magical stillness. The gentle hum of the house’s heater and the occasional crackle from the fireplace your husband had set up added to the warmth of the room. 
The Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights, their reflections dancing on the ornaments and the neatly wrapped presents beneath. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Young and bright four year old Fushiguro Megumi shuffled into the living room, his favorite blanket dragging behind him like a cape. His small, sleepy frame was bundled in his fuzzy pajamas, the ones with tiny snowflakes printed all over. 
His dark charcoal hair was a tousled mess, sticking out in every direction as if he’d been wrestling with his dreams. He paused near the doorway, rubbing his blue–green eyes, and blinked at the cozy scene before him.
There you were, curled up on the couch with Toji, both of you cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Toji was dressed in his usual casual sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other holding his mug. He looked relaxed, his sharp green eyes softened with a rare, unguarded warmth. 
You were tucked into his side, your legs curled beneath you, wearing an oversized Christmas special cardigan and your fuzzy faux fur slippers.
The two of you shared a quiet moment, sipping the coffee your husband brewed and exchanging conversation and content smiles as the early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains.
Megumi's sleepy gaze lit up as he took in the sight of the tree, its glowing lights illuminating the pile of presents waiting for him. His little mouth opened in a gasp, and he looked at the two of you with wide, sparkling blue–green orbs.
“It’s Christmas!” he announced, his voice still tinged with the rasp of sleep but filled with excitement. “It’s Christmas morning!”
You smiled, setting your mug on the coffee table and opening your arms to him. “Good morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He toddled over, crawling onto the couch and nestling between you and Toji. Toji chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s messy hair affectionately. “Morning, kid. Looks like Santa came through for you this time around, huh?”
Megumi nodded eagerly, his blue–green eyes darting back to the presents under the tree. “Can I open them now?” he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.
“Not even a good morning first?” Toji teased, arching an eyebrow. But the playful tone in his voice made Megumi giggle. “Too excited, you are.”
“Good morning, Dad.” Megumi said, grinning as he leaned against you. “Good morning, Mom.”
Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his excitement so pure and unfiltered. You kissed the top of his little head, wrapping an arm around him as Toji stood and stretched, walking over to grab the digital camera.
“All right.” Toji said with a smirk, motioning to the tree. “Let’s see what Santa left for you, kid.”
With a delighted squeal, Fushiguro Megumi scrambled off the couch and ran toward the presents, his blanket forgotten on the floor in his excitement.
You and Toji shared a tender glance, his usual smirk softening into a genuine, warm smile. You shake your head, looking at him with much contentment.
He walked back to you, settling beside you on the couch and slipping his hand into yours. His touch was steady, grounding, as the two of you watched Megumi dive headfirst into the pile of gifts.
His bright laughter filled the room, bright and melodic, blending perfectly with the soft crackle of the fireplace.
For a moment, everything was perfect—pure joy radiating from your son as he examined each box like it was a priceless treasure. Then, Megumi suddenly paused, his small frame still in the middle of the living room. 
He turned slowly to face you both, his expression shifting into something unusually serious, his little brows furrowing in a way that was far too mature for his age. When he wasn’t smiling, you were sure your son was quite a young old man in that tiny body. 
You blinked, puzzled, as Toji sat up straighter, his grip on your hand loosening. Before either of you could ask what was wrong, Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, his blanket forgotten entirely now, and declared with absolute certainty:
“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.”
You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face.
“Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?”
You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—"
“Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 
His little pout was so serious it almost made you laugh. You tried to hold your composure, his cute little glare gleaming at you with the most adorable aggression. He looked too much like Toji when he was like this. And that had made you even more adoring of him in this way.
Toji’s chuckle deepened as he leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. “Cookies and milk are standard, kid.” he said, shrugging casually. “But Santa? He’s a special guest. Sometimes he deserves a little extra appreciation.”
Megumi tilted his head, his little face scrunching in thought. “Like a hug?” he asked, glancing back at the presents under the tree, though his curiosity still lingered.
“Sure, sure.” Toji said, smirking as he threw a glance your way. “Or something like that.”
You nudged him with your elbow, your cheeks heating up again. “Toji, that’s not something you should be jumping into.” you whispered under your breath, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused.
Toji just grinned and leaned in closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “What? I didn’t even mention the mistletoe.” His tone was full of playful mischief, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. 
“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice broke through, his tiny hands clutching a brightly wrapped box as he looked up at you both. “Can I open this one first?”
You gave a soft laugh, glad for the distraction. “Of course, sweetheart.” you said, smiling warmly at him.
Toji reached over, ruffling Megumi’s hair again as the boy plopped down in front of the tree. “Go for it, kid. Let’s see what Santa left you.”
“Hmm. Okay.” he finally muttered, turning his attention to the colorful boxes waiting for him.
Megumi’s attention shifted entirely to the gift in his hands, his little fingers working furiously to tear the wrapping paper. You let out a breath, glancing at Toji, who was still watching you with that infuriatingly smug look.  His hands wrapped against your shoulders. 
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kissing Santa, huh, babe?” he teased, leaning in close. “Got any more Christmas spirit for me?”
Your face burned as you playfully shoved him, your smile betraying you. “Shut up, Toji.” you whispered, though the giggle that escaped ruined the effect.
“Guess Santa’s the lucky one this year, don’t you think?” he murmured.
You bit your lip, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah, yeah.” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer as he looked at you. “But you love me anyway.”
“Merry Christmas, babe.” Toji murmured, stealing a quick kiss.
“Merry Christmas, love.” you whispered back, heart full and cheeks still warm.
══════════════════
TOJI SAID HE PLANNED EVERYTHING. And knowing how much you trusted your husband, you do believe him. He hasn’t ever failed you before, after all. Your husband wasn’t going to fail you now either. He said he’s going to make it happen and he will. 
The night before Christmas was serene, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of branches as the tree swayed slightly under the weight of its ornaments. 
The vibrant living room glowed softly, bathed in the colorful twinkle of Christmas lights that reflected off the shiny ribbons and bows of some of the presents you had already wrapped and bought for Megumi and each other. All Toji has to do now is add the other ones you bought for Megumi.
You had just finished cleaning up after dinner, your feet padding lightly across the wooden floor as you straighten a few stray decorations. A hum of curiosity pulled you toward the living room, and when you peeked around the corner, you couldn’t hold back a small smile from appearing on your pinkish lips.
There he was— Fushiguro Toji, crouched by the tree, fully dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The red fabric clung to his massively broad frame, the white trim looking comically out of place against his rugged demeanor. 
The bright red hat was askew on his head, barely covering his wild, dark hair, and the sight of him muttering multiple times under his breath while adjusting a precariously balanced present was nothing short of endearing.
“Damn this tree’s too small.” Toji grumbled, carefully shoving a particularly large box further under the branches. “How the hell does Santa Claus even do this without knocking everything over? Like, this is just an insane operation for a break in. Mission impossible even!”
You stifled a laugh, leaning against the doorway as you crossed your arms. “You’re really committing to this Santa Claus thing, huh?”
Toji glanced up sharply, his green eyes narrowing at you in mock irritation before softening into a lopsided smirk. You sighed, smiling as he enjoys taking in the sight of you like this. He has never thought he would ever have something as enjoyable as this life. And he always has you to thank for it.
“Caught me, babe.” he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. “Santa Claus really had to work harder for this. And I gotta commit like he does, babe. I mean, this is harder than it looks, you know.”
You stepped into the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “You’re supposed to look jolly, not grumpy, love. Kids don’t want an angry Santa Claus.”
Toji snorted, tugging at the crooked hat and tossing it onto the couch. “You’re lucky I even agreed to wear this, babe.” he said, gesturing at the suit with a faint grimace. “This thing’s itchy as hell. How the hell did people wear this without having to scratch everywhere? Even my crotch feels itchy.”
You rolled your eyes, walking over to adjust one of the presents he’d just placed. “You’re not exactly selling the magic of Christmas, love.”
He leaned against the arm of the couch, his smirk turning sly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m doing pretty good. The kid’s gonna love it in the morning. He’s going to have fun about Santa bringing in lotsssss of cool presents.”
You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “And what about me? Does Santa Claus have any surprises for me? I mean….I should get gifts too, right?”
Toji’s grin widened as he pushed off the couch and sauntered toward you, his voice dropping to a playful, sensual murmur. “Actually, yeah. Look up, babe.”
Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the tiny sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You looked at him with so much adoration, you couldn’t help it. He just made you feel giddy every single day. 
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
He took another step closer, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe. But I’m also a hardworking Santa Claus. And Santa likes to get paid for his trouble. I’m sure this pretty lady in front of him will ease his troubles.”
You rolled your eyes playfully once more, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Naughty Santa, aren’t you?” you muttered, leaning up just enough to close the gap between you. “What about Mrs. Claus?”
“Don’t have one.” He smiles down at you, his thumb pressing against your lips. “Would you wanna volunteer to be one, pretty woman?”
You laughed aloud at his words. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”
“Well, if you’d let me, then I will.” He grins at you.
“Alright, alright. I’ll let you.”
“Good. Santa’s happy about that.”
“Well, we only want that, don’t we?” You smiled at him.
“Hm, very great for securing your kid a spot on my gift list.”
You giggled at him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous, future Mrs. Claus.” 
You laughed at his words again, which made him very happy. Your husband Toji happily pressed hands forward and found your waist as he met you halfway, his sly lips brushing against yours in a passionate kiss that was far too warm for such a chilly night. 
You pushed deeper, kissing him back, pulling him closer to you. When you finally pulled back to take a breath, his grin was smug as it was shameless, his bright  green eyes gleaming with the endless joy that comes with having you as his beloved. 
“Best payment I’ve ever gotten. By far.” he murmured, his voice soft but smug.
You laughed, swatting at his chest as you stepped away. “Go finish your job, Santa Claus. There’s still a tree that needs all the presents to set up for the good kid.”
He chuckled, watching you with a lingering smile as you walked away. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t think this is over.” he called after you, his tone full of promise.
“I look forward to it, Santa!”
══════════════════
OF COURSE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ABOUT LAST NIGHT. You could still feel your legs sore and your throat full of his pleasurable bites. But that wasn’t important right now, even though, of course it felt really good. Santa was really good with blessings. But that wasn’t the point. 
You could feel your cheeks turn redder and your ears more scarlet. You tried to calm yourself down as you continued to clear out stuff in the kitchen. The cookies were more important. You had guests coming over.
Of course, on the other side of the wall, the living room was alive with Megumi’s excited giggles and the joyful chaos of wrapping paper flying in every direction.  His precious little voice carried as he marveled at each gift, holding up toys and books like treasures. 
You peeked at him from the kitchen, your heart swelling at how happy he was. Your son’s joys were the reason you always worked so hard at the prosecutor’s office. And he was, genuinely, the happiest little boy. And that made everything feel like it paid off.
You were in the middle of arranging cookies on a festive plate when you felt it: a pair of strong arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. The scent of pine and the faintest trace of cologne told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.
“Toji, love.” you started, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “What are you doing?”
“Mmm nothing.” he murmured against your ear, his voice rich and teasing. He grins slowly as he catches a peak of the hickeys from your side, hidden in the cardigan. “Just came to say thank you for, you know... last night.”
Your hands froze, the cookie you were holding slipping onto the counter as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were just trying to forget about it now but the images started to flood your head once more as your husband nibbles against your ear.
“Toji, please.” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the doorway to make sure Megumi was too busy with his presents to overhear. The last thing you need is to traumatize your little son.“Not now.”
But Fushiguro Toji, as always, was undeterred. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. He hums against your skin, bright eyes looking at you with wanton affection.
“What? I’m just saying Santa Claus didn’t just get a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean he enjoyed it really well too—”
You spin your head toward him, your bright eyes wide as you whisper with embarrassment. “Will you stop? Love, our son’s on the other side of the wall and—”
Toji only grinned, his hold on you tightening slightly as he leaned in closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. Santa Claus always deserves a little something extra for working so hard, don’t you think?”
“You sly fox of a husband.” you hissed, swatting at his arm as your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “You are impossible. I swear, Toji.”
He let out a low, rumbling laugh, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed like this, babe.” he teased, nuzzling the side of your neck in a way that made your heart skip. “But I wasn’t lying, you know. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Your heart melted at his words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, love.” you muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as a small smile crept onto your face. “Otherwise, it’d be a different story.”
Toji shifted, leaning back just enough to study your beautiful expressions. His bright green eyes were soft, a rare tenderness shining in them that made your breath catch. The air of joy blossoming in his chest ever so fondly when he looks at you more. 
“Lucky, huh?” he said, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing. “Nah. I’m the luckiest guy every day I wake up to you. Every day, every minute, every second. Every day. For forever. I’m the luckiest guy on earth, babe.”
Your face burned hotter, and you turned back to the cookies to hide your expression from him. You could feel your heart making flips and jumps against the wall of your chest. He’s always so good at making you feel this way. 
You were really going to be overwhelmed for all your life with how much he always makes you feel the universe with his love and tenderness. You were always going to be falling in love with this man over and over again like this. You sighed, admitting defeat to him. 
 “You’re ridiculous, love.” you mumbled, but the warmth blossoming in your chest betrayed your words. “Really….”
He couldn’t help but chuckled again, reaching around you to snag a cookie off the plate. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he lifts it up and you pout at him, knowing you can’t reach it. He snickers at you. You turn back and continue putting away the other cookies.
“That’s why you love me, babe.” Toji said, his voice smooth and teasing as he took another bite of the cookie, his smirk practically glowing with satisfaction. 
Before you could muster a response, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so gentle it made your heart flutter. “Don’t work too hard. Megumi and I are waiting for you, okay? Still got some presents left for us to open.”
You watched him stroll back into the living room, his broad frame relaxed, his laughter already mingling with Megumi’s excited chatter. His voice carried back to you, warm and playful, as he greeted your son again, seamlessly joining him in exploring his new toys. 
The sound of Megumi’s giggles and Toji’s deep chuckles filled the house, creating a melody that could warm even the coldest snowy, winter morning. It was what you wanted to wake up to every single day. It was all you could ever want for all of time.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the counter as a soft smile tugged at your lips. It was uncontrollable, this joy, this love that bubbled up in your chest. This was a love that had a place to go and blossom here in this place, in this family. In this life you have.
Ridiculous, you thought with a shake of your head. Toji was ridiculous. But he was also your, the most precious of men who made even the simplest moments unforgettable, who filled your life with laughter, warmth, and love.
And your precious Megumi. Your sweet, bright boy, was the perfect little light who completed the picture. Everything about life made sense when you met Toji and had Megumi together. Life began when you had this. And you knew he would agree with that sentiment.
You looked out at the scene before you, the two of them sprawled on the floor amid wrapping paper and toys, Megumi pointing animatedly at something as Toji nodded with exaggerated seriousness.
It was so small, so ordinary—and yet it was everything. It meant the world to you. No, you shook your head. It meant the universe to you. And you would never trade this for anything in the world.
You felt it all in that moment: gratitude, contentment, and a profound sense of love. How lucky you were, to have this life, this family. This was your everything. And no matter how many lifetimes you could dream of, you knew there would never be anything more beautiful than this.
“Babe, Megumi wants his mommy!” Toji’s voice called from the living room, pulling you from your thoughts.
You chuckled, pushing off the counter and heading toward the sound of your favorite voices. “Coming, love!”
As you stepped into the living room, Megumi beamed up at you, his hands full of his latest toy, while Toji looked over with a smirk that was both mischievous and affectionate. You settled in beside them, feeling their warmth wrap around you like a hug. 
Life wasn’t just great to live—it was perfect. 
And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
══════════════════
TOJI'S TAKING ALL THE OPPORTUNITIES HE CAN GET. But if you were being honest, so were you. Last night wasn't enough for you to get your fill. When your husband is someone like Toji, how could you?
The house was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the winter wind pressed against the walls.
Megumi had been tucked into bed after a long, laughter-filled Christmas dinner, his tiny snores signaling that he was sound asleep. The evening had been perfect—filled with warmth, love, and memories you’d cherish forever.
Now, it was just the two of you.
Toji leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you pulled off the festive sweater you'd worn all day. His gaze was heavy, but not with exhaustion—it was something else, something that made your skin tingle.
"You finally sitting still for once?" he teased, his voice low, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I was waiting for you to catch up."
That was all the invitation he needed. Toji crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours almost immediately, hungry, but unhurried. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, and for once, it felt like you did.
Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and eventually settling at your hips, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you both grew, sparking like the fire you’d left burning in the living room.
"I’ve been waiting all day for this, babe." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with need.
"Me too." you admitted, your breath hitching as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that made your knees weak.
The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the snow piling up on the windowsill, not the mess of dishes waiting in the kitchen, and certainly not the clock ticking down the last hours of Christmas Day. All that mattered was the way Toji made you feel. You always feel so seen, loved, desired when it comes to your beloved husband.
He guided you toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second. The night was yours, a stolen moment of intimacy in the chaos of life.
And as his lips found yours again, you knew this was the best gift you could have asked for—time together, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms.
Toji’s arm slid right back around your neck, firm yet careful, pulling you closer as his lips claimed yours once more. The way he touched you sent shivers cascading down your spine, every sensation heightened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.
His grip was confident, possessive, and it made your pulse quicken as pleasure rippled through you like a rising tide. Each kiss, each graze of his hands against your skin, ignited something deep within you, leaving no room for anything else but the heat building between you.
He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you melt under his touch, and he didn’t hold back. He never holds back. Not when it was you he has to make love to. Making love to you was his church. It was his patronage. It was his repentance, it was his atonement. It was his salvation. His love for you was his salvation.
“Toji…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of breathlessness and yearning.
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with something raw and unspoken. His thumb brushed gently along your jawline as his other arm stayed firmly around your neck, keeping you grounded in the moment.
“You doin' so good, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.
The way he looked at you, the way he held you. Everything about it was overwhelming in the best way. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as the pleasure coursed through every nerve, building higher with each kiss, each touch, each whispered word.
Time seemed to blur as he continued, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment with you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. This was all there was right now, just the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other.
Toji’s lips trailed down to your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. He knew exactly where to kiss, where to linger, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand caressed your side, sliding over the curves he loved to touch.
The pressure of his arm around your neck wasn’t rough, but good enough to make you feel the tension of his touch against your flesh. Everything about his touch, it was deliberate, possessive, reminding you that he wanted every inch of you, body and soul.
Your hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. The sensations rolled through you like waves, each one stronger than the last, your body responding to his every move. You could feel the heat of him against you, the tension between you building with every touch, every kiss.
“Toji…” you murmured again, your voice trembling with need.
“Hmm?” He didn’t stop, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. “Say it again, babe.” he whispered, his tone dark and teasing, sending a fresh jolt of desire through you.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, and the low chuckle that escaped his lips vibrated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. The sound was rich, deep, and filled with promise, igniting a fire inside you that grew with every passing second.
His lips trailed along your jawline, slow and deliberate, before finding the sensitive curve of your neck. He lingered there, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.
Your body press instinctively closer to him. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your skin, left you trembling, a quiet gasp spilling from your lips.
His hand slid lower, the roughness of his palm contrasting deliciously against your soft skin. His touch was teasing at first, featherlight, exploring, testing your limits.
But then it grew bolder, more certain, as he found the places that made you quiver beneath him. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks shooting through your body, the intensity of it building with each moment.
You arched into him, desperate for more, the ache between you growing unbearable. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden but unstoppable, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him.
He let out another low, satisfied laugh, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured, “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”
The pleasure rolled through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of you until all you could feel was him. It was all his touch, his heat, his weight against you.
The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in this intimate dance, your bodies moving together in perfect, unspoken harmony.
Your skin grew slick with sweat, the heat between you almost unbearable but so, so good. Every movement, every touch, every kiss only pulled you deeper into him, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.
“Toji…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.
He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leaned in close.
“I’ve got you, babe. I got you.” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion.
And with those words, he claimed your lips again, pouring every ounce of his passion into the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, his other still exploring, holding you firmly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.
Toji’s breath hitched as he stilled, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. The heat of your body wrapped tightly around him, the soft, rhythmic flutter of your walls making him groan low in his throat.
It was almost too much for you, how big he was, how whole you feel when he fit you to the hilt. Everything about it the way you felt, the way your body seemed to pulse and cling to him, drawing him deeper into the moment. It all just felt too good.
His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself, trying to hold onto the frayed edges of his control. A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden and primal: Can I even last long with this?
The idea sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t need to move—didn’t need to thrust or grind or do anything but stay right where he was, utterly consumed by the way you felt around him.
The subtle contractions of your body, the way you tightened around him and the way he fluttered tightly against your walls, that was all enough to drive him mad. You were still as you were before, you were paradise in every sense of the word.
“Toji…love....oh—” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and wonder, your nails dragging lightly down his back. The sound of his name on your lips only made it harder for him to hold back.
“Shit, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”
He pressed his forehead harder against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to wrestle with the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans can only grow as he pushed in and out in a more passionate speed.
“I swear… I could come just like this, babe.” he admitted, his voice low and ragged. “The way you’re squeezing me so good, babe… you feel so damn good.”
The confession sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into your hips as if to ground himself. He wanted to move, to chase that inevitable high.
But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the sheer intensity of the moment—didn’t want to lose the way it felt to just be inside you, connected in every way. He still needed to last a little bit more, he wanted this moment to last.
He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “You’re perfect. You know that?” His voice was raw, filled with both reverence and desperation.
And as he stayed there, lost in the heat and intimacy, he wondered if he could ever get enough of this—of you. Every sensation was heightened, every second stretching into eternity, until nothing else existed but him.
The overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. In his arms, you felt completely unraveled, utterly cherished, and entirely his. The world outside faded completely—just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.
Toji’s movements grew more deliberate, his bruised lips finding your own again as he deepened the kiss, his arm around your neck keeping you anchored to him. His tongue wrestling against yours as he tried to thrust deeper inside your mouth, earning a groan from your throat.
The way he held you, the way he touched you—it wasn’t just desire; it was love, raw and unfiltered, pouring into every moment.
Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure he brought you, and you clung to him, lost in the heat of the moment. Toji pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke.
“You’re mine, babe.” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion and promise.
His calloused hand brushing your cheek as his eyes met yours. And in that moment, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than here, with him, wrapped up in the intensity of his love.
"Always." You whispered back to him.
He felt satisfied with that as he pushed deeper into you.
You couldn't speak words anymore by the end of that.
The world was cold from the snowing echoes, but you were warm.
Warm in the pleasure of the husband you loved the most.
══════════════════
epilogue
The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breathing finally steady after what had been a Christmas evening full of all sorts of intimacy and bright warm laughter.
Fushiguro Toji, ever the opportunist, propped himself up on one elbow, the smirk on his face practically devilish as his fingers began tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.
“You know, babe.” he started, his voice low and teasing, “I’m thinking Santa deserves a little overtime bonus for all his hard work tonight.”
You turned your head, arching a brow as you caught the glint in his eye. “Overtime? Didn’t we just finish the main shift? Both last night and tonight?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of energy left, babe.” he murmured, leaning in to nip playfully at your ear. “The question is… do you?”
You opened your mouth to reply, maybe to tease him back, but the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Your eyes darted toward the door, which creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of messy black hair and the outline of a sleepy little boy clutching his favorite stuffed animal.
“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice was tiny, wobbling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I had a nightmare…”
Toji let out a low groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he muttered, “Of course you did, kid. Of course you did.”
“Shush!” you hissed, elbowing him lightly before sitting up and pulling the blanket around yourself. “Come here, sweetheart.” you said softly, patting the edge of the bed.
Megumi shuffled in, his little feet barely making a sound as he climbed up onto the bed and wriggled his way into the space between you and Toji. He immediately buried his face against your side, his stuffed animal squished between the two of you.
“What happened, bud?” you asked, stroking his charcoal hair gently.
“There was a big, scary monster…” Megumi mumbled, his voice muffled against your side. “It chased me, and it almost got me.”
You looked at your husband who sighed back at you. Toji pushed himself up onto one elbow, running a hand through his disheveled hair, looking towards his little son.
“A monster, huh?” he asked, his tone light but laced with mock seriousness. “Did it look like a giant turkey? ‘Cause I told you eating all that stuffing was a risky move.”
Megumi pulled his face away just long enough to glare at his dad, his little brow furrowed in unimpressed indignation. “No, Dad.” he said with a hint of exasperation. “It wasn’t a turkey. It was scary!”
“Scarier than me?” Toji teased, flexing his arm dramatically as if that would somehow settle the matter.
You shot him a look, biting back a laugh. “Toji, love. Please.” you warned softly, shaking your head.
“Okay, okay.” Toji relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s hair. “Listen, kid, no monsters are getting past me. You know that, right? They take one look at your old man and run for the hills.”
Megumi’s little body relaxed against you, his small hand clutching tightly at your shirt. “Promise?” he whispered.
Toji ruffled his hair. “Promise. Now get some sleep. You’ve got another day of playing with all those presents tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being too tired.”
Megumi let out a sleepy little hum of agreement, his breathing evening out as he drifted off within minutes. Toji flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.
“So, what do you think? Nightmare slayer and round-two initiator all in one night? I’m a man of many talents.”
You smirked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re also a man with a very tired wife and a son snoring between us. Maybe tomorrow, Toji.”
Toji groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Tomorrow? I’m not getting any younger over here.”
You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you settled back down, pulling the blanket up over the three of you. “Goodnight, Santa.” you teased, nudging him lightly.
Toji huffed but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to wrap an arm protectively over both you and Megumi. He looked at you both warmly.
“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas to me." he muttered, his voice soft and warm. And despite his earlier grumbling, you could feel the contentment radiating from him.
For Fushiguro Toji, there was no better gift than this—his family, safe and sound, wrapped in the warmth of a love he’d never stop cherishing. Life was great.
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girlygguk · 6 months ago
Text
CRAZY | JJK (Part 1)
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summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.
pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader
rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst
genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship
word count 15.5k
content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple
warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has a birth control implant, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!
a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively codependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah
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crazy pt 2 | masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit
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There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.
You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.
It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.
Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.
Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.
There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.
You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.
And then he entered the picture.
Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.
You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.
It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.
In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.
He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.
Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.
Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.
My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri
10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri
You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.
You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.
His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.
My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on
You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.
You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(
His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.
My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?
10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?
His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.
You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.
Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.
Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.
You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.
But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.
You were livid. He promised you tonight.
You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.
You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.
By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.
He had left work without even telling you.
He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.
Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.
When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.
But you weren’t home.
You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.
The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.
Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?
Absolutely fucking perfect.
My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.
10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N
10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home
You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.
As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?
A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.
"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."
His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"
You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."
He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”
You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend���s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”
He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."
God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.
"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.
A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.
But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.
"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”
Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."
You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.
“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”
Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.
Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.
“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.
“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”
“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”
The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?
“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.
“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.
But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”
“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”
“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”
"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."
You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.
But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.
Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.
Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.
"Oh, hi, baby—"
“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”
His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.
"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."
Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.
"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."
“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”
Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”
You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.
His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”
You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."
But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.
“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”
The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.
And they were both stomping toward you.
You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.
Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.
"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.
As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.
And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.
You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.
You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.
God, not now, Y/N.
“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.
Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.
“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”
But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.
Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.
You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.
“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”
“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.
Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.
“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”
Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.
"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"
Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.
The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.
The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.
You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"
He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you. 
The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.
You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.
But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.
"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.
"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.
You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.
Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.
You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.
As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.
You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.
"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"
He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"
"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.
"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"
"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.
"You just fucking—"
He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"
"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"
You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.
His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.
"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.
You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.
"I’m a what?"
Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.
"Open the door, Jungkook."
"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"
You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.
"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.
The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."
"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.
"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.
"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."
"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.
You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.
"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."
You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"
"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."
For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.
You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.
You were mad because he lied to you.
"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.
The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.
"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."
"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"
"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”
"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"
Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.
"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."
"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.
"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.
"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.
He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.
"Baby—"
Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.
Of course, he followed.
"Baby, come on—"
You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."
"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."
"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.
“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”
You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.
His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.
“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.
You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.
But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.
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He was home before you.
Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.
Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.
“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”
“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.
You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.
It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.
Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.
You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.
He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.
You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.
You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.
But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.
This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.
Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.
Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.
“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.
He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.
Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.
Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.
"I want to move in with you."
You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.
“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.
Cute, you thought.
“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.
He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.
"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”
“I don’t know what you mean…”
“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.
“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.
“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—
“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”
“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.
“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”
The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.
Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”
He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.
“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.
“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.
“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.
Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.
“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.
“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”
“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”
“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.
Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.
“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.
Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.
This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.
Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.
“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"
Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.
"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"
Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”
A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.
His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.
You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”
“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.
“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.
“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.
Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.
“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.
On your crotch.
Oh.
“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.
“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.
“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”
“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”
Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.
You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—
Shit.
“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.
“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.
You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.
But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...
You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.
God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.
You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.
The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.
"Baby, I'm—"
"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.
You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”
"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.
Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.
You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.
His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.
Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.
You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.
"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.
You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.
"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"
"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.
"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.
"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.
He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.
You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."
"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"
"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”
"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"
You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.
“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”
Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.
He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.
“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.
You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.
He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.
“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.
A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.
You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.
But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.
Your name.
You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.
You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.
By telling him you wanted one too.
You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.
When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you” for the first time. He's a sap like that.
You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.
He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.
Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.
You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.
Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.
He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.
Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.
God, you were down so bad.
A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.
“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”
“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”
Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.
You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”
Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.
“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”
You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.
His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.
His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.
You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.
“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.
Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.
The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."
You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"
You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.
If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.
"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.
You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”
A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.
"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."
You don't know why you did it.
Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.
Oh well. Too late now.
"Hyungw—"
You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.
A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.
Fucking finally.
Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.
And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!
Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.
Then came the sound you were waiting for.
He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.
You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.
"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.
"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.
"Bought you a fucking house."
He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.
"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"
A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.
It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.
But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.
With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.
Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.
Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"
Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.
Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.
"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.
"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.
"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"
His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.
"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."
With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.
"Color."
The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.
"Bright fucking green."
Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.
Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.
Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.
Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.
"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"
He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.
"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.
Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.
He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.
“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.
He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.
Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.
“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.
"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."
Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.
Music to his fucking ears.
Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.
Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.
As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.
His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.
You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.
The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.
"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.
When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do. 
But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.
Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.
Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."
"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.
You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.
Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .
Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—
"Daddy?"
His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"
"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.
Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.
He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.
His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.
Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.
“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”
A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.
“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.
Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”
“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.
“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”
A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”
You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.
The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.
Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.
“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."
Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.
"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.
Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.
"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.
He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.
God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.
“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."
Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”
Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.
“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”
His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.
“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.
The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.
Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.
Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.
"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.
"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."
A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."
You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."
"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"
You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."
His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"
You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"
Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"
A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.
The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.
Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”
You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.
“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.
Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”
Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"
Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”
“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”
His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.
"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”
“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”
“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”
You came so fucking hard.
It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.
“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”
Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.
“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.
“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”
You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.
“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”
“Nghhh, fuck!”
With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.
But he didn’t stop.
Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.
It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.
“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”
“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”
And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.
“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.
You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the implant your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.
But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 1% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.
You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you
“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.
A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”
Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.
You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.
For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.
“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.
“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.
Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.
“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”
“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.
Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”
“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”
You blinked in surprise. “But—”
“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.
Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”
You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.
“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.
Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."
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WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤
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ghadaahmed · 3 months ago
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🙏🥹 Stop, please 🥹🙏
Don't ignore me, listen to our sad story 💔🥹🍉
I am Ahmed from Gaza,
Married and a father of a two-year-old girl named Ghada,
I don’t know how to describe to you the feeling of war, pain, suffering and destruction that we are living here.
Just imagine that I lost my home and my job and lived through the destruction.
We have been at war for a whole year or more.
I live in a small tent, in the cold and winter.
We have been subjected to the harshest types of oppression.
Here we can no longer bear life.
They target us all the time.
I have been forced to evacuate and move more than once since the beginning of the war until now.
Every time is the hardest, but the next time comes and we are still suffering.
My daughter needs health care, but I am alone and in these circumstances I cannot really give her the most basic rights.
She needs healthy food, but even that has become difficult to obtain due to exploitation and lack of the most basic resources.
We are now in a severe famine and we cannot find any kind of food.
Here in the tent we were drowned by the heavy rains
It is very difficult to escape death to the point that they closed the crossing in front of us and now we cannot travel and we are still here in Gaza, the destruction.
But I created this campaign so that I, my daughter, my wife and my family can leave here when the crossing opens.
But even leaving is not easy.
Because we need coordination from Egypt and we have to pay $ 5,000 per person. We are 3 people here.
I need to save my life and the life of my family from death and you are the only way that can help me achieve this.
Your cooperation with me and your presence will save our lives from death.
I know that you are capable of it and I trust you and I will be grateful to every person who will help me
I hope you see my account and see what we are suffering from, a new displacement and new tents. We are now sleeping in the street, me and my little child. He is suffering a lot. I don't know what awaits us. Our situation is very bad and difficult. It is truly tragic. I hope you help us with your donations, even if they are small. Don't forget us. We are in a difficult situation and my little child cannot bear it. I wish I had given him a better life than this, but he is not well now. He cannot enjoy his life or play like other children. He has become very afraid and cries a lot. I hope you help us and give us hope again. We need you and your constant support. I hope you look at us again and feel what we feel and what we live. Perhaps your donations will be the reason for saving my life and the life of my little child. I hope you always remember us and do not forget us.
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Asking for help is not
easy .l request a small donation of $ 10 or $25 from each person .$20 will save my family and help me cover travel expensesx
Donate even $5, even if it is small, it does a lot for us, helps us stay alive and gives us hope to continue our lives and that we can build a new life with these donations
Donate to me and my little boy, he needs your support and your donation 🙏❤️ 🙏🍉
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quarterlifekitty · 3 months ago
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see I think Johnny is the type of boyfriend that thinks he can inspect your pussy for you as if he has any qualifications for it
talks big game about knowing what a healthy pussy feels like or whatever while he’s blatantly using it as an excuse to finger you because he’s a filthy dog✨🎀 he’ll go ahead and check your tits for any signs of cancer too, hope you don’t mind!
“Wasnae so tough, huh, bonnie? Jus’ wanted ye t’spread those pretty legs so I could check up on m’favorite girl,” he coos from his perch between your legs as the heat rushes to your cheeks. “And she’s lookin’ a right treat, isn’t she? So slick n’ shiny f’me… but how’s she feelin’?”
A dexterous finger glides through your folds and into you, and he groans at the sight and sensation like an overeager pornstar. “I might damn well say she feels better than she looks, if it was possible. Christ alive….” He curls his finger, seeking out the soft little spot that made you arch and buck.
“And so responsive. But I cannae be sure everythin’ ship shape till I have a taste test, bonnie.”
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nikovraskol · 4 months ago
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crack baby ; prologue
wc ; 1572 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ?
tw ; death, neglect, brief mention of drugs, curse words
prologue, one, tbc..
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Your death was completely preventable.
As you lay on the concrete floor of the cold alleyway, you can’t help but feel a sense of peace. Yeah, sure, you were shot 5 times and you’re currently bleeding out in some piss-smelling drug-ridden pavement. At least you’ve died in a somewhat honorable way, people will have a tell to tale, whether it’s good or bad, you’ll be remembered for a while.
Or maybe that’s wishful thinking, maybe the lack of blood is making you delirious. There’s no way you’ll be remembered as anything but the child that haunts the manor, that stalks around, staring at the residents of the Wayne manor with hopeful eyes. A child who doesn’t belong, who’s body isn’t able to fill in the cracks in the family, a child who wasn’t able to give anything, to devout anything.
A child of 21, but a child nonetheless. 
The way you got caught up in the shooting was so unbelievably stupid, you were too nice to refuse taking on an extra shift from your co-worker, working overtime for free because you didn’t know how to say no. You got caught up in a fight between goons on your way home. For a brief moment, that small child you had buried foolishly believed your father would swoop down and protect you.
Then you were shot, again and again and again.
You don’t want to die, you decide at the last minute. You want to go back in time, to tell your poor 16-year-old self that yearning for the love of a family who doesn’t have love to give is foolish. A foolish child dying a foolish death.
And then, your eyes shut for the last time, you can almost hear your mother’s low humming, the smell of the dingy, old apartment you used to live in with her, you can taste the cold food she worked to provide (you can feel her hands on your neck, can hear her apologies ringing over and over as she cries).
It’s peaceful, almost nice.
Until you wake up – and your first thought is; what the fuck?
Your hand instinctively moves to your lower abdomen where you were shot – you were shot! You remember the burning pain shooting through you, so why on earth are you unharmed and.. in your bedroom?
It’s strange, why are your old posters up? Trinkets you distinctly remember throwing out, clothes you don’t wear thrown about – and that’s when it happens.
Your eyes catch a reflection in the mirror, your reflection. Your reflection that isn’t yours, why is
your hair shorter? Why are you so small– why are you.. Sixteen?
“What the fuck?” You hiss, jumping out of bed – wobbling as you whip your head around, taking in every nook and cranny of the small room. “What the fuck?!” 
You jump towards the mirror, leaning in as you slap, pinch and stretch your face, awed by the youthful appearance, you had forgotten how cute you looked. No, that seems like the wrong word, you looked sixteen. Just an average sixteen year old, healthy and alive (somehow).
A few moments ago you were lying in a pool of your blood in a run-down alley, an unloved 21 year old – now you’re sixteen again, and you have a chance to change the inevitable! If you ignore the pit of dread in your stomach. Sixteen had been the worst year of your life, full of anger and hormones and teenage drama. Sixteen had been the year you struggled the most.
On the bright side, at least you had a trial run..?
“Young Master (Name)” A british, familiar voice calls out and you tense, whipping your head around to see Alfred. It had almost slipped your mind, Alfred is alive. He’s standing before you, as straight and proper as always, smiling at you as if nothing had changed. As if you hadn’t sobbed at his funeral, as if you hadn’t cursed your family for dragging him into their mess, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights at his grave, as if–
“Are you.. alright?” He asks, taking in the flabbergasted expression on your face – to which you straighten up, nodding with a shaken exhale as you ignore the churning of your stomach. You felt nauseous, everything felt too real in an uncomfortable way. A very uncomfortable way – the mix of emotions threatening to consume you.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast, I was beginning to grow worried.” He explains, taking in the way you nod blankly once more, his brows furrowing. “Is– everything alright”
“Y– yes, I’m just not hungry, I’ll– have something later.” You can’t keep your voice from trembling, you’re five seconds away from breaking down and sobbing before him, but you don’t want to worry him. You need to figure out a game plan, you’ve no time for stupid pleasantries like food, plus even if you tried to eat you’d probably throw up then break down sobbing.
“Alright, Young Master. But please, eat something before noon.” Alfred sighs, clearly worried by your peculiar behaviour, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before he leaves your room, shutting the door behind him with a resounding click. Oh fuck, how are you supposed to interact with anyone in this family if a two minute interaction is enough to have you trembling? Whatever, it matters not! You fumble around with your face for another moment before letting out a long sigh, your head already aching from the bewilderment of the situation. You shuffle over to your bed, plopping down with another huff. You had no idea what to do, no plan to go forward, but you had to figure something out. 
You couldn’t stay in the Manor, you couldn’t deal with the dismissive eyes, the fake words of reassurance. You couldn’t stand curling up in your room, listening to the distant sounds of laughter as everyone celebrated without you. You couldn’t stand being that child again.
“I need to leave.” You say with more firmness than you had intended, your eyes set on the mirror before you. Of a sixteen-year-old (Name), staring back at you with pitiful eyes, you’ll get them out, you’ll give them a future – you’ll give yourself a future.
“Okay. Now, where do I begin?” You mumble, staring up at your ceiling before reaching for your phone. Time to go house hunting at sixteen. Yipee.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Alfred was picking up your plate with a thoughtful expression, breakfast had always been your favourite time of day because it always gave you a chance to see your family. No matter how you felt, or how busy you were. How peculiar.
It’s unusual for you to so blatantly skip it, there’s also that whole thing with your demeanour. Something in you had shifted, and he didn’t like it – it felt as though you were slipping away, as though you had resigned, as though you had stepped back, content in living as a shadow lurking in the dark corners of the Manor.
That simply won’t do. 
He won’t give up on that smiling child, looking up at him with their front tooth missing, dirt staining their clothes as they ramble on about how they found a top secret hide-out, how they can’t wait to tell your big brothers their adventures. 
Well, he’s sure with a few clever strings pulled he can finally put you on centre stage, with the lights shining on you. He just needs to remember to reserve a front row seat, for himself, of course.
“What the fuck?” You grumble, repeating that sentence for the nth time as you angrily type on your phone – why is every apartment in this city and the city over so bummy? It’s either too expensive or overridden with rats or overtaken by gangs.
You never moved houses in your past (?) life, staying in the Wayne Manor was easy once you accepted the inevitability of chasing after a fruitless relationship. Plus, the housing in Gotham and Bludhaven has always been..
Well, it could be better!
“(Name).” Your heart jumps out of your chest as an strangely familiar voice calls out for you, dark, low, paternal. Who on earth?
Your heart sinks as your eyes shift to the figure at your door. Batman, Bruce Wayne, your father, is in your room? What the fuck? This had never happened in your life, certainly not at sixteen. You can recall every single time you’ve ever seen your family, so why? Your hand curls around your phone as you gape up at your father. This isn’t supposed to happen. The one thing grounding you through this crazy, disconnecting experience was the comfort that you were familiar with your future, that you had a grasp on what events are bound to go down.
You’ve been awake for about twenty minutes – how’s it already changed?! Inside you, a deep part of your soul shifts, the air in the room suddenly being sucked in by his overwhelming presence, his eyes – cold and calculating, sizing you up as if you were a specimen, as though you were a pretty piece of silver at an auction and not his flesh and blood, your breathing become uneven as you try to grasp at your memory, anything that might've slipped your mind regarding interactions with your father.
You draw a blank, this has never happened. It's not supposed to happen – what the fuck?!
“Let’s go for a walk.”
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yall i feel like this sucks i havent written in like two years im so rusty omg im so embarresed ill die bye
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mariasont · 10 months ago
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Be So Stupid - S.R
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a/n: this has been sitting in my WIPs for so long and i finally finished it! now going to reward myself with online shopping xoxo
kind of inspired by when jj and reid split up in season 2 i think? when morgan was kinda being rude to her but i picture like season 12-13 spence
masterlist
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pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader
summary: you make a mistake while on a case nearly getting spencer killed, morgan has some choice words and spencer is ready to beat his ass over it
warnings: morgan being a little shit simply for the plot, mention of spencer almost dying, spencer being a protective king pussy boss
wc: 1.4k
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How could you be so stupid?
Those were the words that had been on replay, a constant loop, for the past two days. It's because, somewhere inside, you knew Morgan was justified in what he said. How could you have been so stupid to split up with Spencer at the unsubs house?
He was taken by the unsub, a trigger pull away from death. But the team got there, and he was okay. He was alive and breathing and healthy, and you tried to focus on these facts when your chest tightened with that familiar agonizing twinge.
It was a relief not to face anyone afterward. As soon as you got home from the case, you holed yourself up in your apartment, obsessively dissecting the events until the recollections twisted your insides with a nauseating sense of dread. You had run through every potential scenario in your head, agonizing over the grim outcomes if you hadn't arrived when you did.
You would've never forgiven yourself.
So here you were, hiding out in Penelope's lair, doing your paperwork. You convinced yourself it wasn't hiding; rationalizing it as a need for more peace and quiet than the bullpen could offer. You knew it was bullshit, and so did Garcia.
"Just so you know, I'm fully prepared to kick his ass on your behalf," she announced, swiveling to face her monitors, the ribbons in her hair trailing her movement like colorful comets. "It was totally uncalled for. Everyone agrees."
"Everyone?"
"Well, okay, not Spencer, but that's only because he doesn't know," Garcia continued, her pen tapping a silent code against her cheek, followed by the clack of keys. "If he did, he'd definitely kick his ass."
"I don't know about that," you said, repeatedly stretching and releasing the hair tie around your wrist, each snap a self-inflicted reprimand.
"He called you stupid." She was shaking her head so vigorously her blonde locks tumbled into her eyes as she paused her typing to look at you. "And you, my gorgeous friend, are anything but."
"Generally speaking, sure, but this time, Pen, I really screwed up."
"Who called you stupid?"
Spencer's voice was incredibly hard to ignore, distinct—you would recognize it anywhere.
Garcia and you stopped dead, your eyes growing impossibly large as she gave you a look as if to say, Morgan is screwed.
"No one."
"Morgan."
You and Garcia blurt your words out at the same time, your voices clashing in the air. You whipped your head to Garcia, the betrayal written on your face as she only shrugged her shoulders.
"Why would he say that to you?"
Spencer's steps towards you were measured, but each one amplified your unease, you hands wringing together as you looked away. He could read you like a book, and most times that was a good thing, but today it was definitely not.
"It's really not a big deal, Spencer," you insisted, pursing you lips as you dragged your gaze up and over him. "But how about you? How are you holding up?"
You were on your feet in an instant, a little too quickly, wobbling on your heel just a tab before Spencer grabbed your elbow. You ignore his touch, or at least you try, and press the back of your hand to his forehead.
He wasn't warm, but you sure were.
"You know, I don't think you should be back at work so soon."
You weren't lying when you said that. It seemed to soon. Was he looking a little pale? You couldn't tell. He should be home.
His hand was suddenly around your wrist, soft but firm, easing you away from his forehead, his eyes narrowing at you.
"Hey, I'm alright." He was trying to be assuring, offering a faint smile that only served to make your stomach do backflips. "Really, I am."
His fingers frapped around your wrist, not quite letting go, as he directed his attention to Garcia. "Why did he say that to her?"
"I'm right here," you grumbled under your breath, but Spencer was paying you no mind.
"I'm aware," Spencer answered without looking at you as his hands found their way to your shoulders, thumbs tracing absent patterns on your skin. "But you are not providing any answers."
Garcia cut in, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes pinned you with an unspoken accusation. "He said it because you two split up on the case."
Her words seemed to thicken the air itself, snatching away the previous ease as Spencer's expression darkened. It was a new and unsettling sight--the tightness in his jaw, the faint crease in his brows, and the steely sharpness in his eyes.
Without uttering a single syllable, he spun on his heel and strode out the door. You didn't hesitate to chase after him, an inkling of his destination propelling you forward. The look on his face had planted a seed of fear about what he was going to do.
Sure enough, there he was, just as you anticipated, in the middle of the bull pit. His gaze locked on Morgan with a laser-like precision, like a hawk eyeing its prey.
"How could you say that to her?" His voice was jagged, hands thumping against Morgan's shoulders in a way that you frantically looked around for Hotch. "What? Were you trying to make her feel bad? What's the matter with you?"
"Easy, Spencer, what are you getting at?" Morgan's hands went up defensively. But when Spencer's eyes flickered to you, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Oh..."
Morgan's eyes found yours. "Come here, sugar."
Morgan was your friend, a good one at that, and you really didn't blame him for what he said. He had good intentions. But here in the bullpen being open and exposed you found yourself stalling, glancing towards Spencer.
Only after he gave you a nod did you take that tentative step forward, clammy palms running down your pants as you stood in front of Morgan.
"Look, I was out of line. Calling you stupid was stupid of me," he started, hand grabbing on your upper arm as he spoke. "We've all been in tough spots and I was an asshole for adding to the pressure instead of helping you through it."
And you knew he meant it, even if it took Spencer nearly coming to blows to bring it about. 
"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it, Morgan. And it was my fault really, for not staying with Spencer."
"First off, we made that call together, so if anyone's at fault, it's both of us," Spencer reminded, his hand settling on your lower back as he moved closer to you. His gaze then drilled into Morgan. "And second, Morgan, she's too nice. I say you owe her a month's work of paperwork at least."
You opened your mouth to object, but Morgan cut you off, his hand on your shoulder stopping me mid-breath. "After what I said? I'll do you one better--I'll handle your paperwork for two months."
He was gone before you could even thank him, making his way towards the break room, leaving you and Spencer.
"Hey, look at me." You did, raising your eyes to meet his. "What happened on that last case—it's not on you. We made a call, and we did it with the best intentions. It's not your fault."
He regarded you so... softly. It stirred a flutter of goosebumps across your skin, your hands rubbing up and down your arms as if to smooth away the sensation.
"Seeing you in that situation, so close to..." You paused, drawing in a ragged breath as the sickening memories came flooding back. "I can't help but feel responsible. It's a tough guilt to shake."
He rearranged a lock of hair behind your ear. 
"It's a cognitive distortion to assume sole responsibility, but that's just your brain tricking you." Taking your hand he pressed it over his heart. "A human heart beats over two billion times in a lifetime. And every beat right now is telling you, I'm all good."
You could feel his heartbeat—thump, thump—against your palm. You caught yourself wanting to know what it would be like to fall asleep to the sound.
You were so close to each other now, the distance, or lack thereof, slightly overwhelming. "You're all good?"
He gave your hand a squeeze. "I'm all good."
You remained motionless, hand pressed to his chest, wondering if your heart could ever beat in sync with his.
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taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath
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