#it’s been hard to find a decent distraction and now I can feel the emotional bullshit creeping back in

[insanechayne]

Could kinda use some company at the moment, if anyone is around to chat or anything

[forgetyoursingalongsandlullabies]

I’m kind of obsessed with the Jonmartin timeline and how Jon slowly fell in love with Martin, mostly off tape over seasons 2 and 3. I wrote a little bit of an essay trying to pinpoint the shifts and moments when we can tell something has changed. I love fanfics but I am just so interested in trying to figure out what happened in canon as close as possible. Of course this does involve speculation of emotions that we have no way of actually knowing because Jon Sims does not talk about his feelings.

Anyway it’s long-ish.

Jon fell in love with Martin over season 2 but didn’t start to realize it until late season 3 just before The Unknowing.

Martin starts the show with a crush on Jon. In MAG 22 when Martin makes his statement about the worms Jon feels guilty over how all of the pressure he’s put Martin under drives him to put himself in danger and he has Martin move into the archives to protect him which may be the first caring gesture he has made towards Martin but it’s a big one. Martin, who had a decent size crush on Jon beforehand, is blown away by this and his crush becomes a real big one.

Jon tries to continue being hard on Martin but he does noticeably soften towards him. His criticisms are half-hearted.

During Jane Prentice’s attack when Martin and Jon are in document storage Martin calls Jon out and properly snaps at him for dismissing the supernatural and Jon actually sees Martin in this moment for the first time. Martin had never talked back to him in such a way and Jon can now see him as not just his assistant who makes a lot of mistakes but as an equal who might know better than him in some aspects. They have their heart to heart and Jon is able to be honest for the first time since taking this job. He admits he’s scared and it’s okay, well it’s not okay because Jane Prentice might be moments away from killing them, but Martin doesn’t think any less of him. And then Jon asks if Martin is a ghost and he’s wrong and it was stupid but Martin makes fun of him in a way that doesn’t hurt and Jon isn’t used to that. And Martin, seeing this open and fragile and slightly dumb part of Jon, starts falling in love.

After Martin finds Gertrude’s body Jon is one track minded and focused on finding out what happened. Martin, giving his statement about the tunnels, is in tears not because he found a body and was scared, but because he accidentally left Jon. Jon was too distracted with finding answers at the moment but he heard it and absorbed it over time.

Season 2 Jon is full of nothing but paranoia and is unwilling to trust anyone but it’s his obsessive observations that lead him to getting to know Martin enough to love him. When Jon tries to come back from leave early Martin forces Jon to go home and rest more. Jon wonders what Martin is hiding but reasons that, no Martin is actually concerned about his health. Jon thinks Martin gave him a fake jar of ashes to calm him down, he doesn’t seem to think this gesture is part of a conspiracy, he genuinely thinks of this gesture as Martin lying to him to make him feel better. Jon notes that Martin has been very attentive to his needs and recovery and that he is interested to hear Jon’s theories about Gertrude. He remarks that he has observed Martin’s competence and cunning. Of course Jon is ridiculously paranoid and interprets this attention as some kind of plot against him to slow down his investigation and sees these positive attributes of Martin as reasons to see him as a threat, but again, Jon is absorbing it all. The lines in Jon’s supplementals about Martin’s attention to him implies that they’re spending a lot of time together off tape, at least more than they ever used to, probably at Martin’s insistence and Jon accepting this time by justifying to himself that he needs to watch Martin.

In MAG 53 Jon mentions that Martin hovers near him when he goes to the canteen and Martin says it’s because he’s concerned (based on Jon’s lie about how he got the cut from Michael). Martin offers to pick up a sandwich from the cafe and bring it back for Jon. He doesn’t ask Jon to come with him and Jon acts like he’s annoyed to be around Martin when he sits with him in the canteen, but Jon decides, No instead of me refusing the gesture for food or saying yes please pick up that sandwich for me, he says “I’ll come with” making another decision to spend time with Martin when he doesn’t have to. Maybe Jon tries to justify this to himself again by saying he’s keeping an eye on Martin but Jon has made no efforts to go spend extra time with Tim, who was an equal suspect, even before Tim was mad at Jon. (And may I add, if Jon tried this tactic with Tim, going out to lunch, watching him by spending time with him etc. maybe Tim wouldn’t have ended up being so angry with Jon.) But Jon is definitely making the effort to spend time with Martin when it frankly has nothing to do with his investigation no matter how he tries to spin it.

In MAG 56 when Jon makes Martin tell him what he’s been hiding and he finds out Martin had lied on his CV he is so relieved that he is giddy. He is smiling, laughing and stuttering. To Jon’s ‘rational’ mind this doesn’t fully clear Martin of suspicion but emotionally this really seems to be a weight off of his shoulders. On a subconscious level he can start to allow the time they’ve spent together to mean something other than just spying.

Meanwhile Martin can see what a hard time Jon is having and he can see him spinning out of control with paranoia and Martin tries really hard to defend him, maybe not the best thing, we know Martin is a bit of an enabler for Jon, but for Jon’s emotional arc of falling in love with Martin it is important that Jon hears Martin defending him to Tim in MAG 58. Martin never stops calling Jon out on his shit like when he tells Jon that he needs to talk to Tim and that Tim isn’t wrong but nowadays it feels like everyone is constantly calling Jon out, not that he doesn’t deserve it, but when Martin calls him out it’s still clear that he cares, whereas anyone else talking to Jon just seems to speak to him with malice.

At the beginning of season 3 Jon is hiding out and staying at Georgie’s place. We know from Season 4 MAG 149 that Jon used to go on about Martin to Georgie “a lot”. Georgie got the full story about The Archives in MAG 93 and Jon decides to move out of Georgie’s place in MAG 99 when he was then kidnapped by The Circus. There’s usually a week of time that passes between episodes unless otherwise implied and 93 and 94 take place over the same conversation on the same day so I’ll assume 5 weeks in which Jon was going on about Martin a lot with full context. He probably talked about him before then too only more cryptically. Importantly though in the Season 4 Q&A Alex asks, Who knew that Jon liked Martin first, Jon or Martin? And Jonny said “Georgie” so even though Jon didn’t know it yet, he was obviously smitten (at least obvious to Georgie who has dated Jon and recognizes signs of affection and romance in him more than anyone else would).

When Jon talks to Martin in MAG 102 there is a very slight almost imperceptible sweetness in Jon’s voice that we’ve never heard before. The way he assures Martin that it’s ok that he didn’t know he was kidnapped. There is a lot of awkwardness and frankly a lot of heavy breathing from both of them for probably just standing there. Their casual talk about the overall institute and Hannah who is having her baby and had that thing with the milk in the break room last year, Jon doesn’t know who she is but Martin knows that Jon knows her probably because they had been around her together since they spent so much time together last year but Jon was too paranoid and she had nothing to do with the plot, it’s just a very normal and domestic moment. Jon tells Martin he knows he’s been reading statements and Martin is just worried Jon will be jealous that he’s taking some of his job but instead Jon is just concerned for him. It’s different and they both know it’s different and they can both feel the conversation is charged with something but they don’t know what. “It’s not too late. Unless the world ends” means a lot in this conversation, yes it does literally mean it’s not too late for them to talk and continue whatever friendship they were stumbling towards in season 2. It’s not too late for them to pick up this weird, oddly charged and tender conversation that may be leading somewhere else. It’s also foreshadowing that it sort of is too late because their world will end when Jon effectively dies stopping the Unknowing.

By MAG 114 Jon says that he has listened to all of the tapes and has therefore heard the gossip about he and Martin. I think something clicked in his brain when he heard that Martin has a crush on him. He probably never considered that idea because things like romance are never on the forefront of his mind especially when he is in active danger, which he has been for the last 2 years, and even more so he wouldn’t expect someone to have feelings for him in general. Being conscious of the notion that Martin has feelings for him lead him to consider all of the strange feelings he’s been having about Martin over the last year and a half in a way that he might not have gotten to on his own until much later. It’s all part of the plan that Jon suggests Martin stay back at the Institute in front of Elias but Jon is genuinely relieved that Martin will be safer there.

In MAG 117 Jon talks about Daisy and Basira’s bond and how he’s been having to do everything by himself. He’s envious of their bond and we can tell he’s been thinking about how things could be if he had someone (Martin) by his side. I don’t think this part of his testament would have played out this way had he not been thinking a lot since he heard the tape. When he addresses the “office gossip” he is flustered. Possibly embarrassed that Georgie, who he trusts, was giving out this personal information to Melanie but I actually think he’s used to that specific type of gossip about him and I think that the nervous stutter and searching for words comes from trying to address the other part of the gossip, which he is still trying to wrap his head around.

It isn’t confirmed but I do think that Jon listened to everyone’s testimony before leaving and he heard Martin’s “I need him to be ok”. Later in MAG 139 Jon says “I need him to be okay. I just do.” I don’t think he’s consciously repeating the same phrase but I think this phrase has lived with him ever since he heard Martin say it and now it’s just organic to Jon too.

I genuinely do believe that at this point, as of MAG 117, all of Jon’s feelings for Martin are already there and internally he has at least accepted romantic feelings even if he wouldn’t have called it love then.

Jon is put in a 6 month coma the next night and is in a full tilt romantic arc the moment he wakes up. Not 20 minutes after waking from his coma he wants to see Martin, he’s surprised that Martin wasn’t there for him the moment he woke up. Maybe if you asked him the next day he’d say it was a silly notion for him to just expect Martin to be there at any given point no matter when he woke up, but a part of him accepted and knew that if Martin could have he would have been there.

Anyway, all this is to say that if he woke up from a coma desperately in love with Martin all of those feelings had to have been present before the coma. I know there was a lot more thought and consideration and emotional work that Jon had to do over season 4 before he could have been ready for his love to literally save Martin but all of the feelings were there by the time he woke up.

[oh-theseus]

the sound

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader, astarion ancunin x gn!tav summary: your relationship with astarion has ran its course, but what happens when he recognizes the sound of your heart in a crowded tavern? word count: 4,071 a/n: this is post-game spawn astarion!! he's a freak here. like he's kind of a obsessed weirdo. idk, i wanted to play into all the weird things vampires can do 🤷‍♀️ also shamelessly admitting that the basis of this comes from 'the sound' by the 1975. def recommend giving it a listen :) anyways though SORRY I WAS GONE!! hope you guys accept this as a decent apology gift <33

warnings: ooc spawn!astarion, mean/toxic astarion, he's also kinda obsessed, astarion chokes reader???, blood depictions, blood drinking, stalker astarion if you squint, not a happy ending. SORRY I LIKE WEIRD FREAK SPAWN ASTARION!!! lmk if i need to add more!

Your relationship with Astarion had always been tumultuous. Perhaps that was because it was forged amidst the potential ending of the world, or perhaps it had something to do with the insane emotional baggage both of you brought to the table. Whatever it had been, it had not been enough to keep the two of you together.

Somewhere between killing Cazador and defeating the Absolute, things fell apart. And it wasn’t just Astarion’s fault, or just yours. Both of you… stopped trying? That didn’t feel right. Because you were trying, you really were. But it was never enough, on either side. So, you decided to part ways. It was better that way. At least that’s what you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

Months passed, and Astarion became but a distant memory of fangs in your skin. Or, you tried to make him little more than that. You kept yourself busy in Baldur’s Gate, running errands of all sorts. You traveled some, but never as far as you did in order to defeat the Absolute. The days were long and grueling. Some nights you woke from nightmares, other nights you spent with lovers you’d never see again. Despite feeling a bit lonely at times, you have learned to enjoy this new circle of life for yourself. The routine kept you grounded. Kept you from thinking too hard about the vampire you once loved.

Taverns also helped. Not just because of the alcohol, but because everyone always wanted to talk about something. You had come to learn that most of the stories you heard were lies - or at least very embellished truths. Regardless, the fellow patrons were good company. They would laugh or cry shamelessly and were always willing to buy you a drink when you looked particularly rough. They didn’t pry, either. To them, you were just some other lonely fool coming to distract themself for an evening. And a good distraction it was, too.

Until that vampire you were trying so hard to forget walks in. 

For a moment, the world stops. Your eyes are locked on the figure in the door, his white curls seeming to glow in the moonlight outside. He winces when he steps inside - he didn’t like loud places, you remembered that. He looks just the same as you remember him, of course. A man unaged for two hundred years. What was a few months to his eternal not-quite-youth?

You look away before he can see you. And though you try to focus back on the adventurers in front of you, you find it difficult to do so. Your heart pounds with anxiety. You aren’t sure why you’re worried. Even upon parting with Astarion, he had remained relatively civil. But you knew Astarion better than most, so you knew that time did not heal Astarion’s wounds. No, time only seemed to make the vampire’s wounds fester up and get infected. If he wasn’t angry with you then, you had a feeling he would be angry with you now.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to the group of strangers you’re sitting with. You stand slowly, eyes scanning the crowded tavern for Astarion. You don’t see him, and your eyebrows furrow together - had you imagined him? It wouldn’t be the first time you saw something that wasn’t actually there.

The bar is crowded, the bartender working quickly to try to please everyone. You take one look at the scene and decide that slipping out the back door into the quiet street outside will bring you more relief than waiting however long for a single drink will.

As predicted, the streets of Baldur’s Gate are quiet. The moon is high in the sky, the fullness of it casting a soft glow over the street before you. A cat scurries out of a barrel nearby, but other than that, you are alone. Your back presses to the wall of the tavern beside the door, sliding down until you’re crouched on the ground, your hands rubbing across your face. 

This was all rather silly, wasn’t it? Running and hiding because your ex-lover showed up at the most popular tavern in the city you knew he resided in. It was childish, pathetic even. Still, you don’t get up. You let the cool night breeze dance over the exposed parts of your skin while your hands fall away from your eyes. Your eyes remain closed though as you inhale and exhale slowly - you were getting quite good at this self-soothing thing, weren’t you? You hear the door opening and the sound of feet stepping outside, but don’t think twice about it. People were allowed to leave the tavern, weren’t they?

“Ah, I thought I heard you.”

Correction - everyone except for Astarion was allowed to leave the tavern.

Your eyes fly open, and you’re on your feet in a moment. Astarion stands before you, wearing that all too-familiar smirk of his. You watch as his crimson eyes flicker across your body twice over, stunned into silence. Your heart is racing still, though you would wager it’s beating faster now based on how loud it was in your own ears.

“Cat got your tongue, my dear?” Astarion tilts his head to the side when he speaks. He is mocking you, of course. You were right to assume that he had grown angry with time. “I could hear you all the way inside, you know. Isn’t that just so interesting?” Hear you? What in the Nine Hells was he going on about? “What are you talking about?” You manage to ask, face wrinkled up in confusion. Astarion seems confused for a moment too, a distant look in his eyes that you knew meant he was trying to recall a memory. Impatient with him and his growing silence, you shift from foot to foot. Get on with it, you think.

“Hm, seems I forgot to tell you about that,” Astarion seems to say to himself. He focuses on you fully once more, waving his wrist when he next speaks. “Your heart, darling. I can hear it.” If this information had been presented to you a year ago, you might have slapped him. But you’d become quite desensitized to weird things - especially weird things pertaining to the nature of vampires. At least this part of Astarion’s nature made sense to you, unlike his inability to cross running water. If he was meant to live off of blood, then you supposed he should be able to hear the thing at the center of every living creature that made that blood flow.

But there were countless people in the tavern. You scoff - he’s lying. He couldn’t have been able to identify your heart among the numerous others in there. He must have seen you when you slipped outside.

“Your lies flatter me, Astarion. Truly,” you state sarcastically. Once, your sarcasm might have been full of mirth and lightheartedness when it came to him. But none of that is present now. Perhaps time had made your hurt fester, too? You always were more alike Astarion than you cared to admit.

“You wound me.” Astarion presses a hand to cover his dead heart in mock hurt. But he smirks down at you still. “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

Astarion takes a step closer to you. You’re suddenly very aware that the wall of the tavern is pressing against you. It’s almost frightening how much he looks like a predator like this. It’s almost… exciting. Your heart races faster, and Astarion’s smirk turns into a knowing grin.

You should’ve ran a stake through his heart when you had the chance.

“I do not have time for your antics.” Your voice conveys the same authority you once used to lead a makeshift army against the Absolute. Astarion finds it funny that you think it will work on him, the person who resented authority more than anyone or anything you had ever met.

“My antics are simply me wishing to catch up with an old friend. I hadn’t realized that was a crime these days.” He takes another step forward, that knowing grin of his not disappearing.

“Oh, a friend? Is that what we were?” Somehow, the implication that you had only been a friend hurts more than any insult he could possibly hurl at you right now. Had he truly thought so little of your nights together? Of the secrets you shared, the times you let him feed from you? “You wear your heart on your sleeve, my love. So easy to hurt it, isn’t it?” Astarion has moved so close to you now, that if he required air to breathe he’d be breathing in what you were exhaling out. You watch his eyes dance across your face, then trail down to your neck. Wordlessly, he grabs your chin and tilts your neck to the side.

Your hand is on his wrist immediately, the other one reaching for your blade strapped to your hip. You think he’s going to bite you. 

“Ah, ah,” Astarion stops your hand from grabbing your weapon with a tight grip around your wrist. “I’m just looking. Always so hungry for blood, aren’t we?” You don’t like the comparison of your desire to protect yourself to his need to drink blood. You don’t comment on it though, too busy watching his eyes burning into your neck.

If he wasn’t going to bite you, then - Oh. The scars.

Two puncture wounds on the right side of your throat, scarred over from the amount of times Astarion had bitten into that exact same spot to drink from you. You feel his hand leave your chin and push your collar to the side, exposing the scars to him more. He chuckles darkly, and you use your free hand to shove him away from you.

Astarion stumbles back, a look of surprise on his face. It’s quickly replaced with anger - an emotion you had seen on his face so many times before, but never directed at you until this very moment. 

“Do those make finding a little playmate difficult?” Astarion asks, eyebrows raised in mock interest. You would ask how he knew about your habits, but he did tell you once that he had a remarkable sense of smell. He could probably smell the elf you’d taken home last night on you still. You have half the mind to be embarrassed. The other half of your mind really wants to hit him.

“That’s not really your business anymore, is it?” You counter, crossing your arms over your chest. You’ve moved off of the wall now, making sure there’s empty space behind you should he try to approach you again. “But, I am glad you are still as jealous as ever.”

“Hah! Jealous!” Astarion does that fake little laugh of his. He goes so far as to bend over and then wipe a non-existence tear from his eye when he stands. “Darling, I truly could not care any less who or what you are doing in your free time. Rather - I could not care any less about you.”

It’s your turn to laugh at him. “Bold words for the man who just confessed to knowing the sound of my heart amidst all those other ones in there.”

Astarion doesn’t like this response in the slightest. You grin wickedly as he clenches his fists at his side and narrows his eyes. You two always did know how to hurt one another, didn’t you?

There is a truth to your words though. It was bold for him to claim not to care about you anymore, but to still have the sound of your heart so well memorized that he could find you in the middle of a loud, crowded tavern after months of not seeing each other. It’s almost romantic, if not a bit obsessive. Though, Astarion’s version of romance always had been a bit obsessive, hadn’t it?

“Cat got your tongue, Astarion?” You use his own words on him, tilting your head in the very same way that he had done not five minutes ago. You don’t suppress the wickedly pleased grin that spreads across your face when Astarion’s jaw clenches. Yes, you knew exactly how to hurt him. 

“Very original,” he hisses. You simply shrug - as if all of this and him are not worth your time. He does not like that. Not one bit.

When you and Astarion were together, he was always very careful with you, unless you requested otherwise. You had seen that he was strong in a way that was inhuman, but had never been anywhere close to being on the receiving end of that strength. Until now.

You let out a gasp when you are pushed back against the wall of the tavern. You immediately regret it, given that it leaves you with no air in you when Astarion’s hand wraps around your neck. Not strong enough to bruise, but certainly strong enough to have you reaching for your blade. Again, he beats you there and pins your hand to the wall

“You forget yourself, little dove,” he whispers, mere inches from your face. If someone else were to slip out the back door of the tavern, they would likely think you were two lovers with no shame. 

Given that you can not speak, you simply look at him. If you weren’t terrified of choking to death, you might have glared at him. Instead, you look at him with big, wide eyes. They plead for you - they show your fear. Your heart gives it away too. And the way your blood races beneath his hand. Your anatomy betrays your emotions more than you do.

But Astarion’s does, too. In his eyes, you see many things. Anger, of course, but there is also guilt, sadness, fear - hunger. His eyes go to those scars again. Your eyes go impossibly wider in understanding.

Your free hand taps at his wrist repeatedly, begging him to release you. He must see your desperation, because he relents. You would have fallen to your knees while you gasped for air if his hands did not catch you on either side of your waist. 

His crimson eyes are darting over your features, watching as you catch your breath. He’s got that far-off look about him again. His hands squeeze your waist gently, as if he was making sure you were still there. You know what this means - how many times had you seen Astarion act just like this because he hadn’t fed in a few days? And given that he was still a spawn and was limited to nights hunting alone, you imagined it might get hard to find something to eat every once in a while.

“I forget myself,” you mumble when you can breathe properly again. You straighten up, expecting Astarion’s hands to remove themselves, but they do not. “Does your hunger always make you act as a feral beast?”

Astarion winces at your insult, as if you had hit him instead of just spoken. He had thought you wouldn’t notice. But those big, wet eyes of his never kept his secrets when he desired for them to be kept most. 

“Perceptive as always.” His words are almost a compliment, just as his hands are almost comforting. 

“You haven’t come out here to taunt me, then?” You ask, anger seeping into your tone. Did he truly think you would just give him your blood after the stunt he had just pulled? “Were you seeking a meal for the evening?” Astarion is the one to shrug now. His hands leave your sides - you find yourself almost missing his touch. “I didn’t have a plan, darling. All I knew was that your heart was racing, and I wanted to know why.”

When he said it like that, it made it almost sound like he was worried about you and your safety.

A thick, uncomfortable silence settles over you both like a wet blanket. He’s thinking again, but this time, so are you. You’re thinking about the scars on your neck, the hunger in Astarion’s eyes. You’re thinking about how it used to be comforting to let him drink from you. You’re thinking a lot of stupid, foolish things. You’re also tugging the collar of your shirt down and tilting your head to the side. 

“Be quick.” You always were too generous for your own good, weren’t you?

Astarion doesn’t seem to understand what you’re telling him to do until your index finger taps over the scars on your neck. A look of pure delight fills his face, mixing together with surprise and something like mockery.

“In public? My, you’ve gotten dirty, haven’t you?” Astarion says, placing one hand on your side again. You don’t give him the pleasure of a response when his second hand comes up to your neck and traces feather-light touches over the marks. His gaze goes soft when he speaks next, peering into your eyes as if he can see into your very soul. “You are certain?”

No, you are most definitely not certain. 

“Yes,” you force out, tearing your eyes away from Astarion. “Do not be greedy.”

Astarion needs no further invitation. The hand that had been tracing your skin finds its spot on the back of your neck, holding you in place while his hand on your hip keeps you steady. The gasp that leaves your lips when his fangs puncture your skin is anything but quiet. Your hands have moved to his shoulder, gripping him so tightly that your knuckles have gone white. You’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have someone’s teeth in your flesh.

He drinks in slow, measured gulps. Those plush lips of his suck gently on your skin, his tongue laps up the liquid that tries to escape his mouth. There is a strange intimacy to it all that you choose to ignore. You choose especially to ignore the soft groan of pleasure that falls from his mouth when your fingers start to get cold and dig further into his shoulders. A single half-shove to his shoulders, and he pulls away, a trickle of your blood making its way down his chin.

Silence sinks into the (very limited) space between the two of you once more. Astarion wipes your blood from his chin, then shows the same courtesy to your neck before covering the puncture wounds with your collar once more. You wrinkle your nose a bit when he takes his thumb into his mouth, sucking the last taste of you from his skin - while maintaining eye contact, of course. It’s revolting - it’s erotic. You don’t let that thought linger.

“Better?” You ask, hoping that the swirl of strange emotions inside of you is masked in your voice. 

Astarion smirks - your voice has betrayed you. “Oh, much. You’re too good to me.”

You swallow your spit, your throat bobbing up and down with the movement. Astarion watches it carefully with dilated pupils. He’s still holding your waist, you’re still holding his shoulders. Neither of you makes to move away from the other.

The silence seeps into your very being. It finds the deepest parts of you and closes around them like a pale hand squeezing your neck. It finds your guilt - the old guilt of giving up on the man before you all those months ago. The new guilt of betraying yourself by letting him feed from you. You hadn’t even made him ask. 

“Would you like to hear a secret?” He whispers, his eyes back on your face once more. 

No. “Yes.”

He smiles at your response. His hand not gripping your waist begins to trace the slopes of your face with practiced familiarity. “I’ve been coming here every night. I heard you in there a few weeks ago - I only just got the courage to step inside tonight. I was hoping to see you.”

For some reason, your mind brushes over everything else he has just confessed, instead focusing on his final sentence. I was hoping to see you. It makes your heart skip a beat like you’re some kind of lovesick schoolgirl. Astarion’s smile widens, and you curse yourself for not being able to control your racing heart. It’s humiliating to know he can hear the exact reaction your body had to every word he said.

“Why?” You ask, far softer than you wanted to. 

“Oh, is it not obvious my dear? I miss you.”

You’re reminded of the time Astarion told you he loved you after only a few nights spent together. He had been trying to manipulate you then - was he doing the same to you now? 

“You expect me to believe that?” This time, your voice is forceful as you intended for it to be the first time. “You do not know me if you think I am foolish enough to take you for your word.”

Astarion laughs with his whole chest. His head tilts backward for a moment, the moonlight catching in his stunning white curls for a moment and making them appear to glow. His eyes have narrowed when he looks back down at you - you’re playing his game better than he thought you would. Unfortunately for you, though, he knew exactly what he could do to make you lose.

“No. Let me show you.” Astarion waits for no response before he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. As soon as the familiar pressure of his lips is on yours, your body tenses. You are trying to decide what you want to do. But then he presses more into you, and you melt.

You can taste your blood on his lips. There’s something else, too. Bitter, yet a bit sweet. Some kind of wine, if you had to guess. His fangs brush over your lower lip, threatening to sink into the plush flesh there. But the puncture never comes, and inside it’s his tongue intruding your mouth. You let him explore the space of your mouth, your body shivering when he trails his tongue along your lower lip.

And then he’s gone - his lips glistening with a mixture of your spit and his. You are panting a bit, bringing a hand up to touch your lips as if you can undo what you have just done. You do not even register that Astarion has finally removed himself from your body, too busy trying to make sense of why you hadn’t pushed him away. 

You had come to the tavern tonight as part of your routine. To talk with old friends and new, and to not think about the very vampire who stood before you. How had you ended up kissing him and letting him feed from you? You might be sick from the deep sense of betrayal you feel inside of you. You’ve betrayed months of personal work to forget him. And for what? A single kiss and words you know are empty.

“You are perfect, every time,” Astarion remarks, his tongue darting across his lips to clean them of the wetness decorating them. He grins wickedly, then straightens his back. No, no. You know this look. He thinks he’s won.

You fell for his trap.

Again.

“Unfortunately, I do have rather important business to attend to.” He doesn’t even bother to look at you, too busy with straightening out the sleeves of his shirt. “Do keep yourself safe, darling. I would hate for something to happen to my little treat.” And then he’s gone, slipping inside of the tavern through the back door as if he hasn’t just ruined you with a single kiss.

You stand there, heart racing and eyes wide. You want to peel off your skin, to hide within your bones so that no one else could ever bother you. You are mortified. How could you be so stupid? You had known from the beginning that he was toying with you. Yet, you let him drink your blood, kiss your lips. And you would have given him more, if he wanted it. 

You clear your throat - it’s your turn to straighten out your clothing now, especially your collar.

Your heart is still racing when you walk away from the tavern. All the way down the street you find yourself repeating one thing, over and over and over: “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

You’ve never wished someone had been wrong more.

taglist: @bowtomytenderdays @misscrissfemmefatale @letsstargaze @peterpankat @sukuna-connoisseur

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

[doomhands-jr]

I'm gonna give you all some tough love and I need you to be good sports about it.

I received a comment on AO3 today asking me to not make the reader wait as long for the next chapter. And that's not the first time I've received a comment like that. I know it's all in good fun, so I'm not even really upset about it, but I do need to drop some truth. I posted chapter 9 on July 12th. I posted chapter 10 on July 22nd.

Bro, that's ten days.

It's not uncommon for writers to take MONTHS to update a single chapter. Some of my favorite authors have made me wait YEARS between chapters, and I do so without complaint because I know just how much effort goes into writing each chapter. I've been pretty consistent about how often I update, and that's a point of pride for me because it took me a long time to build the discipline I needed to work at something long-term this diligently (where my fellow ADHD creatives at?). Writing doesn't just happen. I have to make the choice to sit down and block out all distractions and dedicate consistent time and effort, not just writing each chapter, but editing it and making sure it has a decent emotional payoff and fits in with where I want it the story to go. It's a lot of mental effort. And considering just how much effort it takes, getting a chapter out in ten days is WICKED fast. Now, that being said, I still kind of like when you guys send me comments or messages talking about how impatient you are for the next chapter, especially when the tone is kind of a self-roast for being so impatient. It's actually really cute because I get what it's like to be really excited about a story and want the update RIGHT NOW. I just want to make sure that you also understand that I'm working as fast as I can (and I'm doing this all for free mind you), and I want to feel like that effort is appreciated and acknowledged. Ja feel? I write first and foremost for myself, but I also do it for you guys because I love the community we've built together and I love that people are finding healing through this story. It makes me feel like all the effort is worth it. So I guess, to summarize, go ahead and express how excited and impatient you are for a chapter, just make sure that you're also keeping in mind that writing is hard work, especially multi-chaptered fics, and that I have a life outside of Tumblr that I also need to work towards. And if you ever do get really impatient and need me to post something fast, leaving long, detailed comments about what you liked in the last chapter is the quickest way to jump-start my creativity. Every time I receive one, I get inspired to write more.

Anyways, love you guys. Thanks for being such good sports about everything. Can't wait to show you the next chapter, but it's proving to be a tricky one to get the tone right, so it might be another ten days or so lmao. -River

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 29: 00:00

Hyeri returns to Haeun’s place later Christmas night to see Haeun still hasn’t returned from spending the holiday with family. Hyeri goes into the guest room where she’s been staying during her time here and grabs a few of her things to take into the bathroom so she can wash up. The bathroom is just down the hall so her weak legs carry her to the shower where she stands motionless under the water once it’s reached the perfect temperature. Then she cries.

She never imagined this day would go the way it has. She expected Yoongi to cook her a meal and give her great gifts. She expected him to apologize to her every chance he got. She didn’t expect him to perform a song he had written for her. She didn’t expect any of the emotions that came surging out as he sang to her. There was no way she could say no to giving him another chance. She let everything out to him and she feels free now that she has. Yet for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to agree to return home.

Yoongi pleaded for her to stay, but something held her back. She told him she would give him another chance and that she really wanted to make things work, but something felt like going back home now would be taking too big of a step much too fast. Maybe it’s because these few weeks have given her a chance to not be distracted. She’s been able to focus more on shooting her series and less on what’s happening with Yoongi and who’s waiting outside their home with a camera. Though it’s not perfect, she can’t deny the degree of weight that had been lifted when she didn’t find herself dreading going home. She would get to Haeun’s place, shower, then get a decent sleep without laying awake for hours thinking of how she can’t trust the person she’s laying next to. She feels better rested when she gets to set and needs less coffee and makeup to mask her constant fatigue. This isn’t just for her relationship with Yoongi, she’s doing this for her series that she’s putting her everything into. For her career. For their future.

When Haeun returned home, Hyeri told her about everything Yoongi did for her including his emotional performance. “Hyeri-ya!” Haeun shouts after Hyeri said she agreed to give Yoongi another chance. “What the hell are you doing here then??” If things went well she can’t understand why Hyeri isn’t home with Yoongi instead of sitting on her couch with a glass of wine.

“I’m giving him another chance, but I told him I’m not going home yet,” Hyeri explains.

“Why? After all of that you still had the strength to get up and leave?”

“I’m not ready, unnie,” Hyeri pouts. “I just want things to be simple the way they were when we first started dating. You know how stressed I get about work, I don’t want to be stressed about my relationship on top of that. That day I left and the media saw me leaving made it so hard for me to focus the rest of the day. I don’t want to deal with that, especially if there are more things that come out about him. More…people.”

Haeun understands what Hyeri is saying, though she would have advised that Hyeri return home since it would be hard for them to see each other with their schedules. Hyeri knows it will be challenging, but they’ve navigated busy schedules when they first started dating and made it through. She just wants to go back to that for a while, when it was so simple.

The next day she spoke to Yoongi and he asked her to come home again. She explained to him her reasoning the way she explained it to Haeun. Yoongi understands and let Hyeri know he doesn’t want to do anything to make her feel forced or pressured. He still longs for her day and night though.

So they start slow. Texting between their busy schedules and a phone call before bed. Both of them preparing for their respective New Years festivities they’ve been slotted to attend, then Yoongi texting Hyeri goodnight after she fell asleep on the phone. Hyeri getting an unexpected free hour during the day and wanting to talk to Yoongi but that was the same hour he decided to take a nap in his studio therefore missing her call. By New Year’s Eve they’re relying on shared calendar updates and fan sightings to keep up with one another.

Hyeri is hosting a New Year’s Eve broadcast for one of Korea’s national TV stations, while Yoongi and the guys are performing at a New Year’s festival shortly before midnight to bring in the new year. Neither of them have been able to talk much since a few texts they managed to send to one another earlier in the day. The rest of the day has been a whirlwind of rehearsals, hair and makeup, socializing, then finally showtime.

The broadcast Hyeri is hosting is only set to last only half an hour after the final countdown of the year. With their performance leading right into the countdown, Yoongi hardly has time to catch his breath before the crowd is cheering and they’ve all crossed over into a new year. All 7 of the guys cheer and hug with an unspoken feeling of relief that somehow they managed to survive this tumultuous year. Everyone is healthy now and that’s all they could ask for.

As soon as Yoongi is able to steal a quick second, he immediately pulls his phone out to get a glimpse of Hyeri’s broadcast, even if for just a short minute. She’s wearing a sparkling blue knee length dress and a tiny silver top hat that matches the green one her co-host is wearing. She’s also wearing the beautifully shiny teardrop necklace Yoongi gave her. Seeing her wearing it while smiling at the camera makes his face light up with joy.

Just as quickly he was able to pull up the stream, he’s having to turn it off as he and the guys are pulled in another direction. Lots of cheers and interviews coming from all around until the party finally starts to wind down. The guys were invited to a private New Year’s after party being hosted by a producer and close friend of theirs. Lots of industry figures are set to be there, most of which are attending as a way to celebrate comfortably and privately without cameras around. The guys decide to go since it’s their friend and so they can relax for once before calling it a night and going home.

The atmosphere at the party is buzzing with electricity. It’s like a club with everyone dancing, chatting, and having drinks all around. The guys stick together for the most part making sure someone is at least near Yoongi at all times. They don’t want to police him, but they want to make sure they’re nearby for support. Yoongi appreciates it greatly. This is the first party he’s been to since he’s been clean, plus it’s New Year’s so drinks are flowing all around him, the added support is relieving.

Things start off great with all 7 of them socializing. While the rest of the guys have their pick at alcoholic drinks, Hobi decided to stay sober with Yoongi for the night. While everyone is having specially made cocktails, Hobi brings back alcohol free mocktails for them to sip on. It saves Yoongi from people unknowingly offering him a drink. Outside of the 7 of them, no one has any idea about Yoongi’s struggle with alcohol. This helps keep it that way.

Unfortunately, after his third mocktail Yoongi is starting to weaken. Looking at everyone around him enjoying the night with a good buzz is stirring up a little jealousy in him. He still has Hoseok next to him, but now his sober presence has lost its effectiveness. It’s New Year’s, why can’t he have one drink to celebrate?

As soon as the intrusive thoughts begin to grow, Yoongi whispers to Hobi that he’s starting to have a hard time. Hobi takes him to a back corner of the room and grabs a cup of water for him. Yoongi sips the water and takes a moment to breathe.

“I don’t think I can stay,” Yoongi says. “It’s starting to be too much.”

“It’s ok, hyung,” Hobi replies. He’s thankful that Yoongi is being honest about this and would much rather him head home than try to fight the urge silently. “If you’ve reached your limit it’s ok. You did good today.” Hobi’s smile shines brighter than the strobe lights blinking across the room.

“Thanks, Hoba,” Yoongi says forcing a smile. He appreciates the good job, but he feels like he’s not fully in the clear yet. He still has to make it out of the party, to his car, and home, without giving in to the whisper tickling the back of his neck that’s telling him it would be fine if he just has one drink to celebrate.

Yoongi stands and maps his route to the door in his mind. He tries to move quickly but it’s not easy with the place packed with so many people. After every step he’s having to swerve and dodge around people like he’s in a video game. When he finally makes it out the door he quickly walks across the parking lot towards his car. The faster he can get out of there and get home, the better.

“Yoongi!”

The voice behind him startles him and nearly sends him into shock until he turns around and sees Hyeri running between the parked cars to get to him.

“Hyeri?” He says catching her as she jumps into his arms. He isn’t sure why she’s suddenly running to him like this, but he’s not complaining. Her timing is perfect and warmth is calming.

Once Hyeri’s event ended she learned of this after party being held and decided to stop by after she learned that the guys would possibly be there. Yoongi would possibly be there. When she arrived she immediately saw Hobi who told her Yoongi had just left. Hoping she wasn’t too late, she ran back outside where she saw him across the few rows of cars. Running and jumping into his arms the way she did wasn’t planned but she felt something take over her legs and she couldn’t stop.

“I’m glad I caught you,” she says breathing a sigh of relief. “Hobi told me you had just left so I thought I was too late.”

“No,” he smiles giving her a light squeeze. “You’re right on time. Did you come here looking for me?”

“Well,” she looks up at him with a soft smile. “I wanted to make sure my first kiss of the year was with you, not on set with In-woo.” She lifts herself on her toes and links her lips with his.

How does this feel so brand new to him? They’ve kissed many times, but for some reason today means the most to him. No amount of fireworks can compare to the sparks lighting up between them. He thought he was about to crumble, but he once again finds safety in her impeccable timing. He wants to take advantage of this moment together.

“Do you have a little time?” He asks. “We don’t have to go anywhere or anything, we can just sit in my car and talk if you want.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I have time.”

Hyeri follows Yoongi to his car where they both instinctively get in the backseat. This isn’t the first time they’ve taken refuge in a car just for a moment alone, but it definitely takes them back to the early days of their relationship. There’s a nostalgia to the way they cuddle close to each other while remaining vigilant for anyone who may walk by and see them.

“I miss you,” Yoongi smiles with relief. “You have no idea how much I needed you right now.”

“You look like you need some sleep,” she says noticing the way he looks exhausted and distressed.

“I was having a hard time in there,” he admits. “I was fine at first, but then I don’t know what happened it just felt like the walls were suddenly closing in so I left.”

“You made the right choice,” she smiles. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, babe.” He pulls her closer into his body feeling a sense of accomplishment from hearing her praise. “You look so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she blushes. Even after 3 and a half years together she still gets shy whenever he compliments her.

“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to start over from when we first started dating,” he jokes. “When did you get so shy around me?” He strokes her chin pulling an even bigger sheepish smile from her.

“I’m not,” she giggles.

“Really?” He giggles playfully mocking her and making her laugh.

“Hush.” She playfully pushes him then immediately leans back into his chest.

“If you say so,” he smiles kissing her forehead. Then he lifts her chin and kisses her lips. He feels like he’s being overcome by a strong current of pure comfort. Coming from what became a stressful challenge for him inside, this comfort feels ten times stronger in this moment.

Hyeri loves the feeling. The butterflies that flutter wildly within her gives her a rush she hasn’t felt in so long. She doesn’t want to get out of his car anytime soon, but it’s already nearly 3 am. Still, she stays attached to his lips with her arms clutching around his torso hoping time will be kind, but it’s not and Yoongi is aware of this too. Perhaps more than she does, he wants nothing more than to stay attached to her, especially after the mild panic he was experiencing right before she came running towards him.

“Hyeri,” he whispers almost freezing at the sight of her looking much too good to let go. “Come home with me.”

“Yoongi,” she starts. “You know-“

“I know,” he interrupts. “I’m not asking you to stay if you’re not ready, but just for tonight? Will you stay the night with me?”

“Just the night?”

“If you want,” he nods.

Hyeri feels so stupid suddenly. She thought Yoongi would beg and plead the way he did on Christmas, but ever since she explained her feelings and reasoning why she didn’t want to go home yet, he hasn’t tried to press her. Her initial thought was that he was asking her to come home to stay, but she should have known better than to think he would try pressuring her. She feels stupid for even doing this in the first place, of course she wants to stay the night with him. She wants to spend every night with him.

“Ok,” she smiles and nods. “Just for the night.”

Yoongi’s face lights up and he gives her another kiss. They both jump out of the car with Yoongi getting in the driver’s seat and Hyeri heading towards her car. The entire way home Yoongi can’t stop smiling. He’s filled with so much excitement to have Hyeri come home even if it’s just for one night. He made it through the night without having a drink and he’s getting to spend a little time with Hyeri, he couldn’t be happier right now.

When they arrive, Hyeri immediately goes to the bathroom to undress and get ready for bed. Out of pure habit she tosses her dress aside, throws on one of Yoongi’s t-shirts, and returns to him waiting for her in bed. They’ve both had a long and tiring day, so without saying much they cuddle close, kiss goodnight, then drift off to sleep under the blanket of each other’s arms.

When Yoongi wakes up the next day, Hyeri is still sleeping soundly next to him. All he can do is lay there a while and smile at a sight he’s missed for weeks. He isn’t sure if she’s missed him the way he’s missed her, but he hopes she stays home for good after this. It’s been quiet and lonely at home and seeing her things still there made him long for her more. He hasn’t felt so refreshed in the morning since she left, although right now it’s more like early afternoon. Regardless, he knows she loves waking up to a good meal, so he reluctantly slides out of bed to go to the kitchen and make brunch.

Things have been busy lately so Yoongi hasn’t done much cooking, but thankfully he always has some pork belly, eggs, and veggies on hand. He cooks everything up nicely just the way Hyeri likes, and as usual it summons her out of her sleep and into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she says shuffling up to him to see what he’s making.

“Afternoon,” he smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” she smiles back. She’s not going to say how she hasn’t slept so good in a long time, but she’s certainly having a hard time convincing herself that she still needs a bit more time. “I think my body is starting to feel the effects of being on my feet all night though.”

“Sit,” he points to the chair. “Just relax.” He turns off the stove and plates his creation before placing it in front of her. He then grabs a couple of bottles of citrus tea out of the fridge and takes a seat next to her.

“Thanks,” she says taking a bite of pork belly.

The two indulge in a mostly quiet lunch, though it’s not awkward at all. They’ve had many silent meals because they’re just that comfortable with each other. They don’t always need to say anything to enjoy each other’s company, it’s a comfortable silence they didn’t realize they had missed so much.

After their meal they relocate to the couch where Yoongi begins massaging Hyeri’s feet as she lounges across the couch with her feet in his lap. It’s become a bit of a routine on the days they have free time together, Yoongi can always sense when Hyeri needs a massage on any part of her body and he spends the day trying to take her every ache away.

“I can’t believe I got you the best foot massager I could find yet I’m still massaging your feet by hand,” Yoongi jokes.

“No one is making you rub my feet,” Hyeri laughs.

“That’s true,” he says stopping his hand movements and moving her feet aside.

“Oh,” she pouts.

“Where’s your foot massager,” he teases almost melting at her adorable pout.

“Haeun is probably using it right now,” she laughs. Haeun has spent the better part of the last week trying to take the lavish piece of relaxation off of Hyeri’s hands. Hyeri agreed to let Haeun use it as rent payment for her time staying there but made it clear she was taking it when she leaves.

“Haeun?” Yoongi tilts his head with a brow raised.

“Yeah…..” she hesitates. Secret is out now, though part of her doesn’t even care anymore because she’s thinking she may stay home for good now. Maybe.

“You hate me that much that you didn’t want to tell me you were staying with your best friend?”

“It’s not that, I just…” Hyeri sits upright bringing her feet down to the floor. “I knew you would try to find me and at the time I left I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want to see or talk to you or think about you. When I saw all of the people outside with their cameras I was even more upset, especially since they got photos of me leaving and I just don’t want to have to deal with that right now. So no, I didn’t want you to know I was staying with Haeun. I didn’t want you, or the media, or any other crazy person trying to follow you find me and have my name thrown across the internet again. You did more than just betray my trust, Yoongi. You caused me a lot of hurt in so many ways and I don’t even know what I did to deserve it.”

“You didn’t,” he shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve anything I put you through and I’ll regret it til the day I die. I know this all started because I was upset with you, but you did absolutely nothing to deserve everything I did. I wasn’t myself, Hyeri, and I know that’s not an excuse, I just couldn’t get control of myself. If I hadn’t been so seriously fucked up all of the time I would have never cheated on you. Never in my right fucking mind would I have done that.”

“I believe you, but I still can’t trust you. I never once thought that you weren’t sorry for what you’ve done. When I first confronted you I thought you would lie straight to my face, but you told me the truth when you could’ve easily fed me any bullshit story.”

“I couldn’t lie to you,” he says. “That would have only made me feel worse…how did you know what the truth was?” He tilts his head and raises a brow in suspicion. “Did one of the guys tell you? It was Namjoon wasn’t it?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “You told me. That night Jin carried your drunk ass home, you kept talking and talking. You said a lot because you thought you were talking to Jin, but even after he left you didn’t even realize it was me you were talking to. I was so upset, and even more the next morning when I saw you. I was ready to leave that day if you were to lie to me. I was in the guest room that entire night mentally preparing myself to pack my shit and leave. Then you admitted everything to me and I wasn’t sure what to do. I was so sure you’d lie that I never thought of what to do next if you didn’t.”

Yoongi sits silently trying to recall any memory from the night of their end of tour dinner. The only thing he remembers is drinking that entire day and waking up with the worst hangover the next morning. He shakes his head hating the thought of how bad he was that night.

“It’s ok,” Hyeri assures. “I didn’t know what to do then, but I think I finally know what I want to do now.”

“What’s that?” Yoongi asks.

“I want to stay,” she admits.

“Stay?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Rebuilding trust is going to take time, and I know it won’t be easy, but I still want to work on it. I want to stay and work through this with you.”

“Stay?” He asks again.

“I have to be on set early tomorrow, but I’ll get my things from Haeun’s place and come here after I’m done shooting.” She reaches up to stroke his cheek which pulls out his biggest gummy smile.

Yoongi feels like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear her say those words. Someone could come steal every single one of his possessions and it wouldn’t be able to wipe the smile off his face. He won’t fuck this up again.

[broken-clover]

19- Bows

Wow, it's amazing how much less you want to kill everything when you get a decent nights' sleep...not that it seems to have helped with my posting schedule thought, heh.

Milphelt time! Another thing that I'm surprised took me so long to get to.

-

“Uh, I guess this one’s pretty…?”

She turned over the price tag and winced. “Maybe not that pretty.”

“How many times do I have to remind you?” A teasing elbow prodded her side. “Don’t worry about a budget! Mr. Kiske said we could get whatever we wanted!”

“I know, I know.” Still, her mouth pursed into a crooked line.

“Millia…”

A hand patted her shoulder. When she looked up, a stuffed bush dog was staring her in the face.

With a very unflattering noise, she recoiled back and started to laugh. “Elphelt! Don’t startle me like that!”

“Aww, it startled you?” A pink-framed face poked out from behind it, grinning with glee. “I was just trying to be silly! But I guess it distracted you at least, huh?” She adjusted the shoulder strap on her purse, letting the toy dangle by her hip. One hand pointed down the hall. “If you’re not feeling anything here, wanna try the next section? They might have something you like better over there!”

Millia offered a half shrug. “Worth a try. Are you sure you didn’t want to put any of the ones in here?”

She let herself be pushed along as Elphelt nudged her in the direction of the next set of displays. The girl’s chunky baby-pink heels clunked against the carpet with every step. “Nope! I’ll do it later! Let’s find something for you first, okay?”

Even if she didn’t really understand, she could still entertain the idea. The two of them were flocked on either side by satin, lace, and sheer chiffon, not even mentioning the absurd amount of ribbons and bows on every surface. Millia didn’t know when the last time was that she’d even gone dress-shopping, which only made looking through the higher-end sections more daunting. Elphelt, at least, was exactly in her element, looking over the bridal gowns with an incomparable look of glee.

“Oooooh, oh oh oh look at that one!” They stopped in front of a fluffy-skirted ensemble with a large bow on the back. “That’d look super cute, wouldn’t it?”

Millia had no strong feelings other than confusion. Still, she pulled it off the rack. “I guess. Want me to try it on?”

“Yes! Oh, yesyesyes let’s go put it on right now!”

If nothing else, Elphelt offered emotional support in abundance. The same went for clothing assistance. One thing she’d started to figure out was that wedding dresses tended to be incredibly complicated to put on. She didn’t have any idea how people were supposed to put them on by themselves, between the zips and the ties and the ribbons, it had to be too much for any one person to handle.

El hung the dress on the changing room’s hook while she undressed from her street clothes. Compared to her partner's abundance of cute, playful accessories, her own winter peacoat looked rather drab in comparison. Millia shed it in a heap along one of the room’s chairs and got to work on the buttons of her blouse.

She realized that Elphelt was staring. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh. Uh,” sheepish, the girl sat down and looked elsewhere. “Sorry. I know we’ve been together a while, I just still get distracted looking at you sometimes. I-I can give you some privacy, lemme know when you’re done!”

Something about that made Millia chuckle to herself. “I’m going to need you to help me get it on, anyway. It’s fine.”

“Right. Right!” She immediately scurried over with the dress in her arms. Then it was just a matter of undoing all the zips, stepping inside, trying to slip it on, realizing the zip wasn’t down all the way, undoing the ribbon they had missed…

“Hehe, I guess I’m starting to get why you don’t wear these all that much. Some of these are really hard!”

“I’ll admit, I was never really all that into dresses. Not in a long time, at least…” She turned in the mirror, looking over her shoulder. “They’re not the most practical. If they’re tight, it’s hard to kick.”

Elphelt nodded, fiddling with one of the bows. “Yeah, that one I get. That’s why I like my skirts all floofy! Lets me move around a lot more!”

“Goodness knows I’ve seen plenty of that. I still don’t know if I’ll ever understand how you can fight in heels.”

“It’s all a matter of practice! And good balance! Apparently it’s a good calf workout, I can kick my shoe off all the way across the courtyard!” Her cheeks pinkened a bit. “Which…which I absolutely found out on purpose.”

“Oh?” Millia tilted her head, giving mirror-Elphelt a teasing little look. “As much as I prefer flats, if they’re useful as a weapon, I might have to try them out sometime.”

She could tell that the girl was trying to feign confidence, as it was incredibly cute. “D-definitely! And I think it’d look good on you! So, um, what do you think of the dress you picked out?”

As much as she hoped that she’d immediately be blown away by the sight of herself in the mirror, it was barely a slight breeze. Even when she turned around, the only part that stood out was the large bow on the back. How strange that something so difficult to put on could still feel so bland.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I like it,” she replied, hesitant.

Elphelt simply gave her an understanding smile “No worries! We’ve still got months! We can try on as many dresses as we want. Your perfect outfit has gotta be somewhere, we'll just have to find it!”

[silentmassacres]

tue, nov 19

there came a time in which the length i was so far ahead of people became shorter. even those either behind or equal to me came to have an easier time with the things i'd prided myself in, or things i needed desperately, yet couldn't reach. it's become so easy to surpass me.

and so, i feel the need to make up for it. even if not a soul listens to me, i can pride myself in certain aspects. of course, these aspects just set me apart more, but they always have.

it's harder now. and, unfortunately, the aspects that push me ahead are seldom noticed. when there's little recognition of the things that i can do well, then we go back to the feeling of being behind.

it makes me bitter, which is awful, of course. but when it feels as though i'm looked down upon constantly, it almost feels justified. "if you look down upon me, then i'll switch those roles" kind of thinking.

—

i do get. worried, with my emotional issues. those around me get it, i've made sure of that, but i can't help but wonder what that implies for my relationship. i'm not an outwardly emotional person, including affection, and i know that's bad. it's subjective, i guess, but in this situation, it is a bad thing.

i don't mind my emotional processing. i prefer it and i don't want to force myself into the unknown for the sake of being more. palatable, or something. that's the part that worries me — how much will i, or both of us, have to change to function together?

maybe therapy will help. maybe somebody will tell me the key to not being deeply traumatized and behaving normally in a relationship. the hard part is accessing therapy. i might start fighting for it again

—

i hate discussing trauma. in personal contexts, at least; if it's detached, then i feel less connected to the conversation.

but discussing trauma is like discussing any other issue, and when aid is based off of who listens, then it tends to get to you when nobody does.

and, of course, it tends to come down to whoever screams the loudest. but sometimes that's not it, sometimes it's just chance or severity. i hate thinking about severity.

i know what i've been through is bad, yet i can't help but feel like maybe i'm just dialing it up for. pity, or something. this thought process often goes hand in hand with straight up denial — if it wasn't a severe experience like anybody else, was it even bad at all?

i still do question it. i know that the brain is able to freak out over things that aren't real or that bad, so i have to wonder if that's the case. sometimes i wonder if pretending i have no trauma at all would be easier. or less, at least.

i think it'd make me look bad. there's a reasoning for my more unsavory behaviors, be it mental illness or trauma. if those go away, then there is no reasoning — i'm just broken, or evil, or something irredeemable altogether.

—

i've been somewhat vocal about my worsening state. it's a warning sign, really, to tell others that i'm not being malicious but instead can't find any energy to do anything.

it induces worry, i know that much. i wish i could talk about the extent of it, but i don't want to induce. that much worry.

i worry i may fall into disordered eating again. social media algorithms have been seeking me out and it's making me consider it. i don't know what happened to my discipline; maybe i could do it again, if i build up to it.

but i'm horribly depressed. and when i'm snacking to cope, that only leaves me starving and miserable. i wasn't miserable over the summer, not because of it.

—

i'm scared about the self harm thing too. i wish i could say i know better, but it really is a slippery slope. i don't want to get rid of my blades, partially because i use them for multiple things, but it gets hard trying to distract myself sometimes.

i got really scared that night, when the blood wouldn't stop. it hasn't even scarred yet, though it is decently healed, and i find myself wanting more. that scares me.

i feel like i'm 14 again, trying not to make cutting myself into a daily habit. nobody noticed before, i don't see why this would be much different.

[goombasa]

Writer's Block Sucks

So this is going to be an interesting experience, writing a blog post about writer's block while suffering from some level of writer's block, but hey, maybe it'll help.

I think one of the things I hate most about Writer's Block is the fact that it's a fairly nebulous descriptor. Yes, it basically describes the phenomenon where someone who writes, or wants to write, just cannot bring themselves to do so. But the cause(s) of said block can be… anything really. And it can last for any amount of time. I've had times where writer's block has lasted for only a few hours because I just couldn't find a decent adjective to describe whatever scene I was writing at the time, while some days I just sit down at my computer and nothing wants to spill out of my mind for no particular  reason, and then that state can continue onward for an untold amount of time. I think most writers have had at least one major stint of writer's block where you couldn't even look at your manuscript for, like, a month.

It can be even more aggressive too, lasting upwards of multiple months or even years, and there isn't really a catch-all cure for it, because the causes can be so different. Emotional states can kill your enthusiasm for a story, you can easily end up distracting yourself if you're the sort who suffers from AD(H)D or some forms of autism, and sometimes imposter syndrome will just take hold and not let go, preventing you from doing anything creative.

Sometimes the ideas just don't come. Sometimes they do, but you can't articulate them. Sometimes they're there, but you just don't have the energy. Not every form of writer's block is due to any verifiable external services. Sometimes you just don't feel it and sometimes life just sucks.

There's also the fact that writer's block can take other forms. The one that everyone's familiar with is the one where you just can't really write anything, you can't sit down and bang out anything at all. But I think one of the more insidious ones, one that I find myself suffering from more often, is one where I can write, but everything I write doesn't feel like it's my best. I've already had issues with cutting myself slack in the past, and so I'm prone to the idea of just tossing something out or stopping working on it entirely because I have trouble saying to myself, ‘eh, it's good enough.' For the longest time, it needs to be perfect the first go-round, and as you can imagine, that leads to a lot of wasted potential when I inevitably sit down to edit or revise a piece I've been working on, I get a decent amount into it, and then I just get frustrated because I have so much difficulty changing things that I know need to be changed.

Now, I can't offer solutions that work for everyone, as just like writing itself, I believe that everyone has their own way of going about it, but something that has helped me immensely, at least when it comes to that second sort of writer's block, is writing this blog. I don't know if y'all have noticed, but this blog and the posts I make aren't super deeply thought out, and their length and quality varies wildly from week to week, and the reason for that is because most of them are just stream-of-consciousness talking points about whatever topic happens to pique my interest that week. It's fast and loose and mostly going off of opinion (though I try my best not to state anything has a hard fact if I can help it unless I'm sure that it is; my last intention is to spread any sort of misinformation), and isn't meant to be any sort of deep statement on anything. It's basically just me doing what blogs were used for way back when, just sharing the odd, random thoughts that I have from week to week. The fact that it isn't anything that's really planned out or deeply researched, beyond the surface facts that I need when discussing certain things, I basically just sit down and bang out a post in an afternoon.

It's the furthest thing from fine writing you could imagine, but it is something that I wrote, from beginning to end, and while it's not amazing, it is something that I can take pride in. I get my thoughts down on paper, in a sloppy way, but I let it spill out onto the page, and it allows me to write. And that's what keeps me motivated. Because even if I have difficulty working on a more formal project that I have going at the time, the fact that I can still write something at all, I think, is an accomplishment. It keeps me from getting rusty, and keeps my creative juices flowing.

I can't say that this will help everyone who suffers from this, but my own way of treating it is… just to write. Writer's block, for me, often keeps me from working on specific things, usually my more serious attempts at storytelling, but just sitting down and banging out something quick and short, and non-committal, even if it isn't anything I plan on sharing with others or showing to anyone. My cure for my own writer's block is just to write, force out something small, keep myself in practice, and weirdly it works. It makes it so much easier to return to things that I consider to be much more in-depth projects and manuscripts. You can no doubt tell that this post is pretty scattered and doesn't have a lot of cohesion, and that's basically the point; it's a post meant to share thoughts and feelings and get something down on paper, keep my skills sharp, and hopefully start a conversation with those reading this.

And speaking of, I would love to hear what you all have to say. How do you deal with writer's block, and how often do you suffer from it? What sort of projects do you find it affecting the most? Let me know, I'm eager to hear more thoughts on this.

[009720kakashi]

medikits

It was strange, once Kira stopped to process the tragedy with the more logical side of her. She had to agree that it was odd. "If I'd wanted to run, I could have done it the moment I saw who you were. I've not been uncatchable for this long without good reason..." She mentioned. "Whatever reasoning I had for committing the atrocities that I have... could not have been anything of a sound mind. It just... it doesn't make sense." She sighed. Part of her did want to run now, but only so she could find a nice corner somewhere and end things once and for all. However, she knew Taberu would never allow it and considering that they shared chakra with one another, he must know how she's feeling right now. Even if she wanted to summon him to snatch her up and tunnel her away, she knew he wouldn't. Ironically, now she was safest under the careful watch of an ANBU shinobi. Kira wasn't phased by the two dogs, nor did she expect them to be friendly. She faded into some in-between of the shell of a person she'd had to be to survive Orochimaru, and the kind girl who didn't want to cause trouble. "I won't." She said simply. Petting them hadn't really even crossed her mind. She didn't feel that she deserved to touch the ground she sat on, as it was. Though, she was surprised to see him loosen the ties on her ankles and help her up. "I can walk just fine." She said softly, and as she moved with him, she thought carefully. Tried so hard to come up with any shred of a reasoning behind what happened. She didn't feel safe within her own self, but she at least wanted to know what happened. Why it happened. It was just... that she didn't often try to think back to those unpleasant memories. But she had plenty of time to think as they ran back to Konoha, a little too much quiet to be able to distract herself the way she usually would. All I can remember is going to that tree... and then... something... came up. What was it though? Didn't he... used to... scare me with those... those things? About halfway there, she needed to rest. "Just one second please." Kira said, then stopped her stride to catch her breath a bit. She was fine physically but somehow the emotional day had made her have less endurance than usual. "I'm going to sit up there for a sec." She informed, pointing up. She pooled her chakra to her feet and walked up a tree then sat on the tree branch. She was able to see Konoha from here. Big on the horizon. She was almost back home and... she was terrified and excited all at once. After a few moments of letting the moment sink in she said, "Kakashi?" Then paused a moment for him to answer before she'd continue either way. "Have you ever... wondered if you were as good of a person as you wamnted to be? As you... hoped you were?" Part of her was expecting him not to answer at all, or maybe to just tell her that he never questioned it because he'd never done anything like she had apparently done. But she wasn't looking for anything specific. Wasn't asking for assurance or seeking hope. She was just asking a question, from one human to another, and wondering if her experience was solely because of her fragmented life story, or not. Whatever the answer was, she'd be glad to hear it, if only to know whatever his perspective was on the matter.

It did not. There was no merit in burning down a village. Just rage. Which of course was an issue on its own. She could not lose herself in rage like that if that was what had happened.

“I’m inclined to agree” he said but it did not change anything.

“As I said Konoha has decent medics. They sure can find out what is happening to you.” Well the medics or interrogation guys but he left them out. No need to bring it up specifically. The situation was tensed enough as it was. 

She withdrew into herself, seemed brooding. He let her the space she needed. There was no need to inquire further. Apparently she did not know what had happened. Somehow he did not even doubt that. The thing was, it did not really make it better. It could happen again without warning after all. 

They made good time. Just when they were already half there she requested a rest. Kakashi stopped and offered her the bottle of water first, before drinking himself. He look up, then nodded. The dogs kept an eye on her while Kakashi sat down under the tree next to the one she was sitting on. He took out his book and started reading. 

Even though he heard the question, he stayed silent for a considerable amount of time. 

“No” he said then, without looking up. He had not. Because the answer was very clear was it not?

“I’m a killer Kira. My path has always been that of a Shinobi. That does not coincide well with being a good person ne?”

A Mission for the Lost - RP

@009720kakashi

Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood up from his seated position behind his desk after he’d summoned the ANBU Captain Hatake, Kakashi to his office. Walking around to the front of the desk, he looked over to the door to ensure that it was shut from any prying eyes or ears before he spoke.

“I regret that I don’t have more time to check in with you, considering all that you do for the village, but I have a pressing mission that I can only entrust to you. This is a S-rank mission and yet I can only send you alone, which I will explain in a moment.” He said, sighing for a moment as he looked towards the window, which was closed off with blinds, then he looked back at the masked shinobi.

“I’ve kept information about this individual to a minimum thus far, but as new revelations have surfaced, I cannot allow their rot to spread into our village and endanger our people now knowing what form it takes. You are being tasked with the retrieval of a woman named Kitsune Kira. I will give you a picture of her likeness, although our only reference is from when she was just a child, in which she always wore a mask and cloak. Her eyes will likely be the most telling feature if you come across her.” Sarutobi explained, now handing the scroll of information to Kakashi, and the picture along with it. In said picture, was a nervous looking girl, clasping her small hands together in front of her with bright blue eyes and a short ponytail kept high with bangs framing her face despite a slate grey mask covering half of it and her hood hiding much of her hair besides a few clues of the style she wore.

“I assume you don’t remember her, but she attended academy during your years there as well.” Sarutobi didn’t go much more into detail on that topic, knowing it would likely not matter anyway. Instead, he continued on with the intel. 

“It was long suspected that she murdered her parents before abandoning the Leaf Village at the age of nine. Suspected, though not confirmed. Considering she had not been heard or seen again, even after several tracking-nin were sent after her, I thought it might be possible that she ran off and took her own life after finding her parents dead. That is, until recent reports were brought forth. I didn’t know her well, but from the word of her teammates and squad leader, she was a gentle girl.” Sarutobi said, recalling the many testimonies to vouch for her, only to slowly turn into rumors instead when enough time had passed. “You are the first one to know this besides myself and a select few others, but her abilities of regeneration were the result of an experiment conducted by Orochimaru with her mother’s approval when she was not yet born. In theory, Kira is a living anomaly, as she was not expected to survive long enough to be born alive. The only prevailing theory about why she might have done such a heinous thing is that it’s possible Kira found out about the nature of her existence and something inside her broke.” As Sarutobi paused his speech, the air weighed heavy before he continued his briefing. “The woman is clever, if rumors prove true. Therefore, I do not want to send out a squad, it will attract too much attention. Not just that, but you’re one of the best tracking ninja the ANBU has, so I feel as though sending you alone should be enough to finish this.” He said, but there was a hesitance in his eyes as he was about to say his next statement, but it disappeared a moment later as he looked at the masked ninja.

“I need you to track down this ghost of Konoha’s past and put an end to it. I prefer that you bring her back alive once you find her, but if that proves to be an impossibility, then I will need you to bring back her body instead.” After a pause, he continued. “You may set out as soon as you are ready.”

[thearchivistsjournal]

Day 208,

It seems that Maiko walking with me to the Village in the morning is becoming a regular occurrence, and not an unwelcome one.  It’s funny, a few weeks ago I might have rankled at the hovering protection - or at least, I might have interpreted it that way - but I don’t think that's what this is.  We didn’t say much on the way, but it can be nice just to be with someone.  There’s something special about mere physical proximity to someone friendly and familiar.  And sure, the two of us are both content to go for whole days without seeing anyone else (well, I used to be anyway, and I think I’m slowly recovering enough to get there again), it’s a balance one needs to find for themself.  It’s another aspect in what I mentioned before about talking to Maiko being like talking to myself.

I spent the morning working on restorations.  Well, duplication, more like.  One of the older archival records was getting fragile so I’m making a copy.  Figured it would be decent practice for copying Iole’s book as well.  Although if it has illustrations I’m less sure how to handle those.  Trace them maybe?

As I was taking a break for lunch Lin arrived, bags under her eyes and missing the usual spring in her step.  When I asked what happened she told me she’d been up through the night helping her father deliver a baby.  She said she hoped I didn’t mind that she took a nap for a few hours before coming to report it for me to add to the records.

I assured her that of course I didn’t and started pulling over a chair for her and telling her to help herself to the food while I grabbed the current record book.  She accepted in that way that you do when you’re too exhausted to object to any suggestion that comes your way.

One official birth record later (which I may need her to double-check and amend sometime when she’s more lucid) I pointed out how beat she looked and offered up the archive’s bed.  She declined, said she had her own bed and didn’t want to impose, stood up, grabbed the chairback to steady herself, and changed her mind.

As we walked over to the alcove and opened it she mumbled something about probably sleeping better here than at her parents’ anyway.  

I didn’t pry for elaboration on that one.

I’m done with my lunch now and I’ll be getting back to that restoration work here shortly until she wakes up.  As much as I’d like to talk to her about the sarcophagus and maybe even ask for advice about Cass, I know the deliveries are hard on her so this probably isn’t a good time.  Maybe she’d like to hear about the boat updates though.

*******

I was packing up to leave for the evening when Lin re-emerged.  I think she put two and two together when she saw me thus because she started apologizing for sleeping there so long.  I gave my best attempt at a good-natured-and-not-condescending chuckle and assured her it was fine.  Way I see it, if someone sleeps that long in the middle of the day it means they really needed it.  

I closed up for the evening and we walked together a bit until the point where we would have gone separate ways.  With a hesitancy that I wish I could be over by now, I extended an offer to (continue her) crash at my place (“our place” with Maiko there as much as I am?).

She said that she’d been planning on heading to Siren Overlook, but an evening with friends beats out weird magic mood music any day.

I wonder if that’s why I never see anyone else up there? Because everyone else has healthy emotional support networks.

Not that I had much time for that line of introspection at the time.  I was too distracted by Lin abruptly turning and taking off toward the road out of town.  As I scrambled to catch up with her I asked if she needed anything from her house.  She slowed down, perhaps realizing I was having trouble keeping up, and said that she probably did and would probably regret it in the morning but she really didn’t feel like going back right now.

Another statement I’m very carefully not unpacking.

Maiko and Lin were both pleasantly surprised to see that we’d be a trio and not a duo for our walk back once the former emerged from her hiding spot in the tree line.  Made for a livelier than normal walk back.  At one point Lin made a comment about it being a nice evening and the trees and undergrowth being pretty.  It took me aback somewhat, but she was right.  Strange how that which I’d found so beautiful when I’d first arrived barely even registered to me anymore until someone actually said something causing me to really look once more.  The curse of familiarity I suppose.  It’s the same with people too, I think.  Not just appearance but personality, behavior, mind, spirit, whatever you wish to call it.  Spend enough time around an amazing person and they can seem mundane to the point where you start to lose your appreciation for them without realizing it.  Don’t know if that’s better or worse than the alternative of being too enamored forever so that you lose sight of the imperfections that make them a person and not an abstract ideal in your head.

Or at least, that was my own train of thought as I went from watching the trees to watching my companions talk with one another as we walked.  Once again I found myself thinking that I was lucky to have such friends, and for once it was without the undercurrent of feeling undeserving.  Or at least it was until I realized I wasn’t feeling that way, which brought it back, but I was able to consciously silence that voice with some effort.

Once we got back I did manage to pull Maiko aside and let her know that I hadn’t told Lin anything catacomb related yet.  That she’d been not feeling so great after the baby delivery (and maybe some issues with her parents?) so I didn’t want to drop another serious topic on her tonight.  Maybe tomorrow though.  In the meantime though, we did fill Lin in on boat-related updates and talked more about plans for that upcoming outing, which she seemed to be looking forward to about as much as we were.  Lin also brought up the prospect of another overnight trip to the lake of stars while we waited for the boat to finish.  Could be fun.

<==Previous          Next==>

[jungkxook]

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. ���Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[michelle-is-writing]

Family Matters, Greg House

Word count: 1.7k~

In the time I’ve worked at Princeton-Plainsboro teaching hospital, some might say I'm the bubbly doctor in our group. Although I don’t know how true this might be, I do know everyone can agree I'm definitely more bubbly than doctor Gregory House, but that's for another day to discuss. I'm usually the one people send in to try and cheer up patients. Because of this, I mostly work in the pediatrics ward where young, sick children are. Sometimes, I have an easy time talking to the kids and making them happier, and sometimes, I don't; usually, when I'm upset, I have a hard time.

Right now, I'm having a very difficult time.

A young New Jersey girl at the age of 11 had developed mastoiditis, an infection that affects the mastoid bone above the ear and is typically caused by a middle ear infection. Usually, this all clears up, but sadly, this infection had grown to be so bad that the girl ended up with only twenty-three percent of her hearing left in the one ear. Although this is the case, I'm not having a hard time because of the girl's loss of hearing, no.

I have my own problems at the moment.

Since I'm working in the children's ward, I don't get to see Wilson or Greg as much as I want to. Despite Greg's tendency to be an asshole, he's still my best friend and not to mention that Wilson is the kind of guy anyone can talk to about anything. However, our schedules are all different, so, as I said: we don't get to see each other that often.

At least they're still in my life though. For my family, I can’t say the same. Recently, I've just lost the closest person to me in my family; although it wasn’t through death, but through immaturity and childishness. Because of this, all of my other family members have closed me out as well, causing me to be alone. With all of my friends busy and my family shutting me out, I have no one to talk to or enjoy time with... no one. I can't even get a boyfriend for Christ's sake, and it's not like the guy I have my eyes on actually likes me back. Greg is the type of guy you can easily fall in love with, yet at the same, you really shouldn't.

"Doctor (y/n)," the young girl by the name of Jessie states. Putting all my focus back on her, I remind myself not become distracted anymore today. This isn’t the first time, unfortunately. "Will my hearing ever return?"

I smile sadly at her and shake my head. "I'm sorry, Jessie," I tell her. "Your hearing in that ear won't return, but it's not a bad thing!" I assure her. She smiles in relief. "We can always get you a hearing aid, and that will help get your hearing back to normal again, but the wait might be a little long," I explain. "Is that okay with you?"

She nods her head at my question. "I'm okay with that, doctor (Y/n)," Jessie tells me, "I'll have my family help me until then," she smiles brightly. "You can always look up to your family, right?" She states, confident in her words.

Tears slowly rising to my eyes at the thought, I nod and quickly blink them away. "That's right," I tell her, still smiling. "And don't you ever forget it," looking toward her parents, I nod my head. "The discharge nurse will be here in a few moments with the papers. If you'll excuse me..."

Without another word, I quickly leave the room and walk as fast as I can to the nearest empty room. I prefer going to James’ office instead, but it's two floors away, and I don't want any awkward elevator trips. So, before I have a mental breakdown in the middle of the hallway, I find an unlocked janitorial closet before walking in and closing the door behind me, ultimately sliding down the hardwood door once it's shut.

Sitting on the cold, tile floor, I begin sobbing as quiet as I can, my hand covering my mouth. I already had my family drama on my mind all day, but for that girl to unintentionally throw it back in my face? That was the frosting on top of the already leaning, three-layer cake.

Tears stream down my cheeks like raindrops as I cry my heart out. I can tell my cheeks are red by the sensation of heat I currently feel on them; my hands feel it too. I'm crying so hard my chest begins to heave up and down as if I were having a panic attack. Oh God, I can't have a panic attack. Not here, not now.

Behind me, I feel two knocks on the door, causing me to halt. The only problem is: the knock wasn't above me, it was where my back is against the door. Remind you, I'm currently sitting on the floor. The only way someone can knock that low is if there is a midget behind the door there or someone used something like a cane... it's Greg.

Slowly moving up a little, I shakily open the door and let the grey haired man in, watching as he looks at me with pity. I've never seen the confident doctor House look like this with anyone. It's like a... a totally different Greg.

Sitting down beside me against the door, Greg drops his cane beside him as he sighs and wraps his arm around me before gently tugging my body close to his. Shocked, I tense up, tears no longer pouring out of my eyes. Greg never comforts anyone like this. He always makes fun of them or says something that many people take offense to, but he never... he never cares. He always brushes it off his shoulder, yet for some reason, he seems like he actually cares this time.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his voice deep as usual with no emotion.

I wait a few seconds before lying. "Nothing important," I tell him, my voice wavering from my scattered emotions.

Pulling me back to face him, Greg looks me in the eye before sighing again. "I know you've been crying by the wet tears on your cheeks, slight puffiness, and redness to your eyes, and fast-paced breathing - and I don’t even have to be a doctor to notice that," he breaks down my current state, lifting an eyebrow. "Now, are you going to begrudgingly tell me what's wrong or do I need to stay in here with you until you finally give in to all my unrelenting sexiness."

His comment makes me laugh, causing a grimace of a smile to fall on House's lips. Out of all of us, I've been the only one to do that. I've been the only one to break Greg's stone exterior and interior. Plus, It doesn't help that I like Greg romantically. I like the fact that he's confident and witty; he's not afraid to be himself. Although, he can still be quite an ass to others, but to me, he’s always been nothing but kind. Even when I first started working here, he was still patient and sweet - a rare sight to everyone else. It used to hurt me to think he’ll never feel the same way as me, but I’ve gotten so used to that fact that it doesn’t even bother me anymore.

"It's just... my family," I explain, Greg pushing my head back onto his shoulder as he holds me. At this point, I'm not shocked by anything he does. The infamous doctor could be high for all I know. He probably took a few Vicodin tablets before coming down here now that I think of it.

"They've completely... shut me out," I explain, shrugging as I rest my hand on his shoulder. "They never talk to me anymore, they've blocked me in any way of even trying to talk to them. My cousin just sent me an email last night telling me that I didn't need to contact them anymore as they no longer wanted me in their lives," I close my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Plus, I wish I could work with you guys again," I take a breath before saying the next thing. "I miss you."

A few seconds of silence pass before Greg leans down to my face level. Opening my eyes, I'm greeted by his own sapphire orbs, watching as he continually inches forward until his lips plant themselves on mine. Our eyes close at the same time in response to the touch of our lips, and they stay that way too. With my heart beating fast and a different fire in my cheeks, I instantly respond to his kiss while placing my hands on the sides of his face, feeling his hands attach themselves to my hips as I do so. We kiss until we have to breathe, both of us pulling apart simultaneously.

"They don't deserve you," Greg tells me, a little out of breath. "You are wonderful; a decent and kind human being, inside and out," he takes a small pause, flashing his blue eyes down to mine. "I never thought I’d say this, but… because of you, I think maybe not everyone is a horrible person and that maybe I can be a bit nicer a time or two," he then smiles at me, kissing me once more. "You have made me feel love believe it or not."

Smiling, I lean up to kiss his forehead before sitting back down and resting my head against his chest, my eyes cast upon him as he looks down at me. "You've also made me feel love," I confess to him, my voice shy. "I've grown to love you as well. You and your sarcastic comments and witty comebacks and your insults to apparent stupid people," for once, he laughs, making me grin. "I can't help but love it all."

After a few moments, Greg speaks up. "I know I can't be your entire family," he murmurs, holding me close. "But I can try to be your... your..." He draws on, clearly trying to come up with an appointed title for himself. After a few seconds, I giggle and cut him off.

"Boyfriend?" I ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I was going to say significant other," he argues, looking over to me. "The term boyfriend is so, well, childish," he complains, making me giggle.

Leaning closer, I peck his lips. "Good thing you have a childish mind," I tease him, pressing my lips to his one more time before he responds to my comment with something horrible or completely inappropriate. It is Doctor House we’re talking about, after all.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

[chiwhorei]

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬

paring: kenny ackerman x fem!reader

genre: apocalypse!au, smut, dark content, 18+ mdni [cross-posted to Ao3]

word count: 3k

overview: kenny *i-wouldn’t-fuck-you-if-it-was-the-end-of-the-world* ackerman; but it is and you do . . . and you’ll probably do it again. or, if you read beyond the cut and wind up in hell that is legally not my fault.

tags: dymph does sacrilege once again, post-apocalypse au, blood, violence, zombies (only mentions of gore nothing specific), somnophilia, noncon, dubcon, degradation, smoking, insertion, sloppy oral, big age gap aka kenny is a nasty old man and reader is a sweet little virgin.

a.notes: happy *fucking* easter. this is for the smut pile’s apocalypse collab so go give everyone’s pieces a read, everyone has worked so incredibly hard. this is dedicated to @pleasantanathema​, who was both my beta reader and emotional support while stringing this together. here’s to the old man fuckery, cheers.

hymn: the seven deadly virtues - camelot

But stay awake at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man. -Luke 21:36

                                      * * *

Wet.

A sticky kind of wet. Clinging on like thick clay, splattered across your neck— gore and sinew wrapped in a noose. Shades of decaying reds and browns are all you see these days. 

The seeping, molding kind of wet.

The smell is suffocating, the toll of death deep in your bones. You keep moving, you have to. One foot in front of the other, fingers fretting with the cross hanging between your collarbones. Counting your Hail Mary’s distracts from the ache in your soles and the burning feeling that you’re rotting away.

It was slow at first. The end of the world, the crashing, clattering end felt like a slow decent to hell. Pieces of the modern world falling away, the promise of tomorrow, the assurance of a cure. You refused to believe the dead could walk the earth until they were stumbling straight towards you. 

All of us, you think, are rotting away.

“Pick up the pace, kid. Are you trying to end up like the rest of those fuckers?” His voice rings from a few feet in front of you. The brush under your feet is dry, leaves crunching loudly with every weary step forward. 

Kenny always likes to remind you of your naïveté, insults about your rose tinted glasses barked crudely from around a cigarette. Your youth, your optimism, your beliefs-- useless traits in his opinion. What good is God in a world like this.

“Friends. They were our friends.” Your words come out in a whimper, the tone further irritating the man ahead of you.

He stops, turning around to catch your eyes, gaze piercing through the night like a knife. All that’s left of your composure is used to keep from crashing right into his chest.

“Ain’t no more room for friends in this world, baby doll,” a long pointer finger lifts your chin, the slightest touch still bruising, “thinkin’ like that is what’s going to get ya killed.”

Rose tinted glasses, cracked and splattered with blood, fall off and are lost to a world that no longer exists. Kenny let’s up and turns, pulling you farther into the thick brush. You could swear you feel the lenses as they splinter under your shoe.

                                      * * *

Kenny is a vile man. He knows his name isn’t on a reservation list at the Pearly Gates, he’s aware that a sinner lives on borrowed time. 

Nowadays, everyone is living on borrowed time. Even you.

You, he thinks, looking back to where you stumble over a tree branch, far to good for a world like this.

He can’t help but laugh, the absolute absurdity of his current situation. Escaping death by the skin of his teeth, watching any familiar faces burning in the remnants of a camp he couldn’t really call home. People that fought to the bone, melting or devoured or both.

And then there was you, standing in front of the flames, tears falling down the apples of your cheeks, stiff in shock and horror. He remembers the way your lips moved, mumbling a quiet prayer instead of trying to run. Stupid little thing.

It’s not the earth the meek inherit; it’s the dirt.

Was it pity that made Kenny pull you away from an infernal gravesite all those months ago? He’s never the hero of any story. No, it must have been something else.

Maybe it was the way you looked up with teary eyes, silently begging for help. Unwittingly making a deal with the devil. His teeth grind at the memory, the vision of how beautiful you look so completely helpless. 

Kenny leads and you follow, he hunts and you flitch at the sound of an arrow piercing flesh. The small squeak and proceeding thumb of meat as it hits the ground never fails to make you sick. When he’s not hunting for food, he’s hunting something else.

The sounds of death are all the same.

Some days you’re lucky, coming across abandoned hideouts or deserted cars. Snagging whatever hasn’t already been picked over; some ammo, the occasional can of peaches or pack of cigarettes. Kenny laughs dryly everytime, chucking the carton into his bag. Always the cigarettes, never the lighter. Most days, not so much.

Every night, you fall asleep to the flicker of a campfire, lulled by the steady sound of Kenny’s knife as it scrapes against a piece of wood. He’s always the last asleep. The woods are a dangerous place, the possibility of monsters circle at every moment. Under the veil of night, anything could happen. And it does.

He wipes his mouth, settling back into the harsh ground below him with a pleased hum. Your whimpers have settled back into a light snore. 

Kenny is a vile man, and you’re too concerned with the lifeless villain in the shadows that you forget about the one sitting on the other side of the fire.

Three months of waking up to aching limbs and misplaced panties can’t be a coincidence, can it?

                                      * * *

“Well ain’t this something.” Kenny pulls on the door, swinging it open with a loud creek. Your neck strains to look up at dark wood and steepled roof, the tall building hidden by dense forest, you two must be the first people to step inside in months. 

“A church.” You’d find comfort within these walls if you weren’t so positive that God had abandoned this world.

Statues of the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph are empty behind their stone eyes, shadowed with an unsettling shade of red from the stained-glass windows. The moment is a time capsule, a vision of the congregation of saints bathed in blood.

A chill runs down your back, counting every vertebrae.

You push down the unsettling foreboding, focusing back on the instincts to survive instead of lingering on a religion that you can no longer make sense of.

“Hey kid, over here.” You pick up the pace, quickening footsteps away from holy symbolism and towards Kenny’s voice. You walk into the closest room off a dark hallway and find him leaning against the doorframe. The rooms are getting darker with the vanishing sun, but you make out shelves of cans and boxes, food, blankets, clothes.

“I bet they used this as a food pantry,” Your comment was probably an obvious assumption, but Kenny just hums in response, “there’s enough here to last up months.” 

Good samaritans in the first life are a saving grace is this one. Your cynicism lifts from heavy shoulders for just a moment. The lines between luck and divine intervention are fuzzy at best.

“I saw a well right outside too. Water’s probably cold as ice but it’s better than anything we’ve come across yet.” Kenny’s voice is even, but you swear he cracks a smile.

He was right, the water is cold enough to shatter your bones like ice. You shiver and chatter, teeth threatening to crack, but the feeling of being clean has you dumping bucket after bucket over your head. The grime and grit of your reality running down to seep into the grass below.

There’s no home to run to after the world ends, but water and food is more than you could imagine in recent months. Shuffling through boxes of donated clothes, you find a shirt big enough to sleep in. The fabric smells like moth-balls and dust, but the feeling of clean cotton against your skin is heavenly. 

You find Kenny in the clerical office, rummaging through the priests desk. The sun is replaced with a flight of candles, for the first time in forever, you don’t feel like death is standing right behind you.

“Would you look at that,” Kenny pulls a cigar from the desk, bringing it up to his nose for inspection, “Looks like father had his own little habit.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at his comment, rounding towards the large leather chair he’s settled into.

“Smoking kills you know.” You lean against the desk next to him. Your bare legs brush against his knee, the heat from your skin makes his mouth water.

“I think there’s more pressing concerns than tobacco, kid.”

There’s something different about tonight, even more than just the four walls and roof around you. There’s something about Kenny and the way his stare has followed you all night. You can feel a cord pulling taught, fraying in the middle before it snaps.

“Asshole.”

The plush of Kenny’s bottom lip is close enough to your cunt to be disastrous.  Friendly banter becomes laughing and swatting at his chest like a teenager. Communion wine and tension pulling you into him. The loneliness of this life becomes more apparent the closer he is to touching your skin. When did the man in front of you make your heart race so fast? 

Maybe you’ve always felt this way.

You feel it, the ghosts of last night, the night before. The ghosts of weeks or maybe even months. The familiarity of a touch you weren’t quite awake for. 

Ass arching off from where it sticks to the cherry wood, you want to feel it again. The laving of tongue and mouth against you. The devouring of your most intimate planes of skin, places no one else has ever touched before, places you were saving for your future husband.

The kiss as hot as hell.

“Awe, c’mon now,” His nose nudges against your clit, the movement pulling another cry from your throat to bounce against the high ceiling, “that’s not my name.”

“I’ve been tracing it into this precious cunt of yours every night,” each word is more unhinged than the last, no longer worried about the doe in his sights running away, “Do I need to spell it out for you again?”

There’s nowhere to run, pressed in between his canines.

Dreams of calloused fingers and a wandering mouth are now cementing as memories. The feeling of rough facial hair. The sounds of desperate moans and how they shake against you. 

The way his tongue curls like a signature. 

His mouth is flush against you again, sucking at your aching clit for only a moment before moving his attention to long lashes against your clenching hole.

“You must remember. You were moaning it so sweetly,” he nips at your puffy lips before drawing back. His chin is sheened in your arousal, slick refracting off the dimly lit space between you, flickering candles outline his features with a dance of orange shadows. Kenny’s eyes hold you captive, giving you one more chance to answer.

“What’s my name, kid?”

His tongue breaches you, a set of large, familiar hands keep your legs spread wide atop the desk. 

You remember— of course you do. You remember everything. The name stuck in your head like a broken record. The name you call for in a sleepy haze as your body is dragged into orgasm.

The name that’s spelled against you like a promise.

“K-Kenny please.”

That’s all that he needs, the only thing, if he’s being honest, that he’s ever needed.

“There’s my sweet little girl. Finally using your manners.” Two fingers come up to swipe against your pussy, stopping right before your clit and collecting slick to bring up to your eye line for inspection. You jump when the warm digits drag against your bottom lip, a silent prompt for your mouth to fall open.

Kenny sticks his fingers in, the intent to make you gag is clear but you take it. You’ll take anything he gives you. Your tongue swirls around the intrusion, running against each joint and suckling loudly. The sound is wet and lewd, the spit collecting at the corners of your mouth makes his head spin.

Your destruction, he decides, will be beautiful. 

Kenny’s fingers release with a wet pop. He runs callouses down from your cheek, over the curve of your tits and down your abdomen. Two fingers stop at your pubic bone to trace lightly against the skin in random patterns. 

“Your body is just as agreeable when you’re awake.” His words drip in sin, reminding you exactly how familiar he is with you. All of you.

Both thumbs come down to spread your lips, Kenny can’t help but take a moment-- just a beat-- to stare at your swollen, glossy clit and the quiver of your little hole. Your skin is soft, completely untouched by anyone else. He laid claim to almost every inch before you begged him to.

He sinks from the leather chair, kneeling in front of you. You’re the body and blood as far as a sinner like Kenny is concerned.

There’s a plea stuck in your throat. You want to beg him to slow down, it’s too much all at once, but you know if you cried out-- all you would do is beg him for more.

His tongue is long and flat against you, every swipe is punctuated with a growl. The rumbling from his chest is thrown against your clit like a current through cold water. Sharp, shocking, terrifying.

“Kenny, I- I want,” He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the hood. There’s no words in any language that make sense to you. There’s nothing but his name. 

“Kenny ah, I need, I don’t know how t—”

Your dangling over a fire, trying desperately to jerk away from the lick of the flames. 

“I know, kid, I know exactly what you need.” his breath is heavy and warm in fans across your skin. You're dripping down the sides of his face and onto the cleric’s desk. Kenny is covered in you, open mouthed kisses against the sweetest thing he’s ever had in his mouth. The tangy taste of your pussy mixing with the wine still on his tongue. 

If he spent forever between your thighs, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

“Such a sweet little thing, you’re insatiable.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glazing over with a distinct look of teary submission. It’s so new to you, but grinding upwards and catching your clit against his chin seems like second nature.

The primal need for release is much stronger than any prayer of abstinence. 

“What would your little prayer circle think if they knew you spread your legs for a dirty old fucker like me?” Kenny coos against the apex of your thighs. His words knock on the hollow space behind your breastbone.

Your family and friends, the priest from St. Mary’s who baptized you, old man Jaeger from next door— all buried or burned to ash or so much worse.

Anyone you’ve ever loved is dead, maybe that’s why Kenny is still around.

There’s nothing that can hold you back anymore, the control you claw at slips from your fingers like watery silk. There’s no escaping the roughness of his stubble and an evil, serpent tongue.

“Kenny!”

You cum with a shattering cry, the sound ringing so loud in your ears you swear any enemy of the living in a 10 mile radius could hear you. In reality, what escapes is little more than a broken snivel. 

It hurts, muscles aching from the exertion of trying to keep from falling apart. Your body is a hairpin trigger, the comedown feels more like withdrawal.

“There’s my girl, my good little girl.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, doting while you fall back to earth. It’s a strange feeling, you’ve never found comfort in Kenny before, he isn’t the shoulder you go to lean on. 

But tonight he’s the chin you buck into.

The aftershocks run across your naked skin, already missing the feeling of his touch as he settles back into the cracked leather chair. 

His cock presses into the denim confines uncomfortably, the ache can wait though. Whether this is his last night alive or has all the time in the world-- he’s going to savor the glistening prize nestled between your thighs. Kenny’s fingers find the cigar where it lies next to your knee, bringing it up to examine while you squirm at the cold night air against your wet cunt.

“No one will ever make you feel as good as I do,” both legs kick out, falling to dangle on either side of his knees in surprise as the cigar comes down to trace your outer lips. He presses the tuck inwards, pulling out slightly so you cry out. The harsh texture of the wrapper mixes with the most minimal of stimulation, causing tears to clump in your waterline. 

“Why don’t you think of a way to repay me, hmm?”

You push past the heaviness in your muscles, sitting up to meet his incredulous stare. Kenny sticks the cigar between his teeth, striking a match from the desk drawer to light the cap. The cigar is stale, cheap tobacco. But every drag now tastes like you.

“I- I could try to--” Words are left unspoken on your tongue, even now, the intonation is poison in your throat. 

You expect Kenny to laugh at your bashfulness, instead, two fingers come up to curl around the Rosary around your neck. He drags you forward, exhaling smoke into your parted, quivering lips. You try your best not to choke. 

He pulls the cigar away, ashing it carelessly on the floor.

“Use your words, kid, tell me what you want.” His words are sleazy but his voice is soft around the edges. Prompting you to shuffle onto his lap. His free hand rests in the small of your back to keep you steady.

“I want--” Fuck, your voice feels like it’ll fail, you take a moment to breathe, “I want you to fuck me, Kenny.” 

Your plea is rushed, so quick to hit his ears he almost misses it. There’s no hiding anymore, there’s nowhere else in this world but the private quarters of a long-dead clergy member. The space between you and Kenny is foggy and tense, only inches between lips.

There’s no more penance in this world, no more time to sit and atone for his sins with prayer. The soft, syrupy feeling of your cunt wrapping around his cock is a slice of heaven, cut out and stolen right from the sky. 

“I thought you’d never ask, doll face.” 

✞ all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[the-bau-quinjet]

Is that my sweater?

Summary: When lounging around the compound, Steve wears a lot of sweaters. When he's on a mission, you "borrow" those sweaters.

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut, some cursing probably

Word Count: 2284

a/n: I needed some fluffy Steve Rogers in my life today.

Masterlist

You're not sure when it started, but when Steve is on a mission, all you do is worry. It's easier to control when you're on the mission with him or even on a mission of your own, but when he's gone and you're in the compound?

All you do is worry.

You could barely even sleep. That is, until you found a semi-decent solution.

Before the last mission Steve went on, the two of you were arguing about Harry Potter. He had the audacity to say the movies were better than the books, which is categorically untrue.

Unbeknownst to you, he was just trying to get a rise out of you because he likes the way your face scrunches up in annoyance.

Anyway, he followed you to your room when you stormed out of the kitchen, not wanting you to be mad at him while he was gone. He carried his sweater in his hands, having taken it off while cooking, leaving him in a white t-shirt.

When he got to your room, he dropped it on a chair so he could grab your hands to truly convey how wrong he was about the books and movie situation.

When he was called for the mission, he left the sweater behind, leading to your so-called-solution for sleeping while he was away.

The idea hit you one night when you were physically exhausted, but mentally couldn't calm down. You rolled over, trying to get more comfortable when you caught sight of his sweater on your chair.

In your sleep deprived state, you shuffled over to grab it, throwing it on over your own pajama shirt before returning to bed.

You were enveloped in his scent, easing the nonstop worry long enough for you to fall asleep.

When you woke up the next morning, you told yourself it was a one time thing. It only happened because he left the sweater there. You were just worried about your best friend. It didn't have to mean anything.

Those were all lies.

The next time he left on a mission, you were quick to find you couldn't sleep again. Your thoughts kept returning to his many sweaters, causing you to sneak into his room to steal one to sleep in.

Every time he left while you were still at the compound, you would "borrow" a sweater from his closet, returning the previous one you had to his laundry basket.

You figured he would never find out. He owned so many sweaters, he wouldn't notice when one was dirty even if he didn't wear it.

Oh, how wrong you were.

-

"Y/N, welcome back!" Bruce greeted you as you walked into the lab, having returned from a mission late last night.

"Thanks, Banner!" You looked around the room, surprised to not see Tony. "Where's Tony?"

"Oh, he's on a mission. They left a day after you, should be back on Sunday." He replied, not taking his eyes from the tech he was working on.

"They?" You questioned, trying to think of who you had seen around the compound since returning.

"Yeah, Tony, Bucky, Nat, Wanda, and Steve." Again, his eyes remaining glued to his project, not realizing the way your face fell at the mention of Steve being gone.

"Five of them? What happened?" You tried to mask the worry that was already creeping in, threatening to take over.

Bruce finally looked up, surprised you hadn't heard about the explosions.

"There was a series of explosions in Baghdad. Intel suggested it was all to assassinate one man, but multiple bombs were used to divert attention."

You nodded, trying to take in the information. "Any leads?"

Bruce's expression turned grim as he nodded. "Hydra."

You felt your heart drop even further as you now fully understood just how dangerous the mission was. No wonder they needed the five of them.

You nodded in response before muttering something about going to the gym, needing to leave the lab so you could worry in private.

Since the compound was nearly empty, you ended up going to the gym as you said. You managed to distract yourself for a few hours, but there was still 4 days before they were supposed to be back.

That night, you snuck into Steve's room, borrowing another sweater to snuggle up in for the next few nights.

-

Friday morning, you woke to somebody knocking on your door.

You couldn't really be mad since it was already almost noon, but it was still mildly annoying to be disrupted from your limited sleeping.

In your hazy morning fog, you got out of bed to open the door. Your grumbling about being woken up died on your tongue when you realized just who was on the other side.

"Steve!" You jumped into his arms, ecstatic to see him after worrying so much. "I thought you weren't supposed to be back until Sunday!" You squeezed your arms around him tightly, unwilling to let go even when your feet returned to the ground.

"Yeah, we got done earlier than we expected." Steve graciously returned your hug, thrilled to see you after nearly two weeks apart.

After a few reassuring words that the mission went well and he was uninjured, you finally stepped back from each other.

"I was wondering if you wanted to join me to watch the next Harry Potter-" He abruptly cut himself off as he took in your appearance. His brows pinched together in confusion. "Is that my sweater?"

You instantly froze. In your sleep fogged ming, you had forgotten to take off his sweater before answering the door. You could feel the blush warming your face as you tried to think of a way out of this.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" You gave him a nervous smile, trying to avoid admitting the truth.

He laughed, although still confused. "Not really, no."

You sighed, before reluctantly confessing. "Yeah. It's your sweater."

He waited, as if expecting you to willingly explain why you had it, before he eventually asked the question you were dreading.

"Um, why are you wearing it?" He coughed, a slight blush growing on his cheeks as he looked you up and down again.

Your mind raced trying to come up with a good reason for you having his sweater, but you couldn't think of anything but the truth.

You threw your hands up over your face, avoiding all eye contact as you blurted out, "I was worried about you."

He waited again, before gently prompting you to continue. "So..."

"So, I broke into your closet and stole your sweater to sleep in because it's the only way I can get myself to calm down enough to sleep while you're on missions." You gasped, covering your mouth as you realized what you just admitted.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he sputtered. "Missions? Like multiple? You've, uh, you've done this before?" His face grew redder at the thought of you sleeping in his clothes.

You nodded, hands still over your mouth to prevent any other unfortunate confessions.

"Um, since, uh since when?" He cleared his throat, trying not to sound to giddy.

"You remember when we had the Harry Potter movies versus books argument?" You moved your hands away from your face just enough to talk, before quickly covering your face again to hide your embarrassment.

He nodded, thinking back a few months.

"You left a sweater in my room when you were called away on that emergency mission and I just..." You gestured with your hands, not wanting to actually say it out loud.

Steve was completely speechless. You worried about him enough to want, no need to sleep in one of his sweaters when he was gone?

The only word he could manage to get out was a whispered, "why?"

You shrugged, repeating your earlier statements. "Because I worry about you when you're on missions."

"Yeah, but why?" He was having a hard time comprehending what this actually meant. He meant why did the sweater help, but you took it as a question of why you worried.

You shrunk in on yourself, avoiding eye contact again.

"I, uh, well you're my best friend, and I, um, care about you..." You trailed off, not sure you were entirely ready for your feelings to be out in the open.

"Enough that you worry so much you can't sleep without my clothes?" Steve was so bewildered, he was barely thinking. He was definitely not controlling his tone of voice. The question came across to you as harsh and annoyed.

In your eyes, he was clearly upset with the situation. The only logical reason you could think of for him to be that upset is if he knew about your feelings and didn't reciprocate them.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you hastily removed the sweater, leaving you slightly chilly in just your tank top and shorts. The chill sent a new wave of emotion over you, anger replacing the sadness at how harsh we was being with you.

"Yeah, I care about you, asshole. Hell, I think I'm in love with you." Despite your mumbling, he could clearly understand what you said. His eyes went even wider at your latest confession.

"I'm sorry I took your clothes." You threw the sweater at him, grabbing a sweatshirt from your desk. "If it helps at all, I only ever had one sweater at a time." Your bitter tone did not go unnoticed by Steve.

"Y/N, I..." He paused, still overwhelmed by finding out that you loved him too.

Your eyes quickly softened, the brief angry stint ending. You couldn't be mad at him for not feeling that same way. It wasn't fair. You would just have to move on.

"Steve, it's fine. I'll get over it." You brushed past him into the hallway, deciding to drown your sadness in junk food from the kitchen.

Steve stood frozen, watching you walk away and wondering how that went so poorly.

-

When you made it to the kitchen is was thankfully empty. You dug around for a few minutes, looking for something that would make you feel better, ultimately settling on a package of Oreo's and a glass a milk.

For some reason, it's always been a comfort food for you, reminding you of being a kid and having no real problems.

A few stray tears fell down your cheeks, but you hastily wiped them away. You would resign yourself to cry in the comfort of your own room later.

A few minutes into eating your Oreo's, nearly everyone appeared in the kitchen.

You honestly should have expected it since it was pretty much prime lunch time.

You did your best to put on a happy face as you ate your cookies, not really joining any conversations but nodding along. A few minutes later, everyone settled around the room, eating various things and having separate conversations.

You had just finished your cookies and rinsed your glass when Steve ran into the room, a look on his face that could only be described as desperate.

"Whoa, slow down there Capsicle. Where's the fire?" Tony joked, earning chuckles from a few people.

Steve ignored him as his eyes scanned the room, settling on your frozen form by the sink.

"Cap, you good?" Sam questioned as everyone grew more concerned with his behavior.

Again, Steve ignored him. He took four large steps around the island before coming face to face with you. You took a deep breath, really not wanting to have this conversation in front of literally everyone you work with.

"Steve, wha-"

He cut you off by pulling your head to his, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

You froze at first, but quickly leaned into his embrace to deepen the kiss.

He pulled back, much too soon for your liking, to stare into your eyes.

"Y/N, I honestly have no idea what just happened in your doorway. I think my brain malfunctioned or something, but please believe me when I say I've been in love with you for months."

A blush painted your cheeks as you took in his words, a weird mixture of confusion and relief flooding your emotions.

"You do?" He nodded, still holding you close to him. "But- you just- you do?"

He laughed, pulling you into a hug and whispering in your ear, "I do. I really, really do."

"I love you too." You admitted in as soft a whisper, eagerly leaning into his warm embrace. You took a deep breath, finding comfort in the all too familiar scent.

You would have stood in his embrace for hours if not for your moment being interrupted by the clapping and hollering of your teammates.

"About time, punk." Bucky smirked from his seat on the barstools.

"Personally, I would love to know what happened in Y/N's doorway." Tony chimed in, laughing when you hid your face in Steve's chest.

"Steve probably just found out about Y/N's sweater habit." Nat added casually, earning looks from everyone in the room.

You were speechless, having been sure no one else knew.

Wanda, Sam, and Clint looked way too excited to learn more.

"You all really need to be more observant." She muttered to yourself.

You and Steve slipped out of the room when attention had turned to Nat, slowly making your way back up to your room.

"You're welcome to steal my sweaters anytime." Steve pulled you into his side as you walked down the hall.

"Oh, well I guess I'll start with this one then." You smirked before pulling him into your room, already removing the sweater from his body.

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[deidearly]

Kakashi Relationship Headcanons

Guess who’s back with another relationship headcanon today? And as usual, I had a good time writing this one even got slightly carried away, hehe. Enjoy! XX. 

Well— Hatake Kakashi, huh? Dating him would be such a roller coaster ride, tbh. It’s like, one moment he’s so clingy, fragile, so afraid of losing you— but one moment he’s like, “Just do what you need to do. I don’t really care.” This is due to the fact that he’s got a lot of things in his mind and occasionally struggled to sort out his priorities. 

Anyway, of course you’ve complained about his ‘reading-smut-in-public’ issue, especially when you’re together. You two would come up with an agreement somehow. But to piss you off, he’d pretend like you’re the one who’s obsessed with reading smuts.

You’re browsing for some important books and he playfully yelled, “Y/N! Come here, it’s your favorite book— Icha Icha Tactics! My, I know you’ve had four books, but another one won’t hurt, right? Since you love it that much!” making everyone in the bookstore giggled.

He received “Y/N Signature Punch” that day.

To your surprise, he’s not very secretive about his relationship with you. In fact, you’ve caught him frequently use you as an excuse for him to escape some unwanted occasions.

Let’s say Gai was asking Kakashi to fight him like usual— and he wasn’t having it that day. “Gai, with all respect— I would gladly accept your challenge. But can’t you feel the springtime of romance youth is blooming? I must see Y/N immediately.”

Gai’s tearing up.

Don’t worry, he actually went to your place.

“Yo. Can we hang out? I just told Gai that I would come to your place. Please say ‘yes’ to make me less of a jerk, will you?”

Would totally show up in front of your place at an ungodly hour.

At first it surprised you but now you’re used to it.

You just finished your mission, it went pretty well but you felt there were some wasted chances due to your captain’s miscalculation. It’s nearly 2 AM but you caught yourself wide awake, reviewing back your battle– only to got distracted by a knock on your bedroom’s window. Instead of turning your head in surprise, you already knew who it was. To have a little fun for yourself, you ignored the sound, which was later followed by a second knock. Walking over to the window, you saw a silver-haired man with a mask. Although half of his face was covered, it’s obvious that a smile was apparent. “Yo.” he greeted, but you replied with a sigh. “You could actually knock on the door and I’d let you in through the door. It’s something normal people would do, Kakashi.” you grumbled, opening the window for him to get in. “Ah, spare me the lecture!”

So, reverse psychology works best for Kakashi. Like the Icha Icha Tactics– the more you ignore his behavior, he would actually try not to read his book in public like you told him to. But the more you complain, he’d read it in places where he shouldn’t be reading it at all. This method works in almost every cases.

You’ve been dating for weeks, but you haven’t seen his face.

Yes, when kissing, too.

You’ve had enough of kissing fabric. 

You had planned to make a dinner together at his place. He was preparing the dishes and you’re about to finish your cooking, when he suddenly asked, “Hey, Y/N. Have you ever wondered what would I look like under this mask?” You were dying to know actually. So, now you’re stuck with two options: (a) be honest about it, (b) pull out another reverse psychological answer— and you chose the latter. “Huh? Not really,” you shrugged, “I don’t really care so it’s not like I’m eager to see it.” and of course, this was a lie. Kakashi went silent for a while. “Anyway, dinner’s re—“ you swore you could’ve dropped the whole pan when you saw an unfamiliar presence. “Kakashi?” you asked hesitantly. The man looked up with a questioning look, “Why are you blushing?” he replied casually.

“ANYONE WITH A DECENT EYESIGHT WOULD BLUSH TOO, YOU STUPID.”

He’s honestly so heavenly to look at.

Sometimes it’s just too overwhelming to see his whole face, you thought.

It’s safe to say that it’s a privilege to be able to see his face. But due to his immense charm, you’d prefer to have him with a mask on.

“Y/N, I feel naked without my mask—“ , “And I honestly feel like I’m being forced to see an illicit nudity, too. Put your mask on, it’s fine honestly.”

He’s been very good at his job for almost his whole life, a fine shinobi. So, he’s rarely exposed to mundane things, moreover a relationship. Thus, making him quite restrained in expressing himself. Plus, he was labelled with some negative titles, saying how cold-blooded he was and he just decided to live with it. This, obviously, requires a lot of patience.

But he’s determined to change, the first step he took was letting you in— into his life.

It started rocky, though.

He’d say something like how he didn’t care much about you and sadly, he really didn’t.

But as the time went by he realized how your presence has been the one that helped him through it. How you’ve always been there to comfort him, by listening to him, giving him a lot of supports, or simply by reminding him that he’s not completely alone.

And when that moment came, he’s sworn to protect you with all his might.

He had a lot of nightmares, he still does, unfortunately. But when you’re around, your presence eases him up a little.

When you’re not around, however, he’d rather spend all night unhealthily tiring himself until he fall asleep.

His personal favorite would be curling up next to you with his hand around your waist while hiding his face near the crook of your neck as he’s giving you some soft neck kisses.

Again, NECK KISSES.

He had a hard time trying to open up himself fully to you and this applies to romantic gestures, I believe. He surely would take his time to explore you, what you like, and what he likes.

Would shower you with kisses, all over your face without missing a spot. He greatly admires every inches of yourself. 

Body worship, oof.

Lowkey (semi highkey) protective.

Lowkey (semi highkey) a show-off.

Would straight up jump to save you if it’s necessary.

And since he’s a show-off, he lowkey loves PDA— but the soft ones, of course. You two would always get spotted together. He would casually sling his arm around your shoulder or lazily has his hand wrapped around your waist.

Favorite time to spend with you is training together. No matter how many times you’ve told him to “fight with an intent to win” he simply refuses— saying how, he’s “far too powerful” for you.

But deep down he just doesn’t want to hurt you…

Chatting in the middle of a training

“Tsunade-sama hasn’t assigned me any missions lately *throws kunai*” , “Maybe if you threw your kunai accurately, she will. *dodge kunai*” , “Kakashi, shut your pretty mouth up. *throws MORE kunai aggressively*”

When you turned him down while he was showing off his new tricks, though, it weirdly turned him on.

He loves someone powerful, with a right amount of cocky.

Doesn’t talk big. He’s a man of action— his action speaks louder than words!

Doesn’t spoil you that much, though. Because it’s actually him who needs to be spoiled.

Really loves it when you trace your fingers all over his skin— it’s intimately soft, he claimed.

LOVES YOUR SCENT. Has it memorized probably.

He’d prefer someone independent. Someone who could actually take care of themselves instead of relying on him completely. 

Anyone too childish would remind him of Team 7, tbh.

Speaking of Team 7, they would probably be the one to get introduced to you.

Naruto was so shocked to find out that his sensei was capable to develop a romantic feeling towards someone. But he had his doubt— do you really know Kakashi? He started to bombard you with questions to test your knowledge.

“So, do you know what’s Kakashi Sensei’s favorite—“ , “I’ve seen his face. Multiple times.” , “YOU WHAT?”

Complained and sulked about it, “Kakashi Sensei, we’ve trained together for years. How could you?!”

Sakura was confused.

“How? I know he’s probably very handsome under that mask but come on, Y/N, reading smut in public? That’s an absolute no.”

On the contrary, Sasuke was thrilled, internally.

“Yeah. Finally. Old man has someone to annoy besides us. About time.”

He has a pretty bad behavior, too. Unlike Gaara, who’d put an emotionless facade when he’s only in the Kazekage mode, Kakashi would treat you just how he feels like doing it that day. 

Let’s be real, he has so many bottled up feelings inside his heart so it’s not a surprise that someday, somehow, a random painful emotion just hit him— hard, and he shut himself out.

The hospital is the place you immediately visit right after Kakashi’s arrival after a mission because you know he’d be there— reading his book with a few bruises here and there. But this time was a bit different. When he’s hospitalized, he would whine about you not being able to stay more than an hour— but right now you’re puzzled, since he’s been completely silent and avoiding you, answering your questions with a mere shrugs.

Tsunade told you that the mission went pretty well, thanks to Kakashi for eliminating all the enemies on the field, singlehandedly. You automatically knew that it must brought up his past traumas. “Kakashi, it’s not your fault.” you decided to speak, earning a glance from Kakashi, but that’s it. “It’s a mission and you protected all of your comrades!”

“I killed them, Y/N. I didn’t have to, but I did.” he said, with his eyes still glued elsewhere. “Every time I look at my hands, I feel dirty. It reminded me of that—“, “Kakashi, look at me.”

You moved closer to his bed, reaching out your hand and traced your fingers softly on his face. His cheeks were cold, and you could clearly see how he was slightly trembling with teary eyes. “Kakashi, if you didn’t do it— it could’ve been your own comrades. Now they’re safe and sound, thanks to you.”, you paused as he slowly began to move his sight to you. “And if I could meet you way sooner, I would remind you every day that it’s never your fault— it’s never been. You’re a good person, Kakashi. I, and all of us, are forever thankful for the things you’ve done.” you whispered, now wiping a few tears that fell down to his cheeks. A weak smile started to bloom, “I’m forever thankful for you as well, Y/N.”