#impostor syndrome be GONE
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melhyan · 3 days ago
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"Life's Rage", a SWTOR OC
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[Repost from my old art acc: @wackyart, my OC Sith Warrior Cathar girlie Sable]
Sketch done on paper, colored on Krita. Do not repost or use without permission or I'll send your kneecaps back to your weeping mother in an amazon prime package.☺️🤍
Wanted to pop in with a quick update about my Redbubble, INPRNT, and TeePublic shops (also Etsy)!! I’m in the process of giving them a bit of a makeover—changing my handles, curating the selection, and retiring some older products that don’t quite fit my current style. Think of it as a magical inventory reshuffle.🧙‍♀️✨
I’ll be keeping everyone updated as soon as everything is sorted. Whether you’re looking for a print of an old favorite or scouting out something shiny and new, I’ll make sure the transition is as smooth as a bard’s persuasion check!!
P.S.: I’m also working on something exciting—a full PDF for my commission sheet!✨ It’ll include everything: detailed info, examples of my work, and all the options laid out to make things easier for everyone (and maybe add a little flair, because why not?). Stay tuned for more updates on that—it’s coming soon to a scroll near you! 🖌️📜
[Do not repost or use without permission]
Mëlhyan
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teapot-of-tyrahn · 22 days ago
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i like to think that the superpowers would leave a mark, even after they lost them. that they'd have lingering effects on the players. or, at least, their psyches.
gem has a tendency to dissociate, to feel disconnected from her body. joel frequently has to reel her back to reality and ground her when she spaces out like this.
for bdubs, sometimes it feels like time too slow, or doesn't move at all. a sort of dissociative time blindness and impermanence. not to mention his cardiac rhythm is TOTALLY askew.
for tango, everything goes too fast. his mind feels like it's on another plane, thoughts running a hundred miles a minute, but his body is too slow to correctly comply with the output from his mind. movement stuck in slow motion with a brain running at the speed of light.
lights have become too bright for ldshadowlady. she has photophobia and light sensitivity, she always has to squint in the daylight, and being around any sort of bright light for too long gives her a headache.
jimmy forgets he can be perceived. he has loss of object permanence but only with himself - he often forgets other people can see him, or even that he's there at all, that he's existing as a person and not as a ghost.
impulse forgets where he is sometimes. he has mild transient global amnesia - he can forget how he got somewhere, or where he is, or where he was going.
pearl struggles with the high places phenomenon; she forgets she can't fly. scott had to stop her from walking off a cliff - forgetting she couldn't spread her wings and soar - more than once.
scott becomes an involuntary pet regressor. sometimes, he forgets he's a human again, and he'll growl and bite and chirp and meow instead of speaking.
if martyn was still alive, everything would be too loud. he'd get overstimulated by noise easily, unable to filter irrelevant sounds out of conversations, mind constantly tuned into everything and as such struggling with hyperacusis and auditory processing.
ren has impostor syndrome. so many roles, so many faces, which was really his? he doesn't know himself, the only person who really did know him - who could tell him who he is - is gone now. maybe he died along with them. all he sees is a ghost in the mirror.
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anthrophobixx · 5 months ago
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the dialtown community is so nice thank u guys for being supportive of mw im giving out free hugs...
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nonbinary-vents · 6 months ago
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yayyy I love being nonbinary I love having dysphoric breakdowns in the car over how my face will never look right while my mother just watches me isn’t being nonbinary just the besst I can’t believe anyone wouldn’t want to be like this wowwww
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nerdnag · 9 months ago
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Actual conversation between me and the coach I get to talk to through work, after I told her that I have impostor syndrome:
Her: how long have you worked in this field?
Me: seven years.
Her: and you still have a job.
Me: yes.
Her: you work in a relatively small company. People would notice if you were bad at your job, and it would NOT take seven years.
Me: ... Yeah but... I mean... I know I am somewhat competent at what I do. But I... I fake so much.
Her: what do you mean you "fake"?
Me: well... Like, in meetings. I have strategies for the social bits. Not like I follow a detailed step-by-step plan or anything, but there are these patterns that I follow. And also I often find myself struggling to reach my knowledge while in a meeting, so I have to either say I'll get back to them or improvise something. And some days, if I'm having a bad day or low energy, my usual strategies don't work as well, or at all. And then I feel like everyone can see through me, and see me flounder or stumble over myself and realize what a fake I am.
Her: ... So you have strategies to cope with things that are difficult for you as a neurodivergent person.
Me: yes...
Her: that, to me, doesn't show that you're an impostor. It shows that you are incredibly brave, strong and intelligent.
Me: ... What
Her: you wake up every single day and choose to face your fears, to challenge yourself and strive to develop as a person. You have come up with strategies to handle these fears, strategies which *work*. Sara, that's not what an impostor does. That's what a *genius* does.
Her: an impostor wouldn't work as hard as you do. Most people do *not* face their fears everyday and come up with strategies to manage them. And impostors definitely don't.
Me: what the actual huh
Me: ... But... But I don't feel like I have a choice. And surely people wouldn't hire a coach if they weren't interested in developing themselves?
Her: I coach a lot of clients, Sara. Believe me when I say that even those who do want to grow and develop themselves very rarely struggle with the sort of difficult issues that you do.
Me: ... Oh.
Her: that being said, I will absolutely get to the bottom of this impostor syndrome and help you manage it. Trust me, I will get you out of that mindset.
Me: ... ok 🥺
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zerguette · 3 months ago
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For your characters Lewis Tesla and Nikolai Gilbert
I know that firstname Nikolai connects to surname Tesla as a reference to Nicholas Tesla, but what does firstname Lewis and surname Gilbert connect to?
!!!! Lewis Tesla and Nikolai Gilbert are references to two great scientists, on one hand as you've seen, Nicholas Tesla, but the other one is Gilbert Lewis :3 known for creating the Lewis structures and some concepts for electrons, covalent bond my beloved (iam a numbers nerd i study engineering jdwlkajdkwlajwa)
also the real thing with em is that Lewis and Nikolai follow the same ending that Nicholas Tesla had, dying alone in a room bc the govt wouldnt want to let him pursue his dreams, Lewis Tesla in my au and everything is the right hand of one of my ocs and his main mission is to kill Galeforce, upon meeting Harold, he has some conflict with himself because Harold teaches him lot of stuff!
Nikolai i guess would have the same mission and is why hes very scared, compared to Lewis who knows what hes got to do but faces an existential crisis that then leads to his death (on Harold's hands). Nikolai can't process the idea of actually killing someone because ''oh my god they'll know they'll kill me'', hes very nervous and anxious and is why he looks like he hadnt slept in ages. He and Herald are young just like their counterparts!, but Nikolai is very much a crybaby that wants to run away because he is just a little guy who can't do right one simple missions he's been given.
Both Lewis and Nikolai :3 are smart fellas! I havent spoken abt my other au but is where Lewis shows hes really really smart (hes a Tesla of course!), and he knows when to use this intelligence. Just like that thingy phrase, Do fear a person who acts dumb but is actually very smart. For Nikolai, hes actually very scared but he knows really lot of stuff! I think what should be scary from him, is that he can end, like Lewis, supossing lot of stuff to the point is scary because he won't fail in guessing whats going on ''Oh yeah i supposed you would that....don't look at me like that...I-I did something wrong?'' ''Ah, that was obvious, the way you speak and so, its easy to read y-you- sorry...sorrysorry'' and so on ^^ Sorry i ramble so much omg
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latejulys · 5 months ago
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cb i'm actually genuinely happy with where i am in life rn <33
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getscaredhellyeah · 2 years ago
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hey everyone! i just wanna say thank you for being so patient about the faq. i know i’m not the best mod and suck at maintenance for the blog, and i apologize for that but i have tomorrow and thursday off from work and i’ll get to working on it then
if there’s anything i need to know for the faq, feel free to reach out to me via a dm on my main blog or an ask here
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pepprs · 2 years ago
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alt*rnative spr*ng br*ak day 1. i need to be on campus in 3.5 hours. i have packed nothing and have done no laundry. i have not prepared for any of the facilitation i need to do today. i am experiencing physical symptoms of anxiety and burnout ♥️
#this is my first time ever doing an in person asb and also my first time being part of the asb planning process and i am soooooo nervous and#unprepared and overwhelmed. and i volunteered myself as the staff member staying at the hotel making sure no one gets into trouble and#responding to crises / emergencies if they arise and i may be assigning more importance / weight to that role than there actually is given T#that they are all college students and i am less than a year removed from being a college student myself. but i am so nervous i want to#redacted. and i am not prepared for the situations that might arise. at all whatsoever. lollllll#purrs#btw unlike the retreat tag or the conferences im name dropping asb bc like every school has them and a lot of schools have spring break this#week. so i am not doxxing myself 😈 (and i didn’t need to tell u that but im doing it lol. aaaaand post)#delete later#also the amount of stress i have been under lately w work is like. actually insane and we are not getting a break (though i should take one#lol) but after this is over i will have my life back a little bit maybe and i hate to say im looking forward to it so much but i am. i just#want to rest and recover. it’s literaly been nonstop since we were abandoned in july (lol) and i feel so crushed by the weight of everything#we’ve been carrying and how much responsibility i have had to take on in my FIRST YEAR!!!!!!!!! and i would’ve gone crazy if i hadn’t takej#on big responsibilities ofc bc of my mental illness <3 but the impostor syndrome + the relentlessness intensifying every single day are just#so so so heavy to carry. and i can feel my mind and body and heart giving out but i have to keep pushing forward
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lorddeathofmurdermountain · 10 months ago
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IGNORE THIS POST IT IS SELF FLAGELLATION WHICH I AM THROWING INTO THE VOID OUT OF THE FANTASY THAT IF I VENT EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT.
I wish you the best health, can you give some of your problems to me? At this point I need an injury so I can force myself to go to the hospital because I've noticed it's not a stereotype, and knowing that "It's not a big deal" (the it in question) is toxic masculinity propaganda doesn't mean I'm suddenly immune to its effects. I need a "real problem" because this depression shit is made up, please ignore that its trapped me in the exact same cycle spanning a good fucking five years
Ignore the tags that contain my sob story I want this to stand as proud evidence when I inevitably slip and impale myself on the knife I carry everywhere specifically hoping I'd slip and impale myself because I don't have the balls to do it intentionally.
Also if this seems weird I haven't slept like at all I mean this literally this is why my pinned post exists
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#what i mean is#in highschool my parents insisted i attend Deutsche Sprach-Diplom#DSD for short#which is essentially studying German on crack#im talking the teacher speaking exclusively german from day one#at one point I would literally not understand a single thing going on or being said and this is the first time in my life i skipped class#but since my parents put it in their heads and mine that im a genius they wouldn't let me delist#i finslly managed to convince my mom by the end of year 3 since she was born in germany and still couldn't make heads or tails out of my HW#so there i am one day 18 years old and people pressuring me to pick a college#“hey well i mean nick is gonna work for a year or two i really don't know what i want in my life maybe i should also-” DENIED#so i stupidly pick english and japanese#as you can see english is no problem#but if DSD was studying German on steroids then studying Japanese from the literal beginning in college is a death sentence#tried to tell my mom it wont work but she literally will not let me switch to only english#so first year i barely pass#second year starts off and the same impostor syndrome i got in DSD rears its ugly head#everyone thinks im stupid#the teachers surely know i dont belong here#we have a teacher who came all the way from Japan and Im wasting her time#so at some point i realize ive gone over my max allowed inattendance#just snuck up on me#have a massive depressive episode#not eating not sleeping#going to the store either super early or late as possible to minimize the chance anyone who knows me sees me#ashamed of my very existence#eventually SORT OF come clean to parents#try to beg to let me work a little but they've literally been using work to scare me to do well in college#not understanding that id literally rather sell my fucking dick and balls on the black market just to bury my shame#and maybe leave with at least the dignity of admitting defeat#and so here i am flopping year 2 AGAIN for initially different yet now all the familiar reasons. what joy. i want to die. in my sleep pleas
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nerd-in-distress · 1 year ago
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646 words! That's a big landmark for me! That was the start of the story! Man I'm thriving
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maxwellatoms · 7 months ago
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In one of your last answers, you said “series reboots are usually pretty gross and sad”, and I was wondering if you could expand on that? Assuming “reboot” covers any kind of continuation of a currently cancelled or finished show (and maybe that’s the wrong assumption!), from the outside looking in it feels like a pretty mixed bag. On one hand, if I love XYZ Show, it’s cool that I get more stories with these characters and another chance to support XYZ Show and its creators. On the other, it definitely feels like a lot of ideas can only get funding if they’re tied to something already, meaning creatives are having to now tie whatever cool idea they have to some reboot/relaunch/retread, which can feel pretty disheartening if you don’t want to do a reboot/relaunch/retread. Is that a similar feeling from your side of the industry?
Thank you so much for all your answers and insight!
Usually reboots and spin-offs are just cash grabs. It happens a lot in animation. In fact, I would argue that the entire industry is just one big cash grab now. In the 80s, everyone complained that cartoons were just half-hour commercials for toys. And they were right. And we're right back there, but now that you can't legally push toys all day, it's just general "IP". Mugs, posters, more spinoffs, whatever.
I was offered three show running gigs over the pandemic. All reboots that I would consider unwise to pursue because they were "of a different time" and didn't (in my opinion) have anything more to say. Two of them were properties created by notorious sex pests, so there's also that. The animation industry loves to prop up its sex pests.
I turned all of them down, partially because I didn't respect the original creators but also because none of them had anything going for them except just being "more of the same".
I don't think any of those projects survived the intervening years, so in retrospect I maybe should've taken the job. I'd probably feel a bit gross, but at least I'd have floors in my house.
The entertainment industry is in a bad spot. The whole thing. I've had I don't know how many pitch meetings in the last few years, and they all start the same way:
"Hey! Before we start, we just want to let you know that we're not actively producing anything right now. We think maybe soon, but we won't be picking anything up today..."
And then later:
"The little we are doing is IP, so if you have a new take on our IP or a new IP you're connected to that you can bring in, that'd be great."
I always wanted to make original stuff. There came a time when I'd had my fill of Billy & Mandy and wanted to do something else new and original. That never manifested, and I was constantly being offered IP to produce. I turned too many of those down, maybe, before deciding that it was probably better that I run the IPs that mean something to me rather than having some hack do it.
But now those jobs have all gone to celebrities and fallen live-action writers, who are also slowly being eaten by the system. WB was hot for Scooby stuff a few years back, so I pitched some ideas. A few of them were turned down for being "off-brand" in a variety of ways. WB has now made (I think) all of those off-brand shows (or something close) with celebrity show runners.
I was going through a whole Midlife Impostor Syndrome thing recently where I was wondering if maybe I don't just suck. Like, it's weird that for a couple of decades I'd have people calling me trying to get me to run shows, and now nobody will call me back about the possibility of a design job.
Talking to some friends and realizing that they were in a similar situation helped me feel like I wasn't alone. That was nice. Talking to some of the most talented colleagues in my industry made me made me realize that those people weren't getting jobs either. That was unnerving. Talking to complete strangers in other parts of the entertainment industry now has me thinking that the whole house of cards is coming down. That's real concerning, yo.
It's hard not to think it's purposeful, when deranged billionaires own the entirety of our media and want to shape a society where they can't be criticized. We're letting wealthy tech bros firebomb the very heart of our culture, and it's weird that no one is talking about it. Because (for now) we still have that capability.
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oddinary4bts · 6 months ago
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Chasing Cars | ch 8 (jjk)
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☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: peach, curses, luxury, impostor syndrome, alcohol, jungkook's family, they are so gone for each other my dude, explicit content: hickeys, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), exhibitionism (sort of but not really), protected sex, Jungkook is a teasing hoe, marking, ass slapping, praising, clit play
☆word count: 13.5k
☆a/n: NEW YOOOORK!!! My second favourite chapter of this series bc it's just so asjgsrjgsabfgo but I'll let you guys be the judge of that haha enjoy reading <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3
☆series masterpost
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
Friday, March 8th 
The sun is high in the sky, the snow melting on the side of the road, and Jungkook’s car is eating the miles towards New York, the music you’ve been listening to since you’ve left loud yet enjoyable.
Or maybe what’s truly enjoyable is the smile on Jungkook’s face whenever you meet his gaze while you’re bolting a duet, singing over the music.
Scratch that, you’ve been enjoying yourself because you’re with Jungkook. It doesn’t matter what you’d be doing - as long as it’s with Jungkook, you know you’d have fun. Even as his car slows down almost to a halt as you near the city and face its traffic, it doesn’t deter you.
No, Jungkook’s wide grin and his hand on your thigh keeps your mind far too occupied to be able to produce anything other than serotonin, and you think you deserve it. Especially after the uncertainty of the last few weeks, you deserve this moment with Jungkook.
This moment, away from reminders of Taehyung and of how you know this relationship is bound to explode in your face one day.
You shove that thought away as Jungkook’s giggle fills the car, and you glance at him, smiling brightly.
“You’re not really going to put some Taylor Swift on,” Jungkook complains, yet it’s at odds with the amused light in his eyes.
“I sure am,” you reply, and the song Welcome to New York starts playing. 
You know it by heart, and Jungkook watches you in awe as you sing. If you weren’t rational, you’d assume he’s looking at you with heart-shaped eyes, but you know better than that.
You’re just his fake girlfriend for the weekend. Nothing more. 
Nothing more than the fact that you will meet his entire family, including his extended family, tomorrow. He doesn’t seem like he cares, and you’ve been trying to pretend that you don’t care either, but it is making you feel anxious.
You’ve never had a boyfriend that you’ve met the family of before. Or actually, you’ve never had a boyfriend whatsoever.
Jungkook knows his way in the city. You’re not surprised - he grew up here, and he told you he usually spends his summers back home as well to work and make enough money for the year. What you’re surprised about is that the streets down which he starts driving once you’re passed the traffic and into the city proper look expensive, exuding wealth that you could only ever wish to know.
It only increases when he parks his car in the underground parking garage of a huge skyscraper which apparently holds condos and the like.
At least that’s what he says. 
“Leave your bag in the car,” Jungkook tells you as you’re about to fetch your duffel bag from the backseat. 
You cock an eyebrow in question. “Aren’t we here?”
He smiles mischievously, eyes shining in the white neon light of the underground garage. “I’m taking you shopping.”
“Why?” you burst out, looking down at yourself. “Are my clothes not good enough?”
He walks around the car, pulling you away from the car door by the hand before he shuts it behind you, leaning against it. 
“Trust me, peach, your clothes are perfect for me,” he says. “But I much prefer you without the clothes on.”
He winks, and you punch him in the shoulder, cheeks flaming.
“You’re insufferable,” you grumble.
“You like it.”
“I don’t.”
He smiles as you fake-glare at him, until you both start laughing. He extends a hand for you to take, and you let him engulf your small hand with his large one as he pulls you towards the elevator.
“Seriously though, I’ll get you a nice dress for tomorrow night,” Jungkook says as you reach the elevator, and he presses the call button. “Not that I don’t trust what you’ve brought,” he quickly adds before you could say anything. “More as a thank you for doing this for me.”
You narrow your eyes at him, yet you nod your head. Because who would say no to free clothes?
Certainly not you.
Jungkook pulls you behind him in the elevator when the doors slide open, and then presses on the ground floor. Once you get off, he’s quick to guide you down a hallway that looks straight out of a fancy hotel - marble floors reflecting the light of the sconces on the walls, abstract paintings at regular intervals on the wall to the left, over dark oak tables with white flowers in crystal vases. 
The hallway even smells expensive, and you throw a curious glance to Jungkook.
“Where are we?” you ask, unable to help yourself.
He glances at you over his shoulder, winking at you. “Home.”
“This is what you call home?” you ask, thinking about the small apartment you grew up in on the poor side of the city you hail from.
He shrugs. “I feel more at home back in college, but yeah, I grew up here.”
“Jungkook,” you say, tugging on his hand to stop him, but he’s determined, his steps unfaltering.
You grumble under your breath, yet you follow him out into the early evening setting sun, the doors of the building golden. You don’t ask the questions that are burning in your mind - what do his parents do for a living? Why didn’t he mention he was rich?
Why does he live in that small, old apartment with you and Taehyung if he can afford so much more?
The questions spin in your head like they are a tornado of thoughts, and they only increase in speed as he pulls you to an Yves Saint Laurent store, pushing the door open as if he owns the place.
Could he…?
“Jeon Jungkook!” a middle-aged lady greets him, her face lighting up as you come into view. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”
“Hey, Mrs Smith,” Jungkook answers. “Meet my girlfriend.”
He tugs on your hand, forcing you to step out from behind him, and you blush as the lady appears. She’s tall, though you believe it might be because she’s wearing stilettos, and her skirt and blazer combo makes her look like a businesswoman. 
The nametag on the blazer is a clear indication that she isn’t, though. No, she visibly works here.
“Hello,” you awkwardly say, not knowing what else to say as she looks you up and down.
“Are you here for a new wardrobe?” she asks, the question directed towards Jungkook as if what you’re wearing is the ugliest outfit anyone has ever come up with before.
You try to not take offense, yet you find yourself momentarily clenching your jaw as Jungkook replies, “No, just for a dress for Junghyun’s engagement party.”
Mrs Smith nods, and she motions towards what looks like a small scene in front of multiple mirrors. It’s the kind of thing you’ve seen before in period pieces, where the seamstresses take the ladies’ measurement. So you’re not entirely surprised when Mrs Smith pulls out a measuring tape from a hidden pocket in her blazer, and you let her do her work, your eyes on Jungkook as he watches with an amused smile on his lips.
“You could have warned me,” you say, and Mrs Smith looks up towards you, the frown on her features convincing you to shut up until she’s done.
Jungkook only laughs, saying, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
He does. He certainly does, and though it’s pissing you off, there’s something endearing about the way he’s watching from that couch, the small smile on his lips softening his features. 
You fall silent as Mrs Smith keeps working, and soon she’s sauntering off, the sound of her stilettos click-clacking slowly fading. You immediately climb off from the little scene, storming towards Jungkook.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were rich?” you ask.
He shrugs. “Does it change anything?”
“It doesn’t.” You look around, not quite believing that you’re standing in a designer store. “But then it does.”
He pouts, the expression so adorable you feel like leaning in and kissing him. It’s startling, and before you can do anything, Mrs Smith comes back with a light blue dress she wants you to try on. You follow the lady to the dressing room, and Jungkook offers you a wink as you glance at him over your shoulder.
Mrs Smith leads you into the room, and it’s way too large for just a dressing room. She leaves the dress on a hook against a wall, in front of a tall standing mirror, and you thank her as she gets out, gently shutting the door behind her.
Which leaves you alone with your thoughts, and with the fact that Jungkook wants to buy you a designer dress. 
You take a look at the dress. It’s beautiful, the colour eerily similar to that of a summer sky, yet maybe somewhat a little paler. You step towards it, searching for a tag, but you can’t find any. The softness of the fabric is a clear indication that it is probably worth more than everything you own combined together, and you anxiously take off your clothes to put it on.
One look in the mirror makes you feel like a princess. Like you’re the one someone might write a story about, or sing a song to. Even though your hair is a mess and you’re not wearing any makeup, you feel more beautiful than you’ve ever felt before.
The dress hugs your curves perfectly, enhancing them in all the right places. It looks like it was tailor-made for you, and for a moment you believe you’re in love.
You really do think you’re in love when you shyly step out of the dressing room for Mrs Smith to finish zipping the dress up, and Jungkook looks up from his phone to look at you.
The smirk on his lips slowly dies down, and his gaze doesn’t move from you as you step closer. You don’t think he’s blinking, or even breathing, and you truly feel like the most beautiful woman in the world right now.
“Do you like the dress?” a female voice to your left says, but you can’t look away from Jungkook.
You’re entranced, and it seems that he is too. Like you’re the center of the universe, or maybe that’s him - it’s hard to tell.
“We’ll take it,” Jungkook says after a moment, and he gets up. 
Towering over you, he tilts your head back with a finger on your chin, and you gulp as your gazes connect.
“On the family tab?” Mrs Smith asks. 
“Yes.”
“How much is the dress?” you can’t help but query, turning your head towards Mrs Smith.
She regards you with an eyebrow cocked, before glancing at Jungkook. “10,350 dollars, miss.”
Your mouth falls open as she walks away, and you immediately look back towards Jungkook.
“No,” is all that you say.
He flicks your nose. “Don’t cause a scene, peach.”
“I’m not causing a scene,” you say through gritted teeth. “This dress is worth more than a year of my share of the rent.”
“And? Your point?”
You roll your eyes, folding your arms on your chest. “I’m not letting you buy this.”
“Well too bad for you, it’s already paid for.”
He winks at you again, and then plops back down on the couch, his smirk widening into a grin that makes butterflies come to life in your stomach.
It’s a feeling you don’t like, so you turn your back on him, heading back to the dressing room. With new respect for the dress, you slowly take it off, treating it reverently. Once it’s safely back on the hanger, you put your clothes back on, hands shaking a little at the enormity of what Jungkook just did.
Though, to him, it doesn’t seem like it was a lot. Indeed, when you get out of the dressing room, leaving the dress behind because you don’t dare touch it again, Jungkook springs up from the couch, offering you his hand.
And even though you feel like maybe you don’t really know anything about him, you take his hand. His fingers close around yours, gently, and he offers you a smile that makes you warm like spring days, when the world is coming back to life.
And as you walk behind him, you think maybe, maybe this weekend is a great opportunity to get to know him better. To get to know the man that hides behind the cocky behaviour, the one you’ve seen on multiple occasions already.
Though it should scare you, the thought only makes you hold onto Jungkook’s fingers a little tighter. He reciprocates, and it’s with a heart beating wildly that he waits with you for Mrs Smith to bring the dress over, safely hidden in a dress bag. Jungkook takes it for you, and then he pulls you behind him.
You’re soon swallowed by the New York city bustling crowd, though Jungkook is a lighthouse in the storm and you feel safe.
You feel safe with him, and that, more than anything, scares you.
*****
“You’re shitting me,” is all you say when Jungkook leads you into his room, once you’re back at the condominium in which he grew up.
You’d gathered enough information to know that he was rich. But you didn’t think he was rich rich - the condo he grew up in is on the two highest levels of the skyscraper, with an unparalleled view of Central Park that’s making you feel like you’re a bird soaring in the sky.
Jungkook laughs behind you as he shuts the door, dropping your duffel bag and his next to it. You’ve been carrying the dress up, treating it like the treasure that it is, and Jungkook gently takes it from your hand as he walks away, disappearing in what you can only assume is his walk-in wardrobe. 
He pops back out a few seconds later, minus the dress bag, and he offers you a smile that’s even more blinding than the city view. “No, I’m not,” he says.
You chuckle, cheeks burning for a reason you don’t quite understand, and then you scan his room. It’s cold, empty, void of the quality that makes his room back at the apartment feel like his. This room is impersonal, the kind of room you’d see in interior design magazines, with the black bed covers and equally as dark walls. Light comes from behind the bed frame, yet the true beauty of the room is that of the city, and you take it in as you step closer to the floor-to-ceiling window that is the wall at the foot of the bed.
“I can’t believe it,” you murmur. “This is so beautiful.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
You slowly nod, glancing towards Jungkook. “I can’t believe you chose to live in that shitty apartment with Tae when this is what you were accustomed to.”
He shrugs, not answering anything, as he instead heads to where he left the duffel bags so that he can carry them into the walk-in. You follow him then, curious to see what the rest of his bedroom looks like.
The walk-in is empty, save for a corner that holds a couple of suits you imagine to be from different designer brands. You notice a few dress shirts over there too, but your gaze focuses on the PC setup that’s in between two walls of shelves.
Finally, something that feels like Jungkook.
You walk towards it, rolling the chair back so that you can sit in it. Jungkook drops your duffel bag on the shelf behind you, and you turn your chair so that you can face him.
“You want to play?” he asks.
“What games do you have?”
He leans towards you, and you catch a whiff of his cologne as he turns the PC on. 
“Honestly I don’t remember what’s downloaded on the PC,” he truthfully replies. “Just check out my Steam account.”
And then he’s walking towards the other side of the walk-in, heading towards what you can only assume is the bathroom. You spring up from the chair, and it rolls behind you from the sudden motion as you jog to the bathroom.
You’re not surprised to see just how expensive the bathroom looks. Black tiles cover the floor, and they climb the walls of the walk-in shower next to which a wide-standing cabinet with glass doors is. A proper look at the shower shows that it’s one with multiple shower heads, and you already know the shower you’ll take later will be heavenly, clearly the best you’ll ever take in your life. Jungkook leans on the counter, folding his arm on his chest as he watches you taking everything in, your gaze wide from awe.
“You don’t even have a bath,” you comment, and Jungkook bursts out laughing.
“I never needed one. But if you want to take a bath, there’s one in the bigger bathroom on this level.”
“Isn’t it connected to like… your parents’ room or something?” you ask.
He shrugs. “Yeah, but my parents haven’t stayed here since I was five,” he reveals. “They prefer staying at hotels.”
You furrow your brow. “They have such a nice condo and they don’t even enjoy it?”
Another shrug of Jungkook tells you that he, too, doesn’t understand his parents. 
“If you want, I can give you a tour of the whole place,” Jungkook suggests after a beat of silence.
Your eyes light up, and you nod forcefully. “Yes. Please, I’d love to.”
He laughs at your enthusiasm, before motioning towards the toilet. “I do have to go to the bathroom first, if you’ll excuse me.”
Cheeks burning, you mumble an apology that makes him laugh as you step out of the bathroom, and he gently closes the door behind you. Embarrassed, you make your way back to the gaming setup, and you watch the landscape picture of the welcome screen. Pressing on enter reveals that Jungkook doesn’t have a password for the computer, and a moment later his Steam library appears in front of your eyes.
Obviously he’s got every game you can imagine, and you don’t have time to go through the whole library before he’s out, ready to give you the tour. And the rest of the condo is just as impressive as Jungkook’s bedroom is, though the whole thing feels… empty. Void of life. Which, you assume it is considering his parents don’t live here most of the time, and his brother owns a city house with his fiancée. 
Your favourite part ends up being the kitchen, even though you don’t cook. But who wouldn’t like the beauty of the marble counters, of the white cupboards and of the impressive glass chandelier that hangs over the long dinner table?
You end up sitting on a stool at the island, watching Jungkook as he moves through the kitchen. He finds instant noodles in the pantry, and he comes out of it with a wide grin on his lips.
“Found dinner,” he says.
You laugh. “You’ve got such a nice kitchen and all you’ll cook are some instant noodles?”  
He narrows his gaze at you. “You have a problem against instant noodles?”
You snort, shrugging your shoulders. “No.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, but he drops it, focusing on making food for the two of you. It takes a few minutes, but he’s soon sitting next to you, two bowls of noodles wafting steam in front of you. It smells good, if not a bit spicy, and you grab the chopsticks he put out for you.
“Thanks for the food,” you tell him, flashing a grin to him that makes his features soften in a far too dangerous way for you.
So you look away, cheeks dusting in pink, and you start eating. Though the noodles are indeed spicy, you endure the burn, finding that you actually enjoy it a little bit. Maybe because it’s distracting you from the thought that you’re with your brother’s best friend - you ought to stop thinking about it anyway.
Here, Jungkook isn’t Taehyung’s best friend. Here, he’s just Jungkook, and you’re just you.
Saturday March 9th
You feel like an impostor. 
The venue for the engagement party is luxurious, nestled on the top floors of one of the many skyscrapers of Manhattan. The people in attendance are all dressed to the nines, as if trying to impress. 
Or you’re just impressed because you’ve never seen so many designer clothes in such a place before. 
The floor is made of shiny marble, the ceiling high. A huge, glass chandelier hangs from it, and multiple columns are decorated with shiny golden garlands. In one corner, in front of tall windows overlooking New York City, a photobooth is set up, but you’ve remained clear of it so far.
You and Jungkook are both aware that you can’t risk having pictures of you taken. Not when they could easily be found by Taehyung, or by other people from back at college.
Like Ria, who questioned you for hours when you said you were going to spend the weekend in New York…
You know you’ll be grilled when you get home, but you push that thought aside, much like you’ve been putting all thoughts of your regular life aside. Jungkook has been making it easy - his smile and laughter, ever so constant yesterday evening, has been grounding, and though he does seem anxious right now, he’s remained by your side, making sure to put you at ease.
You haven’t met his parents or brother yet, but he’s introduced to some cousins that approached you, some of them surprisingly only speaking Korean. Jungkook bridged the gap between you and them, translating when needed, and they have now moved to the refreshment table, adorned with a pyramid of champagne glasses you’ve imagined toppling over at least fifteen times since you’ve arrived.
You really do feel like an impostor at the sight of all the easy luxury. Of the Louboutin high heels, the Louis Vuitton purses, the expensive suits and dresses everyone is wearing. The vast room smells rich, and it truly isn’t your crowd.
“Smile, peach,” Jungkook says, nudging you with his elbow.
Your gaze slides to him, and as it’s been doing since you finished getting ready earlier, your breath catches in your throat. There’s just something about the pale pants and the light blue dress shirt he’s wearing that makes him seem even more attractive than you’ve always found him. Maybe it’s the way the fabric stretches on his chest, revealing his hard-earned muscles. Or maybe it’s the vulnerability in his gaze.
He doesn’t seem more comfortable than you in this crowd.
“You smile,” you throw back at him, and he immediately does, a low laugh shaking through him.
“Do you want something to drink?”
You look down at yourself, wincing. “I’m afraid I’ll ruin the dress.”
“So you’re just going to stand still the whole evening because you’re afraid to ruin your clothes?” he teases.
You clench your jaw, rolling your eyes. “Precisely.”
“Loosen up, peach,” Jungkook insists, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think maybe he needs you to.
Maybe he truly does need your support at this fancy party. So you find yourself accepting to get drinks, and you’re almost done with the first glass when Jungkook tenses next to you, freezing like a deer in headlights. 
His doe eyes are on the doors, and you look in the direction to see an older woman and man walking in, the woman’s hand on her husband’s arm. You see a little bit of Jungkook in them - the woman’s eyes are Jungkook’s, and the man has the same nose and lips - so you immediately know that they are Jungkook’s parents.
The woman scans the room, and her eyes stop on you. In the distance it’s hard to tell if she looks happy to see her son - she barely even reacts, though she tugs her husband in your direction. You glance to Jungkook, but he really does seem frozen.
“Are you okay?” you ask, resting a hand on his arm.
He startles, toying with his piercings with his tongue before nodding curtly. “All good.”
You look towards his parents, and they’ve already crossed half of the room.
“Is that…” you trail off, knowing how rhetorical the question is.
“Yep.”
“What should I do?” you ask, tugging on his arm.
His eyes snap to you, and they’re void of the warmth you usually recognize in them. They’re like chips of ice - empty, cold, and something aches in your chest.
“Just be yourself.”
You offer him a small smile. His gaze is quick to drop to it, and you see the moment it warms. You see the moment he realizes he’s not alone, not right now, even though this is all but a subterfuge.
You’re not his girlfriend, but you’ll sure as hell try to be the best friend you can be for him right now.
“Jungkook,” his mother says as she stops in front of you, and your gaze slides to her.
She looks regal, standing ramrod straight with a steely look on her face. She spares you a quick glance, cocking an eyebrow before resuming her attention on Jungkook.
“Mother,” Jungkook replies in the same cold, formal tone.
“Glad to see you came around and decided to come.”
Jungkook doesn’t reply, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “I wanted to introduce Y/n to the family.”
Heart beating out of your chest, you look up to Jungkook, observing the firm set of his jaw. He seems determined, like a man going into battle, and you wonder if that is what it is.
If Jungkook brought you here to rile his family up.
His mother finally truly takes you in, her eyes skimming over you. “I don’t think we know each other,” she says, and there is so much contempt in her voice you furrow your brow.
“I don’t think so,” you answer, trying to sound as polite as you possibly can. You bow your head, meeting her gaze when you straighten. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Jungkook’s father pats his wife’s hand. She lets him go, almost reluctantly, and he walks away, heading to a group of men that seem far too happy to see him.
You wonder if you should take offence to him walking away when you just tried to introduce yourself, though the way Jungkook is staring at his mother lets you know that the true opponent of this battle is the woman in front of you, and not the man that just left.
“Likewise,” she replies, and this time she doesn’t hide the contempt from her voice at all. It drips to her features, and she scrunches up her nose in disgust, looking down at the high heels you’re wearing.
A simple pair of high heels you’ve bought for your high school prom, that you’ve been reusing whenever you have the occasion.
“Nice shoes,” Jungkook’s mother says, and you can tell that she means it as an insult. 
You clench your jaw, cocking an eyebrow as you get ready to reply, but Jungkook intervenes with a stern, “Mother.”
“You thought dressing her up in a nice dress would make us forget that she’s not from our class?”
The insult is stark, and you widen your gaze as your heart rate spikes, your blood heating up in your veins.
“Excuse me?” you let out, unable to resist.
Jungkook’s mother meets your gaze. “At least she’s got a tongue on her.”
“And I’ll ask you to make a fucking effort for once,” Jungkook spits.
She frowns. “Do not curse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”
He laughs, a short, dry sound that makes the hair dress on your arms. She clenches her jaw, a muscle feathering under the skin, and you wonder where Jungkook learned to be warm. Where he learned to smile like he’s lighter than a feather, like he’s never known any atrocities. Because standing here, you realize just how cold his upbringing must have been like.
And it’s strange. The little boy in the picture on his bedside table was all smiles, eyes crinkling with joy. You’d assumed the picture had been taken by his parents, but now that you’ve met his mother, you highly doubt she’s ever been the source of a smile on Jungkook’s lips.
While you’ve been thinking, Jungkook and his mother were stuck in a staring contest, a battle of will that Jungkook wins. Indeed, his mother sighs deeply and then turns towards you again.
“Where do you come from?” she asks.
You gulp under the scrutiny of her gaze, yet give her the answer.
“What do your parents do for a living?”
You tense, for that is an answer that even Jungkook doesn’t know. 
“My mother is a nurse,” you reply. You feel Jungkook’s curious gaze on your profile, but you resist glancing at him. “And I do not know my father.”
Jungkook’s mother blinks once, and then she focuses on her son. “Junghyun will be happy you came.”
She leaves without saying another word, and you’re left staring at her retreating form, wondering if it’s just you or if she’s the rudest person you’ve ever met.
“I apologize for this,” Jungkook says, and his arm drops from your shoulder.
You immediately miss it.
“I think I’m starting to get why you wanted me to come with you,” you say, and you finally meet his gaze.
He’s slightly pouting, lips barely jutting out, yet there’s something endearing about the expression on his features. “I honestly didn’t think she would be flat-out rude like that.” He downs what’s left of the champagne in his flute and then puts it down on the tray of a server as she walks past. “I promise we can go home as soon as Junghyun shows up and sees that I came.”
“We can stay longer too,” you reassure him. “I can handle the aristocracy.”
The frown on his features melts, and he lets out a small laugh. “The aristocracy?”
You nod. “Yeah. Because obviously we aren’t from the same class.”
“Fuck, peach,” he grumbles, shaking his head, yet there’s an amused sparkle in his gaze that makes you feel warm all of a sudden.
It’s like you forget all about his mother, and about his avoidant father. It soon becomes clear that he is avoiding Jungkook, not you, and you feel bad for the man beside you. 
He deserves a family that treats him better than the one he has, or so you believe. And it’s not like you know them at all - the dynamic is just off, and it’s unlike what you’ve personally known growing up.
If you forget about the fact that you don’t have a father and that your mother worked so much while you were growing up that you barely saw her.
Junghyun and his fiancée show up an hour later, fashionably late. You and Jungkook have been drinking more, and you feel buzzed from the alcohol, warmth swimming through your body. It’s only amplified every time you meet Jungkook’s gaze, every time he tugs you a little closer, and you think you’ll be drunk by the end of the evening, just because of him.
He’s inebriating after all.
Junghyun notices his brother across the space, and unlike his parents, his face breaks into a large grin, one that resembles that of Jungkook, and he immediately makes his way towards you. He’s much more relaxed than his parents, with an easy going vibe to him, and the way Jungkook relaxes makes you think that Junghyun, contrary to his parents, is not an asshole.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Junghyun says as he stops in front of you, immediately pulling Jungkook into a tight embrace.
Jungkook beams under the attention of his older brother. “I thought it’d be a good surprise.”
“It sure is,” Junghyun agrees as he pulls away. His eyes slide to you, and you offer him a tentative smile that he easily reciprocates. “And you are?”
“My girlfriend,” Jungkook says before you have time to say your name. “From college.”
Junghyun nods, meeting your gaze again. “Nice to meet you.”
You echo the sentiment as his fiancée - Nara - stops next to Junghyun, politely greeting Jungkook. 
You end up speaking with the pair for a little while. They both are a lot more welcoming than Jungkook’s parents, and Jungkook seems to be vibrating with happiness by the time they have to move away, needing to greet the other guests in the room. Meanwhile the sun has set outside, and you take a moment to admire the view as Jungkook goes to grab a refill for you both.
“I must admit he has a lot of nerves to bring you here,” a voice says next to you, and you turn to notice his mother, her arms folded on her chest.
Though your heart skips a painful, anxious beat in your chest, you only face the world outside again. “And why is that?”
She scoffs. “He’s technically engaged to someone.”
The world stops turning, and you glance at his mother. She sports a small, wicked smile, like she knows Jungkook didn’t tell you.
“What do you mean?” you can’t help but ask, your hands turning clammy.
She shrugs. “His father and I have discussed it with another family. We’ve deemed it better if they marry.”
“Does he even know her?” you spit.
She chuckles condescendingly. “Look at you. You really think you fit in our world? Your mother clearly hasn’t raised you for it.”
You fully face Jungkook’s mother, nails digging in your palms as you clench your fists. “I’ll have you know that my mother raised me well, and raised me to know privilege where it is. Just because you happened to be born rich doesn’t make you any better.”
Her gaze widens, and you see Jungkook walking back towards you, two glasses of champagne in hands. He notices his mother, a muscle feathering under the skin of his jaw, and you don’t care to stay next to her before you start heading his way.
You meet in the middle of the room, and you wonder if your vision has grown blurry. You only understand your eyes have filled with tears when Jungkook curses under his breath, glaring at his mother over your head.
“What did she tell you?” he asks, voice gentle.
You shrug. “Nothing,” you lie, blinking the tears away.
But she didn’t tell you nothing, did she? 
“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes. “She’s…”
“It’s whatever,” you insist, interrupting him. “I just want to spend time with you.”
You just want to spend time with him because you’ve learned he’s technically engaged, if his mother wasn’t lying.
Does he even know it?
You successfully blink your tears away as Jungkook hands you a champagne glass, which you down in one long gulp.
“I’m flattered, peach,” he teases.
The champagne bubbles down your throat, and you swallow with a scrunch of your nose. When you’ve finished the glass, you hand it back to Jungkook, who takes it with one eyebrow cocked. He looks like he wants to say something, but then his brother starts to speak with a mic. The room ushers to silence, forcing everyone to listen to the speech. Jungkook’s frowning, eyes still on you, but after a few seconds he turns to look at his brother.
You wish you’d be able to listen to the speech, to focus on it, but all you can do is keep on blinking back the tears from snapping at Jungkook’s mother.
Here’s to making bad first impressions. 
And it’s not like it truly matters - you’re not even Jungkook’s real girlfriend. You’re just a friend, someone he brought along as a shield from his family. 
Or so you’re starting to realize. You can’t even blame him. If your mother was remotely similar to his, you’d always make sure to go home with someone to support you. 
The least you can do is be that for Jungkook.
When Junghyun finishes his speech, his fiancée moves closer to him, and they share a sweet embrace that looks a little too practiced for it to be genuine. Or it might just be you - if it had been you in their position, you’re pretty sure you would have wanted to kiss your fiancé stupid. But then again, you reckon it might be improper in this social class.
Jungkook’s mother might have a point - you really weren’t raised to know how to act around rich people.
Except Jungkook, that is, but that’s because you didn’t know he was rich before yesterday, and you doubt he cares anyway.
“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asks as servers start walking around with different appetizers, all of them looking far fancier than anything you’ve eaten in your life.
“Huh,” you let out as one of the servers stops next to you. “What’s this?” 
“Crab cakes,” the server answers, flashing you a quick, polite smile.
You glance at Jungkook. “I’m allergic to seafood.”
He snorts, and then wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go find something that doesn’t have seafood in it.”
You end up finding small vegetarian burgers, and though they are barely bite-size, you enjoy a couple of them despite their dryness. It’s not enough to satiate your hunger, and especially not enough for Jungkook, so when he suggests going out to a restaurant nearby, you jump on the occasion to say yes.
“Then wait for me here,” Jungkook indicates, and to your surprise he kisses your forehead before slipping away, heading towards where you can see his brother and father conversing. While he speaks to them, probably explaining that you’re going to go eat somewhere else, you admire the view again.  Cars zoom down in the streets below, each and every one of them carrying a different person with their own little life.
You feel small so high over the city. It’s sobering, and you feel like your mind is clearing from the buzz of the alcohol, from the remnants of the guilt you had for snapping at Jungkook’s mother. 
You glance over your shoulder, eyeing Jungkook as he stands as if frozen, his brother speaking in his ear. Junghyun slides his gaze to you, and you offer him a tentative smile that the man ignores. You’d even think that his eyes harden, but it’s hard to tell in the distance. Especially as he pulls away from Jungkook, claps his shoulder once and then walks away, his father in tow.
Jungkook doesn’t move for a few seconds, and you wonder what it is that Junghyun said. Because the moment Jungkook turns and you see the look on his face, you know it must have been something harsh.
Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. It’s so vulnerable, so different from his usual cocky persona that you immediately make your way towards him.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
Jungkook just blinks looking at you, his eyes shining from unshed tears. You grab his hand, squeezing once, forgetting all about his mother being an asshole to you. No, all there is right now is Jungkook, and you want to make sure he finishes this evening with a smile on his face.
He deserves it after all.
“Hey, so where’s that restaurant you mentioned?” you query, switching tactics. 
Jungkook keeps looking at you for a few seconds, but he soon blinks a couple of times more, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
He pulls you behind him in the crowd, and you don’t know what look he has on his face, but people literally jump out of the way. He’s walking quickly, and you struggle to follow him, but you know he needs to leave.
You’ve seen the sorrow in his gaze, and you don’t blame him for wanting to get away. Indeed, you just want to flee in the night too, and you’re thankful the moment the elevator doors slide to a close after you’ve retrieved your coats, and you’re finally left in a quiet silence of just you and him.
Jungkook looks at you, gaze heavy, and a second later he’s on you, hands cupping your cheeks as he backs you into the wall. You startle, yet you’re quick to melt in his touch, to kiss him back with the same intensity he offers you.
His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and you let him in, moaning softly as he drives his knee between your legs.
You didn’t expect him to kiss you. Especially not when nothing happened last night, some sort of awkwardness lingering in the air from being in his childhood room. But he kisses you languidly, all tongue and lips, his piercings pressing indents in your lower lip, and warmth pools at your core as the elevator goes down and down.
Anyone could walk in and catch you kissing, yet it doesn’t deter Jungkook, and neither does it deter you. Indeed, it only spurs you more, and your hands drop to his waist so that you can pull him closer.
The moment ends when the door slides open to reveal the ground floor, and Jungkook steps away from you, eyes dark with lust and shadows you don’t want to interpret. He smooths his shirt, offers you a tight-lipped smile that makes your heart clench in your chest, and then he’s walking out.
You’re quick to follow him, cheeks burning as someone at the reception eyes the two of you. You ignore them, hoping they can’t see how your lips are swollen from the kiss, and you all but have to jog to catch up with Jungkook by the time he reaches the doors.
He holds it open for you, yet you can’t meet his gaze as you step outside. Not when the engagement party was such a shitshow, not after he kissed you like that only to leave without saying anything.
The bustle of the New York City life engulfs you as you step out on the street, Jungkook in tow. To your surprise, his large hands close around yours, and you glance up to meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry about…” he trails off, motioning over his shoulder.
You purse your lips. “About kissing me?”
The shadows partially lift in his gaze, warmth replacing them. “I’m not sorry about that at all,” he teases. “But I meant, about my family.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “I’m happy I could be there with you.”
He remains silent for a few seconds of you holding each other’s gaze on the sidewalk, and then he cracks a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “What would I do without you, mmh?”
You laugh, and it sounds truer than it feels. “What would you do indeed?” you tease.
He chuckles, pulling you closer so that he can hug you. You wonder who needs it the most - him, or you? Because the second his arms wrap around you, you snake yours around his waist, hiding your face in his chest. He smells good - like Dior Sauvage, you think - and for a moment you just want to stay right here, in his arms.
Until his stomach grumbles, a low rumble against your cheek that makes you burst out laughing.
“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, looking up at him.
He meets your gaze, nodding once. “Peach, I’m fucking starving.”
That makes you laugh even more, lifting the heaviness of the atmosphere somehow, and it’s with a smile tickling your lips that you make your way to the restaurant - a kebab place on the first floor of another skyscraper. You eat your fill, laughing around with Jungkook, doing your best to keep the shadows out of his gaze.
But they never fully lift, and you’re not close enough to him to ask what his brother told him that upset him so much. 
Mostly, you’re not close enough to ask him if he’s truly supposed to marry someone, or if his mother just said that to scare you off. It’s like walking a tightrope, and you’re one wrong move from falling to your death.
Yesterday, you would have said that Jungkook would catch you but today, the haunted look that creeps up on his gaze once in a while makes you think that perhaps he wouldn’t catch you at all. And though it saddens you, you don’t say anything.
You’ll have a better occasion later. 
At least that’s what you tell yourself as Jungkook loosely holds your hand after the restaurant, while you walk around aimlessly. He’s telling you stories about growing up, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he occasionally falls eerily silent, you’d think that he’s happy right now. He looks the part, beaming at you whenever your gazes connect, and it’s too easy to reciprocate.
You think it’s a good thing - you’re comfortable with Jungkook, even if the whole engagement party was weird. It only gets better when you near a club, and Jungkook stops with a mischievous look in his eyes that finally looks a lot more like the Jungkook that you know from college.
“Do you want to go clubbing?” he says.
You snort. “It’s not even nine pm.”
“And?” he presses.
“You want to go clubbing this early?”
He shrugs, grabbing your hand again to pull you towards the doorman. “We can sit and chat before the party starts.”
As a matter of fact, the party is already started inside the club. Indeed, it’s like you step in an alternate universe the moment you walk in, the crowd thick as they sway to the beat. You only understand that it’s a concert of some famous DJ when you’re stopped at the coat check because you don’t have any tickets.
To your luck, the girl informs you that there are a few tickets left, and you insist on paying since Jungkook bought you the overpriced dress you’re wearing.
The one you’ll likely ruin while partying.
The thought sobers you a little, up until Jungkook, buzzing with excitement, pulls you towards the bar after you’ve left your coats at the coat check.
“This is going to be fun,” he says over the loud music. 
You nod, though your mind is lingering somewhere back at the engagement party. “Are you okay?” you can’t help but ask.
Jungkook falls serious, clenching his jaw once. “It’s about my family, isn’t it?”
“Yes and no,” you say, worrying at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Tonight has been… weird.”
It’s unfortunately your turn to order, as the barman stops in front of you, and Jungkook quickly orders two gin and tonic for you both before resuming his attention on you.
“I know,” he agrees. “Family events are always weird around here.” He winces, shrugging his shoulders. “And if you want to speak about it, we can tomorrow. But right now I really just want to have a nice evening with you.”
He looks hopeful, lips jutting out in the trace of a pout, and his doe eyes hold so much softness you find yourself folding immediately.
He’s right - you want to have a nice evening with him too, and forget the shitshow that the engagement party was.
“Well then,” you say, offering him a corner smile that hints at mischief. “I hope you’re ready to party.”
He brightens, like the stars shining when there’s no light pollution. “Damn right, peach.”
The barman puts your drinks on the bar, and Jungkook hands you your glass. You grab the lime on the rim of the glass, squeezing it in the drink properly before dropping it amongst the ice cubes. Jungkook watches you, mirroring you after a few seconds.
“To partying,” you say, raising your glass.
Jungkook echoes, clinking his glass with yours and you both drink, the alcohol fresh and cold on your tongue. 
You linger by the bar long enough to finish your first drinks, talking about everything and nothing. By the time you’re taking your last sip, Jungkook is reminiscing about a party last semester, where Taehyung had tried hitting on a girl only to get rejected.
“He complained about it for weeks,” you remember. “Even though he was sleeping with…” You frown, unable to remember the girl’s name. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
Jungkook laughs. “Tae fucks around too much to remember everyone, I know.”
“As if you’re any better,” you tease, pushing him playfully.
He pouts, eyebrows bunching together as his doe eyes narrow. “I’m better now.”
“Are you?”
He moves closer to you, and your heart trips on itself in your chest as he rests his large hand on your waist, pulling you closer. “I definitely am.”
You don’t know who makes the move first. You just know that a second later, you’re cupping Jungkook’s cheeks, and his lips are on yours again. This time, he tastes of gin and lime, and a swipe of his tongue on your lower lip makes you sigh, your hands sliding to the back of his head to get lost in his soft hair. His hand rests flat on your back, as if to keep you from stepping away.
Like you would.
You don’t ever want to step away from Jungkook. Tonight, you think it doesn’t matter that he’s Taehyung’s best friend. It doesn’t matter that he is supposedly engaged to someone else. Right now, it feels like he’s yours - you’re foolish enough to believe that he is.
“Let’s dance,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours.
“Let’s grab something else to drink first.”
You grab Jungkook’s hand, pulling him closer to the bar again. He follows, his thumb soothingly rubbing circles on the back of your hand, and he doesn’t let go when you lean against the bar, attracting the barman’s attention.
“Are you up for some Jager bombs?” you suggest.
He smirks, looking downright devilish with the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’d never say no to Jager Bombs.”
That’s how you find yourself downing two shots each, and you’re getting pretty tipsy by the time the show starts, and Jungkook pulls you onto the dancefloor. You dance and dance, the atmosphere electric, Jungkook’s laugh so contagious you think you might have caught a happy disease. Because you can’t stop smiling, you can’t stop laughing. 
It’s like the engagement party never happened and frankly, it’s what you needed. 
Jungkook pulls you closer in the middle of the crowd, kissing you languidly. You’re quick to kiss him back, to push your tongue in his mouth the moment his lips part to allow entry. He grunts in the kiss, in the intensity that takes on the two of you even though you’re in public.
You want him so bad. You’ve always wanted him badly, but right now it’s making your blood sing in your veins.
But the evening is young still, and so you return to dancing, your back pressed against Jungkook. You sway your hips to the beat of the music, and he guides your motions, head hanging low. He occasionally presses soft kisses on the side of your face, and your eyes flutter shut in contentment.
If you’d die right now, you think you’d die happy.
“Peach,” Jungkook whispers.
Your eyes flutter open as you glance at him. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel smaller than a speck of dust. “What?”
“Should we go home?” he asks.
You glance towards the scene, where the DJ is clearly in the middle of his set. “The show’s not over yet.”
“I know.” He nips at your jaw, and you tilt your head to the side to allow him access to your neck. He’s quick to press an open-mouthed kiss there.
You turn in his hold, finding his lips again. This kiss is hotter, like fire blazing bright, and you, too, want to head home. You want to get lost in him, in this moment of him being yours out in public like this.
“Fuck, JK,” you whisper when you pull away, breathing raggedly.
“What?”
“Kissing you like this, where anyone can see…” you trail off, glancing at the crowd.
Nobody is paying you any attention, yet you feel like you’re the center of the universe right now. Or maybe that’s Jungkook - he’s the center of your universe.
“It’s turning me on,” you finish in a breathy sentence meant just for him.
“Peach,” he says, voice low and husky. It ignites even more warmth inside of you, and you think you’re about to melt in his touch. “Then I’ll bring you here more often. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine, mmh?”
That you’re mine. You like the sound of those words in his mouth far too much, even though part of you wants to reply that you’re your own self, and don’t belong to anyone.
Perhaps you want to belong to him, and that in and of itself is a far too dangerous thought. But New York shines tonight, and you feel infinite.
You are infinite, as long as he’s by your side.
You stay for the rest of the DJ’s set, despite you both wanting to go home. Jungkook is touchy, yet respectfully so as you dance, never really touching you where you want him, but his hands lingering near every fiery spot in your body. The Uber ride home is spent in tense silence, as is the walk up to the elevators of his building.
He holds your hand through it all, refusing to let go, and you like it.
You like everything about this moment, right now. Like you’ve stepped into an alternate universe where you really are his, and you pray you’ll never have to leave.
The elevator doors slide open, and Jungkook pulls you in. You’re disappointed when you notice a middle-aged woman already riding the elevator from the underground parking lot, and Jungkook politely nods to her as he presses the button for the highest floor.
Fortunately, the woman gets off on the eighth floor, and you’re left alone with Jungkook. He’s quick to spring into action, pushing you back against the wall so that he can steal a languid kiss of tongues and lips, of getting lost in him until you fully lose touch with reality.
“Fuck,” you breathe as Jungkook leaves a trail of hot kisses from your jaw to your neck. 
He sucks a hickey below your ear, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you drag your hands through his hair, leaving it dishevelled.
The doors of the elevator slide open, and Jungkook startles, taking a step back from you. One glance down reveals the proof of his attraction for you, and you really are aflame, burning from the inside out.
“I need to take a shower,” you say. 
A cold, cold shower, before you combust irreparably.
“Okay,” Jungkook lets out, and he grabs your hand again to pull you to the door. 
You don’t know how he does it, but he refrains from kissing you when you’re in. You’d expected him to jump on you - you practically wanted him to - but Jungkook, ever so the gentleman, only leads you inside and to his room. 
You take in the city skyline, the beauty of being so high you feel like you’re flying. The city sparkles, lights shining on and on, and you glance at Jungkook.
His eyes shine with undiluted lust and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You just know it’s ten thousand times better than the shadows that had lingered in his gaze after the engagement party, and you want to cling to it.
“Do you want to take a shower with me?” you suggest as he helps you out of your coat.
“Want me to wash your hair?” he teases, flicking your nose.
He’s your Jungkook again, and an excited thrill goes through you. 
“Yes,” you say, smirking. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll wash your back.”
He narrows his gaze, though his lips curve upwards. “I’m always nice.” He puts your coat away in the walk-in wardrobe, emerging without his own coat, too.
“Are you?”
You let out a yelp as he bends to pick you up bridal style. “Always,” he says, pecking your cheek once as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“You scared the shit out of me,” you grumble as he carries you to the bathroom, putting you down on the counter. 
“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he teases, and he steals a quick kiss on your lips before stepping away from you to turn on the shower.
You watch him as he does so - he’s beautiful, with his dishevelled hair and big doe eyes he casts on you as he glances over his shoulder. He’s still smiling, his features so soft you can’t help but smile back, your heart fluttering in your chest.
“How hot do you want the shower to be?” he asks.
You smirk. “What kind of hot are you talking about?”
He rolls his eyes, though his light laugh fills the air. “Water temperature, dummy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Just put it how you like it.”
He nods, and he does so, adjusting the settings until the multiple shower heads are on, and steam soon starts to waft out of the shower.
Jungkook walks back to you, toying with his piercings. You scan his features, lingering on his eyebrow piercing, and then spread your thighs so that he can step between your legs. He does so, wrapping his arms around your middle, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
He picks you up, putting you down on the floor. “Gotta get you out of your dress, mmh?”
Your heart once again hitches in your chest, and goosebumps rise on your arms as Jungkook lightly brushes his fingers up your skin.
“Turn around, peach,” he tells you.
You obey, and you watch yourself in the mirror as Jungkook unzips your dress. There’s something so intimate about the moment that your pulse skyrockets, butterflies making a mess of your stomach.
Jungkook finishes unzipping the dress, and he pushes it off your shoulders, pressing a kiss on the naked skin he’s revealed on the back of your shoulder. You feel apprehensive, like he hasn’t seen you naked before, and you gulp as he lets go of the dress, and it falls to the floor to pool around your ankles.
“You know,” Jungkook breathes as you shiver, the air colder than you expect. Your nipples perk on your chest, and Jungkook is quick to wrap his arms around you so that he can tease the sensitive buds with his fingers. “Every time I see you, you get more beautiful.”
“Jk…” you breathe out, cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze.
“It’s true,” he insists. He turns you around, his eyes lost in yours. “There’s something about you…” he trails off.
He never finishes the sentence as you stand on your tiptoe, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt. Your mouths collide, and you sigh against the plump softness of him, kissing him softly, tenderly. He kisses you back just as softly, his hands holding you by the waist.
“Peach…” he sighs.
Your eyes flutter open to find him already looking at you, and you do feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he looks at you like that.
“I think you’re supposed to undress too,” you whisper.
He chuckles softly, taking a step back from you. “Wanna help?”
You gulp again, your throat feeling dry, yet you raise trembling hands in the space between you so that you can reach for the buttons of his shirt. You focus on the task at hand, on every inch of honey skin revealed by the buttons coming undone. Jungkook’s intense gaze doesn’t leave your face as you undress him, and soon you’re pushing his shirt off him, resting your hands flat on his chest.
His heart is racing under your palms, the only indication that this is affecting him just as badly as it’s affecting you.
You meet his gaze as he takes charge of taking off his pants, and soon they’re on the floor with your dress and his shirt, and you both stand in your underwear, gazes embracing.
“I’m so going to take my time with you tonight,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. His thumb gently swipes at your skin, and you instinctively lean your head into his palm.
“Yeah?” you let out.
He tilts your head back with a finger under your chin, and then he’s kissing you again, as if to prove it to you with actions rather than words. “Definitely,” he says the second he pulls away. And then his hands go down your body, slowly, finding the hem of your panties. “Can I take this off?”
You nod, and he drops to his knees. Your eyes widen, yet he only busies himself with taking your underwear off, helping you step out of it once it’s around your ankles. He gets up again after, and he pushes his boxers down.
You’ve been avoiding looking at the obvious bulge in his underwear, but his dick stands proud and tall the second you glance down, already leaking precum. 
He’s been wanting you badly, and it shows.
“Shit, Jungkook,” you breathe.
“I know,” he lets out. “I’m fucking hard for you.” He chuckles, and grabs your face to force you to meet his gaze again. “From the mess I saw in your panties, I know you’re already soaked for me too.” He pecks your lips, and then your forehead. “But shower first, right?”
You kiss again, and this time he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.
“Shower first,” you repeat the second you pull away.
He smirks, winking at you, and then he walks over to the shower, leaving you there with your heart beating out of your chest. You take a deep breath, trying to tame the wild beats, and soon enough you follow Jungkook, right when he steps in the shower. He holds the glass door open for you, closing it behind you once you’re in, hot water splashing you.
You face Jungkook, and he looks at you with his head tilted to the side, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing,” he answers. “Pass me the soap?”
You nod, gulping, and you look away from him to find the soap. You grab it, handing it to Jungkook, and he gently takes it out of your hands.
“Turn around,” he tells you for the second time tonight. “I’ll wash your back.”
“Shouldn’t you start with my hair?” you ask.
He chuckles. “So bossy. Wet your hair then.”
You obey, and soon enough Jungkook is rubbing shampoo on your scalp, and your eyes flutter shut as you relax into the touch. He rinses your hair when he’s done, and then takes care of the conditioner.
“You like being pampered, don’t you?” he teases.
“Only if you’re the one pampering me,” you fire back. 
He laughs, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Then I guess I need to pamper you more.”
You’re falling. You know exactly what’s happening, and you wonder if he feels it too.
“Let me take care of you,” you say once Jungkook is done with washing your hair.
He smiles down at you, nodding once. “Okay.”
And so you wash him, cleaning his back first. You teasingly rub his ass, and Jungkook throws you a glare over his shoulder that makes you burst out laughing. Once you’re done he turns around, and you gently rub his chest, a smile still curving your lips upwards as you fall in comfortable silence.
He isn’t so hard anymore. Yet, when your hands get lower on his abdomen, his dick twitches, and he’s quick to get hard again. You cock an eyebrow, looking up at him.
“I barely touch you and this is how you react?” you tease.
He grabs your jaw, his grip firm. “And now you’ll clean my dick too, won’t you?”
You blush, nodding once as he lets go of your jaw to cup your cheek instead. You wrap a hand around the base of his dick, and then you stroke him once. His lips part, and he pulls on his piercings before looking down at himself. 
“Let me…” he trails off, and you nod, stepping away from him to let him clean himself. You quickly wash yourself as he does so, cheeks burning so much you wouldn’t be surprised if you were purple.
Once you’re both cleaned, you face Jungkook again, and he offers you a soft smile. Unable to resist, you look down at his dick, reaching for him again.
“Now that you’re clean…” you let out, and you smirk. “Maybe I can actually take care of you?”
You don’t know where the courage comes from, but you’re not going to waste it. Indeed, you immediately drop to your knees, and Jungkook redirects the shower heads away from your face.
“Yeah?” he lets out. “You want to suck me?”
You nod, biting your bottom lip, and then you jerk him off once, eyes moving to his dick. It’s pretty, though not as hard as he was earlier, and you tentatively swirl your tongue around his tip, before sucking on it lightly.
Jungkook curses under his breath, leaning a hand against the wall as if looking for support. “Don’t be shy,” he says.
You smirk again, and this time you drag your tongue on the side of his dick, from base to top, before wrapping your lips around him again. You hollow your cheeks as you take most of him in your mouth, and Jungkook moans softly when he hits the back of your throat.
“Shit…” he lets out.
You suck harder as you pull almost all the way off, and then you truly get to work, eyes fluttering shut as you suck him, jerking him off in time with the motions of your head. Jungkook holds your head, letting you set the rhythm you feel comfortable with, and soon you’re moaning on his dick, the vibrations making him curse.
You take him all the way in, looking up at him despite the tears blinding your gaze. He’s got his head thrown back, lips parted as he breathes heavily, chest moving rapidly. You wonder if you’d be able to make him come like this, and you suck harder, holding in the gag reflex that’s threatening to interrupt your ministrations on him.
“Peach,” he moans, and then he pulls out of your mouth.
A string of spit connects his tip to your lips, and you’re quick to lick at it, to taste the precum that’s dripping from his slit.
“That feels good?” you ask.
He nods. “Way too much,” he replies, chuckling breathlessly. “I’m going to fall in love with your mouth if you keep sucking me like that.”
You don’t need more to spur you into action, and you go back to sucking him, pouring everything you have in the action. His dick gets harder and harder in your mouth, and you know he has to be close. So you tentatively tease his balls with your free hand, and he moans as you squeeze lightly.
“Peach,” he lets out, and it sounds whiny. “Stop. I want to fuck you now.”
You pull out, offering him an innocent pout as you keep jerking him off quickly. “You don’t think you’d be able to go for round two?”
He chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Not when I drank. And I really just want to make you feel good too.”
Only for that reason do you let him pull you up to your feet, and you reluctantly let go of his dick as he pushes you against the tile wall, mouth immediately finding yours in a ravaging kiss. You moan as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, and you go back to jerking him off, unable to keep your hands off him.
He hisses as he pulls away from the kiss, and then he glances towards his discarded pants on the floor beyond the glass door of the shower. “I have condoms in there,” he reveals, and then he meets your gaze again. “But you deserve better than to be fucked in a shower, mmh?”
You gulp, nodding once as he steals another quick kiss on your lips, and then he turns off the shower. You stand in the steam for a few seconds, holding each other’s gaze, and then Jungkook pulls you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you. 
You’re quick to dry yourself, lust and desire clouding your mind, and you don’t hesitate when Jungkook grabs your hand, pulling you towards his bedroom. The walk-in is cold as you step out of the bathroom, but you busy yourself with watching the strong muscles of his back, and the tattoos on his arm. It’s distracting enough, and soon Jungkook turns to face you again, kissing you deeply before pulling away.
“Do you want me to close the curtains?” he asks as he steps away from you, enough so that your eyes fall to his erection.
“You think people can see us?” you let out, casting a quick glance towards the tall windows, and the city beyond.
“Maybe, if they’re looking up here,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s never bothered me, but I’ve never been with anyone in this bed, so…”
Your gaze widens. “You’ve never fucked here?”
You think it’s blush creeping on his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve never brought a girl here at all.”
You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry what?”
He winks at you, eyes going down your frame. They stop on your perked nipples, and he toys with his piercings.
“You’re the first girl who’s ever come here,” he says. “The first one I’ll fuck in this bed. And maybe I do want the city to see me fucking you. I want them to see how beautiful you are when you come.”
You’re speechless as he strolls towards you, and his mouth collides with yours, his lips moving like he’s a starved man against yours. He pushes you towards the bed, and you fall on it the second the back of your legs hit it. He looks at you, wetting his lips, and then winks.
“I’ll be right back.”
He disappears back into the walk-in, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him as he retrieves a condom from his wallet. He inspects the tinfoil package on the way back, making sure that the condom is safe to use, and then he rips it open, pulling the condom out.
He puts it on, rolling it down his dick as you watch with your heart beating wildly again as it knows what’s to come.
No one has ever fucked you as good as Jungkook, and you can tell he won’t disappoint tonight either. No, the intensity in his gaze can’t be mistaken, and the second he kneels between your legs you spread your thighs wide open, offering yourself on a silver platter.
“Already?” he teases, and he strokes himself slowly. “I thought you’d need a little bit of foreplay before.”
“Trust me,” you let out. “I’m already wet enough for you to rearrange my guts.”
He smirks, and he moves closer, close enough to rub his dick on your folds. “You are.” He says it like he’s surprised, but the second he starts rubbing his dick on your clit you’re gone, unable to form logical thoughts. “So you want me to fuck you? To rearrange your guts?”
“Jungkook,” is all you can reply.
He teases your folds again, pushes in just enough for his tip to part them. “Tell me what you want, peach.”
“I want you,” you say, and you don’t care how whiny you sound.
You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you into oblivion.
“Where?” he asks, and he pulls away to rub his dick on your clit again.
You clench your jaw, reaching for his dick, but Jungkook is quick to grab your hand with his free one, pinning your wrist over your head.
“Be nice, mmh?” he says in your ear, and then he straightens.
“I want you inside of me, Jungkook.”
“Yeah?” He pushes in, though he stops when just his tip is in. “Like this?”
“Fuck, stop teasing,” you grumble.
Jungkook laughs, and a second later he slams home, his dick splitting you open as he pushes almost all of himself inside of you. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, and he barely gives you time to adjust before he grabs your waist, and he starts pounding you, setting an unforgiving pace.
His thrusts are quick and hard, and you see stars almost immediately, your walls clenching around him. It doesn’t slow him down, only makes him readjust himself until he hits a better angle, and you moan loudly as he drags against the sweetest spot inside of you.
“Jungkook,” you moan.
He bends down, slowing just long enough to lean on his elbow, and then he holds your shoulders as he jackhammers into you again, so hard his bed bangs into the wall repeatedly.
There’s no one to hear you fucking here. And he knows it - it’s like he’s keen on rearranging your guts, and you’re a whining, moaning mess as he fucks you hard. You hold onto his back, nails digging in his skin and Jungkook grunts in your ears as his pace never falters.
You know he’s got good stamina, but tonight feels different, like he’ll fuck you until the sun rises.
“Shit, peach,” Jungkook lets out, and he pulls out of you so suddenly you’re left gasping for air.
“Wh-” you start, but he flips you over, repositioning himself so that he can push inside of you again. 
He doesn’t move right away, instead massaging your ass cheeks as your walls clench around his dick, begging for more. He slaps your ass, not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting, and you clutch the bed sheets, pushing your hips back into him.
“You want some control, mmh?” he asks, and he pulls back just enough to allow you more movement.
It doesn’t take you long before you take advantage of it, fucking yourself back on him, rolling your hips when he hits your cervix. 
“You’re so big,” you let out on a whine. “So deep.”
“And you take me so well, peach.” He slaps your ass again, massaging the sting away. “Like your pussy was made for me.”
“It was,” you reply right away.
Jungkook thrusts once, and you rock forward on the bed from the intensity of his motion. Luckily for you, he was holding your waist, and so his dick doesn’t leave you empty.
“Good girl,” he says, so low it sounds like a growl, and then he’s back to pounding inside of you, and you’re a mess, trying to hold yourself together as you clutch the sheets.
Jungkook leans on one hand, snapping his hips into you again and again, and he wraps his free hand under you, blindly searching for your clit. The second he touches the sensitive bundle of nerves you moan loudly again, and he doesn’t need more to start rubbing figures on you, quick circles that send you into orbit so fast you barely realize your orgasm has hit you until you come down from the high, legs shaking as your vision keeps going in and out of focus.
Jungkook stops moving for a few seconds, bending down to press a feathersoft kiss on the side of your face. “You came hard,” he states.
“Holy fuck,” is all you can reply.
“One day, I want to feel you come on my dick without a condom on,” he says, and then he’s fucking you again, though this time he’s clearly chasing his own high.
Yet it feels good, far too good, and you come again - did you actually stop coming in the first place - as he rams his hips into yours. Jungkook milks it out of you, whispering filthy praises to you all along, and once he’s sure you’ve calmed down, he pulls out, flipping you on your back again.
He steals a kiss on your lips as he pushes in again, and this time he fucks you slower, deeper, lips never leaving yours. You lose trembling hands in his hair, run them along his back, and you wrap your legs around his waist for him to fuck you deeper. He doesn’t disappoint, and you take all of him in you as he pushes in, and then pulls almost all the way out.
“I’ll fall in love with your pussy,” Jungkook whispers against you. 
He rests his forehead against yours, and your heart fills with far too many emotions - none you can voice. 
“JK…”
“Peach,” he answers in the same tone, and then he kisses you again. The second he breaks from the kiss he straightens, going back to kneeling between your legs. “Now be nice and let me come, mmh?”
“Come for me.”
“On it.”
You don’t know when he comes. All you know is that you’re swimming in far too much bliss when he starts fucking you hard again, and you lose touch with your body. It’s like you’re floating somewhere close to the ceiling, or maybe amongst the stars up above. You’re floating, and Jungkook grunts and curses as he fucks you, his motions growing sloppier, and soon he stills deep inside of you, hands holding your waist as he releases loads and loads of cum in the condom.
You wish he’d come inside of you so you’d feel it drip out of you when he pulls out. It’s a dirty thought to have, yet you can’t help it - not when you’re literally swimming in ecstasy, feeling like you’re buzzing.
Jungkook lies down next to you, resting a hand on your stomach as you try to regain your breath. It takes you a while - long enough for him to kiss the side of your face and promise he’ll be back as he disappears in the bathroom - but you do come down from the high, the bedroom and the city beyond the windows finally coming back into focus.
It’s raining. You didn’t realize it before, but raindrops are racing each other on the window, and you get lost admiring the view as Jungkook cleans himself in the bathroom.
He comes back with a wet washcloth for you to clean yourself, and you thank him as he offers it to you. You know you have to go pee before you sleep though, so you brave the walk to the bathroom, legs feeling like jelly under you. You manage to make it to the bathroom and back, and Jungkook welcomes you back into bed with a tired smile on his lips.
“Come here,” he says, and he opens his arms for you to nestle in his embrace.
You do so, pushing one leg between his as you wrap one arm around his waist.
“Feeling okay?” Jungkook asks.
“I think I’ll need weeks to recover,” you tease, and Jungkook’s answering laugh makes you feel like you’re the luckiest girl in the universe.
“Does that mean I can’t fuck you for a few weeks?” he asks, and you hear the pout in his voice.
It makes you smile against him.
“Mmmh,” you let out. “Nah, I want you to fuck me like this again tomorrow.”
He laughs again, and his arms tighten around you. “Then we better get a good night of sleep. We need to drive back home tomorrow.”
Back home. Together. Because, even if he’s Taehyung’s best friend, which you’ve conveniently forgotten all weekend, he’s also your roommate.
You share a home, and you think there’s beauty in that thought.
You yawn, nuzzling your face in his chest. “I don’t know about you but I’ll sleep like a rock.”
“And snore?”
“I don’t snore,” you answer, frowning slightly.
Jungkook chuckles and then kisses the top of your head. “You snore a little. Not as much as me though.”
“Tell me about it,” you complain, even though his soft snores had acted like white noise yesterday, helping you fall asleep despite the unfamiliar environment.
He yawns, pulling even closer. “Peach?”
You hum in answer.
“Thank you for this weekend,” he whispers. “I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”
“Jungkook…” you trail off, wanting to argue.
“I’m serious,” he insists. “You’re…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, and you pull away just enough so that you can look up at his face. “I’m what?”
“You’re you,” he answers, as if that explains anything.
And when you see the softness clinging to his gaze, you think maybe it does.
Prev | Chapter 8.5 | Next
☆☆☆☆☆
my two precious babies gosh we need to protect them at all costs fr :') did you guys like this chapter? Let me know what you think!
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
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dee-the-red-witch · 1 month ago
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Trans Day of Remembrance
(originally posted up over here) I'm so not ready for today. In the wake the elections, with full knowledge of everything that's coming, it makes today's Day of Rememberance hit even harder, just knowing that future ones have a strong likelihood of being so much worse.
But at the same time, here I am writing this anyways, which feels like such an act in impostor syndrome. I didn't lose anyone this last year, happily enough, despite the fact that over 20 trans women were lost to violence in the US alone so far this year, and an estimated 350 worldwide. Almost one a day in a community this small, and you know someone who lost someone. But I'm writing this column anyways, because I know folks expect me to Have A Take. Because writers are supposed to. Because the world at large tends to not go for our art, our happiness, our joys, or our celebrations, but they always line right up to consume our pain, our trauma, our grief, or our anger.
And no, reader, that's not an accusation I'm levelling at you. Not yet, anyways. But when you're two main national event days are the day where we remember our dead and the day when we make ourselves as visible as possible, under the threat of this new administration, it's how it definitely feels from this side of things. We wanted to be seen as people, as human. Instead we got to see a campaign that spent a third of their funds attacking and targeting us get willingly voted into office. So yes, all the anger and grief and fear from that, just two weeks later, gets thrown into today as well.
I don't have a roll of the dead to list for you, may their memories be a blessing. I'll likely be hearing that tonight at the event I'm going to for today. And if you're cis, I don't want you joining in our grief as we mourn our dead and wait for worse to come. I want you remembering us while we're still alive, before we become another statistic or headline. Remember us best by helping us to live, by supporting us in a world gone even more hostile, like all you subscribers currently do, for which I'm very thankful.
But above all of that, remember this- we're people, just like you. We chose to live as who we are and we shouldn't be punished or hated for that. Remember us for our joys in finding ourselves. Remember us in our lives, interacting and sharing with you. Remember us as friends, family, lovers, partners, and just people. That's all I ask.
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landossnorriss · 5 months ago
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back to life | lando x older!she
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Pairing: lando x older!she. Summary: with a new job on the line and a new adventure on her own for the very first time, she can't afford to risk putting a foot step wrong. it's a shame the younger f1 driver is used to living his life at 200 miles per hour and he's not afraid to pull her along for the ride. Word Count: 2.4ishk Warning: nothing yet... AN: this was going to be a one shot but i think we're looking more around 3-4 parts? i get word vomit and i simply can't stop myself. my intention with this script will be to keep her as non-descript as possible so that people can self insert at their own indulgence, the only thing is she's older than our fave number four. all the older!reader credit inspo goes to the lovely @coff33andb00ks <3
There was a high chance she was going to be sick. Why she had thought that she was ready to be in this position she didn’t know. The Mclaren account was not one that anyone wanted to mess with and at 29 she was officially the youngest person to manage it for Ashurst. Yep, she was going to throw up. When the promotion opportunity had come up she had thrown her hat in the ring for the experience, to test herself and see if she could make it through the interviews for such a role. She had prepped the best she could and told herself any feedback she got would just serve her for when she was well and truly ready to take on an account as large as this one. 
It was a good job she had been sitting down when the call had come through to join her boss in the office and celebrate the good news they had to offer her. The job would require a team she knew that, there was no way that she would be able to do it all on her own and the next stages would be deciding on any changes she needed to make and working on the team that would represent Ashurst for Mclaren but it was her name on the door, her choices that would make all the difference. Her say would always be the final one and she was ready to crumble at any given moment at the weight of it all on her shoulders. Impostor syndrome was being a real bitch right now. 
This morning she had been so sure that she could manage it, the meetings that she had held so far over Teams and Zoom had all gone swimmingly. Zak was charming and easy to work with, her team seemed to respect her despite the fact she was younger than at least half of them but all the confidence she had managed to muster that she could do this, seemed to leave her as she headed into the Mclaren center for the first time. She had been on a visit just once before, as nothing more than a fan before but now as she felt eyes on her the shirt she had made sure was pristine this morning suddenly didn’t feel smart enough, the click of her heels was too much and she was ready for throwing up all over again. 
Today likely hadn’t been the smartest day for her to be introduced to the key players in the game given how overwhelmed she had felt about the account already, but Zak had been insistent. Everyone would be on sight today and it would give her a chance to say hi before everyone vanished for the summer break she knew the team needed. Thank god as the team’s lawyer she wouldn’t be required to travel around with them all that often and most of her work could be done from home. She would miss her bed far too much to be away as often as the rest of the team were. Zak hadn’t been lying either, when he had said that everyone was here and she had given up trying to count the sea of people from where she was tucked into the center waiting for the stars of the show to arrive. 
She had never met either driver despite her time working with the team previously and she would keep her excitement over the matter buried deep. There would be no fawning and swooning, no acting star struck. She was a professional, a damn weapon in her field and she would be respected as a perfectly good lawyer, there was nothing and no one that would take her determination to smash everything about this promotion. 
Certainly not the green eyed driver currently climbing from his car as the rest of the team cheered for them. She had seen him plenty on the TV and always thought he was handsome, even if he was younger than her, but seeing him in person? Good god she needed to get it together. Day one, it was only day one in the damn office. There was no room to be mesmerized as Lando spoke to the crowds, taunted his team mate and generally seemed to be the center of attention in the room despite the fact there were two papaya boys in the room. This was his home, that much was obvious and these were his people. It filled her chest with an odd sense of pride that these were the groups of people she would be protecting and keeping in line, even from the background. 
For his part, Lando wasn’t doing much better at keeping his attention where it needed to be. He’d seen her as soon as he had stepped out of the car, eyes on the woman that stood just behind Zak. In her business-like attire she stood out like a sore thumb in the swarms of papaya and he didn’t mind it one bit. He’d never seen such a pretty face in this damn factory and before he could stop himself he let his eyes trail over her frame, she was older, not by much he assumed but just enough and were it not for the nudge in his side from Oscar he might have continued to stare at her. Who the hell was she? The question had continued to taunt him through the rest of the afternoon as he mingled, took so many photos and smiled so much his face hurt but his eyes had always managed to stray back to her. She had stuck by Zak’s side for most of the afternoon and he felt a flare of something unusual for him, even though it was obvious Zak was introducing her to people. 
“If you don’t stop staring at her, she’s going to get a restraining order against you before you’ve even met.” Oscar warned with another jab of his elbow into Landos side, the shorter driver whipping his head back to the younger with a scowl. 
“I’m not staring…just - who is she?” He found himself asking and he was unable to hide the tone his question held. 
“New team lawyer, or account manager I heard, she works for Ashurst but is our contact.” 
Lando frowned once more at the aussie before his green eyes inevitably found themselves looking for her again, desperate to trace over every curve hidden in that pencil skirt. How did Oscar always know everything first and more importantly how did he make that skirt a part of her everyday uniform? Despite everything that had gone on in the season so far, he had still been looking forward to the summer break celebrations and being back at the MTC. It always filled him with some sense of pride but any thoughts of team celebrations were now tucked firmly at the back of his mind because he wasn’t going to be able to concentrate if he didn’t find a way to be introduced to her soon. 
“What’s her – “
“Lando, Oscar, you got a second?” Zak called as he finally made his way to his driver pairing, a nervous lawyer in tow with him. 
Oscar could only roll his eyes at the expression that had formed on Lando’s face, that boy had never been able to hide anything a day in his life. Zak, squinting at his older driver, stopped allowing her past as they came to a stop in front of the boys. “Boys, this is our new lawyer from Ashurst, she comes with glowing recommendations and she is going to be around more and more so I expect you to be nice.” He offered with a beaming smile as Oscar stepped in first, given the frozen state of Lando, hand held out to the pretty lawyer. She was Lando’s type for sure. “Hi I’m Oscar, or Osc according to this guy, nice to meet you.” Turning his gaze between her and Lando he paused for just a second, the appreciation apparently mutual, before he gave a small cough as Zak was already busy calling someone else over. “And this here is Lando…he’s not a mute I swear.” 
She couldn’t help but smile at Oscar for just a moment, a flush on her cheeks as she noted the sarcasm in his tone before her soft gaze returned to Lando. First of all, where was his mother so she could thank her for his creation, and what the hell was he wearing because he smelt incredible. Holding out her hand to the older of the two men she waited for a moment before she felt his rougher hand slip into her own. “Right - I’m Lando, welcome aboard.” God could he sound any more awkward if he tried?
Luckily for both of them, Zak slapped a hand on Landos back, reinserting himself into the moment. “All introduced? I’ve invited our new lovely lawyer to the team dinner tonight when there are a few less of us so we can all get to know each other. How does that sound?” He beamed as he looked between everyone, a little slow on the uptake. 
“Yes, yes!” Lando beamed, god he knew he loved Zak for a reason. “I think that’s a great idea you should come with us!” 
“Oh I don’t want to intrude and I don’t, I don’t actually drive, where is the dinner tonight?” She flushed furiously at the idea she worked for a company like Mclaren now and still couldn’t drive. It simply wasn’t her fault that the clutch hated her. 
Lando, oblivious to the looks Oscar and now Zak were giving him, was already beaming with ideas forming in his head. Hot older woman, he could drive, a practical date. Win, win, win. Before Zak could even offer her a car Lando was already stepping closer to her. “I can pick you up, don't worry, it will do you good to arrive with a friend, arriving on your own might be a lot.” 
“Oh no Lando, you really don’t have to.” 
“Please.” The young driver scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Is that your phone, I’ll put my number in.” 
Feeling the blush she wore deepend she nodded, handing over her phone to the driver. He was being sweet, that was all she told herself because there was no way in hell it was anything more. He was, god he was gorgeous and she had seen the women he went for, younger, tiny, famous. She didn’t fit a single piece of his usual type, likely just an inch shorter than him in the heels she wore, her hips wider than most women cared for and five years older than him. 
“There you go, text me your address and I’ll pick you up at six thirty?” He offered, full charm in swing as he looked back at her. She was pretty from afar, but upclose? Lando just wanted to count each of her freckles and bumble over his words as he tried to flatter her. 
She needed a moment to compose herself and recenter, she had been flirted with before, she was pretty she knew that, but the men had never been, well fucking Lando Norris and big red flags that she was not allowed to flirt with in return. “Thank you, Mr Norris, I’m just going to go find the bathroom I’ll text you my address for later.” Maybe, she might still pull out if she could think of a good enough reason to do so. With the most awkward wave she could muster she found herself spinning on her heels, a string of curses sounding in her head as she tried to look calm whilst she was scurrying away to any form of locked bathroom door she could find for a very real mental breakdown. This was bad, this was very, very bad. 
Watching as she left Lando was pretty sure he let out an audible sigh. God what a fucking woman. Only the cough behind him brought him back to his current surroundings and he spun to face the questioning gaze of his boss and amusement of his teammate. “You’re not fucking the new lawyer.” Zak confronted boldly, that would be a can of worms he did not want to deal with. “End of, drive her to dinner, play nice, be ready to never be allowed to be alone with her ever again.” 
Lando wanted to protest straight away, that wasn’t fair, they couldn’t dangle something so sweet in front of him like that and then tell him that he wasn’t allowed to have it! Opening his mouth to protest Lando was met with a strong shake of his head as Zak took his leave, Oscar still fighting back laughter at the whole situation. “You’re so, so screwed mate. So screwed.”
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missmeinyourbones · 1 year ago
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DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE
"These days I think I owe my life
To flowers that were left here by my mother,
Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?
- First Time, Hozier
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a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls
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Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.
The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.
You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.
"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.
He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.
From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.
"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.
It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.
He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.
Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.
He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.
The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"
A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.
"Hey, hey. Easy."
He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.
His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.
If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.
But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.
"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.
Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.
His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.
"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.
"She doesn't cry like this for you."
He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.
"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."
Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.
It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.
The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.
Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."
"Bullshit, c'mere."
He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.
The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.
After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.
The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.
Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."
Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.
Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.
You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.
But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.
His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”
Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.
Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.
"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.
He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.
“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”
A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.
He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.
He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”
He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.
Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.
You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.
“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.
You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.
"What?"
You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.
"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."
You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."
You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.
You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.
"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."
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