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#i love. getting. mail. I LOVE GETTING PACKAGES TOO. OH MY GOD I LOVE GETTING MAIL SO MUCH IT MAKES ME FEEL SO IMPORTANT AND VALUED.
tw0starz · 7 months
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HAI LOVELY TUMBLR MUTUALS AND BYPASSERS!!!! IM HERE FOR MY SOMEWHAT NIGHTLY RAWR XD-ING!!
IM SO OVERLY EXCITED, I ORDERED FROM HOT TOPIC AND IM ANXIOUSLY AWAITING MY ARRIVING HOODIESSSSSSS
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THEYRE ARRIVING AT DIFF TIMES :(( MCR HOODIE IZ ONNNN BACKORDERRR BUT YK WE STILL VIBE !!
auweggaGAGAGAGDBRB IM SO EXCITED
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ameerdeer · 2 months
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Ellie x Shy!fem!reader!!
My sweet bunny.
cw: praise, body worship, bunny-outfit.
You were always rather.. insecure. Until you met Ellie, she made you feel appreciated and loved so you went to your friend Dina for help..
Lingerie?? How crazy!! Why would Dina even suggest such a thing!? That’s far too embarrassing! Plus, you don’t even know if Ellie would like it..
Your thought began to go crazy as you began to over think this whole thing! :(. Dina kept reassuring you and saying about how it’s okay and how Ellie would love it.. but you weren’t sure.. you were nervous! Eventually.. Dina managed to convince you. So you did what any willing girlfriend would do..
You went online shopping. You saw the most lewd outfits! It was so embarrassing. Eventually, you found a favorite. It was embarrassing.. but it was very pretty. So, you ordered it.
Almost two weeks had past and you forgot about it completely! You had just come back from your job to see Ellie on your couch.. you spoke up, “Hey, Ellie.” She turned to face you with a rather.. flushed expression. You raised a brow in confusion till you saw the package in her hand… oh no.
“Hey, doll. I was just.. getting our mail and.. I saw a box. It was in pretty packaging so I opened it and uhm..” She held up a black lacy bra.. You felt your heart stop. You could hear your ears ringing and you could feel your face and ears start to burn.. this was horrible!!
“Ellie- I.. I promise it’s not what it looks like!!” You mumbled out in a hushed voice.
She raised a brow in amusement. “Really? That’s too bad. I was looking forward to this…” She let out a sigh, biting back a cocky smile.. You felt like you were about to explode from embarrassment!! But.. at the same time.. if she wanted you to..
You cleared your throat before timidly speaking.. “I just wanted to surprise you..” Which caused the most smug smirk from her.
“Oh I’m definitely surprised, baby. You really bought this pretty little thing for me?” She chuckled and looked at the lingerie. To which you nodded.. she got up and walked over to you, grabbing a handful of your ass which caused you to squeak.
“Go put it on.. now.” She mumbled darkly. In a tone you never heard.. it made your tummy have butterflies. You grabbed the set from her and scurried off to the bathroom..
You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror. Fuck.. It was a lacy black bra, and a lacy thong. A silk-white bunny headband and a bunny tail butt plug with white lacy stockings. You can’t believe you were about to show Ellie this.. but you only live once, right?
You walked out and looked at Ellie, waiting for a reaction. She stared in silence…
“…”
Suddenly, she grabbed you, pulling you close. “Fuck baby. So good for me.. look at my pretty girl… fuck. You’re so soft.. Mh..” She said as she began to kiss up you neck and squeeze the meat on your hips..
Next thing you know you were being pulled over her lap! God, it was embarrassing. But you also.. kinda liked it. This was new. Most of the time you and her were very.. vanilla.
You rocked down on her lap.. whining. You felt embarrassed getting her jeans all wet. But you couldn’t help it, it was too good. You kinda like this despite it being different. You rocked down.. slowly grinding.
“That’s it, bunny. You look so good.. so sweet. My sweet girl..” she mumbled, eyeing you like prey. You felt yourself get close.. she grabbed your hips tightly, stilling them. You were confused until she started to control your rhythm. The rough jeans pressing against you was heavenly.
“That’s it baby. So good.. good girl..” she mumbled with heavy eyes..
“Ellie- el’… ‘m close!” You whined.. your tummy felt hot and heavy. You gasped.. you felt yourself start to soak her jeans as you finished all over her. She chuckled and bit and nipped at your throat.
“Wear this more often, Kay, sweet stuff?”
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koocycle · 1 year
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over wine; chapter one (j.jk)
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↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.
over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.
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pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader
word count. 37.8k (it’s gotten out of hand)
au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.
warnings. mild cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive and mature themes including the following: unprotected sex, spanking, choking, dom!jk, oral (f. receiving) mirror sex and car sex. 
send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!
series masterlist
one, two, three
author’s note. oh my god. to say i have written for a lifetime and got nothing in me anymore, would be an understatement. (kidding. i’ve got an entire series to finish) no but, to actually be able to finish this part of the series and publish it with pride is such a milestone for me. for over a year, i’ve been drafting and drafting, deleting documents and rewriting them, moving from concept to concept, pausing and swearing i’d never write another word again. really, i’m dramatic like that. and i want to take this little note as a thank you to @latetaektalk who’s been hearing me bitch over this for so long. who’s been reading draft after draft and even when she’s busy, was sulking about the fact that she was too busy to read it. but future doctors don’t read silly fics linh!!! they just scream whenever their friends scream and hop off to biology (?) class. i’m very thankful & proud.
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OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES
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Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.
You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.
Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the “reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen”, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.
Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.
What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?
Perhaps his despicable wife?
‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.
‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.
‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck right now.
You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”
“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”
Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.
“I told you, I want a second opinion.”
“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”
His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”
“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”
Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”
He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘‘Say that again?’’
You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you…you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”
Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.
He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.
You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.
He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.
“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.
“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”
Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.
Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.
You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”
“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”
It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.
You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.
Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.
‘‘I get it, okay?’’ He finally says, now at the edge of his seat as well. ‘‘It sucks to sit here and be confronted on issues that we can’t seem to work out ourselves, but we’re trying to crawl out of whatever hellhole this is. At least I am. Some cooperation would be appreciated.”
You don’t argue back as fast as he expects you to. ‘‘I’m trying, too.’’ You don’t stutter, you don’t fidget with your fingers and you sure as hell never break eye contact with the man. You never do when you defend yourself against your husband, and Jungkook has always admired how firm your feet are planted to the ground. Though when you’re wrong, then he’s the one who must be right. ‘‘She doesn’t fit our needs. Stick your head out of the sand and try to see what I see, Kook.’’
‘‘She doesn’t fit?’’ Jungkook’s brows pull together in frustration, defensively resting his palms on his inner thighs and causing his arms to crook. ‘‘What? Because we’re not a match or because you can’t stand it when you’re not winning?’’
‘‘What is this, the fucking Olympics?’’ You scowl, impulsively copying Jungkook’s defensive form. ‘‘I don’t need to win a damn thing. Look at where we got ourselves,’’ angry hands fly in the air and fall back down your lap with a loud slap. ‘‘We’re already losing with a therapist like her. You and I both.’’
‘‘You can’t just sit here and suck these theories out of your thumb, ___, we’re no kids no more. Stop acting like we know that woman,’’ Jungkook cries out, accusing finger-pointing your way. ‘‘You just can’t stand the fact that Seulgi is actually doing her damn job and isn’t blindly taking your side. Is it really that hard of a pill for you to swallow?’’
‘‘She’s blindly taking your side.’’ You spit back and your husband can only respond with a humorless chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. ‘‘The minute we step into this room, every fucking time, I’m painted as the clown. I’m the damn joke. Forced to listen to the way she’s putting you on a pedestal as she’s digging me deeper into the ground like there aren’t two sides of the story. Why is your first response telling me to shove it? You’re being a real asshole right now.’’
‘‘I never told you to shove it. Don’t put words in my mouth.’’ He attempts to say with a bit more composure but you can see the fire in his sharp eyes all the same way. Pierced lip curling in to hold himself back from saying all the wrong things. ‘‘I’m trying to be the rational one here.’’
‘‘Rational? You don’t need many words for it to be obvious.’’
‘‘Damn it, ___.’’ He curses and his fingers fall to rub at his temples, elbows digging into his thighs. You always got your word ready to spit back in his face. ‘‘Why don’t you just go home if you’re so unhappy? I’ll do this by myself if you’re really going to be this childish.’’
It feels like a slap in the face when his words work through, while it doesn’t sting and only seems to work you up with immense rage. Blood fast to rush to your head. You’re not sure what it is that’s keeping you from defending yourself. Knowing you, you’re not one to let accusations like these slide that easily, and neither is Jungkook. Maybe you expect him to apologize as far as your husband is able to. As long as his pride doesn’t tumble to the ground and shatters into pieces. You don’t know, maybe you expect him to at least take his word back while he looks you in the eye again.
It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t.
Jungkook’s head tilts when he hears the rumbling in your mini bag, watching your manicured hand dig through your belongings. ‘‘What are you looking for?’’
Your lips purse together again at the sound of his voice. ‘‘My phone,’’ you say shortly before you pull out the device. Long, almond-shaped stiletto’s tap against the screen and it is the only sound that’s creating much of a suspense. ‘‘To call a cab, I mean. You think I’m walking home in these heels?’’
‘‘Really?’’ he states more than he asks, sending him to the very edge. ‘‘You’re actually going home.’’
Your phone is already to your ear when you stand up from your spot on the sofa, Valentino Garavani falling in the crook of your arm as you straighten your dress. Heavy lidded eyes surf back to his dumbfounded state. ‘‘That’s what you told me to do?”
‘‘You know that’s not what I fucking wanted.’’ Jungkook scowls. ‘‘Seulgi’s gonna be back any minute now.’’
‘‘Good. Tell her I said hi.’’ And with those last bitter words slipping off your tongue, you leave him astonished in the luxury office with his hands reaching for his hair.
You’ve never been an easy one, Jungkook has been told by various people since the start of your relationship. But neither has he ever been a goody two shoes. Whether the both of you could handle each other, even after all these years of tough practice, might be a totally different story.
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It was in college when Jungkook first realized he caught the most beautiful gem in the jeweler's inventory. Fresh into his first year as a finance major, entering his twenties and living life to the fullest in a brand new world that consisted of sex and alcoholic beverages to explore. Jungkook has always been a big dreamer, even back then. A real go-getter. One who used to scribble down achievable five-year plans at that marked page in his notebook, in that awful handwriting anybody could barely read. It was quite funny, considering you weren’t a part of the initial plan before you said yes to a single date with him. But when you finally became Jungkook’s girl to kiss, to fuck and to admire, he knew he could easily squeeze you in that plan. Jungkook wanted you for life. He knew so from the start. He was the one who dreamed of moving out of the city and into a large house in the beauties of suburbia, surrounded by a white picket fence, a little family and two guard dogs on the side. He wanted it all with you. You were his dream girl.
Jungkook was never one to shy away when it came to you. He was yours, and you were his. It was just the way it was supposed to be and everybody had the right to know. Jungkook was most proud to call you his when curious eyes easily swayed your way across campus. It happened every time you came to pick him up from class. Your perfectly pin-straight styled hair fell down your perfect face all the time, and the dark denim low waist jeans that stopped just beneath your pink, sparkling belly button piercing made anyone want to be with you, or be you. No in between. He loved how his hands fit so perfectly around your waist, on top of that_ Prada_ belt encircling your hips. But what he must have loved a little more, was how everyone’s eye shifted to the way he’d pull you chest against chest. He was all yours, and you were his. Everybody knew.
Seven years later, and things haven’t changed a bit.
Well, most of that.
The low waist jeans are replaced with the champagne-colored Celine dress which enhances your every curve, stopping mid-thigh. Jungkook is aware that each spouse, faithful or not, must have taken a second look your way. The rounding of your wine glass hides in your palm as the French Chardonnay in it sways back and forth with every minor hand movement you make. Eyes are on you. Subtle or not for whatever reason your neighbors might have to peek and mumble about, it doesn’t matter. Probably from every corner of Park Jimin’s pool party, too.
Even Jungkook can sense the air tighten around you when his large hand finds that familiar spot above the swell of your ass. This doesn’t feel like seven years ago, when you were mere college boyfriend and girlfriend, smothered all over each other like your time together was limited. The tension is here and fairly obvious.
“What are you guys chit chatting about?” He interjects your conversation with Kim Joohyun anyway. Kim Namjoon’s wife: the lady down the street you claimed to never really like. Something about her being too merry, and her collection of flowery sun hats you can’t bear to look at. Jungkook figures he does you a favor, but you don’t spare him a second glance even when his chest nearly bumps flat to your back. Which probably still has something to do with the incident back at Seulgi’s office.
“You, actually.” You say, a click on your tongue.
Jungkook grins cutely, dimples appear at the sound of it while his hand rubs in small circles at your back. “Oh? Good things only, I hope.”
‘‘___ was just telling me about your upcoming trip!’’ Joohyun shrieks, no ill intentions behind that wide, toothy smile of hers. You don’t even blame her for not noticing how Jungkook stills on your side. ‘‘Gotta say you have me jealous, Jungkook. A trip during this time of the year? Sounds lovely.’’
‘‘Well… not sure how jealous you should be. It’s just business,’’ he heaves a breathy chuckle as he pulls you closer to his side, the tugs at his lips awfully forced in front of your neighbor. ‘‘But you knew that,’’ Jungkook nudges your side even though you don’t put in the effort to lock eyes, so he just watches your face crumble. ‘‘You didn’t mention that?’’
Your brows pull together in question. ‘‘Why would I?’’ You ask as you’re fast to focus your attention back to Joohyun, thumb pointing his way for emphasis. ‘‘He’ll be gone for almost two months on a Caribbean cruise. Isn’t that enough to be jealous of?’’
Joohyun cackles along to your bitter chuckles, the wine in her glass nearly tipping over. ‘‘You had me at Caribbean.’’
‘‘It’s not a vacation.’’ Jungkook quickly defends himself, interrupting the laughter. ‘‘It’ll be less fun when I’m going to be stuck in conference rooms all day. Believe me, it’s really not that big of a deal.’’
You swirl your glass in your hand, teeth digging into your lower lip. The feel of his fingertips at your hipbone now becomes more prominent. ‘‘You only cared to inform me last week, so I’m sure it’s no biggie.’’ You say, voice laced with irony. ‘‘He’s leaving in two weeks, by the way.’’
It’s true. Jungkook didn’t care to mention a thing about the business trip until a week ago. On a random Thursday night with Chinese take-out served on the table and a glass of red wine on the side. You’ve never been upset over any of his trips in the past, so when you stared back at the flabbergasted man with pulled brows, chow mein stuffing your cheeks as another episode of Ugly Betty blared in the background, it came as a surprise. Why, he asked you, why is it so hard to keep you happy? And the question threw you off the edge, snapping something inside you didn’t know you were keeping in. A trip that would last nearly two months had to be planned in advance. Longer than a total of three weeks, that is. Jungkook must have known he’d be gone for a long time, and he didn’t even care to inform his wife.
Jungkook apologized the moment he saw the confusion shift into anger. Though the apology was rushed and spurted out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he did it because he didn’t want any wine stains spilling your loveseat with the way you gripped onto the glass so tight. Or maybe because he realized he wasn’t the owner of a newborn pup, a last-minute search up his sleeve for a sitter during his two-month cruise vacay.
It was probably the former.
Even Kim Joohyun in her tipsy state takes note of the tight air around your throat. She smiles a little and takes another sip of her Chardonnay as if she isn’t being obvious. ‘‘More wine, babe?’’ You turn to Jungkook. His glass is still half full when you take it from his grip, pushing past his shoulder.
A pout plays on Joohyun’s lips as Jungkook’s gaze stays on you until you’re out of sight. Sad eyes trying to meet Jungkook’s as he watches you disappear into the crowd. ‘‘She’s a lady. She’ll come around.’’ She cutely tries to reassure him, a light slap to his bicep with the back of her hand. ‘‘It’ll be over by the time you all reach 30. Trust me, Joon knows all about my shenanigans by now.’’
Jungkook fakes a laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes the same way. But that’s you, he thinks to himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted, innocent joke, but Joohyun and Namjoon are only a couple years older than you two are, not even close to reaching their mid-30s. And ever since Jungkook moved into the neighborhood and has known his friends for, he’s seen the way they have never encountered a genuine threat to their relationship. Maybe you won’t ever come around, maybe Jungkook won’t either.
Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’
‘‘Most likely.’’ She carries on, apparently determined to lighten up the mood. ‘‘Isn’t that what Seulgi is there for?’’
Joohyun’s words spill off her lips before she gives herself the chance to comprehend them, not even waiting for an actual answer before she brings her glass back to her lips, painting yet another spot at the rim a bright, cherry red.
Rule 101 to a successful neighborhood-friendly party: don’t bring therapists into the conversation. Avoid at all costs!
It catches Jungkook’s attention as if alarm bells are going off. Wide eyes and usually perfect brows are suddenly a little less sharp than they were a minute ago. Kim Joohyun knows about the sessions with your couple’s therapist? Have you been going around town, casually rolling the topic into the conversation with a bunch of neighbors? Jungkook isn’t sure why he can feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the thought of it, at the mere assumption. Maybe because this is something between you and him. Something so personal, so intimate and so damn private. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to allow people to dig their noses into your business. To put it out in the open without talking to him first.
‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’
Jungkook finds it in him to stay calm. Though curiosity gets the better of him when it becomes obvious in his voice. Joohyun stands tall on both of her feet when she hears it, lips parting into a slight O. ‘‘Oh well, I mean, yeah. We’re girl friends.’’ She casually says, and it makes him wonder how deep into detail you went with the woman. When she catches him clenching his jaw, her eyes grow big. ‘‘I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was pry!’’
Kim Joohyun is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, Jungkook knows she’s already drowning herself in guilt with only a single glance his way. This is not about her. And let it be a coincidence or not, but he has mastered his poker face ever since his first years in college. Seems like the skill came in handy after all. ‘‘Don’t be sorry, what have _you _done?’’ That is all he can manage to say for now. A silly, shammed smile on his lips though he doesn’t even wait for an answer.
You, on the other hand… you’re nothing like Kim Joohyun.
A heat of adrenaline rushes through him, and he swears it is not the wine that has gone through his system. No, it can’t be, because his mouth has gone dry while the Chardonnay Park Jimin poured him earlier had some sort of sweet aftertaste. It was one of the sweetest white wines he owned, is what the blonde man gushed about.
Without any other thought hazing his mind any further, Jungkook politely excuses himself to fetch off and find you. Like a hawk, he bumps shoulders with a couple strangers as he tries to scan the large backyard, until his eyes land on you. Seated at the pool chair by the water with the sun in your face, bare legs stretched and crossed as your Givenchy sunglasses sit on the tip of your nose. The two wine glasses from earlier are forgotten and disregarded at your side table. You seem disinterested in the ongoing party at your side, not really one to mingle with strangers in the dirty pool water. You’re not a shy woman, and Jungkook has always admired that about you. It’s just that you don’t always fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. But not once since you moved to the suburbs did you mind. Instead, it almost seems like you’re glad.
‘‘You’re blocking my sun, Kook.’’ You say as if it isn’t obvious when Jungkook comes to stand at the end of the chair, by your feet. Your glasses are tipped to the tip of your nose as you lock eyes with him.
‘‘My bad.’’ He grins cutely before sitting down at the edge, fully taking you in when your middle finger pushes the tinted glasses back to your bridge as you make yourself comfortable again. ‘‘Are you enjoying yourself, babe?’’ Jungkook questions sweetly, tatted hand reaching out to cup your inner thigh, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the soft skin.
“It’s okay.”
He hums. “Mhm, I can see that.” Gentle fingers drag across your hot skin but you don’t pay him much mind. There is no need for much eye contact when you’re closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair, hands intertwining on top of your stomach. He can tell you’re still upset about earlier, when Jungkook ignored your worries and encouraged you to leave Seulgi’s session. And yes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He is aware that maybe he had gone a little too far when he just let you walk out of there without sitting you down and letting you say your thing. Though you and him both know he wouldn’t push your buttons after pulling a stunt like that. ‘‘Look at me, love.’’ He says with a tight line of his lips. You broke a piece of his trust the moment you laid your relationship bare before a woman you barely know, and God knows who else you might have told.
You do as he tells you, but mainly because the pet name sits so strange on his tongue. Like there is a bite to it. And for some strange reason, the confused look on your beautiful face irks the fuck out of him. As if you never feared he’d find out you told some neighbor about something so personal. Like he wouldn’t get upset.
‘‘Care to tell me when you got so tight with Kim Joohyun?’’
You frown, lips pursing together. ‘‘Joohyun?’’
Jungkook wants to give you another bit to process the question, but you made him an impatient man. It’s a simple query, he thinks, and there is no need for him to elaborate any further. Though you seem on the slower side today, eyes half lidded through the dark brown lenses of your glasses, like you’re done with his bullshit for the week.
‘‘You know,’’ he pushes, nodding along. ‘‘When you had no issue letting her know the ins and outs of our relationship like you’re pulling off some Vogue interview type of shit.’’
‘‘Jungkook, what are you even saying?’’
‘‘The therapy, ___. The sessions, Seulgi—all of that shit.’’ He hisses, voice lowering even though the edge to it is just as sharp. ‘‘Why would you tell her?’’
It takes a moment before he watches the realization sink in. Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and threatening flames swim in them, restlessly waiting for your word against his with his lips curled inwards and brows pulled together. You owlishly blink at him, stumbling on whatever you’re about to say next when he is looking at you like that, holding you under that microscope he’s had you on for years. Though it feels like it’s the first time he’s actually paying attention. At least now, after a long fucking time.
Jungkook is not one to easily feel small due to anyone’s actions, let it be his own mother and he wouldn’t dare to let his guard down. He is a true businessman at heart. At one point in his career, forceful assertiveness was an important skill that had to be drawn into his system in some way or another. Whether that’s considered a good quality or not, to Jeon Jungkook, financial manager of four years by now, it has always been reality.
‘‘You’re upset I told Joohyun about the therapy?’’ Qualities, skills and class. All of that thrown out of the window with a single look at those big, astonished eyes.
He returns them, all the same way. ‘‘Of course I’m gonna be upset. I mean, Kim Joohyun?’’ Jungkook scoffs loudly, having trouble keeping his voice down. ‘‘This is our fucking shit, ___. It’s none of her damn business.’’
His rage is working you up as you catch a couple heads eagerly turning your way. Negative attention is still attention, some say. ‘‘Can you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood is here.’’
Here’s one thing: Jungkook can’t give a damn about any of them now. The chatter and mingles are done for, he’s over it today. It messes with his head; the fact that the first words that came from you weren’t a set of haste apologies. Call him self-centered, he doesn’t care. It’s all he intends to hear. ‘‘You should’ve discussed this with me before you went out to talk about our personal shit with others.’’ He lowers his voice anyway.
‘‘Discuss?’’ You ask quickly. “This is not some business ordeal, Jungkook. Am I not allowed to vent to someone?’’
‘‘I’m here. Right under your nose.’’ Jungkook argues, an angry finger digging into his chest. ‘‘Why won’t you vent to me? Why would you turn to people you barely know when you’ve got me?’’
‘‘You?’’ A humorless chuckle escapes you before you can hold onto the irony. ‘‘Sure, I’ve got you. For two full weeks before you leave for that damn trip–isn’t that a luxury? My relationship is going to shit and I don’t have a single friend in this town who would want to hear me out. But thank God I got you, the one who sends his wife home mid-therapy sessions.’’
Jungkook painfully pinches his brows together as he shoots daggers through your shades. ‘‘It doesn’t matter the circumstances, ___. You don’t just casually discuss that shit with people. It isn’t something to be fucking proud of.’’
You take the glasses off to get a better look at him. ‘‘You’re not actually upset, are you?” You ask, head tilting and gaze clouding. ‘‘God, it’s beyond me how much you care about these people’s opinions. It was just a harmless neighbor-to-neighbor talk with some woman down the street. What are you afraid is gonna happen next? Them throwing us off the Saturday night mini-golf game?’’
Irony. You’re a master at it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem amused by your humor. ‘‘You know what? Tell whoever the fuck you want.’’ He stands up from his seat. ‘‘If you’re unable to see the issue at hand then maybe you’re not even worth my damn time. Figure this shit out yourself, ___.’’
And with so much, Jungkook slips away in between bodies of people you don’t know. It leaves you unhinged in your seat, the sun gracefully falling down your skin again like you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Your head runs blank when you repeat the conversation, running around in circles when you recall all of the finger-pointing. All the looks of revulsion.
You’re not one to really care about other people’s opinions. You’ve never been and never will be, you swear. People will gossip about anyone to spice up their own lives anyway. There's the unemployed wife from number 09 who walks around town in designer mini-skirts with a diamond at her ring finger bigger than her own head. She’ll undoubtedly be a broad topic with many chapters for many. You let them talk. You don’t care. There is no point in caring what those low lives say about you. The grass on the other side of the white picket fence isn’t any brighter.
So when Kim Joohyun subtly warmed you up to the topic of unstable marriages, you saw no point in lying to her and telling her you couldn’t be happier. That you’re on cloud nine and that Jungkook is the type of partner you always dreamed of, that you are his ideal partner he’s been dreaming of. Because he isn’t, and neither are you. Yes, your marriage is going to shit and you’re trying to fix it. So what if the entire neighborhood knows? You might as well give those nosy Suburbans a reliable source to gossip from.
Jungkook has always cared. You know he has. Your husband cares about the way he’s perceived by strangers; you’ve seen it as long as you’ve known him. He’s never shy to show off the gold-coated jewelry that hangs off your neck, or the overpriced three-piece suits he’ll wear long after office hours. Of course Jungkook would go feral, you then realize. Jeon Jungkook is a flawless soul. God forbid he is dealing with an unhappy wife at home and a couple’s therapist to place the cherry on top.
The door softly thuds behind you as you get home, the loud keychains announcing your return to the big house instead of a sweetened hello. You catch the back of Jungkook’s head immediately, facing you as he’s seated at the dining table. The change in his clothes stands out. The laid-back blouse he wore at the pool party is replaced with a more formal, striped button-up with neutral colors and you wonder why he’d change into it if he’s working from home, where no one would see him. The brightness of his laptop screen hits his face and it makes you realize how fast the sun had set since he stormed off earlier. He must have been working ever since he came in.
You don’t care to take your heels off as you approach him, wanting him to hear the slow steps you take instead. ‘‘Would it really hurt Park Jimin if he offered his guests some snacks? It’s a pool party for God’s sake; people shouldn’t swim on an empty stomach,’’ you whine, making your way over.
‘‘You’re home late,’’ Jungkook mumbles, teeth grinding at your presence. His eyes are set on his laptop screen, a bunch of numbers you don’t care about filling his file.
‘‘I didn’t think it’d hurt if I stayed out a little longer.’’ You hum cutely. Hands come to rest on his broad shoulders before you gently start kneading the tense muscles. You watch from behind as his head tilts a little, not yet sparing you a glance and letting go of the cold shoulder but relaxing into the feel instead. “You and I could spend some time apart after that conversation we had, no?”  
Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.
Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.
Sighing, he speaks. “Whatever you’re trying to do right now, it’s not working.”
You pissed him off. That much did you understand when he stormed off Park Jimin’s backyard and didn’t return to make any more small talk with any of your neighbors. That perfect, white-toothed smile gone and hidden in the safety of your four walls, where he didn’t give himself the time to unwind and went to work behind his laptop straight away. You know his ways by now. Jungkook is a workaholic, that much isn’t a secret. It’s a Sunday afternoon with bits and pieces of sunlight on every corner of the neighborhood, but Jeon Jungkook would rather spark an argument with his wife and work his ass off to distract himself after.
“Hm, what is it that I’m I trying to do?” You’re provoking him, hands traveling down south beneath the thin fabric of his unbuttoned blouse while you continue to leave sweet kisses at his jaw. Quietly, you move on to deeper spots of his silky, thick neck. A cute bite here and there. “I’m not doing anything.” Your nails gently scrape against his chest in need for attention and you know it’s working despite all his efforts to remain calm. You can feel the slightest hitch of a breath with the way your palms are pressed against him. He is holding back because he’s angry, but not on your watch.
“Cut it, ___.” Jungkook snaps even though you know you nearly got him hooked around your finger. No matter how many years you’ve known the man for, he is only a man. They’re the easy kind. “I’m working.”
“On the weekend? Don’t act so fussy babe,” You circle his chair, lingering fingers in the back of his neck with a big pout on your glossed lips. You lean against the edge of the table, ass planted next to his laptop. “You used to fuck me on and off business hours all the time. What changed?”
Jungkook leans back in his chair with a loud exhale through his nose. You’re playing a silly game and he can be just as witty. His hands intertwine and his head tilts as he locks a cold eye with you. The smug curve of your lips tells him everything he needs to know. A sharp brow rises. The familiar, cocky attitude telling you to continue your little act. Continue it and see what happens, is what he tells you.
You move on command, closing his laptop with a soft thud before you impatiently shove it to the side. Jungkook watches your every move like a hawk and you wouldn’t dare to break eye contact; you wouldn't lose to him. Straddling the man with a bare leg on either side of him, you make sure you’re seated just right as your heat hovers above his already growing bulge. He whines a little at the feel of it, ever so soft like he doesn’t want to give into you. “You used to hold me, just like this,” you whimper, ushering his large hands to sit at your hips where they tighten their grip, one of them quick to move to the swell of your ass and grab a handful. “You’d tease me, play with me,” another roll of your clothed heat against his sends a wave of relief through him. It’s slow, addicting. “You used to want me all the time.”
“I still want you.” Jungkook is fast to object. Eyes flickering down to the plumpness of your tinted lips and you waste no time in shutting him up when he does so. Your lips clash together like it’s second nature, perfectly in sync from the get-go like it is always that easy between you. Teeth clash and tongues dance like you’re desperate. You don’t stop until a tattooed hand reaches through your hair, gently make shifting your locks into a ponytail until he tightens his grip. Prying you away with a little more force than he‘s shown earlier. “But you fucking piss me off baby,”
He has you in his lock, gripping tighter onto the ponytail until you look down on him and that smug smile is wiped off your lips. “Do I?” You ask dumbly. You know you do. He knows you know.
“You do, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?” He questions with a closed-lipped smile. Jungkook’s free hand moves to hike your dress higher up your ass until it sits completely bare on top of him, one less layer until he can feel you. With the fresh air that is roaming through the house, you’re not given enough time to adjust to the new feeling against your bare skin when he spanks you once. Soothing the skin with a little graze after. “You think sex makes me forget about the way you can’t shut that tight little mouth? Hm? Always gotta complain about something.” Another spank. Through it all, you remain eye contact as you watch the fire swim through his gaze. “Not to me, though. To your little friends around the neighborhood, right?”
“No.”
“Hm, what was that?” He heard you, though he hums anyway.
“Just Joohyun.” You whimper in his grip, stopping yourself from rolling your hips into his when he grabs a handful of your flesh. “I only told Kim Joohyun from number 05. She doesn’t fucking care about you or me. Nobody fucking cares about us.”
His grip on your hair only tightens as you spew the words out, a delicious sting at your scalp. “Aren’t you sorry, baby?” He whispers with a sharp edge to it, spitting the words out like he doesn’t need an answer from you. Like he already knows the answer. “I’d be fucking sorry if I were you, because I’m yours. And you’re mine.” His lips press together, sharp eyes burning into yours. “And whatever the fuck is mine, I keep to myself. Don’t you think that’s rational?”
You nod, but it isn’t enough for him. “C’mon, babe. You were talking so much shit earlier, you can give me more than that.” He says.
“Yes, Kook. You’re right.” You whine out loud, “I’m sorry.”
Jungkook tilts his head cutely, intently peering back at you. “Sorry, for?”
“For talking shit about everything. The sessions, the therapy. I should’ve understood this is something between you and me.”
A smug smile paints his lips, seemingly pleased with your answer as he loosens his grip at your hair. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard now?” He asks sweetly, eyes softening and fingers continuing to travel through your locks, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying the way you relax into his touch. “Go lay on that table and spread those legs for me.”
You shoot him a look even though the state between your legs worsens, pausing. “Jungkook, we eat at that table.”
“I told you to get on there, didn’t I?”
He doesn’t need to tell you twice when he’s looking at you like that. Those dark, hazy and impatient eyes seem to bore into your skull until you do what he asks. The petty attitude you carried with pride is now long gone, lost in the heat of the moment as you climb onto the dining table before him, like a five-star buffet. Heels dig into the stool in between his legs and thighs clamp together as you lean back to observe him, testing to see how much longer you can push his buttons. He knows you’re trying to work him up because you’re great at it. He gave you seven years to master all your troublesome ways on him.
The corners of your mouth curl up to a sly and mischievous smile as your teeth dig into your lower lip. ‘‘You wanna play, baby?’’ Jungkook challenges, noticing the look you give him. He rises from his seat until he hovers over you with his broad shoulders. With your knees stay put against his chest, he quietly watches how you get down to lay your back flat against the table the closer he comes. Just the way he told you to. ‘‘Let’s play then,’’ he murmurs, his hands sliding up your bare legs, pausing at your thighs and gently tearing them apart until you’re spread out to his liking. Your breath hitches in your throat, back already curving off the surface of the table when Jungkook’s thumb grazes soft circles over your panties. The black-laced thong does little to block the sensation. He sighs heavily, breath fainting in the crook of your neck while his free arm supports his weight next to your head.
‘‘I don’t even know if you deserve to be fucked good.’’ Jungkook groans into your neck. There is no way he doesn’t feel the wet spot on your panties, not when his fingertips continue to feel you up and dig a little at where your hole is covered up. ‘‘What if I just,’’ he slips your thong aside, ‘‘…fucked this soaked pussy with my fingers, hm?’’
You can’t stop the whimper that leaves you when his thick middle finger teases a long strike down your folds. ‘‘Please, Jungkook.’’ You cry, nails scraping at his nape. ‘‘I want you.’’ Jungkook never fails you when it comes to sex. He knows your body like the back of his hand and no matter how shaky the ground underneath your feet might be, Jungkook will always be a passionate lover underneath the sheets. Some days, it might be all you can hold on to.
‘‘Yeah? You want so much, baby.’’ He continues to trail messy kisses down your throat, traveling lower until he reaches your hardened nipples. His free hand flicks it twice before he takes the sensitive bud in between his lips and starts sucking with no shame, teeth grazing with a slight sting. ‘‘And I give it all to you like an idiot, even when you don’t deserve it. What makes you think you deserve to feel good?’’
‘‘I apologized, Kook.’’ You defend yourself, heat pooling in your lower belly when his lips sink lower. Tasting every inch of you until he stops just above your begging heat. ‘‘Please, baby, right now I just… need you.’’
A low hum leaves him as if telling you he understands. With a single, last kiss does he finish off, hands sweetly running over your thighs like he’s thinking. “Let’s compromise.’’ He then says, looking up at you. “I’m eating this sweet pussy, but you don’t cum unless I tell you so.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Clear?’’
You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’
He only strikes you with a satisfied smile before he averts his focus. Large hands curl around the back of your thighs to keep you in place and the excitement rushes through you merely at the feeling. Your pussy is pulsing beneath him only at the thought of having him so close to you and it pushes his ego. “And I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Understand me?’’
“Yes, Kook,’’ you wail, feeling the impatience tug at you.
A desperate whimper cut short leaves your pretty lips when he pushes your panties aside again, this time until he’s able to fully expose your bare heat. You’re sensitive and a little swollen beneath him, eagerly awaiting his touch. That, or his lovemaking. He doesn’t know which one it is, but he is convinced it doesn’t matter. When he gets to watch you like this, so needy for his touch and desperate for his attention, then ultimately, Jungkook feels like he has won.
Yes, Jeon Jungkook needs to win petty games because it’s obvious you don’t need him like you used to. Some days you barely talk to each other, and others, you don’t even see each other. You fetch for yourself and so does your husband. No issue, he often tells his friends when they ask about your relationship and its rocky road. Part of life, it’s gonna cool off, is what he says. Though when he’s got you beneath him like this, moaning and whining his name in utter desperation, then yes, he remembers what it is like to be wanted by you. And yes, he needs to win that game.
“Always so perfect for me,’’ he mumbles more to himself than to you as he spreads your lips apart with two thick fingers. Blowing cool air directly on your drenched cunt, curious to see how sensitive you really are. And to say he’s pleased when he watches you flinch away with that cute little gasp coming from your throat, is an understatement. “Have you touched yourself since the last time I fucked you, baby?’’
He knows he has. Jungkook has thought of you in the shower, a door away from where you were sound asleep. Or on the downstairs sofa, the night you were out with a couple women down the block. And most embarrassingly of all, locked in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, when you were too angry over his late hours to give him a call back. He watches your face distort, trying to read whatever it is he expects you to say. “Be honest with me, there is no wrong answer.’’ He mellows, a single finger continuing to stroke your folds ever so gently.
“Yes…’’
He hums. “Yes, what?’’
“Yes, I touched myself since you last fucked me.’’
It’s been a long week since he last fucked you. Your husband had been busy preparing for his upcoming business trip, while you were upset with him for prioritizing work over your marriage. Both of you were angry with each other. Though, despite the high tensions, neither of you was willing to break the standoff by dropping your cold shoulder and making the first move. Until now. “What did you think of when you were touching yourself?’’ He asks you quietly, tip of his tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe at your wet folds. “Was it my mouth?’’ It’s a gentle move at first, though Jungkook grows more focused on the sensitive bud of your clit when your little whines increase. Taking it in his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you stumble beneath him.
“Yes, I was thinking about your mouth on me,’’ you’re out of breath when you finally speak and Jungkook snickers into your heat at the fragile state he’s got you in. “Also your fingers, Kook.’’
“What about them?’’ He breaks free from your lips, thumb back at your clit and rubbing in sweet circles before you can comprehend it. “You imagined me fucking you with my fingers?’’ His other hand reaches down to play a little at your hole, teasing as a string of wetness attaches to his finger.
“Yes, Kook, please.’’ You groan out loud, ‘’I need you to fuck me.’’
His mouth is back on you as soon as the words come out. Little pools of saliva drip from his lip and fall onto your cunt until you’re a mess beneath him, rolling your hips into his face and growing desperate for some sort of release. Jungkook hums sternly with the bud in between his soft lips as a warning, the sensation of it pushing you even more off the edge. “You wanna be fucked, baby?’’ He asks you like it isn’t obvious in the way your face seems to glow with delight, eyes shut so tight and lips so pursed you might explode. “What is it? Your own fingers didn’t satisfy you?’’
A thick finger enters your slick fold just as his words get through. Curling inside your tight walls as his tongue flicks to make a return. “Need yours,’’ you cry, his tongue making circular motions onto your clit for as long as he feels you tighten around him, encouraging him to fasten the pace and make you cry on his tongue. “Yours always make me feel better.’’
“Hm, yeah?’’ He buzzes, eating your needy whines up. ‘’Pretty baby can’t make herself feel good so she needs me to do the job for her?’’ Your moans are like music to his ears, adding another finger to your tight warmth and fucking in and out of you until your moans aren’t recognizable anymore.
He pumps in and out of your warmth until you’re squirming beneath him, until he is satisfied with the sounds your cunt makes for him. Wetness coating his fingers as proof he is the only one out there who makes you feel this good. The only one who gets you to roll your eyes to the back of your head in absolute bliss. It sparks his ego, alright. Jungkook can’t stop the smile from spreading onto his lips when you grip his wrist tightly, holding onto him because his pace sends you to your high a little too quickly. He curls his fingers inside you once more, rubbing your sweet walls to remind you how much you need him to be yours.
“Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.’’ There is a layer of desperation he hasn’t heard in a while, and fuck, it is an addicting sound coming from you.
Jungkook’s tongue clicks at the roof of his mouth, tsking loudly. “We had a deal, baby. Want to remind me what we agreed on?’’ His fingers reach deeper into your pussy and he rolls his tongue more passionately onto your clit, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you try to run back on it. “Remind me, ___.’’
The stern tone throws you off guard and you might be imagining things, but you swear he fucks you a little harder the longer you stay quiet. “I can’t cum without your permission.’’
“See who listens if she tries a little?’’ He throws in a wink just to get to you, ‘’So we’re gonna be patient, aren’t we? You told me you could do it, ___. ’’
There it was. That sweet tone of his that always drives you off the edge. His eyes tease when they meet yours, something challenging gleaming in them as if he’s already won your little game. And with the way you squill when he rewards you with a particularly harsh suck at your sensitive clit, he might be closer to crossing the finishing line than you are. He knows that, too. Feels it in the way you fumble as you lay there, in the way your pussy clenches around his thick fingers.
“I can,” you defend yourself, although it doesn’t sound convincing. Not when you’re so out of breath.
Jungkook snickers at you like he’s amused. He finds it endearing how you’re trying so hard to remain calm underneath him. You’re so stubborn, so sure of yourself like he hasn’t known you for almost a decade. Like he hasn’t been given ten years to explore you, to know you from the inside out. And whether you forgot about it or not, there was a time when Jungkook read through you and you loved it. There was a time when you were his, and he was yours. A time when you wore that diamond around your finger with pride.
“Gonna miss this sweet pussy when I’m gone.” He’s talking about his trip. But you don’t want to hear about it, and he knows. He sees it in the way your face crumbles and the sighs of pleasure turn into ones of distress. Jungkook reaches up to you, two fingers still buried to the hilt until he hovers above you. The warmth radiating off his chest is addictive no matter how many times you’d deny it. He locks your lips with his in a swift motion, dancing together like you weren’t shooting lasers at each other earlier today. A lewd moan leaves you when he bites down your bottom lip, the sensational sting holding on to it even when his teeth let go. “Are you gonna miss me?”
I miss you every day, is what lies at the tip of your tongue. Though you realize it sounds a bit too sentimental for the current state of your relationship you find yourselves in. So you opt to respond with beats of silence instead. You figure it wouldn’t complicate things. It breaks his heart a little when his answer is filled with only the sound of his fingers pumping in and out your pussy, but he knows he isn’t one to dwell. “I’ll bring you something pretty back.’’
You figured he would bring something exquisite back with him. It is just the way he does things. Always bringing something pretty back home and never returning from his trips empty-handed. Jimmy Choo high heels, Prada mini handbags, you name it—he has a knack for finding you the most coveted items. Though right now, you don’t care about any of that. All you want is him, there is no need to offer much else. The thought of his embrace, the way his touch sets your body on fire, it was once enough to fill you with a longing. A craving only he can satisfy. Not some luxury item he’s pulling off his sleeve.
You hold Jungkook’s cheeks to draw him nearer, at a loss for words. You haven’t gotten much to tell him, after all. His warm breath grazes your lips and you’re sure he feels the same thing, eyes flickering from your dark gaze, back to your lips as his fingers slow down. “Jungkook,” you whimper, shivers sending down your spine when he rubs your walls so deliciously slowly. “Make me cum, please.” You beg, silenced by the way his lips meet yours in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves you a little breathless. He tastes like white wine and sweets, the flavors melting on your tongue in a sensual tango as your fingers run through his perfect locks, pulling him closer as your breaths become ragged.
“You want me, baby?” His lips are swollen when he breaks free, needing confirmation. He hates that he can’t go without.
“So bad,” you tell him, nails sweetly scraping at his jaw when his fingers are buried deep to the knuckles. “Want to cum on your fingers.”
It’s all he needed to hear to be satisfied, the smug smile on his lips dying to make an appearance when you whimper beneath him like you do. “Come for me, princess.” He orders sweetly, a toothy grin lingering as his hot breath falls down your face. “Make me a mess on my fingers.”
You comply gracefully, without needing him to ask twice. As a wave of pleasure pulses through your body, the knot in your lower abdomen unravels, causing your back to arch off the table and your thighs to clamp together until Jungkook’s torso blocks them from doing so. He watches intently, observing the way your jaw drops and your lips part ever so slightly, noticing the crease that form between your eyebrows as your eyes squeeze shut. He wants to preserve this image, to savor it in the recesses of his mind, even when he’s halfway across the world and separated from you.
Your breathing slows down until you come down from your high. Jungkook’s fingers gently slip out of your cunt before they cup your warmth one last time, sweetly spreading your wetness over your folds until he’s satisfied enough and you can’t seem to take any more of his touch, even if they are minor and gentle. You make a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with him, even though he seems to be pleading with his gaze. He keeps his eye fixed on the side of your face as you drift off, the weight of your breaths gradually easing until the tension between you suddenly tightens. His chest above you becomes a little less warm, and you become a little more cold. Some sort of emptiness arises, both of you can feel it.
Moments ago, you couldn’t even tell him you’d miss him in return. And despite the fact that you might not miss him back, he would much rather have you spew out that little white lie in the heat of the moment than have you stay silent the way you did. It would spare his feelings a little, he wouldn’t mind. But even after your glow died down and the initial rush subsided, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. You know your relationship is, and has never been solely based on sex; that much was evident from the beginning. So why are you acting as if it is?
“You don’t gotta.’’ He says simply, not wanting to elaborate much further as the issue at hand becomes more apparent, becoming clear to him. However, for you, he doesn’t have a clue what is going through your mind. But for him, the problem nags at him to the point where he can’t find it in him to come up with a solution. Where he doesn’t necessarily want to find one.
You stare back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “I don’t mind.’’ You shrug, hands falling limp on your sides. “Do you?’’
You observe as Jungkook’s lips purse together and his eyes start to wander around the room as if looking for something fascinating. He shifts his weight to one leg as his hands slide into his pockets. “Yeah,’’ he mumbles in a low voice with a frown, no indication of humor on his face.
You wait for him to provide an explanation. Maybe he’s simply worn from today’s events and wants to head to bed early. To go upstairs and take a long, hot shower after he worked his ass off behind that screen. It was only last week when Seulgi brought the topic of sex to the table, at first suggesting you’d attempt to see each other more often during the day. Maybe go out for lunch together during his breaks, or have breakfast together before he takes off.
No way, Jungkook told her then. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are spent behind his laptop screen and it’d be impossible to shift around the schedule, let alone picking you up and bringing you back home by the time his break ends.
You’d have to find the time some way or another if you want this to work, she said. Try having more sex, she then suggested, attempt to rekindle that spark that brought you together in the first place through more intimate, private methods and connect to each other in your most vulnerable ways. Intimacy can help reignite the passion in some relationships, is what she tried to convince you of.
A bunch of crap, you swear. Two hundred bucks an hour for advice you could’ve found at the back of some middle-aged gossip magazine? Not when he has an obvious hard one hiding in his pants and rejects you like he has better things to do than to _“reignite the passion you share that has brought you together.’’ _
Especially when you haven’t fucked ever since that day.
Jungkook’s lack of response speaks volumes, leaving you feeling frustrated and disrespected. If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he could just say so.
Screw him and screw Kang Seulgi. You refuse to settle for a partner who rejects your advances, or a therapist with shallow suggestions. You deserve a partner who is willing to put in the effort to keep the spark alive in your relationship, and not just dismiss your needs with a simple swipe of his card at Seulgi’s office.
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The week continues much like the way you and Jungkook prefer to handle things—tons of escapism and much less communication than is probably needed. In your defense, your husband will leave the country in a little over a week, and all the issues you could address and possibly solve now would still be forgotten and buried by the time he travels back home. It’s pointless, you think. You figure there just isn’t much to talk about in such short amount of time, and Jungkook must think something similar; it is evident in the way your backs face each other every night of the week, the way he eats dinner at the dining table in the living room while you do it at the kitchen counter, the way either of you can barely look at each other for longer than a few seconds. Your pride is too high to break through your walls.
Car rides have never been this dreadful before.
It is only when Jungkook stops in front of a red light that manages to steal a glance at you in the passenger’s seat. His demeanor stays cool, with his tattooed hand on the wheel as he sits back and takes the opportunity to observe you. His inked sleeve is on display, with his dress shirt rolled up all the way up to his elbows, although he is required to cover up in mere moments before you arrive at the business event that got you so dolled up, surrounded by tens of his colleagues.
You’re typing away on your phone screen on his side. Long, almond shaped nails tapping against the device as if you’re setting several emergency meetings up for the upcoming hour.
Kim Joohyun no. 5 | So, you haven’t had sex in over a week? He didn’t want to at all?
You | I don’t know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t fucking talk.
Kim Joohyun no. 5 | Maybe he’s relieving it somewhere else. Any big fights gone on between you two recently?
The text causes you to pause. You look up, looking a little puzzled with the way eyebrows furrow. Jungkook catches on quickly, meeting your eye for a split second before you tear your eyes back to your tiny screen. You’re not sure what Joohyun is implying and neither do you care enough to know. You may make Jungkook out for a lot of things a lot of the time, but you know there is one thing he is not.
You | You better not say what I think you’re saying. Lol.
Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.
The implication pisses you off as you let your phone fall to your lap, arms folding over another. He watches as you’re visibly bothered, instantly recognizing that look on your face because he has seen it a dozen times already. The pursed, glossed lips and the clenched jaw, it’s a classic. Jungkook isn’t sure who pissed you off to the point where you’re not even arguing with him, but he doubts you’ll tell him. His eyes are on you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. Instead, you remain silent, your annoyance palpable in the air.
Jungkook clears his throat, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ He speaks over the radio, a careful start.
You can’t help it. You’ve been with the man for almost a decade, and sure, not always has it been pretty, but somehow it has worked. Maybe it was your first mistake to tell Kim Joohyun about the therapy sessions and the whole Kang Seulgi issue at hand, but you needed an outlet. Something close to a friend who would listen to you since Jungkook was always out of the house. Now you’re stuck with random people implying your husband doesn’t need your sex, that he’s fine finding it someplace else. You so dearly hope you misunderstood her, because your heart pounds a little faster, chest grows a little tighter.
Your head lolls to the backrest of your seat as you take a deep breath, eyes set on the scenery outside. ‘‘It’s just something Joohyun said,’’ you finally say. The sky above you paints an array of pinks and purples, a beautiful sight if only you weren’t feeling so sour right now.
Jungkook nods like he understands, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his head softly nods along to the music at the radio. ‘‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’’
The words throw you off guard. You can’t help but stare back as he looks at you with a patient, and rather relaxed demeanor. You can’t recall the last time where either of you suggested to talk. It must’ve been a long time. It’s rare, that is. You shake your head slowly, swallowing before your head falls back to your seat. ‘‘No, it’s nothing,’’ you murmur, eyes back out of the window.
He clicks his tongue softly. ‘‘Alright. If you say so,’’ Jungkook says, quick to dismiss the offer, and something inside of you wishes he pushed a little further. Moments of silence continue to fill the car, with the only sound coming from the radio and the soft hum of the car’s engine. ‘‘You like the dress?’’ He reaches out to lower the volume, eyes scanning down your body, where the simple, strapless silhouette of the Valentino mini dress hugs your curves so charmingly. Worn as a vision of elegance with the way you do it, he knew you’d like it too. 
‘‘I do. Thank you.’’ You say, only now having the chance to thank him for the luxury item you found on the kitchen counter this morning, just like Jungkook’s text told you where to find it. The message didn’t say much, just that the dress was there and that he’d pick you up straight after work for the business event he was invited to. You got the hint, styled the dress with some jewelry that matched the rich, ivory white fabric and you picked out your prettiest heels. The Jimmy Choo ones with the bow that you knew Jungkook loved so much. You’re not sure how long it took for you to get ready, maybe an hour or two tops, but you know you took your time. Maybe because you wanted to look pretty for him, knowing he probably wanted to see you in the dress if he bought it for you.
His eyes travel to your legs, also leaning back in his seat as his foot hovers over the gas pedal, the car humming as it moves forward a little. ‘‘Thought everybody should see you in it tonight.”
Reality rushes back to you, then. Jungkook doesn’t care about you _or _the dress. Your husband only cares about the way the both of you will be perceived tonight. By his colleagues, by his friends and by his acquaintances. Yes, you’re looking stunning tonight. Your hair sits flawlessly and your legs have never looked sexier before. But what does that matter when he can’t proudly put his arm around you and call you his?
The light turns green and he tears his eyes off you, back to the road. ‘‘But I hope you get to smile a little more by the time we’re there.’’
There’s an attitude to the statement, leaving you a little in awe. ‘‘I don’t really feel like smiling,’’ you declare, arms folded. It’s a sassy response, one he catches on to instantly and you know it, considering the way he side-eyes you from behind the wheel. The glances he throws your way burning at your head.
‘‘I don’t need you acting petty, ___.’’ He chuckles, though there is no humor to it. ‘‘I know we’ve got a lot of our own shit to worry about, but we don’t need any of that tonight. Please,’’ he adds, ‘‘just be there with your head.’’
You feel a surge of anger rising inside you at his words. How dare he tell you how to feel and how to act? You take a deep breath, voice already shaking from the way he works you up. ‘‘So you want me to pretend all is good in front of everyone? Because you know it isn’t.’’
Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the pedal a bit harder, grip tightening around the wheel. ‘‘I’m asking you to keep it down,’’ he argues, ‘‘there’s no need for us to be mixing business with private matters in front of these people–it doesn’t concern them. We can talk about everything else later, I just want to get through with it for tonight.’’
You scoff. ‘‘Funny you say that, considering we haven’t exchanged a word all week.’’
Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second before focusing back on the road. ‘‘Not now, ___.’’ He insists, ‘‘I promise we can talk about anything you want the minute we’re back home, just not now.’’
‘‘Now you just need me to be perfect. Got it.’’
His grip on the wheel tightens even more, the tension radiating off him. You never make the effort to try and understand him. ‘‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘‘All I want from you is to act professional. It’s not the time or the place for this shit, ___. We can deal with everything else later.’’
You don’t agree but keep it to yourself just to save either of your energy. The rest of the ride is quiet, but far from peaceful. It takes not much longer than twenty dreadful minutes before you arrive at the grand hotel as you waste no time getting the hell out of Jungkook’s Benz to breathe some fresh air, dusting some imaginary dirt off the ends of your dress while your mini bag hangs in the crook of your arm. The valet rushes to your sides, taking care of his car keys before Jungkook leads the two of you inside with his large hand burnt to your lower back. It takes everything to keep yourself sane, to not rip his touch off you as he sends his prettiest, most charming smiles to people you only know the faces of.
The dimmed lobby is bustling with people as you make your entrance, all dressed up in their finest attire and sipping on champagne while chatting amongst themselves. The night passes uneventfully, with the occasional surge of excitement as the guests mingle and socialize. You’re grateful for the attentive staff, who makes sure your glass is full throughout the night. Mainly sticking by Jungkook’s side with champagne as your only friend, an arm looping around his own as you lean into him and fall back into your own world.
New colleagues of his stumble in left and right, and you admire your husband’s ability to remember each of their names and faces. You, on the other hand, stopped keeping track of whoever stands before you. You figured it is easier to become the wife Jungkook wants to represent you when you keep your mouth shut and merely stand there looking pretty. Designer dripping off you as your hand caresses over his chest in circles with a sweet, dimpled smile on your face.
‘‘I would’ve worn my fancy tie if you told me your girlfriend was this beautiful, Jeon,’’ a rough, low voice interrupts. ‘‘You know, the one that lightens up when you press the button.’’
Before you stand an older couple, their eyes crinkling with sweet wrinkles and sparkling with warmth the minute you lock eyes with them. They mirror you, where their arms loop together and move in perfect sync. Jungkook chuckles on your side, cute apples of his cheeks making an appearance. ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Choi,’’ he exclaims, moving to place his hand just above the swell of your ass before pulling you closer into him, though his touch leaves a chill in its wake. ‘‘I take it you haven’t met my wife yet.’’
‘‘Oh, dear Lord,’’ the woman known as Mrs. Choi squeals as she gladly takes your hand in hers. Hers are warm and embrace yours gently, only now knowing you sipped a bit too much champagne when the movement throws you off guard. “I keep insisting that Jungkook needs to bring you to the office so I can meet this pretty face but he won’t budge,” she says, keeping your hand warm in between hers. “Now I get why he wants to keep you to himself—you’re a doll.”
You snicker a little at the comment, feeling the champagne flush at your cheeks at the older lady’s words. Jungkook’s thumb runs in small circles at your hip. “Isn’t she?” He speaks, softly pulling you towards him. “Why would I share with anyone?”
The Choi couple share smiles of delight, visibly over the moon when Jungkook pulls you closer to his side and plants a sweet kiss on your temple. “A married man,” Mr. Choi sighs with fondness in his eyes, hands gesturing your way as if to say look at you. “I wouldn’t have known for the love of God, son. It’s wonderful to witness young love well and alive.”
Jungkook wears his prettiest smile, obviously enjoying the way Mr. and Mrs. Choi worship at his feet. He takes your free hand in his own before he pulls it up for a showcase, the shining diamond around your ring finger glinstering beneath the warm lights. “We mark 7 years this season.” He seems proud as he speaks, the close lipped smile telling them all they need to know.
Mrs. Choi holds an exaggerated hand to her chest, eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry. “You must be so proud of him,” she glows when she speaks to you. “You’ve got the office’s heartthrob in your hold, dear. I can guarantee you he’s taking that award home tonight.”
“Businessman of the Year!” Mr. Choi exclaims with theatrical hands, fading away before you. “I can see it, kid. The title looks good on you.”
“Oh, I won’t assume anything.” Jungkook snickers on your side, pretty dimples visible when he smiles. “I don’t intend on winning tonight. I’ve got strong competitors to see eye to eye.”
It’s not that you’re not proud of all that Jungkook has accomplished, but the bitter smile returns and is barely perceptible. You doubt anyone notices. Hell, Jungkook’s pride seems to consume him, too far gone to notice you straying away in his warm hold. It astounds you how his colleagues seem to put him on a pedestal, quite literally worshiping the ground he walks on and hanging onto every word he says.
“They got nothing on you.” Mrs. Choi argues with a light scoff before her toothy smile returns. “But I get it. Who wants to win some trivial award when you already got your hands on the most beautiful gem in the room, right?” She throws the compliment your way, a wink thrown in there but your stomach tightens at the words all the same.
Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching for a connection that seems elusive. “You know, we’re all so consumed by the road to success that we sometimes don’t realize what we already got,” he begins, eyes back at the Choi couple when you refuse to look back at him. “If tonight ends without that award, I’d be more than content to celebrate with just the two of us. Just like we always have done—years on end.”
“That’s what love is about.” Mrs. Choi nods with a tilted head like she understands. Like you and Jungkook will go home tonight and make love with butterflies in the pit of your stomach, hearts fluttering with anticipation, and a sense of triumph in the air. She probably wouldn’t smile so wide if she knew the ground you’re standing on is not so solid. “And that’s why good things come your way, Jungkook. You do everything with so much dedication and love, you should be proud of yourself.”
“It’s true.” Mr. Choi interjects, nodding sagely as he extends a wise finger. “Take that well-deserved promotion for example. It didn’t appear out of thin air, son. You’ve worked hard to earn it.”
You still on Jungkook’s side and he can feel it in an instant. He feels your eyes on him, a piercing gaze that cuts through the chatter of the lobby. His sharp brows furrow slightly as he senses your scrutiny. His voice, tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension breaks the silence, hopefully able to remove that big question mark off your forehead. ‘‘Yes, the promotion,’’ He begins, now avoiding your eyes as his fingers loosen at your hip. ‘‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Choi.’’
Mrs. Choi’s cheerful demeanor suddenly falters, replaced by concern etched onto her face. “Are you feeling alright, dear?’’ She asks you, her voice filled with genuine worry. ‘‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You don’t spare Mrs. Choi a single glance when she puts the focus on you, practically forcing Jungkook to lock eyes with you. Your eyes bore into his, your attention solely on Jungkook and his bewildered state. “Promotion, huh?” You say, voice tinged with a touch of resentment. The bitter tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny how you never mentioned anything about a promotion, Jungkook.”
He hesitates, his hand retracting slowly, an obvious gesture of unease. “Well… it was meant to be a surprise,” He pulls out of his ass, a reassuring smile aimed at the elderly couple who already seem remorseful for bringing the topic up, apologetic smiles on their faces. “To be honest, it isn’t that big of a deal anyways. Just a small step up the corporate ladder.”
‘‘A small step up the ladder?’’ You repeat a little louder than you mean to, voice dripping with disappointment. You turn to fully face him, back turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Choi when you do your best to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook. I know exactly what a promotion entails.”
The room seems to hold its breath, the tension palpable as the air grows heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed grievances. The once-glowing atmosphere now feels suffocating, the sense of disconnect between you and Jungkook impossible to ignore. The weight of your words fall heavy on the tip of your tongue and your eyes tell him that you’re becoming furious, the fire in your eyes burning with an intensity that can’t be contained. How dare he? You’re hanging on to this relationship with every fiber in your body and what does he think is the solution to that? Adding hours to his already demanding contract while you continue to plan more sessions with Kang Seulgi?
Jeon Jungkook’s audacity is truly unbelievable. How could he be so blind to the problems that you’re already trying to tame? He chuckles quietly, devoid of any genuine humor. His eyes dart around the room, scanning for any sign of anyone else besides the Choi couple taking note of the tension. ‘‘I was going to tell you, it’s just that nothing is final yet. I haven’t signed anything,’’ he stammers, attempting to justify him keeping this from you.
‘‘But you were going to.’’ You snarl, jabbing an accusing finger digging into his chest. ‘’Do you even realize what you’re doing, Jungkook? It’s not a matter of when. It’s the fact that you’d do it in a heartbeat, not even taking us into consideration like any decent partner would.’’
‘‘Sweetheart,’’ Mrs. Choi’s tries to interject, voice filled with concern. ‘‘I’m sure he just wanted the moment to be special,’’ Her well-intentioned effort to comfort you falls on deaf ears with a dismissive wave of your hand. You’re not sure if you can take any more of this bullshit tonight, the surge of resentment is swelling within you.
‘‘Please, excuse us,’’ Jungkook says with a forced smile, gently pushing you forward by the small of your back, signaling you’d better walk if you want to talk some more. And walk you do, your arms crossed tightly and lips pressed into a thin line, leading the way out of the sea of people chatting about God knows what.
It doesn’t take long before Jungkook gets held up again. You don’t recognize the face of the taller man who approaches him, and neither are you interested in his being, though the blood rushes to your head when Jungkook starts talking back with that familiar sweet smile. He searches for your eye over the taller man’s shoulder, making sure you’re still there before his polite, charming grin paints his lips again like nothing is wrong. Like you aren’t ready to lose each other.
You make a beeline to the bathroom the moment you realize it. And for just a moment, you find solace from the suffocating air outside the restroom. It happens the moment you lock the door and cover your bare neck in cold tap water, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you as it seems to hit you like a train. You don’t know if you and Jungkook will ever be okay. It might be the alcohol in your system, but the tears that form in the corners of your eyes threaten to escape. It’s difficult to hold them back, but you do it somehow. You wonder if there’s any hope left over, or if this promotion is just another confirmation of his growing distance, a subtle way of telling you there’s little left over to salvage.
Three quiet knocks tap against the bathroom door. ‘‘___, it’s me,’’ his voice booms from the other side and you take a moment to recollect yourself. When you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, tears still hang in the corners of your eyes if you pay a little attention and your throat falls dry. “Open up?” He shouldn’t see you like this. You don’t remember the last time Jungkook has seen you cry; the last time he’s seen you vulnerable.
‘‘I need a moment, Jungkook,’’ you reply, shuffling around the small space.
There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. ‘‘Please, just let me in. We gotta talk.’’
You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing him now feels overwhelming. Back there, amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces, you felt as if you could explode. Steam blowing out of your ears, blood rushing to your head. But right here, in this confined space,  it’s just you and him. Your eyes are slightly glossy and your lips anxiously curl inwards. You don’t know what’s coming over you. You’d much rather have him see you angry, with your head held high.
With a heavy sigh, you turn the lock, leaving the door ajar just wide enough so you can see his face. The tight purse of his lips eases when he takes in your appearance, and you swear you can see a glimmer of softness in his eyes. A flat, tattooed hand gently pushes the door open before he enters with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress pants. Your fingers curl over the edge of the sink when you stumble back and lean against it, watching as he closes the door behind him and locks it.
Silence hangs heavily in the air, overtaking you. Neither of you can help it. There’s nothing to bicker about when it seems like you’re at the verge of breaking down, so silence it is. ‘‘Then talk,’’ you say, voice distant. ‘‘You’re not talking. You said we needed to.’’
Jungkook’s gaze flickers with something you can’t place. You hope it has something to do with regret and determination. He takes a step closer, closing the space between you. ‘‘What happened out there,’’ he starts, voice quiet when a finger points towards the door. ‘‘It was unnecessary, ___.’’
You shouldn’t have opened that door for him like a fool, expecting he wouldn’t spit in your face like that. You don’t know what it is you want him to tell you, but for some reason, you yearn for something that sounds like an apology. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. ‘‘You waltz in here like that and that’s the first thing you say? Cut me some slack, Jungkook, please,’’
His jaw tenses, a sign of growing frustration. ‘‘___, we had a deal. No business mixing with whatever problems we have. Not tonight… not when tonight is supposed to be special.’’ Jungkook quietly reminds you, taking another step closer until your chests almost touch. ‘‘And as for the promotion,’’ he sighs heavily, his hand tugging at his tie with a frustrated huff. ‘‘I was going to tell you when it was just you and me–just us, away from all of these people. That was going to be our damn moment.’’ Jungkook spits, teeth grinding together as his brows furrow. ‘‘They had no business opening their mouths on it, but they did anyway. So if you want to be mad, then fine, do your thing. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but you did.’’
The small room feels suffocating, tension building with each passing second. Your tears are long forgotten every time he opens that big mouth of his, because the anger seems to consume you. ‘‘I don’t fucking care about any of that,’’ you scoff, pushing yourself off the edge of the sink with a head held high. Now you’re the one stepping closer. ‘‘It’s the idea that you would even accept all those extra hours and responsibilities when you know,’’ there is a heavy pause for you to catch your breath, a finger digging so deep in his chest it makes him stumble back a step. ‘‘When you know what is going to happen to us if you take this.’’
Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his own frustration surfacing. ‘‘And what’s happening?’’ He retorts, his voice filled with defiance. ‘‘How can you expect me to turn an opportunity like this down when I’ve worked so hard for it? I worked my ass off for this, proved my fucking worth and ended up deserving it. I haven’t even reached the age of 30 and chances like these don’t just appear out of thin air, ___. I’ve got colleagues twice my age trying to achieve what is waiting for me to grasp.’’
The intensity of the argument rises, voices echoing off the walls and you’re sure people passing on the outside hear every word. You scoff, a humorless laugh escapes you. ‘‘So this is all about your precious career, isn’t it?’’ You hold up your hand, where your wedding ring catches his eye. ‘‘You made me a promise, too. Long ago, before you knew any of those people you’re trying to prove your worth to.’’
Jungkook’s face flushes with frustration, his hands clenched into fists before they settle at your hips and shoves you back until you’re leaned against the sink again. Though not too harsh. He is never too harsh. ‘‘Why can you never be satisfied?’’ He mumbles, anger giving way to hurt. ‘‘This is my chance to provide for us, to make sure we have a future that we deserve living. Why won’t you support me, be by my fucking side?’’
Bitter laughter escapes your lips, almost grazing his own. ‘‘Support you? How can I support you when you’re digging us deeper into the ground? We’re already so close to reaching the fucking limits. So close to becoming everything we’re trying not to be and then you continue on to pull this crap? It’s like you’re waiting for us to call it quits.”
Jungkook’s anger simmers beneath the surface, his grip on your hips tightening as he fully closes the distance between your bodies. His dark, sharp gaze is fixed on you, the air between you crackling with tension at the false accusation. A blend of frustration and desire when you meet his intense gaze, the moment overwhelming you, and without a word, he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate, fiery kiss.
The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and desire, the electricity between you undeniable. Each touch and movement speaks volumes, conveying a complex blend of emotions that words fail to express. As your lips move against his, you can feel the weight of the argument still hanging in the air, but for a moment, it's forgotten. Until he speaks against you. ‘‘That’s the last time you’re gonna accuse me of something so ridiculous. Got it?’’
Between heated kisses, angry whispers escape your lips. "You can't just expect me to follow blindly," you mutter, your voice laced with frustration. "We're too close to the edge already."
Jungkook’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his voice husky as he responds. ‘‘I know, but I’m trying.’’
It is all he says, and you fight the urge to say something back just because you feel like you’ve had enough for one night. You’re the one to pull away first, a flat hand to his hard chest as you push him off with ease, no fight, no nothing. The momentary connection fades and a sense of unease settles between you. You exchange a final gaze, unresolved emotions and unspoken words clear in the air. It’s obvious that the underlying issue remains unresolved, and with that, you both walk out of the ladies’ room together. Side by side, like everything is fine. The bitter taste of the argument still hangs onto your tongues but you choose to ignore it even though there is no way you can get rid of it tonight.
Jungkook stops before the bustling crowd, causing you to stop in your tracks as well. His hand delves into the inner pocket of his jack, retrieving his wallet as he goes through the contents. With a subdued voice, he offers you his card. ‘‘Here,’’ he says quietly. ‘‘Go buy yourself something to drink. I’ll be over there talking to some people if you need me.’’
You accept the money silently, a slight nod of acknowledgement before you part ways, heading toward the bar while Jungkook navigates through the crowd. As you order your drink, the bitterness of the argument still weighs on your mind, the unresolved issues swirling in your thoughts.
Your husband hasn’t spared you much of a second glance after he handed you the money, already too busy mingling with his colleagues to notice that the bottom of your cocktail glass is starting to show. As he brings his own glass back to his pretty lips to sip on his dry wine all the way on the other side of the lobby, you continue to listen to the nameless people around you and the award he might be winning tonight. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—it might drive you crazy.
It drives you crazy, and you would probably never admit it out loud, but you feel smaller without Jungkook’s presence so close to you, without his arm secured around your waist, your chest tighter than he seems to realize. You don’t need him to feel confident, you know. You don’t need any man in order to make you feel secure about yourself. Though tonight, even though it is only for a little while, his absence feels a little more pronounced than usual, and you don’t like to feel like some fraught, single woman in her late 20s. It unsettles you, and you don’t mean to feel like it.
You’re counting fifteen minutes when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Jungkook seems to be in his element, watching as you occasionally meet his eye from across the room before he rips his gaze off you, interrupted by another coworker every two minutes as they block your sight. More small talk with the man of the night as he’s sucking it up like second nature. Adoring the constant praises he’s receiving throughout the entire event. A charming smile paints his features, one that makes him look smug as hell.
“That dress makes up for the fact that you look like you don’t want to be found dead in here.” A low voice booms from behind the bar, “Valentino, no?”
The rim of the cocktail glass in your hand detaches from your lips when you realize you’re being spoken to, another spot painted a smoked almond shade at the edge. “Good eye,” you nod, high heels impatiently tapping against the steel of the barstool. It’s the first interaction since the Choi couple took notice of your distress, and suddenly, you feel a little less invincible. .
“I know a thing or two.” The owner of the velvety voice reveals himself, emerging from behind the massive camera cradled in his veiny hands. Smooth, jet black curls cascade over his forehead as a troublesome grin broadens on the unknown’s glistening lips. He briefly catches your eye before shifting his focus back to the display in his grip. Rounding the bar, he comes to sit at the edge of the stool next to you. “You seem to be a natural. Ever thought of a career shift and dropping this business ordeal?”
The picture on the display reveals. It’s not bad, you look greater than any other night, the effort you put in tonight’s look clear to see. But he’s joking, though you can barely crack a smile. “Oh, please, I’m just a plus one.”
“I see.” The man who you now assume to be tonight’s cameraman leans over the edge of the bar as he allows his camera to hang low at his neck. He subtly searches for your eye and when you meet his gaze, indicating that he’s got your attention, he pulls his focus back to the crowd, a finger beneath his nose as if he’s deep in thought. “So, which one of those pricks is responsible for making you sit here by yourself all night?”
You roll your eyes but a suppressed snicker betrays your amusement, prompting the corners of his own mouth to lift as well. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore the derogatory remark about your husband, though it might feel good if someone else would openly share your sentiments right now. “The same prick I’ve been with for the past six years,” you point Jungkook’s way when you speak, leaning a little more to the man’s side to give a good point of view. “He’s a busy guy,” you remark, Jungkook looking devilishly expensive when he’s networking, his navy blue Prada suit shimmering beneath the dim lightning. His jet black hair is slicked back and he’s never looked sexier before. Such a shame you’re not talking.
“The man of the night himself.” The guy huffs at your side, back leaning against the bar as he’s no longer interested in Jungkook, eye solely on you now. “I’m not really supposed to shoot plus ones tonight, he’d have to be in the picture for that,” he taps at his camera. “A shame he’s too busy to bat an eye when she’s looking this lovely tonight.”
A dagger to the heart, but you take it lightly. You pause as you finally take a good look into this sharp, cat-like gaze of his. A sly looking smile tugs at the corners of his lips when your eyes meet. “Complimenting a married woman? How audacious of you.”
He shrugs indifferently. “He isn’t doing it, so,” he says nonchalantly before he pulls himself together, a polite hand to his chest when he speaks. “Pardon me. It’s just that I’ve never been good at keeping thoughts to myself.”
You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”
He catches on to the challenge that’s hidden in your voice, the slight attitude you’re subtly bringing over. He pauses for a moment, reading your face before he continues. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly, though his voice is low enough to recall mischief. His eyes lower a little down your dress before he takes out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. I’m tonight’s photographer.”
You accept his hand, hot and tight around your own. It feels refreshing in some way or another, his eyes locking with yours again when his head tilts just slightly, tongue slipping out to wet his pink lips. “It’s good to meet you,” You tell him, returning your prettiest smile, “I’m ___.”
Taehyung stills. “God damn.” He curses quietly, just a whisper above his breath. “I knew you had to be from someplace else—you’re one of Minnie’s girls.”
His words take time to process. There is only one Minnie you’d know. “You mean, Minnie Chang?” You query, frowning when his knowing finger bounces your way. “My modeling agent? You know her?”
“Sure,” he beams, shoulders visibly relaxing as he sits at the edge of his seat. “I run shoots with Minnie’s girls all the time. We just wrapped up an upcoming November issue. It’s such a pity she never sets me up to shoot your covers, we use your references all the time.” His sharp eyes darken, running down your figure again. “We’d kill the job together, if you’d ask me.”
Your cheeks flush a little at the statement. “Oh, well, we probably would.” You stumble, still trying to catch on. “Though Minnie no longer works for me. I quit modeling some time ago, which is probably why we never worked together.”
Taehyung’s pretty lips part when his head tilts even more, a light and humorless chuckle escaping. “I mean, do tell me you’re screwing with me.” The smile ghosts his lips, though this time a little died down. Your silence answers his questions and the sheepish grin only adds on to it. “Forgive me for being so straightforward, but I’ve seen your works, ___. No one in their right mind would want to give such potential up for some mingling on the side bar.”
Taehyung jokes again but there’s a bit of truth hidden in it, and neither of you dare to laugh too loudly over it. You sigh, bringing the glass back to your lips even though your drink is almost finished. “You’d be surprised what love does to people.” You chuckle but it holds no humor, you just sound so ironic. Taehyung’s eyes rip away from you to scan the lobby in search for the man in question, easily found in the sea of people because Jeon Jungkook just works like that. Wherever he goes, your husband seems to carry this magnetism with him. People fall in love with him left and right, and you don’t blame them for it. Look at where you are. “I wanted to go wherever he went. Now I’m just trying to live up to the consequences.”
Taehyung hears as you try to laugh it off, chuckling softly and unable to match your energy. “I’ll give you my card,” he then decides, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket as a set of protests already stumble off your lips. “No buts,” he warns. “My office line is on there. Do whatever you want with it, but just know that you can always hit my line whenever you’re done dealing with the consequences.”
“Taehyung,” you start but it holds no weight, watching as he nips the piece of paper in between his fingers. “You don’t gotta do that.” His eyes draw back to your lips before they flicker back to meet your gaze, the curly locks at his forehead almost preventing you from doing so, seemingly darkening his eyes.
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, ___.” His voice lowers, deepening as his breath almost fans your cheeks. It’s hot. A little alarming. “I own a studio downtown where we could meet up someday. I’ll shoot us a couple photos, and if you want, we could add some to your portfolio. If it feels right, you’ll know,” he says, clearly catching on to the glint in your eyes. “If it doesn’t, then all I am is wrong. But you can’t convince me you’re feeling content, sitting on the sidebar waiting for that idiot to come to his senses.”
You know Taehyung just earned himself a slap across the cheek for the degrading comments about Jungkook. For the assumptions he’s so quick to make when he’s met you five minutes ago. Probably no less than a hard push against the shoulder too, but you hold back from doing so when his words speak to you in some way. Somewhere not so deep down, you know Taehyung made some points. It has nothing to do with the rich cologne that embraces you when he stands this close, or the darkened gaze that tries to meet your own when you rip your eyes away.
“Take it.” He waves his card in the air before he gently tosses it at the bar in front, next to your empty glass. “I don’t expect you to do anything with it, but it’d feel good knowing you have it. Who knows what good it’ll bring.”
You don’t hesitate but pause anyway, meeting his eye and the moment that famous grin paints his lips, you can’t stop yourself from copying it. “Thank you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.” You say, taking his card.
It surprises you how at ease Taehyung makes you feel afterwards. Once his card is out of sight, hidden in the safety of your handbag, he doesn’t pry further about any more modeling shoots or your forgotten career. Nor does he bring Jungkook up again, even though everyone else around you can’t seem to shut up about the man. It’s a peaceful feeling, distracted from the eye of reality because of this man who excels at making small talk. He’s chatting away about his camera, pointing at elements you don’t know the names of as he explains the functions of them.
You don’t listen. You haven’t been listening for a while and wonder how you stumbled upon this topic instead. It’s not a bad thing; Kim Taehyung makes you feel comfortable and that’s all there is to it. You appreciate him for fading your surroundings off.
It doesn't take long before a large hand rests above the swell of your ass, stroking sweet circles there. “Are you ready? They’ll start presenting the awards soon.” Jungkook’s voice booms at your left, sending a jolt of surprise through your body. You turn to face him, finding him standing there with his usual confident demeanor, contrasting with the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The touch of his hand on your backside feels a little more possessive the longer you take your time to respond.
You glance over at Taehyung, who also seems to have noticed the change of atmosphere. His expression remains composed, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say before you hop off the barstool and recollect yourself. “It was so good meeting you, Taehyung. I hope we get to talking soon.” You slide your mini bag over your shoulder, an apologetic smile at your lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you so occupied, I know you’re on the clock.”
His lips only curl into a warm smile that seems to reassure you, a small shake of his head shrugging you off as if to say you shouldn’t have to worry. Your attention reverts back to Jungkook, noting that his gaze is already fixed on you as he searches for something you can’t decipher. “Okay, I’m ready,” you repeat, this time a little more determined. He nods quietly, hand curling at your waist before he leads you the way towards the ceremony, eager to be gone, but not before he steals a look at the older man by the bar, tongue in his cheek. A hint of playful defiance glimmers in Taehyung’s eyes and Jungkook wouldn’t know for the love of God what it means.
The following hour ends up not being as dreadful as the previous ones. Jungkook still guides you throughout the night with prolonged small talk and half-filled champagne glasses which you’ve grown tired of drinking. Nobody is paying attention to the wife of, much to your luck, because it gives you the opportunity to slip into your own world with Jungkook’s hand still snaked around your waist. Taehyung’s words ghost your head instead, and as much as you try not to, you sneak a glance his way every now and then.
You can’t help it. It’s been some time since someone recognized you as anybody else than Mrs. Jeon Jungkook. The lucky one who gets to wear designer dresses and expensive jewelry with a zipped mouth on her face. The brief minutes spent with Taehyung were cut short, but reminded you of your own persona. So hidden behind the shadows of Jungkook’s success that you almost forgot you once had built the start up of a successful career as well.
You can’t think in this room. The warm air is rising to your head and all you can hear is the low murmurs of Jungkook and his colleagues at your table. You start to wonder things. Big things. Like, what if Taehyung wasn’t the only person who believed in continuing the neglected modeling career you were so desperate to let go of some time ago? What if he wasn’t the only one and you’re just meant to find the right people to support you? What if that dream was worth pursuing, now still, after all this time accepting this is what your life was going to be like; a bitter housewife in the suburbs forever holding on to a forgotten career.
“Everything okay?” Jungkook queries on your side, eyes lingering on you for too long and you don’t care to return it. His hand travels to your upper thigh beneath the table cloth but you barely process it, head too clouded with whatever you’re worrying about to take notice. “You seem distracted.” He says, his large hand resting there without much thought, warming the skin up as he gently starts rubbing in circles.
“Yes,” you say though there is a pause to it, one where you hold your breath as you wonder if you should say more. You know he doesn’t like it when things start getting personal when all these people surround you, but you’re so close to the edge. You turn to him, knees touching. “I just need some fresh air. Hand me the car keys?”
He stares at you for a moment, a look shared that tells you he’s trying to read you even when you’re shutting him out. An arm lazily rests atop the backrest of your chair as he sighs through his nose. “They’re starting soon.” He breathes out like he hasn’t said it a thousand times already. “And you’ve been drinking. I’m not handing you anything.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not drunk and I’m not driving. I’m just gonna sit in the car and take a moment for myself.” it’s your turn to sigh, a bite to your words that Jungkook easily catches on to. His eyes narrow, lips growing into a thin line. “What is it, are you not allowing me?”
His chest grows tight when he hears your words, the sassy attitude not gone by dismissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t you take half an hour longer?” His voice lowers in case anyone overhears, the back of his fingers reaching to stroke over your cheek softly. “Batting those pretty lashes the way you do it so well?”
His comment flies to your head, hitting you like a slap to the face and you search his eyes for some sort of sincerity. Some sort of remorse for spitting that degrading shit in your face like that. You notice the way people perceive you as the wife of Jeon, how they look at you because you’re just one of his pretty things. You’re aware. And you don’t need anyone to tell you, because you could care less about them. Though when the confirmation slips from Jungkook’s lips, you swear he turns the switch inside you.
“You’re an ass.” The feet of your chair screech loudly against the floor tiles of the lobby, the sound of it making heads turn your way with curious gazes. And unlike your husband, who seems troubled upon the sudden attention, you couldn’t care less, storming out of the quiet lobby like your Jimmy Choo heels are meant for you to stomp off the way you do.
You hear a faint call of your name even though it doesn’t take long before you reach the main entrance doors and fumble your way out. The anger rises to your head and you consider you might have done Jungkook a favor with the way you made it out so quickly.
It takes a couple minutes before the swinging doors you just erupted from come to a loud shut once more, revealing a heated Jungkook sauntering down the stairs. “Get moving. You were the one who wanted to go home,” He doesn’t spare you another glance when he passes you by with a pinched expression. Both your jackets hang from his arm but he doesn’t care to hand you yours, quick to rush to his Benz with you right behind him.
The only sound that fills the air is the angry stomping of your feet, Jungkook’s not as prominent as your own heels clack loudly against the pavement. “I just needed a minute out. I never said you couldn’t finish your little act in there,” you retort, frustration lacing your voice.
He opts to ignore your remark at first, jaw set and focus straight ahead. Though the more he repeats your words in the back of his head, the faster his own spill out. “I asked you not to throw a scene and you go ahead and do it anyway,” he sneers, unlocking the back door before he throws your coats on the backseats. Slamming it just as loud. “For what, ___? Couldn’t stand not being the center of attention for one night so you pull this shit?”
Jungkook is fast to open the door to the driver’s seat but you beat him to it. Slamming his door back shut only to earn one of his lethal, disturbed looks. “You take that back.” You point an accusing finger his way, trapping yourself between his hovering body and the car. “For years, I’ve been tagging along to these stupid events like some luxury piece on the side. Supporting and loving you from behind your huge ego,” you huff, a pillow of air rushing from your lips and into the icy air. “All the while you choose to show me off whenever you feel like it when I’ve been happier for you than anyone in there—’’
“Have you?” His lips curl inwards, sharp eyebrows tightening. “Because the second you heard about some promotion, a couple more hours added to my contract, you start freaking out. Running out there like the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t, ___. Get it out of your head.”
“Jungkook—“
“I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly waves you off, pointing an angry finger back to the building you just came out of. “You know I’m winning an award at this very moment? I’m reaching the tip of the iceberg tonight, and instead of celebrating it, I’m out here trying to keep you sane.” Jungkook grunts, hand falling back to his side. “I didn’t see Jung fucking Hoseok do that last year when he won that damn award. His partner stood beside him, supporting him while he accepted the prize.”
You maintain eye contact, no matter how much fire swims in his gaze. “I know you didn’t just compare me to your coworker’s wife.” You scoff loudly, “Jung Hoseok probably has the decency to include his partner in every major decision he makes. Including promotions that will require your everything, Jungkook. If that was our case,” your finger swats back and forth between your raging bodies, “then yes, I would love to be that kind of wife for us. But I’ve done that for a long time. I can no longer be like her.”
Jungkook groans, stepping closer and causing you to press your back flat against his Benz. “Maybe Jung Hoseok works his ass off to earn such a prize in the first place, knowing his wife is there. On his side. No matter the case.”
“Well, maybe that is because Jung Hoseok and his wife never stopped loving each other!”
Little puffs of air escape your lips and the statement leaves you a little breathless when realization strikes through. They mold together with Jungkook’s, who also seems to need a moment to register whatever it was you just spat in his face. His aura changes not much longer after, eyes digging into yours with the tip of his tongue running over the back of his teeth. Jaw set tight with a dare running in his gaze. He looks down at you with heavy lids, and when you stay quiet for longer than he was hoping, he speaks up. Though the voice is low enough to pass as a warning.
“You want to repeat that for me?”
You sigh, closing your eyes as you try to place a somewhat reassuring hand to his burning chest, it’s hot and under fire beneath your palm. You didn’t mean to slap him across the face like that. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean you and I—’’
“I don’t care what the fuck you meant.” He says slowly, swatting your hand off him with an intense gaze. “Repeat that for me.”
You shake your head, keeping it up high even with the way he’s looking down on you. You can stand your own ground as well as him. “Kook, I’m not going to repeat myself when I didn’t mean to say that.” You argue, arms folding.
Jungkook locks eyes for much longer than is necessary, like he doesn’t believe you and he’s trying to find some sort of truth in them instead. Hands now situated in the pockets of his dress pants, he leans his weight down on one leg. “Then get in the car.” He then simply says, tone a bit too composed to ease you down. “We’re going home.”
“No,” you argue back with a stern voice. You’re both upset, incredibly so. The last thing you need to do right now is push your anger to the sidelines. “We’re not done talking, Jungkook.”
“We’re done.” He’s quick to tell you, taking a step back before and impatient, sharp eyebrow arches. The weight of his body on one leg. “I said, get in the car, ___. You wanted to go home? Let’s go fucking home.”
The bite in his voice is evident to send the warning through. He is just standing there, hands casually hidden in his pockets as he glares down at you, patiently waiting for you to get moving. You shoot him a look, something that says something along the lines of, seriously, this is how we’re gonna do this? He nods once. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all you’ll get.
Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.
Jungkook is quick to get in the driver’s seat when you huff and round the car, the silence quick enough to break through the tight space once the doors slam shut. For a brief moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at the packed parking lot without another word exchanged. You know Jungkook needs a moment to collect himself before he gets off driving you both home, but he is not the only one in desperate need to let go of some steam. The tight gripped hand around the wheel, where his knuckles turn a pale white is telling you enough about his current state. He hasn’t even stuck the key in the ignition yet and that might be for the better.
He finally looks at you without a word and you don’t back down from the challenge. He still fumes with fire when your gazes meet, lips tightly pressed together. The man watches you like a hawk, right hand still planted at the steering wheel as he stares back down at you from over his shoulder—seemingly no intention to drive off anytime soon. You seem to glow with a heated bitterness and he finds himself feeling a similar way. It does little to intimidate you, though.
Rage consumes you and the silence only seems to worsen it. You’ll have to voice your thoughts or you might go feral. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.”
He scoffs, bits of amusement tugging at the edges of his lips. “Don’t get me started, princess.”
Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.
Your eyes narrow, challenging him. “Go get started, Kook,” a dare drips off your mocking voice, low and anticipating when you raise a single brow. ‘‘I don’t mind.’’
And just like that, something in the air shifts. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drag down your glossy lips without an ounce of shame, or the noticeable fact that his pants are starting to tighten around his crotch area. Your eyes fall down there. You can’t helpt, and neither do you mean to hide it.
“You don’t want me to, baby. Trust me.” He asserts, tone firm and unwavering.
“Try me.”
Time seems to go still and Jungkook seems like he’s hesitant, eyes flickering down your lips one or two times too many. There’s not much sentiment found on his features. No pretty little smile at the lips, and no softened gaze roundening his eyes. Instead, his jawline is locked so tight, you’re able to catch each huff and puff that leaves him. The silent battle of wills unfolds between you. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if debating whether to succumb to your request or stand his ground.
However, Jungkook is a raging mess, all he needs right now is an outlet.
“Damn it,” He curses before he slams his lips onto yours. A surprised, muffled gasp falls from your mouth into his when your noses angrily collide, finding the right amount of balance when a tattooed hand reaches the back of your neck to keep you in place. His lips feel velvety against yours, soft and inviting despite the intensity of his movements. Even though his moves are much rougher. Much more raw.
You respond to the passionate kiss with the same intensity, kissing him back just as hard with your hand steady at his jaw. His own hand hides at your nape, both of you hovering over the storage box in between your seats like two horny teenagers hiding in his big brother’s car. Moans escape his lips and resonate against yours. Youthful desire builds the intensity, sending sweet tingles straight to your core.
‘‘Fuck, come here,’’ Jungkook utters, exhaling heavily as he settles back into his seat.
Not one to resist, you swiftly maneuver your way into the driver’s seat, straddling him with both legs on his either side. His hands instinctively find place at your lips as you lean in to capture his lips in a heated, messy kiss where you hold onto his jaw and push the back of his head to his seat. However, tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, he can’t let you take control.
Jungkook’s kisses become fervent as he pushes you against the steering wheel with a bit more force than intended, causing it to dig into your back with a sharp yelp eliciting into the air. The soft gasp you breathe out as you try to catch on easily gets ignored by him. Still adjusting to the rapid pace, his hands tenderly explore your backside, rubbing in sweet circles before moving down to roam over your ass.
His slender fingers carefully tug at the hem of your dress before he rushes to ride it up your thighs, just until your bare ass hovers above the growing bulge that’s hidden away in the dress pants that now seem too tight around his thighs for his own good. It is no longer something you could ignore even if you wanted to. Not with the way his cock throbs against your panties; the thin material of his slacks not helping much to create a decent barrier.
Nonetheless, you don’t seem to care when you shamelessly start to grind down on his clothed erection. He groans on your skin when you throw your head back, fingers playing while they tangle through his slick locks as if to guide his mouth. “Sit still,” he angrily mumbles, though he doesn’t try to still your hips from humping onto him.
“Don’t wanna,” you stubbornly mutter in response, tugging tighter at his hair in the hopes of a response. You have to hold the evil smirk that's threatening at your lips when you shift back and forth in his lap with a much quicker, more dangerous pace. “Make me?”
His mouth stills at your neck and a rush of satisfaction wavers over you. Jungkook’s hot breath fans over the same spot his lips were just pressed against, slow to look back up at you. Only to find you grinning in his lap like a fool. “You got such a big mouth on you tonight.” He murmurs so close to your lips like he’s planning on kissing you again. Heavy lidded eyes stare back at you in the dark when his middle finger hooks around the lace of your thong at your ass. “Such a big mouth but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. What a terrible trait, sweetheart.” He teasingly tugs at the thong, rubbing the material in between your sweet cheeks.
Your hands reach behind you, reaching for the zipper at the back of the dress before you start to unzip it. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” You sing, tweaking the straps off your shoulders with a teasing grin. What are you waiting for? Undress me, is what your eyes tell.
God. He can’t stand you.
His lips are on yours within a heartbeat. And neither of you plan to let go without a fight.
It’s like both of you are fighting for dominance over the other as the kiss grows more intense. Noses angrily bump into each other, teeth clash and bite into the already swollen flesh of your lips. You’re so engrossed in the lip biting and breath sharing that you barely realize Jungkook pulling down your dress with force, the latex now hunched around your waist to reveal your bare chest. It is only when his fingers reach out to pinch your hardened nipples when you break free from him, the sensitivity growing into excitement before it runs straight to your core.
“Hm, so sensitive baby.” Jungkook hums with a pleased grin threatening on his face, pinching a few more times at the sensitive buds. “I have a feeling you’re all bark and no bite tonight. How come?” He asks quietly. “Felt ignored because I didn’t look at your pretty tits all night? ‘Specially when they’re looking so nice and swollen for me right now, mhm?”
He dives down and wraps his pretty lips around the perky bud when you don’t respond on time, tonguing and nipping until he can hear you squirm on top of him. “I knew that was it.” He mumbles, letting go with a lewd pop. You almost don’t catch it with how low he is speaking, almost like you’re not even meant to hear him in the first place. His tattooed hand gently massages your other breast in the warmth of his palm. “Baby feels neglected the moment the focus isn’t on her. Ain’t that funny?” He chuckles humorlessly, something far away from genuine laughter and you don’t manage to crack a smile either. “Now she’s on top of my cock waiting to get fucked like she wasn’t acting like a total brat back there. Like brats deserve to get fucked nice and slow.”
You push Jungkook back against his seat by the chest, his head lazily lolling back without much surprise as he patiently waits for your next move with a darkened gaze. He knew he was going to press your buttons some time soon. Both your heart and head are fuming. “Not true.” You argue weakly before you decide it’s your turn to pepper angry kisses at the silky skin of his neck. Your grip tightens at his throat, right beneath his jaw. Only to keep him still, you convince yourself. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” You mumble against the hot skin, surprised he’s able to understand your muffled words.
Your hand isn’t that secure around his throat, but he decides to play along nonetheless, keeping his head locked to his seat. “So I’ve heard, sweetheart.”
You ignore the cheeky comment and instead allow your free hand to fumble with the leather belt wrapped so deliciously around his hips. You continue biting and licking in the crook of his neck, not caring if any purple marks find their way there. Jungkook swallows back a whimper of relief when your hasty hands unbuckle his gold coated Montblanc belt. His dress pants aren’t even supposed to be this tight fitted around his crotch area, even when he’s hard. Though it’s no secret Jungkook has been working on his thigh muscles throughout the years. And to say it has served him right would be an understatement.
“Take me out, sweetheart.” He breathes when you dip your hand inside, not yet granting him the pleasure of pulling out his cock just yet. Cupping him over his boxers instead, you suck his quiet moans up like second nature.
Jungkook’s hips eagerly buckle into your grasp and you contemplate on giving him the satisfaction this early on, because even you are growing impatient. Instead, you continue stroking his cock over his boxers, rubbing up and down his length with more pressure as you watch him exhale through his nose. Jungkook’s adams apple moves at his throat when he swallows tightly, eyes shutting in frustration.
You bring your lips to graze over his cheek, so sweet and romantically as the two of you are. Hot and sharp breaths fan on his skin. “Stop bossing me around, will you, Kook?”
He breathes lowly; still through his nose as his chest heaves up and down. Almost like he’s holding himself back from doing things you can’t handle. “Spoiled girls need someone to boss them around.” A sharp sting tingles at your ass, realizing he just spanked you there, the sudden cry you let out in the shell of his ear explaining why his large hands are now soothingly caressing the sensitive skin. “They turn into brats the minute someone doesn’t put them in place. Did you already forget the way you acted tonight, babe?”
He gently continues to knead your ass in his big hands. “You’re just as responsible as I am for that.” You whimper weakly, deciding you’ve had enough when you take Jungkook’s thick cock in hand and out of his pants and boxers. He’s warm, heavy and angry in your grip, red and swollen tip staring back at you when he’s fully out. You raise a brow at the sight. “But it seems like you don’t mind it right now.”
Jungkook isn’t sure what he despises more at the moment. The way the shit-eating grin on your face only seems to spread the longer victory consumes you, or the way his dick twitches when your hand tightens around his shaft. Jungkook holds back his grunts. Adding free coins to your egoism is the least bullet point on his to-do list.
“Careful,” he speaks with a warning, eyes flickering back down your lips before the tips of his fingers slide down your covered slit from the back. They rasp against the black lace a little before he adds more pressure where your hole is covered, content to feel your soaked cunt leaking through the fabric. Continuing to feel up to the damp spot, he speaks. “You’re not one to talk when you’re dripping like this. Take this off for me, sweetheart.” He hints at your panties even though he is the one dragging the lace down your legs already.
For as far as his cramped Mercedes allows you to reach down atop his muscled thighs, you make sure you’re at a safe distance before a chunk of spit runs off your lips and onto his throbbing cock. Jungkook groans loudly, hips rutting up when you start pumping him with a tight grasp. You maintain eye contact while you do so, addicted to the way his hazy gaze angrily stares back at you, free hand moving to knead his balls. Your thumb grazes over the head, silently massaging his slit where you spread the precum over the rest of his leaking cock.
“Fuck,” you curse, the wetness coating your fingers. “Want you in my mouth.”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Yeah.” You repeat.
Jungkook’s hands tighten at your waist, digging into your skin. “None of that.” He then mumbles, earning a confused frown from you. “Rub yourself against my cock, baby. Need to feel how wet this tight cunt is for me.”
“God.” You roll your eyes like you mean it, but your pussy starts to throb at the thought already. He knows it does. How could he not? Jeon Jungkook knows you from the inside out; knows what you like and what you don’t like. Six years of being with you has taught him that much. And because of that, Jungkook is not one to wait around for you to make your move and pushes his hands harder at your hips instead, guiding your bare cunt towards his cock.
“That’s it.” Jungkook lets out a low groan from the base of his throat, the pressure at your hips slacking down once you take over with a slower, more experimental pace. His head falls back and his thick neck comes into view instead, velvety skin on display when your cold fingers hide to intertwine at his nape again. Wet lips drag over his cock and spread wider the more pressure you add. “Look at you soaking my cock like you’re ready to ride it. As if girls like you deserve to be stretched out in the first place.”
“I deserve it.” You nearly stutter when you find the right amount of pressure, your clit now directly rubbing against his head.
He hums softly at your engrossed self. “Yeah?” He continues to ask. “You think you deserve to fuck yourself off on this cock?”
You can only nod in return when your pace increases and eyes shut tight. Jungkook takes sight of the teeth that dig into your lower lip and nails that scratch at the skin at the back of his neck. He moans a little at the sharp feel, his own chest heaving up and down when the blood rushes to his cock. “Can’t hear you, baby.” He pushes when you continue to rock against him without another word, his tattooed hand spanking your ass cheek again to grab your attention. “Need words to decide if I’m letting you ride me.”
It’s not an easy job to pry your eyes open again when your cunt is so deliciously dragging against him, but you manage to do so with heavy lids. “Not to bruise your ego, babe,” you breathe out, thumb padding on his slit as if addressing an obvious issue at hand. “But you’re not really in a position to make demands either.”
He huffs out some air, the warmth of it fanning against your lips. You know you’ve got him trapped without a comeback to throw back in your face when he pierces a single brow. “You should really do something about that mouth.”
“Thought you said you were gonna take care of that.” You boldly recall, clearly challenging him. “Or are you backing out so soon?”
Jungkook doesn’t care enough to defend himself against your assumptions. Instead, he nods his head to the backseat. “Get back there.” He instructs with pressed brows. “You won’t be so smart when you’re coming on my tongue.”
A dramatic sigh leaves your lips like you’re tired. Hands cupping his cheeks sweetly, the back of his head easily lolls to his seat so he looks up at you with those darkened, dangerous eyes. You take him into a slow and wet kiss where your lips seem to dance together in unison, breathing heavily into each other until his tongue presses between your parted lips in an attempt to enter. But you pull away on time. Still, only inches away from his face, his eyes glued to your lips. “You don’t have to eat me out. I can take you right now.” You heave with swollen lips brushing his.
“You know I don’t mind,” Jungkook frowns a little at the odd statement, fingers absentmindedly running circles at your hips again.
“I know you don’t.” You’re quick to speak, hands moving to rub at his shoulders. “But Kook,” you whine with an obvious pout, removing his grip off your hips before you guide his fingers to your dripping cunt, voice sweeter than candy as you watch him observing quietly. “Feel me—I’m so wet for you. Can’t I have you right now?”
A sense of relief already rushes through you when Jungkook’s fingers carefully pad at your wet lips, spreading them apart with a clear string of fluid sticking to his fingertips. “You’re soaked,” he says like you don’t already know, and you can only nod in agreement, the glossed and pouty lips never leaving your face. His cock grows harder in his pants at the feel of your hand cupping his own, hips rolling into his palm. “I won’t hurt you because we’re being eager, though.”
“Aw, come on babe,” you whimper like a little child. “I’ll let you know if it hurts...”
You watch him hesitate for a bit, playing it off when his finger sinks into your warmth. Subtle and careful at first, focusing on the way your walls tighten around the thick digit. You��re sucking him up like he’s meant to be there, silent moans hanging in the base of your throat when he starts pumping inside of you, deliciously curling at your walls. “I see what this is about,” you say with an edge cut sharp, a moan already at the tip of your tongue when his pace increases. ‘‘You’re scared you’ll bust the moment you’re in deep.”
You’re obviously teasing him. Evident in the way your heavy eyes fall down on him with a slight curve at the corners of your lips. He scoffs anyways, your words getting to him whether you’re joking or not. “Please,” he laughs, a humorless chuckle thrown in your face. “We both know I got you creaming around my cock before I even get the chance to.”
You tug a little at his long, jet black locks that were slicked back so perfectly before. Watching as his head rocks back at the action. “Show me? Make me regret assuming.”
He visibly gulps, but not out of nervosity. No, Jeon Jungkook rarely gets nervous, especially not around the woman he spent a total of six years with. Instead, he wonders what to do with you and your crazy attitude. There is a quiet dare you’re exchanging and he catches on just as fast. Never being one to sit back down on a challenge. Especially not when it comes to you and your sneaky games. Though truth be told, Jungkook can be just as devious as you do it.
“Ride me, sweetheart.”
Jungkook’s green card causes your devious lips to form back into the familiar sweeping grin while your excitement flows straight to your cunt. You palm his cock in your hand, feeling as he gets harder in your hold at the sensation. Lining him up between your lips, Jungkook is found having a hard time keeping himself sane, watching you with thoughts drowning him as the head disappears in your tight pussy, already sucking him up like you’ve never taken him before. “Good girl. Go nice and slow for me.” He grunts quietly, fingers digging harder at your sides the lower you sink down and onto his cock. “So good to me whenever you want to, hm?”
Your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck and you feel him move with you, lips at your temples waiting in anticipation. Like he expects an answer. “I’m always good to you.”
“Whenever you want to,” he corrects with a sharp edge, hands roaming over your ass in soothing circles when he can feel your hot, short cut breaths in his neck, inhaling the fresh citrus smell of his fragrance just the way you’re used to. His own chest heaves up and down in hammered motions, cock deliciously brushing against your velvety walls when you take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Would’ve been much easier if you let me eat you out, sweetheart.”
“I can take it.” You whimper against his skin, stilling to let both of you adjust. Slumping down, chest against chest for a mere minute before you suck a sharp breath in when he reaches in between your bodies, thumb continuing to rub small and fast circles at your clit. “J- Kook,” you voice just above a whisper, his fingers circling with more pressure at your clit. “Kook...”
“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice vibrating at the shell of your ear when his lips are so painfully close. “Are you already starting to regret it? I knew you were bluffing, but damn, can’t even play pretend so soon?”
He’s mocking you with that annoying tone of voice, and everything in you wants to prove him wrong. To spare yourself the embarrassment of being caught slacking. Slowly, you start to move with his thumb still driving you insane at your clit. It’s a small and minor movement at first, making sure he feels every little drag of your walls around his angry cock before he gets the chance to open that big mouth again. Well, to be frank, it is open; pretty and plush lips slightly parted to let the moans die down on his tongue.
You remove your head off his shoulder just so you can catch the look on his face when you heave yourself up, only until his tip is inside you and the rest of his cock is already covered with your juices. He shoots you a look that tests your limits, but you’re not intimidated enough to back down and mirror him when you sink onto his cock once more. The familiar stretch of his thick shaft making both of you moan out in delight, blending perfectly together in the narrow space of his Benz.
“Fuck, Kook.”
His shoulders slump a little, eyes shutting tight and the sight of it only makes you bounce faster on his cock. His slight curve hits the sweeter, more sensitive spot with each roll of your hips and your head nearly falls back at the delicious feel. Sharpened nails dig into his blouse at the shoulders but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind the slightest, probably too lost in his own pleasure to even notice. His tattooed hand reaches out to tug at your nipple some more, sweet moans of delight filling the air almost instantly.  
Jungkook got his veiny arm secured around the small of your waist, keeping you close enough to him to the point your breasts are pressed against his chest. Bouncing on his cock the way you do it so gracefully, you let your head fall down his shoulder, where your breaths become heavier and more ragged. “So eager for someone you claim no longer to love,” he hisses, seizing the opportunity to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin at your neck, just beneath your jaw. “Isn’t that what you said, baby? That we no longer love each other?”
“I didn’t mean it,” you groan, uttering out the words as he bites down even harder, intensifying the searing sensation in the heat of your neck.
His fingers curl at your hips, guiding them up and down above him with a delicious stretch of his cock at your walls. “So what,” he drawls, jaw twitching when your pussy tightens around him. “You said it just to say it?”
One thing about Jungkook is that, even after all these years of being married to you, he never tells you what the deal is about. You said something you weren’t supposed to? Sure thing, but he needs you to figure out what you did wrong yourself. Being the business man at heart, he has taught himself since his early college days to be straight forward and precise. Straight to the point. A no-nonsense approach with an ability to cut through the fluff. It’s a dance you’ve become familiar with. Maybe all he wants to hear is an apology, some cue that indicates a hint of regret—he himself isn’t even so sure. Maybe he just wants to know if you meant it.
Between heavy gasps and angry moans, you manage to speak, voice strained with a mix of arousal and remorse. “I... I didn’t mean it in the way you think,” you pant, the words barely audible in between your entangled bodies. “I was angry... and lashed out.”
Jungkook shudders, gripping onto you in a way that makes your hips still with only the tip of his cock inside. Your pussy pulses around nothing, desperate for the release he’s been building up so effortlessly. “Yeah?” He huffs, hips lifting off his seat to buckle into you with harsher, deeper thrusts. You can barely breathe when his pace increases and the only sound that’s filling the car is skin slapping against skin. “You just had to have the last word, didn’t you? Baby couldn’t keep her pretty mouth shut so she spews shit like that out.”
“I wasn’t thinking,” you argue back, lifting your head to meet him for a messy kiss you can’t keep up with. Not with the way his thrusts bounce you up and down his dick uncontrollably. Lips angrily dancing together like it’s your last time, moans molding together like it’s your last taste. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kook.”
Those slender, tattooed fingers run back down until he spreads your ass cheeks apart, gaining more control over you as you let him guide you throughout the thrusts. “Neither did I,” he says and you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. Rhythm becoming more focused than before, you notice his thrust seeming to slow down a little, though his dick reaches deeper, sweeter spots inside you that has you yelping into the tight air. “This pretty pussy about to cream my cock?”
You whimper with despair, head thrown back as he fucks into you from below. The tip of his dick reaches all your sweet spots each time his hips meet your ass, eliciting your head to fall back and exposing your velvety neck before him. “Fuck, yes,” Jungkook is quick to place his lips at your throat, soothingly swiveling his tongue around in circled motions. “You fill me up so well.”
“Do I?” He knows he does. Can feel how each drag of his cock in between your sweet, hot walls drives you a little more crazy. “Are you gonna make me dirty and cum all over me when I fuck you like this? Baby can’t take it?”
‘‘I can take it. Jungkook, please,’’ a lewd moan leaves your lips when his hand curls around your throat, heated and tight until he can feel you swallow against his palm.
Your pleads don’t fall on deaf ears when Jungkook firmly plants both feet to the floor, one hand tightening around your hip and the other around your throat. Lifting your hips until your warm walls are only wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pauses, locking eyes with you and keeping it there as if telling you there’s nowhere else for you to look at. He doesn’t give you any other warning before he’s thrusting into you, hips meeting your ass cheeks with force until he’s satisfied and buried to the hilt. “Keep your eyes open babe, want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He doesn’t move, keeping his cock deep inside you until you manage to pry your eyes open and meet his dark gaze, lips formed into a big O.
You do as he says, unable to get another word out when his hips draw back back, cock deliciously returning with another single, harsh thrust that got your tits bouncing up and down. It takes everything in you not to break eye contact, not to pinch your eyes to a tight close with the way he fills you so well. “Oh my God,” you choke out, barely audible as your hand wraps around his wrist by your neck, nails scratching against his sweet skin.
Jungkook sucks your whimpers up, watching your eyes grow heavier before he pounds into you again. Pace fastening with each thrust that becomes a little more precise and aimed to reach your sweet spot. Your moans grow uncontrolled and his name rolls off your lips with each thrust, the sound of your shaky breaths melting together with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slight curve of his cock so deep in between your walls, you have a hard time keeping it together.
“I said, eyes open. Keep them on me.” Jungkook rasps out in between his own heavy breaths when your eyes shut close again. “That’s it, my pretty girl.” Lewd whimpers fill the air and he’s loving every sound that comes from you, ego swelling at each whine and each sob you throw his way. 
‘‘Fuck, Jungkook.’’ Your moans fill up the tiny space with each drag of his cock hitting your sweet spots, you don’t know how much longer you can take it when he pounds into you so deliciously.
‘‘Shit, cum for me, baby. Cream my cock.’’ He groans out loud, reconnecting your lips in a breathless kiss as he doesn’t need to tell you twice. The wave of your orgasm running through you, body tensing as your juices coat his thick cock.
He’s panting now, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and as you coat him to the brim drives him insane. He pumps into you a couple times more before unloading inside. Your head falls back at the hot feeling of him filling you up, buried into you as he groans into the suffocating air.
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It’s a funny thing, the way you and Jungkook operate.
Contrary to what many might assume, even after being together with the man for almost 7 years, you still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Finding yourselves grappling with a sense of uncertainty, far from a picture perfect commitment the way you’d think of marriage those years ago. It isn’t a pretty sight, but you figure either of you have gotten used to the same song, the same  rhythm that there is to your relationship, a dance of trial and error, where you stumble your way through challenges together, yet apart.
It defies logic when you put it that way. It isn’t a secret that you and Jungkook haven’t been able to make each other happy for quite some time, to put it plain and simple. Initially, the two of you were capable of hiding your worries beneath a thick blanket of luxury items and long office hours, and it’s not like much of that has changed, but the clock is ticking until Jungkook is leaving for his two-month business trip and you haven’t exchanged a word since the event two days ago. Since the heated sex in the driver’s seat of Jungkook’s Mercedez. Usually you’d just shrug it off, swearing no ignorant man of a husband is worth the wrinkles at your forehead.
So you’re not sure why you can’t seem to lift the weight of your shoulders off.
It feels wrong, that is. Wrong for Jungkook to leave you to fetch for yourself for two months without some sort of reconciliation. He tries to maintain some resemblance to your usual routine, you can tell. He continues to hold you during your sleep, an arm draped around your waist as you can hear the peaceful rhythm of his breaths. Though he isn’t close enough for you to feel his burning, bare chest against your back. He still brings back home dinner from your favorite Malay takeaway downtown, but doesn’t linger at the dinner table to make sure you eat everything to the last rice grain. He still surprises you with beaming jewelry you added to your wishlist months ago, but doesn’t stay to look how it adorns you.
Jungkook’s absence drains you.
It’s true. Not a fact you would ever admit out loud, but when push comes to shove, you might want him by your side every here and now. Yet at the end of the day, you’re a stubborn woman. Always have been and Jungkook knew it from the start. If he wanted to fix things between you before he leaves for his trip, then he would’ve done it by now.
‘‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’’ Your voice beams through the living room, Jungkook’s presence surprising you as you enter. Seated at the sofa, his back faces you as he’s dressed in his formal attire, elbows digging into his thighs as he’s typing away on his phone.
You linger at the arm of the sofa, gaze fixed at his side. There is a moment of silence that settles between you, filled by the quiet taps of his thumb against the screen. ‘‘My meeting got canceled,’’ he answers, voice tinged with a bit of weariness. ‘‘I only got a few hours before I have to get back.’’
The tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your guard remains there. ‘‘Oh,’’ you respond dryly, that being all you can give him right now, turning on your heel to grab your shoes and coat and move your way out of the house.
Slipping your shoes on with your coat hanging in the crook of your arm, the car keys rumble loudly in your grip. Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air, making you halt in your steps. ‘‘I was thinking we’d see Seulgi in the meantime,’’ He calls over his shoulder, barely turning around to see you eye to eye. ‘‘I just called and she says she got a gap free for us.’’
Your brows furrow and his words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes glue back to his screen, mindlessly scrolling through it and you wonder what is going on through his head. You saunter back to the sofa, weight leaning on one leg when you stand before him again. ‘‘Right now?’’ You ask, head tilting. ‘‘I’ve got things to do, Jungkook.’’
Jungkook sighs, setting his phone aside and clasping his hands together between his thighs. He musters a smile, though it seems more ironic than genuine. ‘‘Well, it’s kind of urgent, ___,’’ He smiles with closed lips though it seems ironic. ‘‘Considering the fact that I’ll be leaving in less than a week.’’
You stand there, feeling your feet glued to the floor. ‘‘That’s not on me,’’ you manage to utter, an accusation thrown in there. It’s almost like he’s shifting the blame on you. Like you were the one to tell him to get on that boat and leave for two months. ‘‘You were the one who wanted to go on that trip, Jungkook, not me. If you wanted to see Seulgi you should’ve planned it sooner because I already made plans for today.” You call, “I can’t just reschedule them.’’
You hold his gaze, your eyes conveying a mix of frustration and disappointment. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You realize that the disconnect between you and Jungkook runs deeper than this singular moment. It's a culmination of unaddressed issues and unmet expectations that have taken a toll on your relationship. ‘‘Can’t you see that I’m trying? I just want to make things right before I leave,’’ Jungkook sighs softly, ‘‘she already said she doesn’t do virtual sessions. You know this could be the last time in a long time for us to visit?’’
Your patience wears thin when your eyes meet. He looks at you like you get to cut through the ropes, which in fact, right now you do. But again, you're not the one to distance yourself for months on end. You can’t help but blame him. ‘‘That still isn’t on me.’’
You’re fast to turn on your heel, ready to leave him in that big house. But you don’t get far when a gentle grip takes your hand in his own. He takes you by surprise, turning to look at him when his eyes find yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold on to you, to keep you from slipping away. There’s a silent plea in his gaze, a plea for understanding and trying to make things right.
‘‘Why are you pushing me away?’’ His voice is quiet as he tugs at your hand, urging you to stand before him again.
‘‘I’m not,” you respond, your voice laced with a touch of defensiveness, giving up the fight to his gentle grip, where he guides you to stand between his legs.
“I’m trying to make amends,” he adds, his tone a little gentler than before. “I’m trying, but you won’t even tell me where you're going.’’
His words leave you a little hesitant, torn between the desire to hold onto your grievances and the flicker of hope that perhaps there is a chance for reconciliation. “I don’t see how it’s important where I’m off to,” you finally say, looking down at those big eyes that stare back at you. “I already made plans and that’s all there is to it.”
His grip on your hands tightens slightly, his thumb gently caressing the back of it as he searches for the right words. “It matters to me because I want to be there for us,” he says, his voice earnest. There is a vulnerability in his eyes, a genuine sincerity that tugs at your heart a little. “I leave in less than a week and I take full responsibility for that decision, but at least give me the chance to make things right before I leave.”
With a soft sigh, you release your hand from his grip and reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing up his cheeks as an amused, humorless smile paints your lips. “A single, last minute session with Seulgi isn’t going to ‘make things right’, Jungkook.” You mock him, softly pinching his cheek like he’s a child. You turn your back on him, gathering your things with your shoulder bag secured beneath your arm. “If anything, it’ll just make things worse the way we do it.”
Jungkook hears the chuckle that escapes your lips but can’t bring himself to crack a smile, unable to catch the joke at hand. Sharp eyes never leave your frame as you shuffle around the living room, collecting everything you need before getting out of the house. “Fine,” his voice booms through the room as he stands up with a huff, hands at his hips. “We’ll just sit here and talk if that’s the way you want to do it.”
“And then? You think that’ll do the trick?” You retort, bitter laughter escaping your lips. You can count the amount of times you and Jungkook could’ve just sat down just to talk and fix your issues on one hand. You’ve always been here, at the house, waiting for him to finish his shifts to do exactly that. Now his meeting got canceled and suddenly he got time for you?
Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together, his own frustration rising to the surface. “I never said it would magically fix everything,” he shoots back, his tone matching your intensity. “But at least it shows that I’m trying, that I want to make things right before I leave.”
You scoff. “Trying? Is that what you call it?” Sarcasm drips off your voice when you finally turn to face him, seemingly ready to get your ass moving right then and there. “Fine. Let’s try when I get back home tonight.”
The haste kiss you place at his cheek nearly comes across as an insult, your lips barely lingering for a moment before you pull away. And just like that, you’re ready to fly out of the door, fueled by frustration and the desire to escape the argument that has consumed the room. Jungkook thinks you’re being childish, perhaps a little selfish when he watches the way you almost seem to float your way off. He understands that a two month business trip will only deepen the rift between you, but living like you’re strangers during your last days together, leaving with a packed suitcase on empty words—he doesn’t want to know what would happen in that case.
“What in the world could be a priority over an attempt to fix your relationship right now?” Jungkook’s voice rings just as your hand grips onto the doorknob, the frustration evident as his voice raises to catch your attention.
You pause on your tracks, still holding onto the doorknob with all you got. The impact of his question makes you halt, awfully familiar like you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Funny thing you ask that, considering I’ve asked myself that same question every time you head off to wherever you are needed at the time.” You retort, bitterness lacing on to every word. You hum like you’re thinking, “I never got an answer to that, by the way.”
Jungkook’s shoulders slump, his eyes searching for your understanding. “That’s because I’ve got a job. To provide for us, ___. You know that much so don’t go around acting dense, please.”
You narrow your eyes at him, the anger bubbling up inside you. “Oh, so now I’m acting dense? That’s how you see it?” The bitterness in your tone is impossible to conceal. “You can’t just use your job as an excuse every time it becomes convenient. Be fair, Jungkook, we wouldn’t even have this conversation if it wasn’t for your canceled meeting, so why make such a big deal out of this?”
His expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his face. “I do what I have to do for us,” he replies, voice tinged with frustration. “You’re right. I’m not always able to combine business and private matters the way I wish I’d be able to. But I try, and I work hard so we can live a comfortable life. Is that not important to you?”
Bitter laughter escapes you and echoes through the hall, watching as he reaches closer. “Of course it is, but I am not a second job to you. I refuse to be,” you’re quick to argue back. “We can have a talk, but it’s not going to be an easy one and we both know it. So if we’re talking, then it’s not going to be when you conveniently got a meeting that got canceled. You’re going to have to prioritize us and our issues if you really want it to work, Jungkook.”
“I’m ready to sit down and do exactly that, right now,” there is a fire that swims through his gaze as he says it, one that dares to tell you you’re in the wrong. The hesitation runs through yours, it’s all he can see the longer you lock eyes. “I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the day if that’s what it takes, ___.”
Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.
You can’t help it; his image flashes through your head without an ounce of control. Because right in this fleeting moment, the guilt chimes at your chest as Jungkook looks at you with expectant eyes.
Truth be told, the unfamiliar man had been on your mind ever since you talked to him at the event. It had much less to do with his good looks, his charming persona and much more to do with the topics you shared, the things he had to offer. Things you thought you had let go of a long time ago with a heavy heart and a hard pillow to swallow.
Modeling was no longer part of the game for you. It’s one thing you accepted a long time ago. The first night after the event took place, you managed to ignore that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, thinking that feeling would be gone in the morning, where all you had to worry about again was you and Jungkook, only to wake up and his offer being the first thing you could think of. You couldn’t get your mind off it even if you truly wanted to. Unable to help yourself, you couldn’t think of your meeting with Taehyung as much of a coincidence. Not when he was linked to your world of fame, to all the people you had let go of; the colleagues, the creative editors, the artists that you were once part of.
His card burnt the inner pockets of your handbag that night.
“Where are you heading off to that makes you want to say no?” Jungkook’s question pierces through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present as his voice brims with curiosity, his eyes searching for answers. Yet, you hesitate to respond, uncertain if revealing the truth would only complicate matters further.
“It’s nothing important, just personal matters.” You reply vaguely, avoiding his gaze.
The room descends into an uneasy silence, the tension thickening in the air. Jungkook senses your hesitation, his face contorted with frustration. “___, please,” he implores, voice tinged with hints of despair. “Personal matters? I’m your husband.”
Jungkook’s words strike a chord within you, the weight of his statement hanging heavily in the air. It’s not that you don’t want to tell Jungkook about Taehyung, about the session he promised you. It’s just that this is also something new to you. You don’t know what you want yet, you don’t know where this newfound opportunity with Taehyung might lead to. Discussing this with Jungkook only makes everything so much more official and binding.
“I met someone at the event—the photographer,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember him? His name is Taehyung,”
“Taehyung,” he repeats quietly, the question mark still visible at his forehead. His lips purse, searching your eyes for more clarity. “Yes, I remember him. What does this mean, ___?”
You can hear the impatience getting to him, the tension mounting between you both. “It means… we got to talking while you were networking with your coworkers,” you say, the statement leaving your lips a little saltier than you intended to. “So, the topic of modeling kind of came up in the conversation. Did you know he works with Minnie?”
“Minnie Chang? As in, your modeling agent?” His brows furrow, voice quiet enough for you to know this isn’t good news to him.
“Yes, her.” You nod along, unable to help the excitement growing at your chest. “Turns out Taehyung has been working with her on projects for some time. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, he still thinks I have some potential in the industry after all those years of neglecting it. He even gave me his card that night, says there’s no strings attached to it.”
“And now you’re off to a shoot with the guy himself,” he huffs as his arms fall limp to his sides, hands at his hips as he searches your eyes for something you can’t place. “I don’t get it, ___. I thought we agreed you were done modeling? You want to dive back into that world even though we got our own shit to sort out?”
“I know what we agreed on,” you argue back, taking a sharp breath. “It’s nothing big, Taehyung said so himself. It’s a one-time shoot and if I decide to do something with it, then I will.” His eyes tell you all you need to know, they’re sharp and dig into your skull. You drop your keys into your back with a sigh of disbelief. You can’t believe he’s doubting you right now. “But I know I won’t. It’s a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m looking for a fulltime job, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s frustration is palpable as he clenches his jaw, his voice tinged with bits of disappointment. “One-time thing or not, it’s about the principle, ___.’’ He says, more sternly than you’re used to when it comes to him. ‘’Seems like you’re ready to push our problems to the side this once. So why not twice? Or three or four times every time they'll call you in for another shoot?’’
You scoff, brow arching upon his daring words. Turning on your heel, you dart out of the door, beams of sun hit your face instantly. ‘‘You’re one to speak.’’ A humorless chuckle leaves your throat, the sour smile on your face still there even though it feels like it’s crumbling. ‘‘You’d finally know how that feels, then. When the person who is supposed to be there every step on the way just neglects you with a snap of the finger,’’ you angrily mumble, his own feet rushing after yours towards the car. You spin around once you reach it, feeling he’s hot on your tail. ‘‘It doesn’t feel good, I know, baby,’’ you say, voice laced with exasperation, ‘‘but you’re off on that trip in just a few days. Either of us are gonna have to get used to that feeling, whether we like it or not.’’
Jungkook’s footsteps slow down as he reaches to stand before you, towering over your smaller frame. ‘‘You can’t be serious,’’ he blurts, gesturing a hand towards his chest. ‘’Can’t you see that I’m making an effort? It’s not easy for me either, ___. I don’t want us to be apart any more than you do. So why push me away for some random shoot that just fell into your hands?’’
‘‘Because this,’’ a pointy finger swivels between your chests, emphasizing the growing divide. ‘‘This isn’t working.’’ The weight of your words press down on you, a heaviness settling in your chest. ‘‘It isn’t, and we’re still holding onto the last thread like it is. You and I need to come up with a new strategy or so help me God, we won’t last. Taehyung gave me an opportunity that night and I’m trying not to be miserable in this house, Kook. That’s all there is to it, I need distraction too.’’
You can tell he’s holding back. Can tell by the way he sucks in his tongue, jaw sharpening because of it as his lips turn into a tight line. ‘‘So this is it, then?’’ He asks, crossing his arms with a puffed chest. ‘‘Let’s stop trying and just hope for the best because you need a little something to distract yourself with. Correct?’’
“Don’t twist my words.” You snap, meeting his fierce gaze as the intensity of the moment grounds you both. “Fuck it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusing me of shit I didn’t even say,” you delve in your handbag, swearing you left your car keys somewhere in there.
You’re obviously hitting his last nerve. It’s clear, evident in the way he holds his index finger to his nose like he’s thinking. Frowned, sharp brows and a tight line of his lips as he weighs his weight to one leg. “We’re never gonna solve any of our shit if we keep running from it.” He says through gritted teeth, holding himself back from raising his voice at the driveway. “Do you want to make your point clear, is that it? Because I fucking got it. I’m a shit husband who puts zero time and effort into his relationship. I fucking got it. But I’m trying to get somewhere now,” he watches as you dig deeper into your bag, unable to focus on the task at hand with him fuming before you. “And now that I am, you’re feeding yourself into delusions because you want to be petty and are determined to make me feel the same way? Is that really what you’d rather do today, ___?”
“Please,” you repeat with a loud scoff, gaze burning into his. “Believe it or not, baby, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” you pinch his cheek in a mocking manner, not shocked when he’s quick to tear your touch off him. “Or at least, I’m trying not to make you my first priority, considering you’ve stopped doing that a while ago. If it taught me one thing over the years, it must be that it made me fucking miserable. Blame me all you want for not wanting to feel that way. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Baby,” he sings sweetly, a hand at your cheek as he makes sure your eyes stay locked together. He captures the fire blazing in your eyes, burning into his skull. “We can drop the big-girl act right now and head inside. I mean it,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Right now it’s your word against mine. I’ll pour us something to drink and we’ll sit down. Just you and me, that's all we need.”
You jerk away from his touch, the intensity of the moment still pulsing between you. Drop the act? You’re seething. Jeon Jungkook always finds a way to make the steam blow out of your ears. “I don’t need anything from you.” You snap without missing a beat, thankful for the way you’re magically able to find your car keys in one of the side pockets of your bag.
For a moment, silence hangs in the air, heavy with unresolved tension. You watch as his lips part, looking for words to argue with, but nothing comes out. It feels like a confirmation when it happens. You need to be anywhere but with him right now, and so does he.
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Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.
It’s an obvious matter of fact which you can’t help but examine into detail. Taehyung’s fragrance fans you off in a refined way, a gentle and classy blend of notes that seems to match that charismatic, boxy smile he keeps sending your way. And while Jungkook usually dresses in formal designer attire, woody essence hanging in the crooks of his neck, Taehyung dresses not only to impress, but also to express his artistic soul. Loose button up tucked in black trousers that sway at his legs with each step, it comes to showcase his vibrant and flowy persona. The color palette, combined with that perfect set of teeth represents his chic, suave ways of working. It comes to contrast Jungkook entirely.
Maybe you notice it because you’ve nearly spent a decade with the man. By his side day in and day out with a commitment beautifully decorating your ring finger, straight to a point where you could no longer see through each other’s flaws. And maybe that is where Taehyung comes in as a fresh breath of air. Even now that you’ve only seen the man twice in a lifetime, you only seem to focus on all the ways he seems to differ from Jungkook.
Do you feel guilty about the fact you’re watching Taehyung like a hawk, the lens on him a little too focused to point out all the things Jungkook isn’t? Not really. Right now, you don’t really feel anything. You drove over to Taehyung’s studio with half a heart racing against your ribcage, all the things you and Jungkook told each other in the back of your mind even as you arrived. Fifteen minutes late and dissolved hair that seemed like a hand has been through it a couple times.
Taehyung didn’t question it and you’re thankful he kept quiet. The last thing you need to have on your mind is Jungkook. Not his angry words, not even yours. And the charming photographer did a great job at keeping your mind off him the first hour of the session, it’s not his fault.
“You hate them.” Taehyung declares at your side, the camera in his hands falling down to his lap in a defeated manner. He’s seated at the corner of the table, one leg dangling off it right next to your high chair.
“It’s not that I hate them,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the studio. Taehyung’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes holding onto a sense of curiosity. You feel the weight of his unwavering attention, and for a moment, Jungkook is all you can think of. “It’s more like I had forgotten how good this feels... all of this. Really, your shots are amazing. I guess I’m just kind of in shock.”
A tiny smile creeps up at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s only half the work with a model like you,” he snickers cutely, nudging at your side. “And I don’t want to make this an I-knew-it-better-moment, but... I kind of told you so from the start.”
You can’t help but return his smile. “I know, you’re a genius.”
“Your words, not mine.” Taehyung holds his hands up in defense, the smile that’s teasing at his lips enough to tell you he agrees. “So, what do you say? I’ve got a few empty portfolios in the back, we could print some of these photos out and make it yours.”
The wink he throws your way doesn’t go by unnoticed, his sneaky, encouraging grin filled with enthusiasm as he waits for you with a glimmer in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, lower belly piling with excitement at the idea of physically holding today’s shoot in your hands. Though the hesitation creeps at you, as if something stops you from letting that excitement flow out. “I don’t know, Taehyung…” You mumble, a toothy smile on your face even though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m gonna have to take that map home with me, and I’m gonna stare at those pictures for hours. It’ll drive me insane.”
Taehyung quirks a brow. “That’s the point.”
“Yeah, I know,” you murmur quietly, and Taehyung is unable to pry his eyes off you, the grin from before now fading off and replaced with a concerned frown. “I know that’s the point. It’s just that... I don’t know. I’m going to want more.”
It takes a second before your words work through but the grin eventually works its way back onto his lips. Wide and closed-lipped with big effort, Taehyung fights hard to hold his toothy smile back, biting at his bottom lip to prevent it from happening. It’s cute how the little confession slips off your tongue and you’re so scared to see what the outcome could be. Taehyung shuffles at his seat at the corner of the table, shoulders relaxing. ‘‘I’ll give you more.’’ He says, and suddenly his cheeky demeanor is gone, looking at you like he’s closing down a deal.
You press your lips together but he can see the way you’re trying to hold your laughter back. ‘‘Taehyung, be serious.’’
‘‘I’m serious, ___.’’ He says, and it’s like he pronounces your name in slow motion. His pink lips pout a little as if he’s deep in thoughts, head tilting while your eyes lock. ‘‘I don’t see why not? You haven’t been on the job for years, the pictures obviously show that it comes to you like second nature… we’re a great team too, can’t deny that one.’’ He smiles charmingly, and it now results in you biting your bottom lips to prevent the cheeky smile from reappearing. ‘‘So, yes. I’d give you more if that’s what you wanted.’’
‘‘This is insane.’’ You nearly whisper, head shaking. ‘‘I mean, this is crazy, Taehyung. I’m not a model anymore. I can't just pick up where I left off, it’s been literal years and I probably just shouldn’t even think about it.’’
His shoulder leans into you, watching you ramble from beneath his black curls like he sees right through you. ‘‘Because of your marriage?” He asks, eyes shifting downward before he meets yours again and you’re uncertain where exactly they shifted towards, but it might be better if you don’t know.
You chuckle lightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. ‘‘I mean, sure. Jungkook’s my husband, he has some say about any of this.’’
‘‘Sure he does. But here’s a problem,’’ he says, a pointy finger in the air before it drops back to his lap. ‘‘You’re scared he won’t understand the purpose of it. Scared that he won’t be supporting you in all the ways you’ll need him. Right? Considering your husband is… sort of a prick. More or less.’’
You send him a scolding glare, one that’s not too hard on him looking at how you sketched Jungkook out to be that way in Taehyung’s eyes. ‘‘Tae,’’ you say quietly, ‘‘I know I mentioned some things about Jungkook back at the event, but really, he isn’t a jerk. Not a prick, or any of that sort. That’s only okay for me to say.’’ You add the lighthearted joke to keep the good atmosphere in the room. After all, you don’t blame him for thinking of Jungkook as a bad guy.
‘‘I get it, I’m overstepping my boundaries here.’’ He holds his hands up in the air, admitting defeat with that charming smile on his face. ‘‘But I’m just saying, ___. Relationships are important–marriage is important. But here’s the thing about you,’’ he pauses, voice lowering. ‘‘You have talent, undeniably so. I’ve captured it all today. And I truly believe that sometimes, you have to pursue your passions regardless of the risks. Regardless of anyone else if this is what feels right to you.’’ Taehyung holds his hands to his chest like he’s speaking from the heart and it makes you nervous how he says all these things like it’s so easy. So effortless to see the man you spend the last six years with as a risk.
Truth is, yes: Kim Taehyung sees right through you. He is right all along and you wouldn’t know how Jungkook would respond to making this whole ordeal a regular thing. Hell, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to react to it. With how shaky your relationship has become as of lately, how each one of your problems have circulated back to Jungkook’s office job some way or another, it’s hard to tell if the opportunity Taehyung offers you would truly work in your favor.
You take a deep breath, contemplating Taehyung’s words and the weight of them. The room falls into a brief silence though it isn’t pressuring, not trying to suffocate you for once. It’s not that you doubt the talent or passion that lingers within you, but you wonder if it’s worth anything if it means it would only dig your relationship deeper in the ground, especially when you and Jungkook are already trying so hard to climb out of that hole.  
‘‘It’s not something you have to figure out right now.’’ Taehyung shrugs, a reassuring smile at his lips when he catches him losing you. ‘‘I just want you to know you can always give me a call. I’d be down for anything going forward, ___.’’
You can hear the hope in Taehyung’s voice and you wonder why he tries so hard to make you understand. You appreciate it, though you wonder. You just figure he’s a good guy with a good heart.
‘‘You know, you can print those photos out.’’ You say, back straightening as you catch how it throws the guy off guard a bit, his brows rising. ‘‘I had these crazy ideas for the cover of my portfolio, anyway. Might as well put them to good use and take it home with me.’’
You even surprise yourself as the words spill from your lips, though you have no intention to take them back. You suppose this is what you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. Taehyung’s eyes almost seem to lighten up. ‘‘I knew you were a smart one.’’
And that’s how you’re ushering Taehyung towards the printer in the corner of his minimal studio before he can make any more smart comments. He reassures you some more time, sensing your absence as silence falls over you once more, insecurities still nagging at you even when you convince yourself this small step could lead to something good. Something bigger. At one point, it’s just the sound of the printer rapidly inking the paper as the both of you stand there on the side in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. But you’d say it’s rather an unfamiliar one. Taehyung never does anything to make you feel like a fish out of the water, he makes sure of it and you’re grateful for that.
Joy swells at your chest, leading to butterflies filling up your lower belly. Not because of Taehyung; even as you see right through his charming looks or flirtatious brown eyes, but because he saw something in you that night of the event that made a spark of inspiration flow. Thinking back at how easy it’s been with him, how you haven’t even met the man a week ago and how you’re now here, in his studio working on things you once called passion for—it drives you crazy.
‘‘You know what? We should celebrate,” he calls and the sound of his voice throws you off guard. “With some wine, I mean. You like red?’’
And that’s how you and Taehyung end up popping a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco in the middle of his studio. The curly haired man says he always has some sort of beverage stored in the back in case of celebration, and you believe him. His character is like a breath of fresh air. He goes with the flow, you can tell, that being all you’ve been doing in the past days you introduced yourselves to one another. One hand dug deep in the pocket of his voguish trousers and the next thing you know, you’ve finished up a shoot and are setting up your portfolio together.
You like Taehyung.
You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.
Conversation flows well, even after only a couple sips of the wine he poured you. Conversation has been flowing well since the start of today’s shoot, but now that you get to sit down, look him in the eye and get to know him better, you can tell you’ve got that chemistry. The air in Taehyung’s studio feels lighter, almost ethereal, as you sit comfortably at the foldable, rusted party table and squeaky chairs he pulled from the back. Only after apologizing a handful of times, his nearly empty studio only holding onto lightning and his required equipment as you sit in the middle of it. It’s not his day to day workplace, he told you, though you keep telling him there’s something to it. The minimal yet intimate air lingers and it makes you feel good on the inside.
There’s an effortless ease to your interactions, you’re not sure what it is that he does, but he does it. Taehyung’s laughter resonates in the room, infectious and sincere whenever he talks. You find yourself opening up to him, discussing your ambitions, as well as your fears. There’s a certain comfort in his presence, as if he intuitively grasps the struggles you’ve been facing and offers you a safe space to let it out.  
‘‘This is one of my favorites,’’ Taehyung leans back in his chair, one leg over the other as he brings his glass back to his lips. Your portfolio is sprawled out over the entire surface of the tiny table, resulting in you to lean over with your own glass in one hand. You follow his gaze, falling on the picture of you that’s taken from an upper angle, open palms directed to the camera and glued to your cheeks. ‘‘This one makes it seem like you never quit modeling–it’s probably something in the eyes. They’re captivating.’’
You feel your cheeks heat up as you peer at the photograph. It’s true, the image captures a certain intensity in your eyes, a spark that evokes passion. It reminds you of the days where modeling was your world, where it was your only ambition and when you were fully immersed.
‘‘I mean it.’’ He says when he notices the curl of your lips, unknown what to do or say next. ‘‘You’ve got the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in, don’t you know?’’ He enjoys seeing you so flustered, enjoys seeing how you turn in somebody new, so different from the woman he first got to know at the event. He almost feels proud for bringing this side out of you.
You take a moment to collect your thoughts, Taehyung’s compliment leaving a cute flutter in your chest. You glance at the photo again, studying the intensity in your eyes like he described. ‘‘Thank you, Taehyung.’’ You reply sincerely, ‘‘I guess all of this is still kind of surreal to me. Didn’t think I’d find myself in a studio ever again, you know? It’s kind of a big deal to me.’’
‘‘I get that.’’ He says slowly, and you swear his voice drops a few octaves because of it. Leaning over the tiny table with folded arms, wine glass before you. Your eyes lock and neither of you care to say anything for another moment.
The afternoon carries on and shifts into an evening where the sun has already set before you can comprehend it. Taehyung’s squeaky party chair leaves an uncomfortable sting at your ass but you don’t mind, barely notice the feel when the nearly empty wine bottle sits there to stare at you both. A little liquid layer of red wine left over and waiting for you to finish as you hang onto Taehyung’s every word. Hang onto his tongue as he speaks of his experiences within the industry, speaks of everything you’ve been missing out on the past few years. You feel like that girl in highschool again, reading through Vogue magazines in between classes and cutting your favorite models out to stick it on to your moodboard when you were supposed to work on your homework.
Yes, you look up to Taehyung. It was inevitable from the beginning. You believe so, because Kim Taehyung’s the only connection you have right now who dives right back to that world. That world you’ve been dreaming of for so long and once made true. And not only that, but he was also the first person in a long time who saw you for anybody else than the wife of. Say you’re being dramatic, but it’s no more than the truth. Taehyung gave you an opportunity within the first ten minutes of truly knowing who you were. It says something about him. Something good that makes you feel like you can handle a lot more than you think.
You at 9.38 PM | Hi, I had a lil wine and I’m jus a little tipsy, but I probably shouldn’t be driving
You at 9.40 PM | do you think you can come over and pick me up?
Read at 9:40 PM.
You lay your phone flat on the table as you lean back into your seat with a loud huff. Copying you, his head tilts slightly. “I could just drive you home, you know that right? No need for him to drive all the way over here.”
“There’s that, but you’ve already done so much for me today.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “Really, there’s nothing you could do right now that would make me any happier.”
It’s true. Kim Taehyung made you the happiest woman alive today. 
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It doesn’t take very long before you hear the shut of a car door right outside, followed by impatient knocks at the front.
“The one and only.” Taehyung murmurs with a teasing smile your way, lazily getting up from his seat before he moves to the door.
The door flies wide open and revealed behind it is your husband, hands at both his hips as his dress shirt stretches across his chest at the movement. He leans his weight onto one leg, analyzing the man before him. “Right here, sir,” Taehyung comes to stand beside him, stepping outside and pointing to something that’s out of your view. “I’ve got a doorbell. For future references.”
You catch the playful smile that’s tugging onto the corners of Taehyung’s lips and so does Jungkook. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly as he steps inside the small studio, fast to catch your eye from your seat at the table. “But I’m just here to pick up my wife.”
Jungkook’s steps sound heavy in the nearly empty space, leather designer shoes tapping against the flooring with a slight echo at each stride. He ends up in front of you by the table but doesn’t say anything, though you see his lips are pursed and cheeks are sucked in. Hands hiding in the pockets of his dress pants, you notice how his aura comes with a change of atmosphere. Let that be his body language, the strict look on his face, or maybe even the way you react to his presence—you know the change didn’t just come falling out of the sky.
You snap out of it when Taehyung closes the door behind him with a soft thud, followed by awkward silence. Your chair screeching against the floor comes next. “Taehyung,” you move around the table, coming to stand next to your husband and locking arms. “This is my husband, Jungkook.” The man on your side doesn’t care to return your touch. No arm at the small of your back, barely another look your way when he’d rather look anywhere else with pulled brows. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung. The photographer I told you about. He’s been doing such an amazing job at running today’s shoot.”
Being the bigger person in the room, Taehyung steps in to stretch out a hand, back curving slightly. “It’s good to meet you, I’ve only heard so much.”
Jungkook only provides him a nod of acknowledgment with each childish nerve that still runs through his body, ignoring eye contact like he’s still sixteen and his mama taught him no manners. You watch as Taehyung’s hand dissolves into a loose fist and falls to his side in defeat, you send him an apologetic smile to make up for it but he brushes it aside with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Alright, I guess we should leave.” You break through the ice, hand falling at your side as you roam around to search for your bag. You reach for the curly haired man once everything’s settled, and even though Jungkook didn’t care enough to return your touch before, you catch him tonguing his cheek when you reach out for Taehyung. “Thanks again. Really, I had a blast.”
“No more than I did.” He gives you his signature smile, the one that would leave many weak in the knees.
You bid your goodbyes, telling each other to get home safely as Jungkook watches from the side. You hug Taehyung tightly before you leave, an embrace where your arms are secured around his neck and his hands appropriately rest at your back.
It’s when you and Jungkook step out when you halt in the middle of the doorway, your portfolio that was secured beneath your arm now pushed into his chest. “Oh, Taehyung!” You turn around, hair sweeping against Jungkook with the sharp turn you take. Taehyung watches you with curious, slightly widened eyes. “Is it okay for me to give you a call later this week? I’d really love to repeat what we did today some time soon.”
His features relax, familiar grin returning. “You can always give me a call.” He smiles cutely. “Hit my line, I’ll have time for you, ___.”
Insecurity is not something Jungkook has had to worry about in the past, and certainly not now. Not when it came to you, not when you were entirely his, and he was entirely yours without any second thoughts. And he still trusts you completely, trust isn’t the issue. Insecurities aren’t the issue, either. And maybe, Kim fucking Taehyung isn’t what bothers him. Maybe it’s the way you seem to admire him, remembering that twinkle in your eyes from a long time ago. Remembering that smile you rarely save for Jungkook to see these days.
So, yes. Jungkook feels a weird tingle in the pit of his stomach like he’s being teased. Like it’s your first month of dating and he’s back in college again. Standing on the side like this, waiting for you to finish the conversation, the bitterness can only creep up on him at this point.
Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.
The drive back home is worse than when Jungkook came to pick you up. He isn’t saying a word and neither are you, but he seems to be the only one bothered by it. With one hand at the steering wheel, he catches a glance at you on his side. Your nose digs into the map Taehyung gave you to bring home and your focus holds so much, you don’t even notice him staring. He can’t see much of what’s on the inside, not with the sun that has already set and the darkness that has consumed his sight.
Once you arrive home, Jungkook makes a beeline to the bedroom and you don’t put in much effort to run after the man. You store the portfolio someplace safe, where you’re sure nothing could spill or damage it in any way. It’s undeniable how today’s events made you feel like an absolute doll. Maybe it’s the after effects, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re running your entire skincare routine with droplets of water from your shower still dripping from your wet hair. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve been feeling like a pretty girl all day and you want to continue feeling that way.
It’s evident in the way you choose to wear the prettiest slip dress you can find hanging in your closet, the satin material cutting off just beneath the swell of your ass. It’s a piece Jungkook bought you a while ago during one of his first trips away, coming home with a Dior bow wrapped around the luxury packaging and a boyish smile dragging up the edges of his lips. It’s been his favorite ever since. Always loved how the fabric hugged your every curve, the way your nipples seemed to pinch right through. The way his eyes were unable to rip his gaze off you.
It’s when you enter the bedroom as Jungkook’s broad back meets you, seated at the edge of the queen sized bed with his elbows resting atop his thighs. He doesn’t bat an eye as he feels the bed dip behind him. Your knees dig into the fluffed sheets as you reach closer, heaving a loud sigh like you’re calling out for him.
“You don’t like him, do you?” you hum sweetly, pausing when your front is pressed against his back, heat radiating between you. It’s obvious who you’re referring to, hands travel at his both sides before you embrace him from beneath his arms. “Taehyung is a talented guy, don’t be so hard on him.” You chuckle at his ear, leaving a single, soft peck at his cheek. “Maybe you should flip through the portfolio we put together. You’ll really see him in a different light then, trust me.”
Manicured fingers fumble around until they reach the lowest button of his blouse. Starting from the bottom, you undo it, and you can hear the subtle sigh coming from his nose, jaw set tight as his teeth grind together. You press a trail of wet kisses to his warm skin rather than commenting on it, right below his earlobe reaching lower towards the sweet spots in his velvety neck, nails teasing at his stomach as you continue to unbutton his shirt. Jungkook is holding back, you can tell by the way his head tilts your way and eyes close at the feel of your lips buried deep in his neck, tits pressing at his backside as your hands are all over him, eagerly fumbling with his shirt–not giving into your touch. Not yet.
‘‘You’re still in your work clothes,’’ you hum in his neck, as if it isn’t already obvious. His dress pants tighten around his thick thighs each time he sits down and it’s your favorite thing in the world, the outline of his hardening crotch a little more visible with each gentle nip of your teeth against his skin.
“Yeah,” he sighs. ‘’Just in case my tipsy wife couldn’t drive her way back home again and I’d end up changing clothes anyway,’’ Jungkook simply says, even if the bitter edge to his statement doesn’t go missed by you.
You chuckle cutely, the sweet sound roaming at his ear. Is that why he’s upset? ‘‘Okay, alright.’’ You breathe lightly, sliding the light fabric of his shirt off his broad shoulders, his hot and inked almond skin on full display when you settle for less, throwing the piece to the side. Playful pecks follow at his shoulder blade, tender and deliberate. You trail your fingers lightly along the curves of his muscular back until you decide you had enough, rounding him until you straddle him, both legs on his either side. Cupping his face, you make him lock eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry for the late night drive. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,’’ you confess softly, voice laced with a hint of mischief, hips carefully beginning to roll against his. ‘‘But I promise to behave next time, okay?’’
With his face cupped in your hands, you press your lips against his to pull him in a longing kiss, lingering a little longer than usual. You can tell he’s tired, that he doesn’t have much energy left over to deal with you, though your lips dance in unison anyway. Sweetly sucking onto your bottom lip like he’s hungry and you’re a free buffet. You watch as you detach from him, his eyes fluttering open after. “You’re in a good mood.” Jungkook hums with heavy lidded eyes on yours.
‘‘That’s because I had a good day.’’ You sing gently. Your wide, toothy smile would usually be one thing that he believes could halt anyone in their tracks. Though he beats you to it as you reach for another peck at the lips.
‘‘Hm, yeah?’’ He asks, head tilting. And even though his thumbs start caressing sweet circles at your exposed thigh, disappearing beneath the rich satin of your nightdress, all you can focus on is the tight line of his lips. The slight pinch between his brows. ‘‘My day was less fun, baby.’’
Your playful demeanor shifts at the seriousness of his tone, the straight face he gives you as he examines your every move unable to go unnoticed by you. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about the argument you had earlier today. It’s just that you’ve been in a position where you came as a second option to him all the time, so when the roles were reversed this morning, you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. Still, with a sympathetic expression, you lean in closer, a gentle whisper against his lips. ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ you ask, fully prepared to hear about all the ways he felt when you left the house like you haven’t been through it yourself.
He keeps his eyes on you for a minute longer and you can’t seem to figure out what is going through his head. Neither of you say anything and he keeps you in the dark for a moment, staring at you with those heavy lidded eyes that don’t bring you much further. “I’d drive around town to pick you up in the middle of the night, ___. You could call me at 3 in the fucking morning and I’d be there without another word.” Jungkook’s fingers tighten at your hips, gaze flickering to your lips. His voice is stern, like he’s preaching. You merely stare back at him with those big eyes of yours, like you wouldn’t have an idea where he’s going with this. “Late night drives don’t bother me at all.”
“Okay,” you pause carefully, head tilting to indicate you’re listening. “Then what does?” Two hands go through his black locks, pushing the hair out of his face as you begin to massage his scalp. The feel of your nails against his scalp is always so reassuring to him, even though not a hint of reassurance paints his face right now.
His lips press together. Why does he have to chew it out for you? You can’t seem to figure it out yourself and Jungkook’s patience is running on thin ice. It’s not a combination either of you like to see. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to keep employees on the job so long after business hours? It’s unprofessional, ___.” He drops the bomb, causing the fingers that are running through his hair to slow down. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?”
You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t working, Jungkook.” You laugh, though his mood doesn’t lighten up. “Taehyung and I were celebrating–it’s my first modeling job in years. We kind of had to.”
“With wine?”
You halt at the shift in his tone, at his voice that’s laced with accusation. The single brow that arches up his forehead as if he’s searching for a reason to be angry, to find fault in your actions. ‘‘Yes, with wine,’’ you reply, maintaining your composure. ‘‘What’s the issue? You drink wine with your colleagues all the time.’’
The air in the room becomes tense as he continues to scrutinize you, eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. ‘‘At social gatherings, yes. Not one-on-one in a room the size of my kitchen cabinet, ___, come on. What are you even on?’’
‘‘What am I on?’’ You repeat and pull away from him, back straightening as your hands fall to your lap. ‘‘Jungkook, I'm not on anything. I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I was simply celebrating a milestone with a very professional guy. You do that all the time. Is that so wrong when I do it?’’
His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression hardened. ‘‘It’s not about right or wrong,’’ he retorts, his voice sharper than it has been all night. ‘‘I’m just saying this guy is not your colleague, he’s not your coworker. He’s just some guy you met a couple days ago. I would have appreciated it if you had considered our relationship before indulging in a late-night celebration with another man.’’
Your eyes widen at his words, blood starting to boil when you cross your arms, jaw locked tightly. ‘‘Either you’re being very jealous and fucking possessive right now, or you’re making me feel like you don’t trust me.’’ You say, tone firm. ‘‘And it better not be the latter, Jungkook. Because we’ve been together for way too long to be worrying about this type of shit.’’
You watch him with anticipation but he doesn’t give you an answer right away. Just stares at you with those stern, dark eyes and raises a single eyebrow like you’ll have to figure it out yourself. ‘‘Oh my God,’’ you mumble in disbelief, flying off his lap and ripping his touch off you.
‘‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’’ he heaves a sigh, arms resting atop his knees as his hands intertwine. ‘‘I trust you, I always have trusted you. But him? I don’t know that guy, ___.’’ He points at the door with a flat hand. ‘‘And I’m not an insecure guy, you know that. I got nothing against him, but when you chose that guy to go to earlier this morning even after I told you I was ready to sit down and talk things through, then yes, it hurt my fucking pride. You just turned your back on me.’’
His words hang in the air as you stand there, his frustration and vulnerability obvious. ‘‘I’ve been in a position where I came as a second option to you before. Multiple times, Jungkook, don’t you forget that.’’ You scold him, keeping your voice calm. ‘‘You’re always scheduling meetings, saying yes to promotions and extra hours. Taking on additional responsibilities when you know our relationship can’t afford it right now… I’ve been ready to fix us for a long time, and I’d be the first one in line to give us all the closure we’re reaching out for.’’
You hover over him with the way he’s still seated, continuing. ‘‘But I’m not a puppet. You can’t just pull me out of the closet whenever it comes in handy, and you suddenly feel like talking things out. Like, you leave for that trip in four days and you feel like now is the time to talk things through?’’
He pauses, not uttering a single word for what feels like an eternity. His palms rub together like he’s in deep thought. And for a moment, you imagine what it would be like if your words finally seemed to work through, if they finally made an impact on him. You give him the time to process in silence, watching over him like a hawk, crossed arms over your chest.
‘‘Are you still going to see him while I’m away?’’ He finally asks, voice barely audible. His gaze fixates on a certain spot in the room, avoiding direct eye contact with you.
‘‘I don’t know, probably.’’ You huff, arms falling to your sides and losing all the hope you gathered before. ‘‘Are we still talking about Taehyung? I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation we’re having.’’
‘‘It’s important to me,’’ Jungkook asserts, standing up from his seat and sauntering up to you with deliberate, measured steps. He takes you by the hand, guiding you a few steps further into the bedroom until you both stand in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and continues to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘I need to know your answer before I give you your gift.’’
You blink slowly. A sense of weariness washes over you. ‘‘My what?’’
Jungkook holds you tightly, his front glued to your back like you’ll shrug him off anytime soon. His chest holds onto the same warmth it always has, radiating it to you and you’re instantly warming up at the feel. ‘‘You smell so good,’’ he digs his nose into a sweet spot at your neck, ignoring your confused state when he sniffs at your skin. Vanilla sugar scrub. The one he included in your valentine’s gift only a few years back, before you had gotten married. You had told him you loved it back then. And at first he thought you said it just to say it, up until the moment you started to swim in vanilla, only lasting a week or two with the product. Your brand new, shared bathroom permanently smelling like sweet vanilla and sugar, smelling like you.
You asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn’t tell. Don’t be such a guy, you told him. You had enough time in the world to run to the store and get it yourself. But he wouldn’t budge. Jungkook wanted to be the one to keep buying it for you. He wanted to be your guy; the one who bought you your vanilla sugar body scrub. And he has done it ever since he promised himself to become that guy. The one who made sure there’s a refilled bottle at your bathroom counter every month.
Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your collarbone. ‘‘It’d make me feel so good to have you on the trip, in my suite… smelling like this.’’ He says softly, veiny hands traveling over the thin, silky material of your dress until they get to slip underneath. Drawing gentle circles over your skin as you can only see the top of his head through the mirror with the way he buries his face in your neck. ‘‘I would be exhausted after working all day, but it’d be worth it. Don’t you think?’’
‘‘Jungkook…’’ He doesn’t give you much time to continue when his lips press against your skin. Wet, loud and lewd pecks left in an unfamiliar pattern down your neck.
Jungkook hums in the crook of your neck. ‘‘Maybe a change in environment would do us good.’’ His fingertips tickle you when they continue to feel you up, curling around the thin lace of your thong as he tugs at it. You’re unable to prevent the sweet gasp from coming out when it moves between your ass cheeks. “We’d get to be away from the house for a little while. To take all the time in the world to make up, to make sure we’re okay and ready to move on.”
You don’t stop him when his fingers carefully dip beneath the lace of your underwear, and you’re sure your brain has altered you from pushing him away. Altered you from standing your ground with two firm feet planted to the ground. Instead, you melt into him with the back of your own head prompted to his shoulder this time, bare neck on full display for him. You feel your knees getting weaker when he presses two fingers to your sensitive bud with a bit more pressure than you’re used to, his other hand holding onto you tightly to keep you standing.
It usually starts like this. One moment you’re arguing with him, pouring your heart out and laying yourself bare before him, and the next, you fall into him, forgetting what you were about to say next as you reach out for a breath of air. It doesn’t take long before you’re completely losing yourself in his arms, against his chest, two of his inked fingers dipping into your heat even as your walls begin to tighten around them. You don’t stop him, you love each drag of his thick fingers in your cunt as you stand on your tippy toes, tightly holding onto him at the nape of his neck while he fingerfucks you into another world. Jungkook sneaks a glance at you through the mirror every now and then. Once now, twice when he can feel his dick erect in his pants at the sight of your pinched eyes, your heavy breaths and your hardened nipples through your dress.
Jungkook brings you out to the bed when you nearly tip over without the heels of your feet supporting your weight. He lays you down carefully like you’re fragile, like you’ll break down any minute. Spreading your legs with your panties shoved to the side, he curses to himself when he laps at your sweet juices, coating his tongue as he sucks it up without a complaint as your fingers curl in his hair and back arches off the mattress. Pride is what he feels. Pride is what he feels when you tell him he’s wearing too much, when you tell him he could lose some and you wouldn’t mind. He does as you desire, taking off his dress pants as well as his already stained boxers to reveal the hard-on he’s been hiding. Red and swollen dick that’s so erect, it bounces back to his stomach. He watches as you eye fuck him, as your mouth waters only at the sight. At the ideas that swim through your head. It’s a tit for a tat, he tells you. A give and a take. You want him just as much as he wants you. It’s only fair you both get what you want.
It’s when you disregard your flimsy dress over the top of your head, tits bouncing back and hair splayed out over the bed when he feels like he starts to lose control. Fisting his cock in your warm, slick hand in between your bodies, you pump him up and down as he reaches for another kiss that leaves you breathless beneath him. He doesn’t mind you gasping for air every now and then, enjoying the feel of your chest rising up and down against his own. Hips thrust into your hand when your grip becomes a little tighter, a little more precise and a little more skilled, thumb reaching to tease at his tip. But he stops himself before he shoots his load right onto your stomach. If he’s coming anywhere tonight, it’s going to be inside you.
You know that’s exactly what he wants when you get to all fours for him. Knees digging into the made sheets, your face buried in the soft satin with your ass high up in the air just the way he likes. Jungkook’s hands are at your hips without hesitation, gripping onto your hips as he lines up to your sweet cunt. The first stroke is the one most careful. Even after being together for a total of 7 years, each and every time, you need some time getting used to his size. It doesn’t matter, whatever feels best for you, is what he has said from the beginning. After all, it’s all worth it when he gets to pound deep into you mere minutes later, skin slapping against skin as he watches your ass cheeks bounce back and forth.
He can’t take it. He needs to see all of you from each angle available. You’re not surprised when he gently tugs you up by the arm, though you nearly melt into him again and all your weight shifts onto him to carry back to the full length mirror leaned up against the wall. He pumps into your pussy there, making you watch as you get fucked from behind with a hand wrapped around your throat and an arm hunched around your waist to keep you glued to him. Your heavy breaths melt together the faster his pace increases, hitting your sweet spot with every pound of his hips into yours, with dirty thoughts slipping his tongue, with every drag of his cock into your dripping cunt while he consumes each plea coming from your lips. Begging him to fuck you until you lose it. Begging him to feel his cum inside you as you feel his every inch, feel his everything.
He does as you plead in the end. Jungkook comes undone inside you, your ass pressed against him while pretty whimpers leave your pretty mouth and he ignores his own panting to get the best out of you. His hips stutter when warm spurts of cum fill you up, leaving you like a mess hanging onto him with all the energy you have left over.
But he takes care of you after, like he always does. Jungkook lays you back onto the bed carefully, returning from the bathroom with a damp, warm towel as he cleans you up and hoists you back into your dress and beneath the slick sheets. He pushes your hair out of your face, pushes strands and pieces behind your ear and makes sure the sheets are pulled up to your shoulders. You lay on his side of the bed, eyes heavy lidded and ready to drift off. But he doesn’t mind. You’re exhausted, and for good reason.
‘‘Before you fall asleep, princess,’’ he begins softly, fingers gently brushing at your forehead to push off imaginary strands of hair, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly. ‘‘I need to give you my gift.’’
You had forgotten all about the gift.
Jungkook hovers over you, reaching for the envelope at his nightstand that has your name on it in that awful handwriting of his. He hands it to you and you take the piece of paper in your hands, fiddling with the corners of it as your eyes meet his again. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is that runs through your head, but your brows slightly furrow like you’re afraid to open it up.
‘‘It’s yours.’’ He nudges at your side, fist supporting the weight of his head next to you as he leans in closer. His voice is gentle, almost comforting, as if he wants to ease any worries you’ve been keeping from him.
You open it up, revealing another piece of paper inside of it.
First class passenger’s boarding pass.
He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction with those big eyes. ‘‘So, what do you say?’’ He asks impatiently. ‘‘Are you coming with me on that trip?’’
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idyllcy · 4 months
Text
and on and on, yeah we got the time
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Word count: 1.2k || pt2 of on and on, || art creds: 30backyard (lofter)
summary: dorming is hell, so your boyfriend fixes that obv
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"You know, Jay." You raise a brow as he does all of the heavy lifting, sliding your mattress on the ground into your shared bedroom in the new apartment. 
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Oh, god. Did you learn that while reading on ao3 again? Jesus." You grumble. "What I was going to say, though, was that you really... you probably could have called a moving company."
"Listen, lovely." He points. "You have me."
"Yeah, yeah." You sigh. "I love you too, Jay."
"Good, cuz I've seen how many weird fratboys make eyes at you on the daily, and I honestly think some of them need to get beat."
"Not like you couldn't beat them." You pat his shoulder. "Is that it?"
"Should be." He hums. "How do you like our place?"
"Can't wait to have all of my annoying ass textbooks slotted in the bookshelves that you decided were necessary while telling Bruce to remodel."
"Can't wait to have your dissertation plastered on the walls."
"Oh..." You mumble. "Our degrees... You plan on living here forever?"
"Just a little, maybe."
"Could we just throw the mattress off the balcony next time?"
"I mean, I'm not saying no..."
You find that Jason's still the biggest book nerd in college. His 4.0 is daunting compared to yours despite being in the same school as you, and it's just a little... terrifying. At the very least, all of his professors adore him. You find that it's at the very least — helpful. It's great that Jason's adored by your shared professors because when Jason accidentally lets slip that you're his girlfriend, it gives you a boost. You don't know how, but you end up relaying messages to Jason through your professors occasionally. You wonder just what kind of tactics Jason's employing to get on their good side an ungodly amount, but it's not your problem. Jason has the face card and the personality for it.
At the very least, when it comes to you, he does.
"Prof wants to see you at office hours." He hums. "English 102."
"Jesus, what did I do now?" You grimace.
"Probably that shitty essay you bullshitted."
"God." You mumble. "I truly need to get on your level."
"Thank you, sweetheart." He hums. "The art of knowing does not come easy."
"Yeah, yeah." You grumble. "We should get back to a book a week. Sorry, I mean I should get back to a book a week."
"You can start by catching up with me."
"M..." You pause. "How about... no."
"Well, your choice." Jason hums. "We're mid semester—"
"WHICH IS ANOTHER THING. WHY DID WE MOVE MID-SEMESTER??" You snap your head to look at him, annoyed. "Jay, baby."
"I know." He pouts. "But you hated that dorm too."
"Yeah, but now I have to change all of my mailing addresses. Again." You mumble. "I hate doing that. I don't know how many accounts I even have."
"At least you got all of your packages."
"I guess..." You sigh. "Well, at the very least... we own this place."
"We own the building."
"WHAT." 
"Correction. B bought the building and transferred ownership to me. I own the building."
"Oh my god." You mumble. "You truly are learning from the worst..."
"Worst being you?"
"Yes. Duh. How many times have I called B for a hundred dollars because I couldn't afford matcha?"
Jason holds back a laugh, closing his eyes as his brows furrow. "Matcha does not—"
"No, but B can spare it." You hum. "Don't worry. I pay him back with the abundance of gifts I bring with each travel."
"Which is on B's account." Jason pauses. "You know what? Yeah. Whatever. Eat the rich. I didn't steal his tires and strike gold for me to be telling you to go easy on his bank account."
You give him a thumbs up. "Well, I make my own as well. It's nice to not need to worry about tuition... but it's also a pain in the ass to not be able to make money here."
"At least you have a legal ssn and everything."
"Not."
"Not ssn. Sorry." He snorts. "Well, better than the goons in Gotham, I'm sure."
"Definitely." You hum.
Jason tunes out your rambling as he glances around the room. The couch would arrive soon, and the rest of the furniture (including the 4K HD TV that you deemed necessary in order to, and he quotes, "see men in 4k" on) would arrive soon. He wonders just what he would be doing had he not met you. 
Would his life have ended when he nearly lost his life? Would he have gone to find his mother had you not clung onto him and threatened suicide? Even then, you were insane. He glances back at you as you tilt your head at him, expecting an answer.
"Sorry, babe. Spaced out."
"I was asking if you wanted takeout for dinner."
"Maybe?" Jason pauses. "Sure. You wanna order?"
"There's a place downstairs that I wanted to go to." You hum. "Right out there."
"Hope that pizza is just as good as the one that Dick won't shut up about." Jason mumbles.
"You recon I could ask them if they take school dining dollars?"
"They don't."
"Wouldn't hurt to ask." You grin. 
"I'm not asking for you." He deadpans. "I'll search it on reddit for you, though."
"Mm... that works." You hum. "So... wanna tell me what was on that exam you took?"
"No."
"No?? Not even a clue??" You gasp, pretending to be hurt.
"You'll be fine."
"That 88 I got on my first exam begs to differ."
"You're my smart girl." He hums.
You grimace at him.
"Alright, alright. But you're paying for dinner."
"Bruce is, but yeah." You click on your phone, handing him the menu as you get cozy on the couch. 
Jason settles into a day to day with you, fingers interlaced with yours, placing grapes in your mouth as you rest, sigh breaking through your chest as you rest the book over your eyes.
"Tired?"
"Very." You hum. "How was your final?"
"I finished." He pulls another grape, pressing it to your lips as you part them to eat. "You're getting real lazy, sweetheart, you know that?"
"Yeah." You hum. "But you love me."
Jason pretends to think about it, tapping his chin as he puts the bowl down. "I don't know..."
"You're hand feeding me grapes and you're telling me you don't know if you love me?" You move the book from your eyes, raising a brow at him as you shuffle and lean on your elbows.. "Jason, beloved. If you tell me you don't know one more time I'm sending you straight to hell."
"By killing me?"
"Jay, baby?"
"Yes?"
"No." 
He reaches for the bowl again, breaking another grape off to give you.
"But you love me."
"Yeah, yeah." You sigh, taking the grape as Jason presses his lips to yours, giving you a quick kiss. You make a noise in protest.
"I love you more than words could express, sweetheart." He takes the last grape, slipping it past his own lips as you throw your head into the arm of the couch and groan.
"You cheeseball."
"Says the one who asked me out."
"I didn't even ask you out all that cheesily." 
"Yeah, but you asked me out."
"And you accepted it." You point. "Loser."
"Yeah, your loser."
"My loser." You sigh. 
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arc-misadventures · 1 year
Text
Fathers Day Letter
Beacon Academy lunchroom, and everyone is looking over the mail they have each recently received.
Ruby: Ohh! Dad sent me something!
Yang: Me too, wonder what he sent me.
Weiss: Oh? My sister sent me a package, I wonder what’s in it.
Pyrrha: My mom sent me a care package~!
Ren: I got a parcel in the mail: I hope it’s those tea leaves I ordered.
Nora: My magazine is in! YES!!!
Blake: Yes! The latest book in the, ‘Ninja’s of Lust’ series!
Ruby: COOKIES!!! He sent me cookies! Yayyyyy! (Nom,nom,nom,nom!)
Yang: Save some for later, Rubes. Now lets see… Awesome! He sent me the bike polish I use for, Bumblebee! I forgot it, when we left! I’m gonna have some fun spreading you on tonight~!
Weiss: Oh? ‘Dear sister, I lost a gentlemen’s wager, and they requested several signed copies of your latest album. Since I assume this would be no problem, would you kindly sign these copies, and send them back to me. Love, Winter.’ This is rather… unexpected.
Yang: Are you going to refuse her request?
Weiss: No, this should only take an hour to do. What did you get, Pyrrha.
Pyrrha: Cookies, chocolate, and some beauty products from home, nothing much really. Did you get your tea, Ren?
Ren: Yep; I’m looking forward to having these later.
Yang: What magazine did you order, Nora.
Nora: ‘Pancakes Illustrated’
Weiss: Excuse me?
Yang: That’s not what I think it is, is it?
Ren: Well…
Nora: Ohh yeah~! Let that butter run off you, you naughty girl~!
Yang: UHHHH?!
Pyrrha: Don’t ask.
Yang: Okay…?
Blake: And, you say I’m the depraved one…
Ruby: Isthat… (Gulp!) Is that a father’s day card, Jaune?
Yang: Wait, what?
Weiss: Excuse me?
Pyrrha: You’reafather?!
Nora: I’m an aunt?!
Jaune: Oh, yeah. It’s just a little joke card really. My sisters see me as the father figure they never had, so they send me this as family joke.
Pyrrha: Oh thank gods…
Yang: Oh, so what’s the joke, I bet it’s pretty funny!
Jaune: Well… It’s kinda funny… in the shear ridiculousness of it.
Blake: How ridiculous is this?
Jaune: Well, lets start at the beginning: My family consists of me, my older sisters, Saphron, and Thiriana. My mother, Juniper, my grandfather, Álkimos, and lastly my father, Evinder, or simply, Evin.
Pyrrha: I thought you said you were an only child?
Jaune: I’m the only son, I have lots of sisters though.
Pyrrha: Oh okay. Please continue.
Jaune: So when I was three years old, my father disappeared while out travelling. We had no idea what happened, my mother was so distraught that she begged my grandfather to go find him. So, my grandfather who is a, Huntsman, who also loves his daughter very much, went out to find him.
Ruby: Did he find him?
Jaune: No. He spent two years trying to find him, but he found no trace of him. However, a year later, when I had turned five, my grandfather was in another town a ways away from where I lived. Then town was attacked by some, Grimm. Luckily there was only one casualty. That one casualty was where things got interesting!
Weiss: What happened?
Jaune: Well, my grandfather went to the woman, her name is, Isleen, a snake faunas with beautiful blue, and gold tipped scales. And, she had three daughters: Luna, and a pair of twins named, Angela, and Janette, ages two, and one. And, she told him that her husband was missing, my grandfather asked what his name was, and she said his name was, Gregory. She then showed him a photo of him, and my father was left gobsmacked! He had a new hair cut, and a beard, but he knew very well what the face of his ‘deceased’ son-in-law looked like.
Yang: Wait, what?!
Weiss: He wasn’t dead?!
Blake: And, he abandon your mother?!
Ren: Along with you, and your sisters?!
Pyrrha: And, started a new family with another woman?!
Jaune: Yep. He wasn’t happy to say the least. Then, my grandfather showed, Isleen a photo of my mother, me, and my sisters, and my recently ‘deceased’ father, Evinder. She did not take it well that her husband was not who he said he was, and seeming abandoned her, like he had done with my mother really, really hurt her. So, my grandfather decided to take her, and her kids back home. To live with me, and the rest of my family.
Blake: Was your mom okay with that?
Jaune: Eventually. She didn’t like that her father brought some random woman, and her kids home with him. But, she understood why grandfather invited them to stay with us. I mean, learning that their husband was living under false identities, and had married two separate woman, and had kids with them, and abandoned both of them. They had plenty of things in common together to bound with one another.
Yang: I’ll bet they did.
Jaune: Shortly after that, my grandfather was called to deal with a missing person report in another town. So he went there, and this woman asked if he could find her missing husband…
Weiss: Don’t tell me. He looked like your father?
Jaune: Same hair cut, and beard, just with thick rimmed glasses.
Blake: Given years apart you’d think he’d come up with a better disguise.
Jaune: Yeah… about that… The wife, a silver fox faunas who’s name is, Evenora, had two daughters with, ‘Stavon,’ their names were, Luna, and Carol.
Weiss: Hold old were they?
Jaune: One, and two years old. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but you need to understand this… Isleen, and her family lived about two weeks away from, Evenora, and her family.
Yang: I don’t get it.
Blake: So he didn’t go far this time when he faked his death again.
Ren: Wait, they lived two weeks of travel apart? Oh gods…
Pyrrha: What is it, Ren?
Ren: He was married to both of them at the same time… He was double timing them wasn’t he?
Jaune: Bingo bango bongo! You are right on the money, Ren!
Ruby: Wait, what?!
Weiss: You’re kidding me right?!
Jaune: Nope: He was double timing the two of them by being the cheating bastard that he was. He was a travelling sales men, so he two two weeks to travel between the two villages, stay for a month with one wife, then when back, and lived with his other wife for a month. And, he did that for over two years
Yang: You’re fucking kidding me?!
Jaune: Oh gods I wish.
Nora: What happened next?
Jaune: Well, my grandfather showed her photos of the two other families he abandoned. Needless to say she was absolutely devastated by this news. Now, my grandfather would have stay with her, and consoled her through this, but he was only missing for about three days. He needed to find him before the trail turned cold. So he hunted him. Now you gotta understand my grandfather is a vindictive monster; he was absolutely pissed when he learned he abandoned my mother, and, Isleen, he was fucking furious when he learned learned he did it a third time to, Evenora. So, he was after him like a bloodhound.
Weiss: Please, pleassssse tell me he found the cheating bastard, and made him payyyyyyy!
Blake: You’re really getting into this.
Weiss: This fucker makes all the emotional abuse my dad put me, and my family through feel like school yard bullying.
Yang: Same. My mom may have abandoned me at birth, but this. This is fucked up!
Nora: I can relate with them…
Ruby: You can?
Nora: My mom abandoned me. So, know how it feels when a loved one abandons you…
Pyrrha: She what?!
Jaune: It’s okay, Nora, we’re here with you know, and we’re not going anywhere.
Nora: Thanks, Jaune.
Jaune: My pleasure. Anyway, my grandfather did find him, or more precisely what was left of him.
Blake: Did a, Grimm get him?
Weiss: Fuck yeah!
Yang: That sounded so wrong coming from you.
Jaune: Well, yes he was dead. But, I’m not sure if a, Grimm did him in.
Ren: What makes you say that?
Jaune: My grandfather is an extremely experienced huntsman. He’s seen plenty of peoples corpses that are the result of a, Grimm attack.
Weiss: So you think he killed him, and made it look like a, Grimm attack?
Jaune: That, or my grandmother got to him. She is really protective of her family, and can really, really, really hold a grudge. She’s still upset with her ex… Anywho, after he, ‘found’ his corpse he took, Evenora, and her kids with him back to our home.
Ruby: Where they live as a happy family all together!
Jaune: Eventually.
Weiss: Let me guess, they had some difficulties getting along together?
Jaune: Mom was upset as it was that he left her, and three kids all alone, but even more so that he did that to two other woman, and their five kids too. She was absolutely angry from all of this. Sadly she took out her anger, indirectly mind you, on them which was making them angry in turn at each other even more so.
Pyrrha: And, what about you, how did you handle all of this.
Jaune: Well, I never really understood what my dad did until I was older. But, I was happy. I wasn’t the youngest child, and I now had five younger sisters! i was the older brother I always wanted to be. My, Mom thanked me for being the older brother that I was, loving each of them unconditionally as I did. Because I did this, it showed my mother that she was being petty, and mean to the other woman for things they did not do. So, she managed to fix, and even improve her relationship with the other mothers. They used to sleep in three different rooms, then after me, and my older sisters found the three of them in the same bed, all cuddling against one another they started sleeping like that ever since. Now I’m a brother with two older sisters, and five younger sisters, a loving grandfather, and grandmother, with three loving mothers, and I couldn’t be happier.
Blake: That sounds beautiful.
Pyrrha: I’m glad this had a happy ending b
Yang: That sounds lovely, but how does this relate to you getting a fathers day card?
Jaune: Oh, because I was the ‘man of the house’ I tended to look over, and protect my younger siblings. So I became the ‘father figure’ they never had.
Ruby: Awww~! That so sweet!
Pyrrha: You are a really nice brother, Jaune.
Jaune: Thanks. But, sadly this resulted in all of my younger siblings in developing father/brother complexes with me, just like it did with, Nora…
Yang: Pfft! Hahahaha! You’re right, Jaune; in the shear ridiculousness of it all, that is quite funny.
Ruby: Your family is quite something, Jaune.
Blake: I could make so many stories with this as a basis…
Yang: Settle down, Bla…? Wait, Nora? Do you have a brother/father complex with, Jaune too?
Weiss: You’re kidding me, right?
Nora: Y-Yeah… I do…
Pyrrha: What?! How did that happen?!
Nora: I couldn’t help it! He runs his fingers through my hair to comfort me when I have nightmares, and he gives me goodnight kisses on my forehead before I go to sleep. It’s really nice.
Yang: Do you seriously do that?
Ren: Yeah, he does that almost every night, it’s really nice to see.
Pyrrha: How come I’ve never seen this before?
Ren: You’ve been asleep whenever he does it.
Pyrrha: But… I… Jaune! I want goodnight kisses too!
Jaune: Okay.
Pyrrha: Yes!
Jaune: So, anything else you guys wanna ask about my families.
Blake: Yeah, so, Jaune, if you’re in the mood, do you want to pretend to be my daddy, and give me a good spanking because I’ve been a bad girl?
RWYJNPR: …
Jaune: No.
Blake: Naww…
Weiss: How about me instead?
Jaune: Excuse me what?
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anothermansjeans · 5 months
Note
Hey i hope you get your mojo back! As my personal indulagance which hopefully also help you may i please requeat 6 and 8 from the first random dialoge list with spencer read and an NONbau reader, exstra love if its an neighrbour reader!
Love and kisses ❤️❤️❤️
thank youuuuuu!!!! i also want to apologize-- you didn't specify gn or fem! reader and i was just about done when i realized i did fem!reader, so lmk and i will happily rewrite if needed 🫶
i also don't know how i feel about this but i tried lmao
also only a little proofread...
prompts:
"Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn’t have to completely fall apart."
"This is the one time I’m wishing they’re calling about my car’s extended warranty."
cw: mention of family member dying, the word vomit being used
wc: 920
++
Spencer was very concerned. His neighbor– his very attractive, down to Earth, and kind neighbor– was frantic, eyes sunken, and just wasn't as… present as she usually is. Spencer was concerned.
His concern also may have been a bit biased because of the small crush he harbored for her… but he didn't want to think about that too hard.
He hadn't been around much recently, getting called into the BAU more often than not, but when time did allow him to linger around his building, he would see the distress on her from a mile away. The other day, right before a case, he was locking up his apartment when she was just getting home. It was quiet this time of day, but that was cut short when her phone started to ring.
“This is the one time I’m wishing they're calling about my car’s extended warranty.”
Her disgruntled mumble was pretty soft, and if Spencer wasn't right across the hall from her he wouldn't have heard it. He wanted to see if she was okay, but she answered her phone and he was being asked for his ETA at the BAU.
When that case was finally over, and he was walking back to his place, he suddenly stopped and turned towards her door. There was a package in his apartment that was placed with his mail in the mailroom, and only really looked at it last week; right before he left for a case. He would've given it to her then if he wasn't already late at the time, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving it in front of her door so this was truly the next best thing.
His plan was the following: knock on your door, tell you he has your package in his apartment, grab said package, and then leave with dignity. There was no way he could screw this up.
His knock was soft, but the way she swung open the door was a sharp contrast to that. “Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn't have to completely fall apart oh– you're not the delivery guy.”
Your dejected look caused a small ache in his chest. “No, but the delivery people tend to not come to our doors, they're supposed to stay in the mail room– you already knew that.” He was getting flustered. This was not a part of the plan. “Are you okay?” He couldn't help himself. After seeing the way you were last week, and how that hasn't changed one bit since he was gone… he really wanted to make sure all was well.
She barely waited a moment before answering. “No,” the crack in her voice was evident. “My great aunt passed and she was a horrible person, but the funeral directors were asking me which address to send the urn to and my sister stepped in making sure I didn't put mine down because I’m ‘most likely to lose aunt Pearl’s ashes’ and the rest of my family overheard and started running with the joke. With me being me I wanted to prove them wrong so I did give them my address and I still don't have the urn but they're saying it was delivered and oh my, God, I’m dumping all of this on you.” Her eyes were welled up with tears, and with how wide her eyes became he was surprised the tears hadn't started to fall. “I’m just going to… let you go on with your day. I’m so sorry, Spencer, maybe we can talk to–” she started to close the door, blocking her face that held a worrisome look.
“I have it!” It’s as if he suddenly remembered why he went over there in the first place “I’m uh, I'm assuming I have it…?”
“You do?” Her door was now wide open again, and a spark of hope was shown in her eyes.
“Yeah, that's why I came over here. I just got back from work and wanted to let you know before I grabbed it. They put it with my stuff and I didn't check it until a couple of days ago and then I had a case and–”
“Spencer?” She cut off his worried rambling.
“Yes?”
“Could you grab it please?”
“Oh! Yeah!” He was like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. His legs were not keeping up with his body as he quickly walked over to his place, unlocked his door, and made way for the box over in the corner by his bookcase. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ve been at work more than not recently and I should've brought it over as soon as I knew it was yours but–”
“Oh, I could kiss you right now!” She grabbed the box so fast it could be considered snatching, but Spencer didn't mind.
“Maybe after I take you on a date?” What the hell was that? She was excited, he was flustered, and for him, word vomit was real. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I–”
“Spencer…” She stopped his worried ramble once again, and Spencer assumed he died and went to Heaven because there was no way the next words out of her mouth were real. “Ask me tomorrow, when I’m not all flustered. I’ll definitely say yes.”
Yeah, he definitely died and went to Heaven, because the next day, he saw her walking back from the grocery store, walked up to her, stuttered through asking her out for real, and she said yes. Just as promised.
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paperweight91 · 11 months
Note
Accidental exposure to sex pollen + this guy:
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Oh my God the thoughts I had when I saw this, why must you tease me with my love 🥰
See it was all a simple accident, you had been called to the mail room at work to pick up a package for your boss. Unfortunately, on your way to his office you tripped and ripped the packaging a bit, not too much, but enough for him to notice as you placed it on his desk. You let out a sneeze as your body began to tingle all over. There was this feeling coming over you and you weren’t quite sure what was happening.
“Did you open this?” Curtis asked as he looked over the package. The worry evident in his tone.
“No sir! I tripped and it may have knocked into something on the way here, but I swear I didn’t look inside or anything.” You were starting to sweat, and it wasn’t just your boss’ intense questioning that was getting to you.
He huffed and now that you looked at him you could see the beads of sweat lining his forehead, what was happening to you both?
“This is a highly effective airborne drug that induces, feelings in individuals and I think we’ve both been exposed.” You tried to listen as he continued to talk about the effects and how long it would last, you really did. But all you could think about was climbing the man in front of you like a tree. You wanted to lick the sweat off his brow and wherever else it had gathered.
Before you could stop yourself you were wrapping yourself around him. Curtis grunted as he tried to push you off, “C’mon Sugar, I need you to keep it together with me. You still with me?” You could hear the strain in his voice as the muscles in his chest and arms strained against his tight blue dress shirt.
When he looked down at you rubbing your thighs together and whimpering to him, he knew you were too far gone to be able to stop. He was approaching the breaking point himself. With a quiet “Fuck it.” He pulled you towards him by the back of your neck. Only lingering for a moment before crashing his lips into yours. Your mind was a swirl of feelings, heat and desire. All you knew was you needed Curtis and you needed him now.
“Please,” you whined, not sure what you were begging for, all you knew that Curtis was the only person who could make it better.
He growled as he ripped your shirt and bra off in one motion, diving into your breasts so he could lick and nip. You began to work furiously to help him remove his shirt and pants needing to get closer to your prize. Once you were both fully naked he turned you around and bent you over his desk. He dropped to his knees behind you and dragged his tongue along your slit. You let out a wanton moan that would surely be heard around the office. He descended to your clit and began to alternate between kitten licks and short sucks as he slipped two fingers into your sopping entrance. You heard him groan behind you as your body stretched to accommodate his fingers. It only lasted a few short minutes before he was pulling away and lining his cock up with your entrance. He sheathed himself fully in one smooth motion that had you keening and arching your back.
You heard him murmur something into your hair, but your brain was too fried to compute what he was actually saying. His hand moved between your body and the desk to steadily rub at your clit as he slammed his hips into you with a force that had the desk shaking. As you got closer and closer you orgasm you were sure you said words, but you were also sure that none of them made sense. Slipping into pleas of “Please” “Yes” and “More”
You were able to warn Curtis just before your orgasm hit, the next thing you knew you felt his release empty inside you. He panted into your shoulder before carefully pulling out and turning you over. He looked you over and went into the washroom adjoining his office to bring a cloth to clean you up. Once he deemed you both sufficiently clean, he picked you up and carried you over to the couch at the far wall of his office.
“This is not how I wanted any of that to happen, but I can’t say I’m mad that it did.” He smiled down at you as he pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch around you both.
You felt the heat of embarrassment and asked, “What exactly are you doing with something that can do that to people?”
He stroked your hair and pulled you tighter against his chest, “Don’t you worry about that Sugar. Why don’t I show you some of my real moves back at my place.”
So ummm this got away from me… I hope you like it @stargazingfangirl18
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hairstevington · 2 years
Note
Hi! I would love to see the 1st Valentine’s Day prompt(a bouquet of their favourite flowers) for steddie! Specifically Eddie bringing Steve flowers(idk why but I’m a firm believer that Steve secretly loves getting gifted flowers lol!). If you do do this thank you so much!! <3333
Ahhhhhh yes LET’S GOOOO!!! Thanks for the request! (Ao3 link here!)
Word Count: 1.3K
Warnings: Some reeeeal fluffy shit, Eddie secretly pining over his best friend Steve, gay scheming, romance
A/N: This ended up being a bit more than just flowers, but hopefully it suffices! If anyone else is interested here is the prompt post, I also took inspiration from this cute lil post by @grandwretch :)
🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼
Eddie always teased Steve about his romantic conquests. They frequently discussed best practices for him to woo women - including knowing their favorite color, their birthday, their favorite movie, etc. Eddie watched Steve date beautiful woman after beautiful woman, always putting in so much effort and getting so little back.
That's probably why Eddie started doing it.
"Should I get her the blue bracelet or the green one?" Steve would ask.
"I dunno man, what's her favorite color?"
"Blue. But her eyes are green."
"Get the blue. The two colors look good together anyway," Eddie answered as if he was somehow the person to ask about such things. He'd never really dated anyone, but he'd seen a lot of movies, and watched a lot of high school couples date each other.
"Thanks," Steve would say. He was always appreciative for the second opinion, even though the opinion was based on nothing.
"No problem," Eddie smiled. "Hey, what's your favorite color?"
Any time Steve asked for advice, Eddie would eventually turn it back on Steve. It was all part of his master plan, you see - he wanted to make Steve feel special on Valentine's Day. Not in a gay way, he told himself. Steve's my friend, it's not like that.
He tried to convince himself he was doing it platonically, or because it would be funny to see Steve all flustered, but deep down Eddie knew that it was far more than that.
But him and Steve were friends, and that's all they'd ever be, and he'd accepted that.
A week before Valentine's Day, there was a package on Steve's doorstep addressed to him. He wasn't expecting any mail, and the box was so haphazardly wrapped it was almost scary. Like, he was pretty sure he'd seen this exact set-up in a horror movie. Main character gets mysterious package that ends up ruining their life.
(It didn't end up ruining his life, but it sure as hell changed it)
Inside the box was a teddy bear - one of those real cutesie ones you find at a giftshop this time of year. Steve was confused, and wondered if it was even delivered to the right place - sure enough, there was a handwritten note that confirmed it. I call him Steve Bearington, it read. Steve smiled, but still had no idea who it was from. The girl that he'd gone on a few dates with could never have been responsible for the disastrous way the gift was wrapped. He shrugged. It must have been a secret admirer - he got those sometimes.
He told Eddie about it the next day, and Eddie pretended to act surprised. He didn't want to give his secret away, especially when he went so far as to ask some random person to write out the stupid note so that Steve wouldn't recognize his handwriting. He probably should have asked them to wrap it, too, but whatever. Steve was so happy about it, so Eddie continued with his plan.
Eddie learned that Steve liked sour candy over chocolate, so he got him some. Then he wrote him a poem - it wasn't, like, the greatest thing ever written, but Eddie did tend to have a way with words. He delivered the candy two days before Valentine's Day, and on the eve of the holiday he had one of his other friends discreetly stick the poem on Steve's front door and ding-dong-ditch while he and Eddie were hanging out, just to throw him off his game even more.
"Oh my god, they did it again," Steve said when he picked the poem from the door. "Who is this person?" Eddie appreciated that he said person, instead of woman.
"What does it say?" Eddie asked, biting his lip to keep from grinning. He watched as Steve read it to himself first, his brow furrowing.
"It's, uh," he said, folding it nicely and putting it in his pocket. "It's good."
Hell yeah it is, Eddie thought to himself.
Steve had a date on Valentine's Day - Eddie knew this, and it was to be expected anyway, since Steve almost always had a date on most days. He was leaving at 7, so Eddie showed up at 6.
-----------------------------------------------------
Steve didn't have much more to do to get ready for the date - he was already having a good hair day, and he'd picked out an outfit that had done him well in the past. He just was still caught up on who wrote him that poem.
Nobody had written him a poem before, like ever. Steve hadn't ever attempted to write one for anyone else. He wasn't that good at analyzing them in English class, so he'd grown a bit tired of poetry as a whole.
But the one left on his front door sparked a new appreciation for it.
He was confused when the doorbell rang, because he wasn't expecting anybody. Then, he wondered if maybe, he'd find another poem out there.
Instead, he found Eddie. Well, actually, he found a person standing there with flowers covering their face, but the mane of curly brown hair surrounding the flowers gave him away.
They were daisies. Eddie was probably the only person in the world that knew Steve liked daisies, and it wasn't even something he'd explicitly said. He just knew he was drawn to them when he saw them, and he'd pointed them out a few times while he was with Eddie.
"Special Valentine's delivery for Harrington!" Eddie announced, letting himself in. Steve watched as he set them on the table, confident as always, a bright smile on his face. But Steve was mostly just confused.
"What...the hell?" Eddie's bravado faltered just a little bit.
"Hasn't anyone ever gotten you flowers before?" Eddie asked.
"No, but I've bought a lot of flowers before, and -"
"Tsk tsk tsk," Eddie interrupted. "My point exactly. You deserve flowers too, Steve."
"God, what's with all the gifts from people this week?" Steve whined, completely overwhelmed. "Between this and the secret admirer thing, I just -"
Steve's head was spinning, and he wasn't the most observant person, but he did have enough sense to notice the way Eddie winced at the mention of the secret admirer.
"Yeah, well," Eddie said, his tone softer than before. "Like I said, you deserve it."
There was a thick silence as Steve realized what was happening.
"Eddie..." he said, putting it all together. Eddie was the only one who would have known to get him any of that stuff. Steve openly told Eddie all kinds of things he never admitted to anyone else, because he didn't think Eddie was paying attention. He certainly didn't think Eddie had been filing it away to do this.
"I hope you have a good date tonight," Eddie said, suddenly feeling quite stupid about this whole thing. He turned to leave, but Steve stopped him.
"The poem - you wrote it?" Eddie nodded.
Steve thought about straight-up reciting it to Eddie in that moment, to prove to him just how much he liked it. He'd read it so many times it was burned into his brain, just as he wanted it to be.
Huh.
He wasn't expecting this from his best friend, but he was shocked at how weird it didn't feel. Finding out Eddie had been his secret admirer just made sense.
"Doesn't have to be a big deal," Eddie mumbled. "I just - I don't want this to - Like, I'm sorry if -"
"I gotta go cancel my plans with Deb," Steve said.
"What?"
"She'll live. Besides, it wouldn't be that cool of me to go out with someone when I'm thinking about someone else."
"What?" Eddie repeated. He really didn't expect to get this far. "What are you saying?"
Steve smiled - his brilliant, trademark smile that always made Eddie feel warm inside.
"Do you wanna be my Valentine, Munson?"
🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼
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artyandink · 5 months
Text
Light My Fire (Again) | beau arlen
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Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”
SERIES MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
(divider credits go to cafekitsune)
A/N - Feedback is my fuel ❤️
A/N 2 - This chapter is loosely based on birthday cake by Dylan Conrique, as it fits the theme really well :)
eight - birthday cake
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PREVIOUSLY ON LMF:
I sat with Jenny in my garden, our feet on the grass as we were perched on my patio. I took a long sip of my bottle of beer, letting out a long and deep sigh through my nose while Jenny looked curiously at my side profile with a small smirk on her face. “So.” I smiled slightly as she took a swig of her own, also pretty pissed off at Harry. Mo had to hold her off from going after that ass.
“So.” She chuckled, head fully facing me now. “Beau seemed pretty riled up about Harry.” Jenny then took a sip of her beer with her eyebrows raised suggestively, making me nudge her, jolting her drinking aim off balance. “What?”
“You’re getting at me and Beau, right?” I deadpanned, letting another wave of the liquid soothe my throat. “I know you are.”
“What? He seems way too worked up for someone who’s ’just your sheriff.’.”
“Well, he’s worried, Jen.” I shrugged. “If it had been Emily in my place. Or Carla, even you, Cassie or Denise. Thank god I could defend myself, and I see where Beau’s coming from.”
“I thought referring to Beau for you was strictly limited to ‘Sheriff’ to keep it strictly professional.” She grinned cheekily, then her smile faded like a coin drop. “I’m gonna ask you something. And I want you to answer honestly. Are you… in love with Beau?”
Before I could say anything, the door to the garden opened, and Olivia walked out tentatively, a small package in her hands. “Aunt Isa?” Her timid voice spoke up, and my mouth opened slightly. “Can we talk?”
“Oh- uh, not the time, sweetie.” I gave her an apologetic smile. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Ok. Uh, this came in the mail.” She handed me the package. “Just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks, hon.” I took the rectangular box, glancing curiously at it as she left. Then I knew I needed to give Jenny an explanation. I couldn’t outrightly say yes to what frankly was the most difficult question of my life. Because this question was a promise. A declaration. A… decision. But it was one I couldn’t fight. My fingers fumbled with the tape of the box as I opened it unconsciously.
“I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”
“So, is that a yes?” Jenny left the question hanging as I slid the object out of its cardboard packaging. A rectangular item wrapped in bubble wrap and a note taped to it. I could barely see the yellow of sunflowers on one side and the sky’s reflection on the other. I tore off the note, reading it.
Thought you might need this.
Tonya + Donno ;)
It was Lucy’s phone. I unwrapped it with trembling hands, watching and feeling as the cool surface stung my warm palm, the battery dead but the significance fully charged. My train of thought was lost, my teeth sinking to my bottom lip again.
“It’s hers.” I whispered, holding it up so Jenny could see.
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NOW:
I was working on Lucy’s phone, typing every password that could come to my mind. The date of her marriage with Mark, or even Dean, Olivia’s birthday, my birthday, even hers- but I found zip.
Zilch.
Nada.
I let out a deep breath through my nose as I was locked out for the fiftieth time, the infuriating letters that spelled out ‘Try again in five minutes’. I was ready to smack this phone into oblivion, and I wasn’t in the mood for joking. I had a thousand things running through my mind and none of them helpful for my mental state.
I hadn’t answered Jenny’s question on whether I loved Beau or not. I pursed my lips as I thought about it. Beau was… everything I could dream of. A gentleman, with a handsome face, deep voice, a Texan accent and matching Southern charm and manners. He treated me well and made me feel even better, and I hated to pull an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ but I had to. Compared to everyone, I was a rapidly unravelling piece of work. I drank coffee obsessively to help me function to the point where I felt I needed to switch to decaf as it was a borderline addiction to caffeine. Then there was the obsession with my job, my time spent taking care of Liv and making sure I was there for her at every turn or at every opportunity. I was broken from Lucy’s murder. I talked a big game about shielding my loved ones from harm but Cal was dead. And so was Lucy.
It broke me.
As I stared at Lucy's phone, frustration gnawing at the edges of my sanity, I couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in. No matter how many passwords I tried, no matter how many combinations I attempted, the screen remained stubbornly locked, taunting me with its impenetrable barrier.
With a frustrated huff, I tossed the phone onto the desk in front of me, the clatter of metal against wood echoing in the empty room. I ran a hand through my hair, the tension in my muscles a testament to the mounting pressure that threatened to consume me.
I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom that lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of the chaos that had consumed my life in the wake of Lucy's murder. And amidst the swirling chaos of my thoughts, one question lingered like a shadow in the darkness: did I love Beau?
The very thought sent a shiver down my spine, a flicker of uncertainty gnawing at the edges of my resolve. Beau was everything I could have ever dreamed of, a gentleman with a heart of gold and a smile that could light up the darkest of nights. But in the wake of Lucy's death, I found myself spiraling into a pit of despair, drowning in a sea of grief and regret.
I couldn't bear to burden Beau with the weight of my pain, to drag him down into the depths of my despair. And so, with a heavy heart, I made the difficult decision to push him away, to spare him the pain of loving someone who was broken beyond repair.
But even as I grappled with my own demons, a soft knock at the door shattered the fragile silence of the room, pulling me back to the present with a jolt. Olivia's voice, sweet and innocent, called out to me from the other side, her words a balm to my weary soul.
"Aunt Isa, can I talk to you?" she asked, her tone tinged with uncertainty.
I hesitated, the weight of my own turmoil pressing down on me like a leaden weight. But I couldn't bear to see the disappointment in Olivia's eyes, the hurt that lingered just beneath the surface of her innocent facade.
"Not now, Liv," I replied, my voice strained with exhaustion. "I'm in the middle of something."
There was a moment of silence, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. And then, with a resigned sigh, Olivia spoke once more, her words laced with an undercurrent of hostility that sent a chill down my spine.
"You're always too busy for me, Aunt Isa," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
I felt a pang of guilt shoot through me like a bolt of lightning, the weight of my own inadequacy crushing me beneath its suffocating embrace. But before I could respond, Olivia turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving me alone with the ghosts of my past and the wreckage of my present.
As I stared after her retreating figure, a wave of despair washed over me like a tidal wave, threatening to pull me under with its relentless force. I knew that I had failed Olivia, that my own demons had consumed me to the point where I could no longer see the pain that lurked just beneath the surface of her innocent facade.
But even as the darkness closed in around me, I vowed to fight against the tide, to claw my way back to the surface and find redemption in the eyes of the one person who mattered most to me. For Olivia's sake, and for my own, I would not let the shadows of my past consume me any longer.
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The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the deserted alley where Olivia and Tom had arranged to meet. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements like whispers in the darkness as Olivia waited anxiously for her boyfriend to arrive.
She glanced at her watch for what felt like the hundredth time, her heart pounding in her chest as the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. She knew she shouldn't be here, meeting Tom in secret behind her aunt's back, but the lure of forbidden love was too strong to resist.
Would he even show up?
Would he leave her in the dust?
Finally, just as Olivia was beginning to lose hope, she heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the alleyway. Her heart leaped into her throat as Tom stepped into view, a smile lighting up his face as he caught sight of her waiting for him.
"Hey," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to take her hand in his.
Olivia's heart fluttered at the touch of his fingers against hers, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. "Hey," she replied, her voice trembling with nerves as she met his gaze.
They stood there for a moment, caught in the quiet intensity of the night, their hands intertwined as they drank in the sight of each other. Olivia couldn't help but marvel at the boy standing before her, his sandy hair tousled by the breeze and his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Are you sure it's safe for us to meet like this?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she glanced around nervously.
Tom shrugged, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Who cares about safe? I'd risk anything to be with you."
His words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through Olivia's veins, her heart racing with the intoxicating rush of young love. She knew they were playing with fire, sneaking around behind her aunt's back and risking everything for a few stolen moments together. But in that moment, all she cared about was the boy standing before her, his eyes alight with passion and desire.
Without another word, Tom leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Olivia's in a gentle kiss that sent fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. She melted into his embrace, her worries and fears melting away as she lost herself in the warmth of his touch.
As Olivia basked in the warmth of Tom's embrace, the taste of a mocha espresso and, hilariously, a breath mint, she felt a sense of bliss wash over her, pushing aside the worries and fears that had plagued her in the moments leading up to their secret rendezvous. In that moment, with Tom's lips pressed against hers and his arms wrapped around her, nothing else mattered.
Only the way his lips plied hers open, slowly, as if he was coaxing her to fall under his spell, which was a feat already accomplished. His hand sliding to cup her cheek while the other rubbed her back then curled around her waist, sighing through his nose when her fingers tugged on his hair. The movement of his lips were like an otherworldly chant, sending Olivia into a deep vortex of security and warmth that shielded her from the chaos and clouded her thoughts.
His mouth prying through her sweet mind. Shattering her defences. Claiming her now kiss-swollen lips as his.
But as they reluctantly pulled away from each other, a shadow of uncertainty clouded Olivia's mind. The nagging doubt that had lingered in the back of her thoughts resurfaced, tainting the euphoria of their stolen moment together.
"Why do you think my aunt is always trying to keep us apart?" Olivia asked, her voice tinged with frustration as she searched Tom's face for answers, gasping softly as he thumbed her bottom lip.
Tom's expression darkened, a flicker of resentment flashing in his eyes as he glanced around the deserted alleyway. "I don't know, Liv. Maybe she just doesn't want us to be happy."
The words sent a chill down Olivia's spine, a knot of unease forming in the pit of her stomach. She had never questioned her aunt's motives before, but now, with Tom's insinuations lingering in the air, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than she had been led to believe.
"But why would she want to keep us apart?" Olivia pressed, her voice tinged with desperation as she searched for an explanation.
Tom shrugged, a calculating glint in his eyes as he reached out to take her hand in his. "Maybe she's jealous, Via. Maybe she's afraid of losing you."
The words struck a chord deep within Olivia's heart, igniting a spark of doubt that threatened to consume her from within. Could it be true? Could her aunt, the woman who had raised her since she was a child, be capable of such selfishness and deceit?
As the silence stretched between them, Olivia found herself grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, she couldn't ignore the love and affection she felt for her aunt, the woman who had always been there for her through thick and thin. But on the other hand, the seed of doubt that Tom had planted in her mind lingered like a poison, poisoning her thoughts with suspicion and mistrust.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," Olivia whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Tom for guidance. He only ran a tender hand through her hair, his following words like a hypnotising lull.
“Believe me, Via.” His expression looked keenly certain, a caring smile on his face that convinced her that he knew what he was saying. Her first love, Tom, knew what he was saying. He was smart. So was she, but she might have blind prejudice. “Wonder why I call you that? Because Via means ‘path’. You are my path.” He paused, letting the magic of his borderline poetry sink in. “You. No one else. And I-I can’t stay away from you. Your aunt? She doesn’t know what she’s thinking, trust me. She can’t even keep herself together. Her composure, her confidence… isn’t real. We’re real. You and I.” He took her hand, kissing the knuckle. “And I wanna keep meeting you, even if it makes us kinda like Romeo and Juliet.”
Olivia laughed, her pretty blue eye welling with happy tears, one falling down her cheek as she nodded. “Yeah. I want that too.” Tom kissed the tear away, his eyes glinting with mischief. As Tom's lips met Olivia's once more, a wave of giggles bubbled up from deep within her chest, mingling with the sweet taste of his breath against her skin. It was as if every touch, every kiss, was infused with the magic of their love, weaving a spell that bound them together in a tapestry of desire and longing.
With each brush of his lips against hers, Olivia felt herself falling deeper under Tom's spell, her senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating rush of passion and desire. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world around them fading away into nothingness as they lost themselves in the warmth of each other's embrace.
Their laughter mingled with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, a symphony of sound that echoed through the deserted alleyway like a chorus of angels. And as they pulled away from each other, their lips still tingling with the memory of their stolen kiss, Olivia couldn't help but marvel at the magic that had brought them together.
"It's like you're casting a spell on me," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazed into Tom's eyes, her heart pounding in her chest.
Tom's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he reached out to tuck a loose strand of curly hair behind Olivia's ear. "Maybe I am, Liv. Maybe you're the one who's casting a spell on me."
His words sent a shiver down Olivia's spine, a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his in a gentle caress. It was as if the world around them had faded away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a cocoon of love and desire.
And as they shared one final kiss, filled with laughter and joy, Olivia knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, she and Tom would face them together, united in their love for each other. For in that moment, surrounded by the magic of the night, they were unstoppable.
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“Alright, boys, we have a problem.” Remy paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, shadows covering half his face. Other members sat there, stony eyes focused on him and bloody daggers twirled between their fingers as they contemplated their next kill. It was an eerie sight, to say the least. “Isabelle Joyner’s our problem. She’s a royal pain in the ass to our client, and he wants to hit her so hard she won’t get back up.”
“It’s gonna be hard to take her down.” Another member, Rawlings, grunted, his .22 held tight in his hands like it’d run away if he let go, terrified of all the bloodshed even though it had been made for that purpose. “That bastard cowboy sheriff has a lock on her ever since we made that hit on her in her house.”
“Well, we might have to pop this bastard cowboy sheriff.” Jackson, another member, smirked. “Open the eyes of the law.” “Someone get him a new brain.” Remy groaned, slapping his forehead. “Kill the sheriff and we get the full weight of the law. We need something that’ll only draw the attention of the select few. Including Miss Elle Joyner.”
“Go for the girl.” The only woman in the room, Regina, said matter-of-factly, a smirk on her red painted lips. “Her niece. That chick goes all mama bear for ‘er. Her Liv is her Achilles heel. So send our guy in to go rein her in, and we’ll keep her here for the client until he’s less occupied.”
“But the client won’t be happy if we touch the girl.” Rawlings argued.
“He’ll be ecstatic. That’s all he ever wanted. The girl.” Regina chuckled darkly, her finger tracing the point of her knife. “Do that and Joyner will come running. Then she’ll meet a worse fate than our client’s poorly orchestrated hit and run six years ago.”
Remy laughed, the sound harsh and almost like the bark of a dog. “Oh, I remember that screw up. Read it in the papers.” His tongue traced his upper teeth as he spun the pocketknife between his fingers. “I’ll contact our guy, get him off standby. He’s been tabbing the family for a few weeks now, and he should have a good shot on getting our target alone.”
“We just need to pick a time where Elle Joyner’s busy.” Regina opened her computer, beginning to type with hands that were clad in fingerless black leather gloves. “Tap into security cameras, see who’s where. We need that Sheriff Arlen out of the way, so preferably a time when he’s railin’ the hell out of our favourite deputy.” She let out a sigh, inviting the others to gather around the screen. “We need to keep someone on the watch on these screens at all times. Get our guy off standby, tell him to hold Olivia Barlowe at gunpoint, otherwise she’ll never come with.”
“I want you in the van for the pickup, Gina.” Remy pointed his knife at Regina with a smirk and a wink. “Good thinking, doll.”
“Don’t call me doll, you sound like a pedo who hasn’t gotten much action in his life.” She deadpanned, propping her feet up on the table. “Only works if you’ve got a sexy accent. You’re from Missouri, not the South.” She paused to let the information sink in. “And you’ve got a whiny voice. Almost like a lil’ teenage girl.”
“Good one, Gina.” Jackson snickered, but earned a sharp glare from the female.
“Shut up, you’re no better. You sound like you’ve ingested helium.”
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I had Beau, Denise, Jenny and Cassie over for dinner/outside bonfire, and I was lazily chopping some onions while my mind was in fifty different places. Mark was still insisting that he hadn’t hired the crime syndicate and killed my sister. I hadn’t deciphered the code to Lucy’s phone. Olivia was going out with her friends more often now, and I just felt… lost. I didn’t know where to go and why, and these onions were bringing out tears that I didn’t have the dignity to spill without. At least I have a cover for it.
I felt a sharp pang in my finger and quickly dropped the knife as blood dripped from a cut in my index. A soft curse left my mouth as the knife clattered to the chopping board, and in an instant, Beau was beside me. He set the things aside, quickly searching for a medicine cabinet and pulling out a pair of plasters and a soft tissue.
“God, Belle, darlin’, you’ve gotta be careful.” He muttered, my eyes fixated on his slightly furrowed brow and emerald eyes that were zeroed in on the slice in my finger. I felt my heart skip a beat and stomach do gymnastics like a lovesick teenager, making me attempt to swallow back the forming lump in my throat.
The scraping of chairs, hurried footsteps of Jenny and even more reluctant footsteps of Denise and Cassie were muffled as I could only focus on Beau. The way strands of his hair fell over his forehead in small wisps that framed his face effortlessly. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes, every line etched with maturity, charm, grace, care, everything I loved in him. Everything I craved from him.
He cleaned the cut with the tissue, folding it so it didn’t get stuck and tear. Then he pulled the adhesive cover off the plaster, carefully placing it over and smoothing it with his calloused fingers while his tongue rested between his lips in concentration. Those pouty, perfect, kissable lips.
“All done, sweetheart.” He murmured, looking up at me with a concerned expression. “It’s written all over your face, sweet girl. You’ve got too much in that beautiful mind o’ yours.” His hand reached up to carefully tuck a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. His eyes were searching my face and mine his. The air thick, heavy, with his cologne invading my senses like a parasite that I didn’t want to stop. “I hope it ain’t too much for me to ask, but… penny for those pretty thoughts of yours? Maybe even a pound? Dollar, more like.”
It made me chuckle, but my smile faded slightly. “There’s just been so much… change. I’ve gotten my ass kicked so many times over the past few weeks. Wakin’ up in hospitals, seeing my niece upset when I just can’t give her time, which ain’t something I’m used to, watching the man who married my sister and is most likely responsible for her death refuse the allegations over and over, Lucy left clues for me that I don’t even know how to crack. It’s way too much change for me.”
“Well, it’s true, you did get your ass kicked.” He nodded honestly, really thinking about his answer. His hands were fiddling with my fingers, unconsciously rubbing them as if committing every detail to memory. “But you’ve bounced back even harder every time, Belle. You took those hits and got back up, and that makes you a badass in every right. I mean, what I wouldn’t give to have your ability to get punched right where it hurts and always come back stronger. And more beautiful.” Beau’s fingers that weren’t holding mine traced my jawline tenderly. “And change can be a good thing, y’know.”
“Care to elaborate?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper and it made Beau fall hard all over again. And again, and again, because every time that his deputy opened that pretty, coral sunset peony coloured lips all he wanted to do was taste them.
“When I first met you, sweetheart, your work was all you had besides Olivia.” His words were sincere, well thought and versed in his head, or so I thought. Beau was actually speaking from the top of his head. “Your desk was messy with as many cases as you can find, and you solved all of ‘em, sure, but you worked nonstop. First time you actually got a break or some form of rest, you realised that getting back up after a day will hurt you more. You paid attention to yourself. You protect others with no regard to your own self interests, but now you’re keeping in mind just how bad you’d hurt if you reached out farther than you should. Not that, in any shape or form, I condone the senseless violence you were put through; I will kill those bastards when I find them.”
“I know you will, don’t worry.” I chuckled, too entranced by his words to say much else.
“My point is, Belle, you’ve grown. You’re stronger, smarter, you’ve learnt to fight jackasses off and make your own decisions. Darlin’, I look up to you.” The words made my head snap up, the air becoming heavier and heavier as his cologne weighed on my thoughts. I was going down like the freaking Titanic and I loved it. “More than anything. All this change you’ve gone through, I see good in it. Change ain’t so bad, right?”
“Yeah, change isn’t horrible…” I chuckled, shrugging as I looked up at him with a smile. Lord help me, I couldn’t stop myself. I took the back of his head, my fingers curling into his hair. “Change is…”
My words died off on my tongue, my lips meeting his in order to taste him on it.
There was a release of held breath through my nose, the concept of even keeping air in my lungs stripped from me as Beau’s hand pulled the elastic from my low bun, discarded it and tangled his strong, calloused fingers in my hair, the pads of them pressing to hold me there. His other hand rested firm on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him as he then bunched up my plaid shirt in an attempt to find purchase enough to ground him on Planet Earth. My hand buried into his own hair, feeling the soft strands cascade over my fingers as my other hand gripped his shoulder over his button-up plaid.
My back was pressed against the cool surface of the kitchen slab, burning a chilly line into my mid back that forced a gasp from my lips that was like heavenly sin. His cherry pie lips, tainted with the corrupting notes of sweet and sour first pried me open with gentle, slow, honeyed movements that even slowed down time before building, building, layering, devouring me with hot, passionate, demanding kisses that told me he’d been waiting for too damn long. His mouth burned me like whiskey on the tongue, had me tasting the tang, the variety he carried in one moment. Had me craving each and every one of his minuscule ministrations that had me eliciting sweet sighs, every kneading motion of his strong hand on my thigh and had me aching for those low groans of unadulterated pleasure that hung up stars behind my closed eyelids.
The aroma of hot lattes, cinnamon from Emily’s favourite buns and his cologne felt like a drug that I needed more and more hits of, and I’d break every single law in the book if it meant I could have this dizzying feeling again. His hand on my thigh guided me back and forth, pushing and pulling until I was completely dependent on him for support, to remain standing. Like I’d always been depending on him, the one raft in a never ending storm. I could feel the growing pressure underneath his jeans, and then on my neck as his hand in my hair tilted my neck to the side to light a slow trail of fire across my neck that I didn’t know I’d ever feel again.
The last time I felt that was with Harry, but it wasn’t as… intense as now. Harry didn’t make me feel like I was about to enter the last evolutionary phase of a massive star. He didn’t hold me like he wanted me to be his, almost like he was possessing me, but also as if he was desperate to be mine, timing his gravelly moans with mine until his lips reluctantly left my neck, his nose nuzzling my neck as he took in my scent, his thumb rubbing over my hair.
“I wanna go further, sweetheart.” Beau whispered, lifting his head and meeting emotional, heavy eyes with me. He thumbed my bottom lip, clearly fighting off the urge to sink into my embrace and get lost, no map, no compass. “I do. But…”
“Cassie, Denise and Jenny are outside.” I nodded with a small chuckle, and he mirrored the gesture, closing his eyes and letting out a breathy grunt.
“Don’t look at me like that, Belle. Don’t you dare.” He opened his eyes and gave me the most heart-melting smile, cradling my face in his large hands. “You’re gonna make me do somethin’ I regret.” His coarse thumb rubbed tender circles on my cheekbone. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“Aw, shucks.” I laughed bashfully. “That’s real sweet.”
“It’s true.” He chuckled, then pulled down my plaid’s collar slightly, sending me a heavy, hungry look. Almost pleading. I nodded ever so slightly, the breath stolen from my lungs when his lips descended and sucked gently in a way that had me whimpering, leaving a love bite that he soothed with a gentle stroke of the tip of his tongue and a chaste kiss before covering it up with my collar again. His lips brushed delicately across my cheek and grazed my lips with a low moan, the touch almost as light as a feather.
“M’yours, sweetheart. Remember that.”
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Oh, and I Told my Sister
Summary: “And Bea, who found out when she walked in on one of their after-dark FaceTime sessions, leaving Henry capable of nothing but flustered British stammering and thousand-yard stares for the next day and a half.” Henry's POV of the most mortifying moment of his life thus far. An extension of a moment from Red, White & Royal Blue, chapter six, page 182.
Word Count: 3,931
Rating: Explicit
AO3 Link
It was a gloomy Saturday night in April, and Kensington Palace was absolutely silent. Pip and Martha were on tour somewhere in Australia, Catherine had returned from her own time abroad, but had holed up in her room all day, Henry had David snuggled up in his room watching Bake Off, and Bea, well Bea was catching up on another one of the trashy romance novels she loved.
Mr. Wobbles the cat had seemingly decided to spend the night with her for once, and lounged on the end of her bed, tail swishing gently. Even he’d been fairly quiet on that rainy early spring night, until he let out a loud meow and headed towards the hallway. “Hang on…” Bea said aloud as the aforementioned beagle circled around himself and laid down just outside her bedroom door. It was nearing half two in the morning, and Henry, though an insomniac, rarely left his fluffy companion out of his room at night. In fact, he’d rather have both David and her stubborn cat take residence on the end of his bed than let David roam the halls once the lights had gone out. 
She put the marker in her book and stepped into a fuzzy pair of bunny slippers. David lifted his head as she approached, tail wagging slightly. “Hey little Prince, why aren’t you with your dad?” Bea bent down, patting David on the head, and he stood fully to lick her chin. David’s best friend Mr. Wobbles had joined in, pawing at his tail, but he paid the cat no mind. “Alright, let’s get you back to bed now.” 
Although Mr. Wobbles had no intention of leaving the warm dim light of Bea’s bedroom, David followed behind her dutifully down the hall. Henry’s room was not far from hers, just down the hall and around the corner. She fondly remembers being a little girl and hiding around this same corner so she could scare Henry. It usually worked, and her dad usually got upset with her, but every once and a while she’d pull the same trick, and still get him every time. 
“C’mon Davey, I know you’re tired but we’re almost there.” David groaned, following behind the redheaded princess. “See, wasn’t so bad, sweet boy. Now, we should give dad a little scare.” She snickered, putting her hand on the doorknob as quietly as she could so not to rattle it. Then, swinging the door open in a louder voice, “Henry, you seem to have forgotten—OH MY GOD!”
~~~~~
Henry had insisted he didn’t want anything for his birthday, but Alex was nothing if not persistent. A brown box with the White House’s return address was dropped off with his morning mail in mid April after Alex had pre-warned him he didn’t listen, and Henry immediately was filled with warmth. 
In the months he’d been finally talking to Alex again, their flirting was kicked into overdrive. What used to be casual teasing now carried heated undertones, their phone calls verged into dangerous territory on more than one occasion, and earlier that month he’d even sent Alex off with a hickey or two… which he knew Zahra was not happy about. Henry had been skeptical about the whole friends with benefits thing right from the get go, but he’d been easing up on the idea recently. The flicker of fear still whispered in his ear whenever he felt himself getting too close, thinking things about feelings he needed to avoid, but other than that, their friendship had been stronger than ever.
Henry eyed the box in front of him. Inside the brown shipping package was a slightly smaller box, wrapped in black and gold paper with a gold glittery ribbon. A typed note rested atop it that read:
Open when alone… I’m serious 😉😘
Dear God.
Though he was a prince, he still had matters to attend to, so Henry put the box out of his mind until later that day. Finally when he was ready to see what was inside, he opened his text conversation to shoot Alex a message.
HRH Prince Dickhead 💩 [3:05 p.m.]
What’s this I’ve received in the mail after I specified no gifts?
Alex Claremont Diaz [3:06 p.m.]
a surprise 😉
have you opened it yet?
HRH Prince Dickhead 💩 [3:08 p.m.]
No, you cretin. Should I be scared?
Alex Claremont Diaz [3:10 p.m.]
nah it’s a bit of fun
but call me later 
you’ll see why
He rolled his eyes, but took the wrapped package out of its shipping box and made his way to his bedroom. Truth be told, he was a little giddy at the idea of Alex picking something out just for Henry, wrapping it, and sending it on its way. They talked about their arrangement, and Henry knew it was purely just sex, but little gestures like this made him feel special, important, loved. He could never have Alex the way he wanted him, but at least he knew what it was like to have him at all. 
Butterflies unleashed themselves in Henry’s tummy as he pulled the knot of the ribbon. Carefully, he pulled the paper off the box, and immediately his cheeks burned at the sight of what was inside. He knew the branding, well if he was telling the truth, but he didn’t have this little gadget (it was still on his wish list). His mouth gaped open, he lifted the lid of the box to see the little remote control that was supposed to be included was suspiciously gone, all that lay inside was the sleek looking prostate massager and the charging cable. Immediately, Henry called Alex.
“I take it you opened my gift?”
“A-Alex, what in God’s name?”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry I should have asked…”
Henry chuckled as he touched the soft black silicone. “No Alex, it’s not—you just have to be careful sending things to me at KP, they scan all our packages at the gate for security.”
He hears Alex breathe a sigh of relief. “So you’re not mad?” 
“Quite the opposite, this one has been on my shopping list for a while, saved me a trip.”
Henry could feel Alex’s eyes going wide through the phone. “What, do you have a collection or something, your highness?”
He smirked. “Hm, I guess you could call it that, though they’re not something I keep out on display like some other collections. I’ll have to show you sometime.”
“It’s a date,” Alex replied lowly. “Hey, so I, uh, I kept the remote. And I can control it through an app as long as you have the app too, so um… I was wondering, uh…”
“Alex, I’m well aware of how this little thing works,” he whispered, nerves creeping into his voice. He’d purchased from this brand before, even had the app when it was more convenient than the little remote control that ran through AAA’s like they were water. But Henry had never used the remotes or app for its intended purpose, that being with someone else. “Would you like to try it with me?”
“I—only if you’re okay with it.”
“Sweetheart, I… I’d look forward to it.” He grinned to himself, feeling the excitement stir within. 
~~~~~
The rest of the afternoon saw Henry floating on cloud nine. He was unable to focus on anything, quiet all through dinner, and even more in his own head than usual. By the time nightfall came around, he could only think about Alex’s gift. 
He tried watching reruns of Bake Off, tried picking up one of his favourite books, hell, he even took David around the palace grounds for a midnight stroll. But by two in the morning, Henry was still keyed up and wide awake.
Throwing himself on his bed, he groaned, lacing his fingers together over his forehead. He couldn’t get Alex out of his head, his broad shoulders, dark curls, chocolate eyes… 
“Fuck.” He sighed, feeling his cock stir in his pants. Henry grabbed his phone, his thumb hovering over Alex’s contact. 
Alex answers on the second ring. “Isn’t it like two am in London? What, are you gonna ask me what I’m wearing or something next?” 
“What are you wearing?” Henry deadpans.
Alex lets out a laugh from the other side of the ocean. Henry swears he can feel it in his chest, and cracks a smile. “Your royal highness, are you trying to initiate phone sex?”
“No… switch to FaceTime I wanna see you.”
Alex huffs. “Wait, you’re serious? Are we doing this now?”
When Henry rolls his eyes, he’s sure Alex can practically hear it from the White House. “I’ve been at half-mast since opening your gift this afternoon. Alex I swear to god…”
“Do I make you horny, baby?” 
He lets out an exasperated sigh and switches immediately to FaceTime. Alex is giggling, and shirtless, and red from laughter, and shirtless, and sitting in his bed, shirtless. 
“If you ever want to touch my prick again you will not quote Austin Powers when I’m trying to have perfectly good phone sex with you.” 
“Shit baby, you really weren’t joking about this. Did you—“
“No, I didn’t really… prepare for that so we’ll have to use the toy another time. I just want to see you when I come.” 
“Fuck you’re so hot.” Alex drops his phone for a split second, and there’s rustling on the other end of the line, and Henry knows he’s over there getting good and naked. 
“Two minutes, I really don’t want to scar my dog.” Henry puts the phone down and carries David out of his room. “Sorry my boy, but daddy needs some alone time.” He sheds his shirt and pyjama pants on the way back to the bed, and by the time he’s face to face with Alex again, he’s begun palming himself through his Calvins. “You are alright with this, yeah?” 
Alex smirks. “What do you think?” He flips the camera to show himself mirroring Henry’s own ministrations, his cock hardening in his hand. “God Henry, I wish you were here. The things I’d do to you…”
“Mmmmm, tell me?”
The camera flipped back to Alex’s face, his eyes dark and sultry as he blinked through his lashes. “I will, but you’ve gotta be a good boy and not touch yourself until I say so. Can you do that for me sweetheart?”
He whimpers, nodding frantically. Reluctantly, Henry moved his hand away and rested it beside him on the bed. Normally Alex followed Henry’s lead in the bedroom, so seeing him confidently take control of the situation that Henry started had him feeling dizzy. He’d already been so keyed up, he knew this would be over quickly, and he wanted to savour every second of sexual tension with Alex. 
“Remember when I came to see you play Polo a few months back?” 
Henry nods. “You have no idea how often I think about that mouth of yours and just what it accomplished that day.”
Alex smirks. “Okay before the rich white people sex dungeon happened. Can I walk you through what was going through my mind?” 
His grip on the sheets tightened, and Henry worried his lip between his teeth, nodding in invitation for Alex to continue.
“Never thought I’d go for a horse girl but fuck sweetheart, I couldn’t take my eyes off your ass. You’re a very… adept rider, got me thinking about what you might look like riding something else.” The camera angle widened, Alex’s tight abs and the angry looking head of his cock came into view. 
“Please—”
“Go ahead baby, spit into your hand and show me how you touch yourself.”
Henry did just that, groaning as he finally took himself out of his briefs. “More Alex, tell me more.” 
The chuckle that left Alex’s lips was low and sultry. “Oh, you’re ready to go there baby? You want to hear about how fucking good you’d look riding my cock? How I think you’d get drunk on how I feel filling you up? I bet you’d go dumb with pleasure, taking whatever you can for yourself. Your ass in my lap, my hands on your thighs, your nails in my shoulders… fuck baby I want it so bad.” 
His head rolled back against the headboard with a light ‘thud’, and his hips bucked up into his hand unconsciously. “Sh-shit, would you let me touch myself if I was with you?”
“Absolutely not. I want to see you demonstrate firsthand if the prostate is really that sensitive before I give myself some hands on experience for myself.”
“Christ, I promise you it is. Next time I’ll show you, can’t wait for you to torture me with your gift. I’ll go hands off and all, would you like that Alex?”
“Fuck yeah, can I tie your hands together with that leather strap you locked the door with?” 
Henry parted his legs further and exhaled, watching a bead of pre-cum dribble from the tip of his dick. “God, I’d fucking love you to.”
Alex’s groan on the other end of the line sent Henry’s heart into a frenzy. The only sound between them was their heavy breaths, the slick sound of skin on skin, and the occasional groan. He was so lost in the moment, he’d missed the voice coming from the hall, and instead jumped to tuck himself back into his pants at the sound of his door flying open.
“OH MY GOD!”
“BEATRICE!”
A third, distinct sounding shout resonated through the speaker of Henry’s phone as Bea retreated, hand over eyes.
“Henry, what the fuck!”
“GET OUT!”
Bea deposited David just inside Henry’s door, and promptly ran, closing it behind her.
Henry’s hands shook, he wiped a hand… the wrong hand… across his face with a grimace. “I cannot believe that just happened.”
Alex let out a hearty laugh as the tips of Henry’s ears turned pink. “Glad to know royalty or not, older sisters will still have no concept of boundaries.”
“Please don’t.” He sighed in disappointment. “I’m investing in a lock for my door. I’m sorry Alex, I don’t think I can continue tonight.”
“Understandable, I’d have a hard time keeping it up too if my sister saw my dick not five minutes ago.”
Henry winced. “Too fucking soon. I’m hanging up now.” 
The grin on Alex’s face was blinding, happiness radiating through him. “We can try again some other time. You can actually get yourself ready and we can test out your new toy, maybe when I need a break from finals?”
“That sounds lovely, but I will not be thinking another sexy thought for the next five to seven business days.”
~~~~~
The next morning, Henry waited until Bea was gone to leave his room. Shaan gave him a questioning frown, to which Henry shook his head at.
He managed to avoid her through breakfast and well into the afternoon, an easy task when you live in a palace as big as Kensington Palace. David even came to lay with Henry in his bed just after dinner thinking his human was having a dark day. He didn’t leave his room again until the next day.
Unfortunately, it was inevitable that they’d eventually have to interact before Henry had the chance to forget about what happened.
It was lunchtime, and Henry was looking forward to catching up on a podcast he’d been listening to while he ate, but fate had other plans.
“Ah Henry, there you are.” Philip was the last person he’d expected to be there alongside Bea. “Come sit, we were just going through the proceedings for Gran’s birthday parade.” He cautiously approached the table and sat across from his siblings. “I’m doing the speech at the gala, and Beatrice will be riding alongside her in the parade, I thought maybe you could play her a piano piece at the gala after my speech?”
“Yeah, great, sure.” He said, only half hearing what Philip was saying. His voice was drowned out by the feeling of Bea’s eyes on him, and Henry could feel himself going redder and redder with each passing second. He wasn’t getting out of this meeting unscathed, as much as he just wanted to eat his lunch in peace. 
“Henry!”
“Sorry, what?”
Philip rolled his eyes, standing up. “Won’t you listen? Friday afternoon, two o’clock sharp we meet with the event planners at Buckingham. Be there.” With the shake of his head and a mutter under his breath, Philip left the room.
“Wanker.” Henry shot Bea a look, shock in his eyes. “Sorry not you, him. I know he’s trying to take the lead and all but he can be such a prick about it.”
He nodded, face reddening again. He was worried he’d be stuck with a permanent blush after this whole ordeal. “So, um, how are you?”
“Oh my god Hen, can we please just forget that I saw what I saw?”
Henry let out the breath he was holding and dropped his head to the table. “Yes please, you have no idea how mortifying that was.”
“Trust me, as your big sister, I have some idea. It never happened, I saw nothing, we’ll continue to live our lives.”
“Right. Yep. Nothing to talk about.”
They both nodded, the silence dragging on, until Bea’s curiosity got the better of her. “So who was on FaceTime then?” 
“I thought we were dropping this—”
“I know! But as your big sister I think I should get to know when you’re dating someone!”
He splutters, wringing his fingers together. “I-I mean, I wouldn’t call it dating per se…”
Bea gasps. “Are we seeing a rare appearance from Oxford slut phase Henry again?”
“No! No, I resent Pez for telling you about that. It’s just the one man, but we haven’t really… we’ve agreed to just keep it casual.”
She raises her eyebrow. “Do I know him? God, it’s not one of Philip’s dryer than toast friends again, is it?”
He chuckles. “No, couldn’t be any more different to be honest.” When he glances at his sister, the look on her face is a genuine one, interested, supportive… since rehab, Beatrice had been able to read Henry like a children’s book. Without the extra substances in her system, he was loud and clear, a whole other person than she’d known growing up, with hopes and dreams, a romantic soul underneath that stony exterior. So when Henry mused on how different this boy was than any of them before, she could tell that this wasn’t just casual to her brother. It was the sparkle in his eye, the lingering smile, the faint blush, Henry liked this one.
“Good. So who is the mystery man then?” 
Henry chances a look at his sister. “If I tell you, you have to promise to keep it secret. I don’t think he’s even out yet really.”
She made a zipping motion across her lips. “Swear it.”
He nodded, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, wincing a bit when he said, “it’s Alex.” 
Bea tilted her head, furrowing her brows. “Alex…”
“Claremont-Diaz.”
She gasped dramatically as the realization hit. “As in the American president’s son, Alex?”
Henry reached across the table to shush his sister. “Oh my god what did I say, not so loud!”
“Sorry, but my baby brother just told me he’s been low key hooking up with the guy he’s been crushing on for years? How else was I supposed to react, Henry?”
“Hey! I have not been crushing on him for years.”
Bea shoots him a look, a single eyebrow raised, challenging him. “And I never had a crush on any of the Jonas Brothers. Are we going to continue lying about things that are clearly true?”
“Wh-what… how… I barely even knew him until Pip’s wedding, how could I be crushing on him?”
“Did you forget how you clammed up at the Olympics that year? And how you’d always go red when his family was even mentioned? That weekend he was here at KP and you were absolutely peacocking. Oh, what about New Years? I’ve known you your whole life Hen, did you forget? You rolled your eyes at the invitation, but you still had that hint of a smile there. You like him.” Bea slid her hands across the table to take one of Henry’s. “I knew you seemed lighter. These past few weeks, months, whatever. You came back from that gala at the White House and something about you had changed, you had a pep in your step.”
He was silent for a few moments. “Pez is the only other person who knows, but he never read into it as much as you did. I’m scared Bea, I’m scared to say it out loud, cause it’ll make it real.” 
“It’s just me Hen.”
“I—I just… I’m worried that I’ve buggered it up right from the start. I told him we could only be casual.”
“And is that what you really want?”
Henry looked up, dared to glance into his sister’s eyes. “Do you really think a world exists where I can have what I really want?” 
“Pardon my French, but fuck that old cow. You can have what you want Henry, even as a prince. You know dad told me to remind you of that every once in a while before he passed? I’ve not been so good at remembering to do so, but I’m telling you now. You deserve to be happy.”
With the hand that wasn’t in Bea’s grasp, Henry pinched the bridge of his nose as the tears came. 
“Sorry, sorry I just…”
She handed him a tissue, shooting him a watery smile. “I know you miss him.”
He nodded. “I really like him, Bea. Alex I mean. And I think dad would have too.”
Bea laughed, wiping away a tear of her own. “I’m sure he would have loved him. I’m happy for you, Hen.”
“Thanks Bea. And I’m sorry you walked in on… well that.”
She giggled, rolling her eyes in mock disgust. “So how did it happen then?”
“W-what the other night?”
Bea took a hand away from his and whacked him across the shoulder. “No, idiot. I mean in general. You two. Doing… whatever it is you’re doing.” 
“Oh. Um, I kissed him on New Years.”
“At midnight? How romantic!”
“Well, after midnight. See, Nora, you remember her from the wedding, she kissed him at midnight and well, my ego was more than a bit bruised from that so…” 
He continued on, telling her the story of their first kiss, how he’d avoided Alex, and then reunited all in the same month. By the time he’d finished telling her their entire history (save the really dirty details, those memories were just for him), nearly half an hour had gone past, and Henry’s phone was buzzing with a text.
“Is that him now?” Henry blushed, but nodded confirming her suspicions. “How sweet! Send him my love, and that I’ll see him at the next event.”
~~~~~
“And who knows about this?” Zarah looks green, and in just about as much shock as Henry thought she would after finding him in Alex’s hotel room half naked the morning of the DNC.
“Literally no one but you. And the secret service.”
Henry winced. “And Percy.”
“Right, and June and Nora.”
He brightened. “Oh, and I told my sister.”
The smile on Alex’s face made his own wider. “Aw, I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, she was really happy for us.” 
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alittlextrathatway · 10 months
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Line: "I close my eyes and the flashback starts." Location: hospital
This is not how Matt envisioned spending his first day home. He truly believed the worst was over now that he was back on Chicago’s hallowed ground. He and Sylvie made it through. They were together again and planning a life together. What could go wrong?
Everything. The answer is everything.
In all his time working for the CFD, he had never once heard of a bomb being mailed to anyone. But especially not a firehouse.
And now Sylvie is in the ER. He wasn’t at 51, he didn’t watch it happen, but he got a call from Stella afterward. She wasn’t sure of Sylvie’s condition. The scene was chaotic, she never saw her, but she knows she was loaded into an ambo and driven away.
Fear squeezes his heart like a vice. The waiting area is full of first responders, already wanting to know how to support 51. Thankfully, the bomb didn’t go off inside the firehouse or this could have been a lot worse. It’s all the comfort he can manage until he sets his eyes on Sylvie.
He storms through the waiting area and passes the double doors into the ED. Everyone else may be waiting patiently but he isn’t. His fiancée is through those doors. The mother of their newly adopted daughter is in danger. He’d take a sledge to the hospital wall to get to her if he had to. There’s no stopping him.
Maggie must have predicted he would barge in as he pleased because she’s waiting for him in front of the nurse’s station.
“Kidd said Sylvie’s—“
“She’s fine, Casey. She’s okay.”
“No offense, Maggie, but I’d like to judge that for myself.”
She points behind him to Trauma 3 and Matt hurriedly spins around. The flashback hits him with as much force as a halligan to the head. It takes him back to that day, years ago now, where she fell through the floor. The day he had to watch her cry through tears of physical pain. The day they lost Otis.
Because sitting on the hospital bed, feet dangling over the edge, is Sylvie. Her arm in a sling, her face covered in dust, and tears in her eyes. She looks small and scared but whole. Blessedly whole.
“Thank god,” Matt mutters, taking a deep breath as he steps into the small room.
“Matt!” Sylvie exclaims, throwing her good arm around him.
“Hey,” he says, pulling her as close as he can without jostling her arm. The same arm she broke in the Arnow collapse. “I’m here.” He leans back and frames her face with his hands, thumbs swiping at tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“That poor delivery driver,” she says, with a shaky inhale. She pauses to exhale, willing herself to calm down. “I don’t think it was supposed to happen that way, Matt. He picked up the package and turned to face the house and then…all of a sudden I was thrown into the back of the open ambo. My elbow slammed into the stretcher and now I’m here. God, it happened so fast I don’t even know if — oh god, how’s everyone else? Do you know? Have you talked to anyone?”
He closes his eyes, imagining all the ways today could have cost him everything, and then forces the images away. Right now, Sylvie needs him and panicking over how close he came to a life without her won’t help. He kisses her grimey forehead and then presses his against her temple, pressing her to his side.
“Just Stella. She didn’t know much either. The scene at 51 is chaos and she’s working with Boden to try and get a head count.”
Sylvie rubs her good hand across her forehead as she takes in the only new information he has. “Well,” she says meeting his eyes with a loud sniffle. “Welcome home, I guess. Some first day, huh?”
“Any day you’re with me is better than most,” he assures her. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she replies, relaxing into his arms. “God, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know if I could handle this without you.”
He’s glad he’s here too. He can’t imagine hearing about this from the other side of the country. Now, more than ever, he’s glad he came to his senses and proposed. From here on out, they’ll never have to deal with a crisis like this alone again. They’ll always figure it out. Together.
***
This is kinda based on some things I’ve seen and heard about 12x01 filming. As usual, I’m probably wrong lol.
Send me a Taylor Swift or Kelsea Ballerini lyric and location to my ask box! I’ll write you a Brettsey fic too! 💗
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SCARY LOVE - Chapter One
Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!Reader
Warnings: mentions of hornyness, angst, open end
Word count: 1.6k
a/n: I finally continued the Neighbors storyline after I changed the plot a few times. I am super hyped to see what you guys think and what else is in store for those two. :3
Synopsis: After your little encounter with your upstairs neighbor, you bumped into him on some occasions, like normal neighbors stuff until one package changes everything.
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Forgetting to check the mail, when you were expecting an important parcel was typical for you. The whole way downstairs you scolded yourself. Without an elevator going up and down 6 flights of stairs could be counted as work out. Gonna have that bar of chocolate when I get back, that’s for sure.
You opened your letterbox and a single card threatened to fall out.
“We have dropped your parcel off at your neighbor.” You blinked twice, slowly, as to give your brain time to understand what you’ve just had read. “Brilliant. But to which neighbor?” You groaned and shut your letterbox with a bit too much force.
“Was the letterbox mean to you?” A now familiar voice filled your ears and warmth spread across your cheeks. “Not the letterbox…” you smiled coyly - not that he could’ve seen that but still, you tried. He let the front door fall shut and made his way towards you. His cane scraped the worn tile floor in a sweeping motion. You offered your arm as guidance, but remembered quickly that he couldn’t see it. “Here, take my arm. The sound of your cane scratching the floor is like fingernails on a chalkboard for me.”
Matt gladly took your arm and let you lead him upstairs. “So…” You watched each step carefully, not to trip. “So…?” He smiled. “Not the letterbox?”
“Oh this.” You almost had forgotten about this. How easily a person could change your mood. But with this disarming smile who could stay mad. “I expected a package today but it was dropped off by a neighbor.”
“And this is bad, why?”
“Because the mailman failed to mention which one.” You answered frustrated.
“I see. Lucky for you, I happen to be this neighbor.” He stopped on your floor. “Mind to accompany me upstairs?”
Your mind went into very unholy territory when he said that. He means to collect my package. Not anything else. Good lord, I need to get laid soon.
Your heart rate shot up a few notches, the temperature of your skin changed and the anticipation of your hopeless thoughts tingled like electricity over your body. All those perceptions didn’t go by unnoticed, but Matt only observed and would never address this. It was just good to know for him.
Once at the right floor, you led Matt to his door, and once unlocked he went inside, expecting you to come after him. “Y/N, you can come in, I don’t mind.”
God how you loved the way your name sounded out of his mouth. Just imagine how it would sound when he moaned - NO, bad Y/N. God it must’ve been one of those weeks, with all your hormones wreaking havoc on your mind and body. Your (again) unholy thoughts lasted longer than you thought, because the next thing you knew was Matt appearing in the still open door with your package in one hand.
“You didn’t have to wait outside. I really don’t mind. Anyway, here is your package.” He handed you the brown parcel. “What? Oh thank you.” You took it from his outstretched hand, your fingers brushed his slightly. “And next time, I’ll come in, promise.” You smiled at him and turned on your heels. “See you around, Murdock.”
Next time, I’ll come in, promise??? What the hell was I thinking? He must think I want to get into his pants.
“But you wouldn’t mind that, now would you?” a fine voice laced with scorn huffed amused. “Salem, I don’t appreciate you reading my thoughts!”
“I wasn’t. You spoke aloud.”
Baffled, you frowned and set the package on your counter. “Living alone on your own for so long must promote such a habit.”
“Don’t sound so smug, Kater.”
Your feline friend stretched and let out a big yawn. “I’m not a male cat. You know that very well.” You rummaged around your drawers in search of a pair of scissors. “I know, as much as I know that you can’t take a joke.”
If Salem was human he would’ve huffed but as a black cat, all he could do was narrow his eyes and turn his back towards you.
“It’s the wrong color.” Salem added while he left the kitchen. “Thank you.” You yelled behind him sarcastically.
Seemed that your odd friend was right. You had ordered the wrong color, so you had to return the package. The sky looked grey and stormy when you left your house for the third time today. High up on the rooftop, a dark figure was haunching over the ceiling, following your every step.
The devil of Hell’s Kitchen was watching over you tonight. Matt was wondering where you were going so late. Was it a date? His head tilted to the left and he focused his senses only on you. You still wore the same clothes as when he met you in the hallway. So no date, he knew how you smelled and how you walked when you had a date. The smell of your perfume, that lingered in the hallways, the way you chose only your best clothes and not the standard ones you used for work. He could even sense the light make up you wore when you got ready for a night out. But tonight you weren’t going out, you were merely running an errand. The package in your bag rustled slightly but enough for Matt to pick up the sound.
“Wasn’t the right item then, huh?” He thought to himself as he hurried along the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen. He was about to release his concentration and let you go when he heard the faint click of a safety pin come off.
“Gimme all ya money!” You couldn’t believe your ears and the scene that was unfolding in front of you. Here you were, on some winter-y night in the Big Apple, staring in the barrel of a gun. “Oi, you deaf or what?” The thug brandished his gun vividly. Before you could utter a word or even grab your purse, the gun clattered to the ground and the robber stumbled a few steps backwards. A man dressed in all black stood in between you. Fists balled, forearms strained, a solid stand, broad shoulders that the black shirt couldn’t hide. His face was half covered with a black mask, only his lips were visible. You absorbed all this in the split second he turned to you to make sure you were okay.
Attention focused on the robber, the man in black kicked the gun further away, which earned him an angry “son of a bitch” from the other man. “You good with ya fists huh?” The thug raised his hands and clenched them into fists. "Let's see if ya really that good." A violent exchange of blows between the two men began and all you could do was stand there dumbfounded and watch them as the sky cracked open and the gates of heaven poured their tears over New York.
It must have been only a few minutes, but it quickly became clear that the thief didn’t stand a chance. He always went down, but always got up too. You had to give it to him, he was tough. Judging by the cracking noises and the sheer force the man in black let his fists rain over his body. But after what felt like hours, the fight was over. The thug was lying unconscious on the ground.
Still agitated from the fight, the man in black turned to you. “You should go home. It’s not safe at night.” You chuckle dryly. “It’s New York, it’s kinda never save.” His lips curled and formed a smirk. “True, kind of.” And when you just thought how handsome he was and that you definitely would want to see his whole face, another deafening crack ripped through the night. You winced and looked up at the sky, waiting for the thunder to come, but it never came. Your eyes drifted to the man in front of you and slowly you realized that the sound you heard was a gunshot and not lightning.
Time stopped and went twice as fast at the same time. You saw your savior falter to one knee, clenching his left side while blood was mixing with the water in the puddles of the street. Behind him you could see the thug, kneeling with an outstretched arm holding the fuming gun. “Not so good now, aye.” The man in black pulled himself up, shielding you with his body. “You’ve been shot.” You muttered in shock. “Had worse. Take cover.” He turned around only to see the gunman gone. Still clenching his side, he stumbled a few feet away from you. “You’ve been shot.” You mumbled again until adrenaline set in and your brain sprung into action. “We need to get you to a hospital or a vet clinic.” You hurried over to him, grabbing his right arm and putting it over your shoulder, supporting him.
“No time …” his words came in shallow breaths. Suddenly his knees gave out and you stumbled to the ground with him. Panic settled in and your eyes shimmered over his body in search of the wound. Without much thought you pressed your hands onto his wound which made him wince out in pain. “I know. I’m sorry… but I need to stop the bleeding.” You cooed apologetic. He let out a dry laugh. “Foggy warned me about this. Should’ve listened to him.” Blood splattered with each word. You pressed harder, frantic to save him like he saved you only minutes ago.
“Don’t die, please. Oh god, please don’t let him die!” You pleaded into the dark sky. With his last breath you send out a desperate prayer to any deity that would listen.
Please don’t let him die. Take me instead.
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hazbincalifornia · 9 months
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Hazbin Episode 1 Liveblog
In order to avoid this post getting Way Too Long, I'm going to make one post for episode one, and one for episode two!
I will say, I'm kinda sad we don't have a 'proper' theme song/intro, just the little jingle :( I do get it, but ah well.
Oh my god the commercial is even better in full.
How the fuck did he get Charlie to keep the name if it was still him???
Al's so fucking offended they're making him use a camera he made it one giant middle finger. I love it.
The voices are definitely going to take a bit of adjustment. It's probably because I've rewatched the pilot a zillion times, though.
I like how Alastor didn't even look at Angel. "Never going to happen!"
Awww, Charlie's ringtone for her dad is cute.
I DO really love Keith David as Husk right away, he suits the role perfectly.
"I like being forced!" and I love you, you weird little gremlin. Hoping for some good CNC stuff with her now, tbh. She'd be fun for it.
The flat delivery of 'crack is expensive' made me wheeze out loud.
Aaaa and here we go, full animation for Happy Day!
Why... why is the 'shoving barbed wire in your hole' guy an imp. Is that, like, his job or something. Is he just an asshole?
Ooooo, that was VAGGIE singing the 'bloodthirsty and deranged?' line? More fodder for her being a fallen angel/exterminator.
'Helluva post' for the mail. Ha.
This just made me fully realize how much the cannibal colony probably considers the post-extermination like a feast day.
Awww, the music note background is a fun touch.
Something about the fact that the 'touch my parts!' guy is a completely shapeless slug-creature instead of just keeping the dick offscreen makes it funnier.
Oh, I love Adam. The fun kind of punchable prick.
The animation seems a bit... overacted? I've noticed it all along but with Vaggie in the scene where she talks about making a new commercial especially. It sort of felt like they wanted to match the pilot's very snappy energy but weren't quite sure how, so everybody makes kind of... aimless motioning instead of moving with purpose, if it makes sense? It feels more like 'moving body parts for the sake of moving things' over 'moving with intent'. It's sort of awkward and distracting. The shifting proportions don't really help, but I just know people are going to be Fucking Annoying about that when it's unfortunately part of the package of making a whole season at once by a regular animation studio.
Oh yeah, Blake's perfect for Angel, lmao. It was more of a change than I expected from the few lines we'd gotten since they sounded more like the original, but he's got the energy.
Charlie didn't know Adam ran the angel army? That seems like the kind of thing she should have known. I wonder if she was relatively sheltered growing up.
'Call me dickmaster' why do I get the feeling the Chaz fans will like him, lmfao.
Since I'm on Adam though, another little groan to myself about the lack of fat characters in the hellaverse that aren't either gross stereotypes or background characters. Adam falls into the misogynist type, (like, the 'redditor', you know the one, just sort of mixed with a sleazy rockstar) Mammon's literally Greed and a talentless abuser, the lady at the pound was gross/uncaring and ugly, and I still think the Nurse was the only one that really broke the pattern and I've seen approximately one piece of fanart or mention of her ever (despite her clearly-developed positive relationship with Barbie!) and it was porn. I'm allowed to bitch on this after people were so fucking annoying about how wanting Bee to be fat was wanting her to be a 'gross ugly blob' and then saying other people were being fatphobic for pointing out everybody's skinny. Somehow. Anyway.
Well, at least they got the vagina joke out of the way early.
I love how his deal isn't for anything that would genuinely screw Vaggie over, he's just pissed they want him to deal with TV.
The fact that the pilot's still 'soft canon' makes sense with how Angel just immediately starts admiring his new clothes without any surprise, since it's happened before. Also, Niffty with the Marilyn pose is cute.
Oh, I'm definitely going to like Lute. I still like my idea she used to be close to Vaggie but when Vaggie was cast down, she stuck tighter to the rules.
Adam's song is fun!
So season 1 takes place over the course of six months? Huh. I'm guessing we'll have some time skips if we only have eight episodes.
I wonder what the Heaven Embassy is for? I can't imagine it's only for meetings like that considering there's couches in the lobby and stuff. Can sinners communicate with loved ones in heaven or vice versa, maybe, just using the holograms?
Oh my god the Katie voice IS basically just Brandon's Bryce voice. Amazing.
Ohoooo? VERY curious who managed to pull off killing an exterminator, and 'can't let them catch on'... hmm.
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prettyblondguys · 2 years
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Part 1
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Dmitri x plus size f!reader
Summary: after S4, Dmitri moves to sunny California where he meets our lovely reader, a weird, quirky lady with a penchant for awkwardness.
Warnings: adult humor, sex jokes, smut in future chapters, if you saw me proofread, no you didn't.
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What lab did they make you in? You think to yourself, staring up at the absolute dream of a man in front of you, all full lips and mysterious eyes and suave. My god, the man practically oozes suave. You'd been sitting there outside the airport minding your own business, listening to your walkman while waiting for your friend Sylvia who was flying in from Oregon, when Mr Sex himself walked up to you asking about directions to a motel nearby, a thick Russian accent adding to his whole thing. His thing being something straight out of a James Bond film. From Russia with love, and straight to you here in sunny Cali. Express mail. I wouldn't mind signing for that package.
DIRECTIONS, SHIT.
"OH. Yeah, um," you ramble out, cheeks flushing red when you realize you've been staring at him. Well, ogling was a better word for what you were doing. He raises one eyebrow at your late reaction, an amused smile on his lips. His lips. NO, FOCUS. "You, um, you wanna go straight until you see Sycamore Street, then follow it to Red Hill and take a left, and, uhh, straight on to MacArthur, once you see Pete's Pizzas it should be on your right." You're nodding way too aggressively, as if you don't trust your own directions. Which to be honest, you're so flustered by him that you can't be sure you didn't just give him directions to Mordor. "About a 10 minute drive. Unless you're walking," God, why hasn't he said anything? "which is fine! Nothing wrong with walking. Or driving." Please shut up. "Nothing wrong with either. Yep, just, straight on to Sycamore. Good ol Sycamore. And then the others. Do you remember? Should I write this down?" No but you should seriously shut up.
"No, that is alright, I remember." His accent is so thick I want to drown in it. Wait, that's a bit weird. I wanna swim in it. Yeah that's better. His smile grows wide as you continue to just stare at him. "Sycamore, then a left on Red Hill, and on to MacArthur until I see this...Pete's Pizzas, and it should be on my right. Correct?" He cocks his head towards you, brows lifting in question. "Yep," you squeak out, caught up on how pretty his accent made the street names sound, "that's correct. Correcto, ding ding, we have a winner!" This is why you're single. He huffs out a confused laugh, or a pity laugh, it's really hard to tell with guys. "Alright, thank you for your help." No my good sir, thank YOU for looking like this. "No worries," you reply, "welcome to California!" Welcome to California? What are you, a flight attendant? He nods before starting to walk off, throwing one last puzzled smile over his shoulder before hailing a taxi. You're very skilled when it comes to scaring men off. "You'll make a man very lucky one day, sweetie," your grandmother had told you one day as you sat mourning yet another failed 2-day relationship, "as soon as you get one to stay in the same room as you for more than an hour."
¤
"You did not say that!"
Sylvia, your closest friend since highschool, was sitting in the passenger seat as you drove to your house after picking her up from the airport, and she was laughing. Loudly. Practically cackling. "Ding ding, we have a winner?!" You slowly shake your head as she goes on, the mortification still fresh in your mind. "This is why you're single!" I KNOW THAT. "I panicked, okay? I was face to face with lust personified and I PANICKED." Sylvia continues to laugh for a good minute before catching her breath. "I'm only saying," she gasps out, brushing away a tear from her eye, "that you had a hot, VERY HOT, so you say," Very hot indeed. "man standing in front of you, lost and asking for directions, and you said DING DING WE HAVE A WINNER!" She bursts out in a fit of laughter again, and you can't help but chuckle with her. "What was I supposed to say? Come on sexy, hop in my car and I'll show you a shortcut. Wink wink, it's my bedroom." That makes you both laugh harder, before Sylvia finally pulls herself together. "Well," she says, as you pull into your driveway, "at least you don't have to see him again. I doubt you and sexy Russian man run in the same circles."
"That's not necessarily true," you get out of the car and open the trunk, pulling out one of Sylvia's suitcases as she pulls out another, "maybe he'll join my Sunday Bingo Night. What am I supposed to do then? Quit bingo? HA, highly unlikely." Scoffing, she shakes her head and follows you to your front door. "It's a big world, what are the odds of seeing him again?"
¤
What are the odds indeed? "You jinxed it," you whisper shout at Sylvia while hiding behind a display of soup cans, "you put a curse on me or something. A beautiful man curse." You peer from behind the stacks of cream of mushroom towards the checkout line, where a very handsome, very familiar man was standing with a shopping cart. "Don't blame me," Sylvia whispers back, hand on the cart you'd abandoned the moment you saw him, "it's just really bad luck. And you're right, he's hot." Well duh. The two of you continue to watch him until he piles the bagged items into his basket, pays and walks off. Thank God. You ease your way up to the checkout line and start putting your groceries onto the conveyor belt.
"Wouldn't it be funny if he showed up at your Bingo night too?" Sylvia laughs, pulling out her wallet. You glare at her as you pull the now empty basket forward, "There you go cursing me again."
Sylvia's eyes widen as she fights back a grin, "Y/n.." her eyes flicker from yours to somewhere off behind you repeatedly, when a deep voice comes from behind you.
"I think I left a bag." Please be a different Russian guy, please be a different Russian guy, please please please. You slowly swivel around until you're face to face with the man from outside the airport. "Oh, hello," he says, a smile of recognition lighting up his face, "it's you, Sycamore." Could be worse, he could be calling me Ding Ding. "Ha, yep, it's me. Fancy seeing you here!" You swear you can hear Sylvia snicker behind you. He reaches for his forgotten bag in the bagging area, lifting it forward, "Needed a few things." Oh god how does he make grocery shopping look sexy. Mm. Double-bagged, that has to be a euphemism. He smiles as you just slowly nod, before extending his hand towards you. "Forgive me," he goes on, blue eyes piercing into your very soul, "I should have introduced myself earlier today. Dmitri." You reach forward and clasp his hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity it sends up your arm. "Y/n." you mumble, completely lost in his gaze. He hums, a soft smile playing on his lips, "That is a very pretty name."
"Thanks, so is yours." Jesus H Christ what is wrong with you. His smile widens into a toothy grin, "Why, thank you." The two of you stand there staring at each other, awkward smiles planted firmly on your face for what feels like a full minute, before the cashier clears her throat, pulling you out of whatever this was. "I should be going," he finally says, looking down to where you still held hands, both of you dropping your hands to your side at the same time, "it was very nice seeing you. Perhaps we'll run into each other again." Please don't show up at Bingo Night. "Yeah, maybe," you breathe out, "I'm always around here somewhere. Well. Not here, like, at the grocery store. I don't hang out here. That'd be weird, wouldn't it? Just stalking around the aisles." For the love of all, SHUT UP. "Not that I stalk anywhere. Or anyone. I don't stalk. I mean, I'm not, um." He grins and nods his head, "I understand what you meant. See you around." He starts to walk off after giving you one last smile, the sides of his eyes crinkling. "Yeah, see you!"
You turn to find both Sylvia and the cashier giving you pitying looks. "I know, that couldn't have gone worse if I'd tried." You say, facepalming in embarrassment as Sylvia places the bagged groceries in the cart.
"Actually," you and Sylvia look at the cashier, Pam, her name tag says, as she interjects, "he kinda seemed into you. As weird as that whole interaction was." The three of you exchange glances in a triangle of questioning. "Really, Pam? You think so?" She smacks her gum and nods, handing Sylvia her change. "Definitely."
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Authors note: I know NOTHING about California so I'm quite honestly making shit up lol. This whole story is a bit self indulgent and I will not apologize lol. Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!! P.s. The Beach Boys are life.
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idyllcy · 2 months
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from one admirer to another : new years?
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pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another
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synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.
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featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas
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Christmas...
SUNNY'S SO CUTE AUGHHHHHHH... I drew a twitter mental breakdown emote trust me I'm going through it. Sunny looks so cute. My roommate and I have a black cat called sesame bun, but she doesn't register on polaroids or film so I cry a little each time I see photos of her. Wish I had your number so I could send you photos of her, but that's against FOATA policy, so... oopsie.
You forgot to get their number?? That's an insane thing to say. How do you just casually— okay, well, on that topic, I forgot to get the number of the dude I was making out with on new years as well. It doesn't help that I was so drunk that I barely remember what he looks like. All I know is that he was hot and at the same new years party as me. I don't even remember what he called me. He was just so... hot. Okay, sorry, this isn't about me. This is about you. YEAH. I'M SHAMING YOU FOR NOT GETTING THEIR NUMBER (joke) And, yes, you used it right)
We're friends. I promise lol.
I live with my best friend! We're actually day ones and when she started working her current job, I was there with her at her first event. I can't say too much about her, but we've lived together ever since. I'm like... her stay-at-home best friend? Something like that. I earn less than she does, and she bought the whole apartment with her first paycheck, so now I just do everything that a husband would. Basically, I cook and clean on days I don't work and I dry her hair for her after her showers.
She helped me a lot (well, I live in her apartment so there's that) and I just love her so much :(.
The other two in our little group in high school also went into the same industry as her, except in different directions, so we see them every now and then. Sisters before misters or whatever. She and I are 4 lifers.
As for stuff about me... not too much to say. I told you all of my defining factors already. Sesame bun was adopted when we first got the house, so she's like four years old now. Cute little girl. I attached a keychain I ended up winning from another Ada event. I have one already, so I figured it would be better in your hands.
Hope you get that model's number, scrambled eggs
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You seal the letter and toss it on your bedstand by your phone and head to the kitchen instead of bed because 1. you're hungry, 2. you're hungry, 3. you're hungry. You want a quick snack.
"Hey." Ada raises a brow at you at the sight of your laptop in hand. "Killing half of your reading population again?"
"It's just the comfort now." You yawn. "I want ramen."
"Shin noodles is not ramen." Ada pauses. "Also, no. You're cutting for your next shoot, remember?"
"God, can't they CGI it or something? God forbid a human eat for once." You huff, grabbing a pack of konjac jelly instead, huffing as you pop open your laptop. "I hate this industry."
"It's not that you can't eat."
"Where's the medicine for blood sugar?"
"You already had one today. You'll be fine." Ada hands you a jerky packet, and you groan in bliss.
"China my beloved."
Ada rolls her eyes, going back to her phone to text her relatives again. "Anything you want mailed this time?"
"阿尔卑斯..." You mumble. "Alps lollipops my beloved... please..."
"I'll let them know. Anything else?"
"QQ gummies are here now, huh?"
"Yeah." She pauses. "Let's have them mail some anyway."
"Love you."
"Yeah, yeah. Anything else that they can legally mail over?"
"Oh, I want gum."
"Extra?"
"Yuh. The white packaging one." You grin. "I'll dedicate this chapter to you again."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm." You blow a kiss at her, and she rolls her eyes.
"Sap."
"I'M HURT."
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notsocheezy · 3 months
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Brain Curd #102
Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!
Reggie barged in unannounced as Clint sat on the couch with his laptop, drafting an email.
“Clint! Clint! You’re not gonna believe this!”
“What?”
“They’re back!” He dumped a grocery bag onto the coffee table, forming a mountain of snacks.
“Oh my God,” Clint said, sorting through the pile. He pulled out a flat, rigid package. “Cereal Straws! I always loved these!”
“And Oreo Cakesters! Remember them?”
“Yeah, weren’t they banned for being full of trans fat?”
“I think so, yeah,” he took a large bite of one. “But I’m pretty sure they just use palm oil now.”
“Nice!” Clint crunched into a Froot Loop Straw. “This takes me back, man. Even the way it coats the roof of my mouth in some kinda wax.”
“For real, dude. Classic.”
Clint searched the pile again. “Hey, weren’t there any of the Apple Jacks ones? Those were my favorite.”
“Sorry, I didn’t see any.”
“The Cocoa Krispies ones weren’t even that good. Why’d they bring back those instead of the Apple Jacks ones?”
Reggie shrugged.
Clint leaned back and pondered. “You know what I wish they’d bring back? Yogos. Remember those?”
“Aw, hell yeah! Those were the best! My mom used to put them in my lunch every day back in Elementary school. But you know what was even better?”
“What?”
“Chocodiles.”
“Never heard of ‘em.”
“You - what?!? Bro, you missed out! Okay, listen, basically it’s a Twinkie, right? But they cover it in chocolate.”
“So?”
“It stays moist, man! The chocolate holds in all the moisture so it doesn’t get stale!”
“Don’t Twinkies last forever?”
“That’s a myth. They start going stale right out of the factory. But Chocodiles don’t. They were goddamn magic. I’d kill for one right now.”
“So… they’re like, your chocolate-covered white whale, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
“I get it. Life hasn’t been the same for me since Altoids Sours were discontinued.”
“Now that I think about it, though…” Reggie stared off into the distance. “There was one snack that really had an impact on me.”
“What was it?”
“Goldfish-flavored Goldfish.”
“You mean… the original flavor? The plain ones? They still make those.”
“No. Goldfish-flavored. They tasted like goldfish. Like the pet, the actual fish.”
Clint grimaced and squinted at Reggie. “You’re fucking with me, right?”any
“No. No, I definitely had them. My mom got them for me after my goldfish died. She said we had to mail him to the Pepperidge Farm upstate so they could turn him into crackers. So he could live forever inside me.”
Clint muttered under his breath. “What the fuck…”
“The crackers came in a package shaped like a coffin. But it was made out of paper, and it had that foil on the inside - you know the foil, right? On the inside of a bag of Goldfish?”
Clint nodded, his eyes wide.
“I opened the package and the first thing I remember was the smell. That smell will stick with me for the rest of my days. It’s almost like walking into a fish market, or a sushi restaurant, but with something else mixed in. Maybe the flour, or the riboflavin…”
“Death?” Clint asked.
“Maybe. Anyway… I ate the whole package, then and there. It took me an hour. My mom wouldn’t let me have water, because she said it might wake him up inside my belly if I drank it. And we couldn’t wake him up before he was all together in my stomach. So I kept eating the crackers.”
“Dude…”
“I began to feel ill halfway through. I wanted to stop, to give up. I thought I might vomit. But then, my goldfish would have been gone forever. Trapped in the void between life and death, wedged between worlds, somewhere in the space between. I started hallucinating - the crackers swam in front of me like I was swimming in a fish tank myself. I realized I was smiling, and the snacks smiled back.”
Clint held his stomach. He too felt ill.
“Tears rolled down my face as I chomped down on each and every last cracker. That was the last of him. My goldfish was gone. He would be part of me forever. Forever, Clint! Have you any idea how long that is to go without something?!?”
“What do you mean?”
“For long years, I have hungered for it! For that missing essence, that exotic flavor I only ever tasted in those Goldfish-flavored Goldfish! I need it! If you think that flavor was death…? Then I must taste death!”
“You - y- you’re scaring me, man!” Clint wedged himself in the corner of the couch. He’d never been this terrified.
Reggie shook his head and grinned, chuckling as tears formed in his eyes. “Don’t be scared, Clint.” He pulled out his pocket knife. “You’ll like it at the Pepperidge Farm.”
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